#okay . I wanted to out me because those are my pronouns and I’d quite like people to use them maybe.

[fated-normal-767]

having friends is great until you think “wow these people don’t understand most of my experiences at all” and then you just. Live with it I guess? I don’t know what the next step is meant to be.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Dear Diary || Sanji x f!reader || NSFW [minors DNI]

CW: afab!reader (no pronouns used to describe reader), reader wears a skirt, masturbation (m), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

WC: 3.6k

Read on AO3

It was an accident. 

Or at the very least, that’s the story Sanji had hastily prepared as he sat perched on the edge of your bed, your diary held tightly in his grasp. 

It was an accident, he’d say if anyone wandered in while he perused its pages—it had fallen on the floor and he was merely trying to find out who it belonged to, that’s why it was splayed open in his hand. Really, you see, it was completely innocent. 

But Sanji already knew it was yours, having seen you with it on the deck, ardently scribbling away day after day. He could never quite get close enough or squint hard enough to see exactly what you were writing, but you certainly seemed alarmed when you’d catch him meandering by, quickly shutting the little blue book and squirreling it away in your knapsack before he could ever get near. 

And now here it was in his perspiration-slick hands. He wondered what he’d find, if it was even worth it to sneak into your room, carefully closing the door behind him, just to get a glimpse at the thoughts that pirouetted through your gorgeous mind. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before cracking open the little blue book, quickly looking over the pages for any mention of him: A recipe for medical ointment and a quick story about helping Chopper with a project. A sloppily-drawn chart and notes about a conversation with Nami. Musings on something Luffy said at dinner. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he muttered as he flipped through more pages, seeing line after line of casual observations and droll anecdotes. He was, of course, deeply and truly interested in your reflections on life with the crew, and would delightedly read just about anything you had written with your precious hands, but he didn’t have the time to peruse every paragraph. He was unsure of precisely when you’d be back with the rest of the crew, and his only goal was to find even the smallest talk of him in your handwriting—it would be enough just to see his name scrawled in these pages, enough to see that you even deigned to give him any mention at all. 

He scanned page after page until finally—there it was. His name, in your writing. 

He paused before he continued, taking in a shaky breath, wondering if he should read on, fearing the worst but his heart yearning for the best. 

Sanji, you’d written, Sanji, Sanji, Sanji. Sat in the galley to watch him cook today. He didn’t seem to mind me there, and he was humming some song I didn’t know. He let me taste the soup he was making, and told me I was perfect because of my “refined palate.” What a man, haha. 

He grinned as he continued to read: 

I'm glad he doesn’t mind me hanging around him, I could watch him for hours. His hands are so elegant.

I know it’s terrible, but sometimes I wonder what those hands would feel like on me.

Sanji stopped, using his thumb to hold his place as he set the diary down in his lap, his heart thrumming in his chest. He shouldn’t keep reading, he tried to tell himself—he got what he wanted, confirmation that he at least occasionally swirled around in your mind like a ship caught in a whirlpool, and that should be the end of it.

Right?

“Okay. Just a little more,” he uttered as he opened the book again, his eyes drifting back to where he’d left off. “A little more won’t hurt.”

God I bet his hands are so soft. I bet they’d feel so nice on my skin. Running down my arms. Tickling my neck. He’d know just how to hold me, touch me carefully, so he doesn’t hurt me, just make me feel good.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he flipped the page to the next entry. More about him.

Sanji made me tea today and brought it to me in my room. Ugh, he’s so fucking handsome. Hard not to tell him to set the tea down and give me something else hot. I bet he would, too. I bet all I’d have to do is ask and he’d have me bent over my bed, moaning his name. 

He slid his hand down to the front of his pants, palming the growing hardness that strained against the fabric. God he wanted you, and there was a painful desire roiling inside him knowing you wanted him too. And you were right, he thought as he throbbed under his hand—all it would take is one look, one pout, one soft “Please, Sanji?” and he would have you undressed in a heartbeat, writhing under him as he filled you to the hilt with every throbbing inch of him.

His hands, his hands, I’m telling you. I want him to finger me so bad. Maybe under the table while we’re having dinner. Just slide his hand up my skirt, push my panties to the side, start teasing my clit. Maybe he’d whisper in my ear that I’d need to keep quiet so no one would know. I’d just have to wriggle in my seat while he uses his fingers to tease me, and grip his leg to keep myself from screaming. 

“This is wrong,” he whispered, the words hitching in his throat. “This is so wrong.”

It was as if you could read his mind, he thought as he closed his eyes for a moment, grinding into his palm. How many times had he thought about placing a hand on your leg as you sat next to him at dinner, running his fingers up and up and up your velvety skin to the apex of your thighs, placing his palm against your heated cunt. He wanted to tease you through your panties, press his fingers against your clit through the silken fabric, making soft circles over it until you started to squirm in your chair and quietly beg him to stop. But begging, no matter how sweet and polite, would do you no good; no, if you loved his hands so much, then he was going to make you come on them. You’d have to sit there and be good and still and smile and laugh like nothing was wrong while he shoved his long fingers inside of you and pumped them in and out until you clenched and fluttered around them, leaving him a drenched and slippery mess. He wondered how flustered you’d become as he dragged his soaked fingers out of you and across your bare thigh, wondered if you’d look at him with your exquisite eyes, blinking away the tears of pleasure forming at your lash line, as you tried to keep yourself from falling apart in front of everyone.

He paused for a moment, listening closely for any commotion on the ship; there was only the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hardening cock and sighing as he felt the cool air of your room on his burning hot skin. He gripped himself gently, delicately—like he imagined you might with your soft, perfect hands—as he continued to read. 

I just need him. I need his cock in me. I’m sure he’d fuck me, but really want him to want to fuck me, you know? Not just because I’m another pretty face. I want him to want to fuck me, to need to fuck me. 

Sanji groaned as he read, his hand slowly working up and down his shaft, using his thumb to gather the sticky precum dripping from the head as he did, pretending it was your luscious slick coating the length of him. Oh and how he did want to fuck you, and he did need to fuck you. Not because you were just any lovely thing with a gorgeous face—he wanted you, every last bit of you. He wanted to taste the salt of your skin, and inhale your intoxicating scent, and feel every part of you crash into him like waves; he wanted to consume you, to have every part of you to himself, to wrap himself around you and bury himself inside of you until you were practically one.

I want him to shove his cock in me, and tell me what a perfect little slut I am for him and only him. I want him to kiss my neck while he’s thrusting into me, long and slow strokes, and tell me how beautiful I am with his cock deep inside me. I want him to lose control of himself and feel him slam into me nice and hard, and hear how he moans when he finally fills me up wi—

“Sanji!”

He quickly slammed the diary shut and threw his hands over his lap, trying to cover the glaring evidence of his arousal; he glanced up to see you standing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyebrows raised to the heavens. 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” you asked, eyes wide, your eyes drifting down to his lap. 

“Oh, I was—well you see—so here’s the thing my dear—” Sanji stammered and stuttered, his perfectly crafted excuse slowly unraveling in his mind like an old sweater as you placed your hands on your hips—your luscious, grabbable hips, perfectly draped in a black skirt—and dragged your teeth across your lower lip impatiently. How is it that you could look so deeply and fiercely irresistible even when you clearly wanted to throttle him? How is it that his cock still throbbed even when you were probably ten seconds away from killing him where he sat?

You quickly closed the gap between you and stood before him and the end of the bed. 

“Give me that,” you spat as you snatched your diary out of his hand. “What were you doing with this?”

“My darling, please, I only wanted to—well I just—”

“You just what?”

He tried to find an answer for you, one that might make him appear even the least bit less debased and depraved than he must have seemed to you just then, but he was coming up woefully short.

“I just wanted to know,” he finally sputtered after a beat. 

“And what did you want to know, Sanji?” you asked, drawing out his name teasingly. 

He shifted, trying ever more desperately to hide his unyielding hardness from your gaze. “I just wanted to know if you ever thought about me.”

“How so?” you smirked. 

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, the words sticking together in his throat as he tried to say them. “I wanted to know if you ever thought about me and you. Together.”

“Together?”

“My sweet, please don’t make me say it.”

“Aw come on,” you pouted. “Please?”

“I wanted to know if you ever thought about fucking me!” he exclaimed, his eyes clenched shut as the words burst forth from his lips. “There. Are you happy?”

“Oh Sanji,” you sighed, tilting your head to one side. You leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. He let his hands drift away from his pulsating cock, and you gasped a little at the sight of it, the head swollen and glistening with his arousal. You smiled and bit your lip as you straddled him, carefully placing your soft thighs on either side of his, too needy to bother even asking him to disrobe; Sanji felt his heart nearly crawl into his throat as he could feel the radiating warmth of your cunt, covered only in thin cotton panties, come to rest against his twitching cock. 

He choked out a gasp as you slowly started to grind against him, and he could feel the outline of your pussy lips through the soft fabric that barely covered them. You lowered your body onto him, your face hovering close to his, and moaned softly in his ear as you urgently pressed yourself into his lap; the sound you made, so melodic, so filled with yearning, made Sanji buck his hips up into you almost on instinct. He reached up and sunk his fingers into your plush hips, guiding your motions up and down his length, as he felt the precum that leaked out of his pulsing head start to coat your inner thigh. 

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji,” you murmured, your lips so close to his he could almost taste your lusciousness. “If you wanted to know all the things I think about you—all the filthy, dirty things I think about when I lay in bed at night—why didn’t you just ask?”

Before he could answer, before words could even take form inside the lust-filled fog in his mind, your lips were engulfing his in a warm, honeyed kiss. He moaned into your mouth and parted your lips with his tongue, hungry and wanting to taste every bit of your deliciousness; it was better than he’d ever imagined, better than he could have dreamed, to have your pillowy lips against his, your tongues dancing. As he fed from the sweetness of your mouth, you reached down and pulled your panties to the side. You grasped his cock and dragged the head along the slickness of your pussy lips, as he groaned your name into the stillness of the room.

“Do you want me, Sanji?” you asked as you slid him past your lips, letting him feel your entrance pulse against his agonizingly sensitive tip, keeping the warmth of your wet walls just out of reach until he told you what you so badly need to hear.

“Yes, god yes, my sweet,” he answered frantically, his fingers grasping at your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, as he buried his face on your neck, his tongue tracing lines up and down your skin, his lips trying to kiss every inch of you that he could reach.

“How bad?” you continued, as you squeezed his cock, feeling it swell in your palm.

“I want you so much,” he whimpered, as his hips thrusted weakly upwards into your hand, so agonizingly close to being inside of you that he could practically feel your warmth surrounding his aching cock.  “I want all of you, every last beautiful bit of you. Now won’t you let me feel you, please?”

“Lay back,” you whispered, a drowsy smile on your lips, as you ran your fingertips down the sharp lines of his jaw. He reclined back onto the bed, and watched your eyes flutter shut and your mouth go slack as you lowered yourself onto him, and took his length into your waiting cunt.

Sanji gasped deliriously at the feeling, and the sounds of his bliss echoed in the room. You were better than he ever could have thought you’d be, better than he’d ever fantasized at night when he’d fuck his fist and wish so desperately it was you. Your velvet-soft pussy gripped him as you gyrated in soft, slow circles, and he slowly thrust up into you, matching your motions. He felt a deliriousness wash over him as he listened to you sigh his name over and over again, like a song he wanted to listen to forever, and he relished the weight of your body pressing into him as you placed your hands on his chest and took your pleasure from him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he marveled, as his hands drifted upwards from your hips, exploring the expanse of your form.

“What, with your cock inside me?” you smiled.

“Exactly,” he grinned, his fingers tracing over every dip and curve of your body.

He reached under your shirt and caressed the contours of your breasts, gently kneading them in his palms. He brushed a thumb over your hardened nipple, and felt your pussy flutter around him as you whimpered in the most delectable way.

“Sanji,” you whispered as you rode him, your voice soft and wanting, “will you touch me? Make me come?”

“Yes, my darling,” he panted, running a hand down your body and slowly sliding it down your thigh. “Anything you want, anything you need.”

He pulled the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, spreading your puffy lips apart with his fingers, and found your swollen, tender clit with little effort. He tentatively pressed against it with the pad of his thumb and a needy moan escaped you; he made gentle circles over it, trying to match the speed of your gyrations.

“Like this, my dear?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching every glorious expression you made as he set your core ablaze with his touch.

“Yes,” you answered through ragged gasps, “just like that. Just like that.”

“Good,” he panted as your breaths quickened and your motions began to slow as you focused on his ministrations. “That’s it, sweetheart, take what you need from me.”

He felt himself harder than he’d ever been, aching so much inside of you, as he started to feel you flutter around him.

“Sanji, I’m so close,” you keened. “Just don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Never, my dearest,” he said, desperate. “Not until you come for me.”

“Oh Sanji,” you cried, your eyes clenching shut, “Sanji I’m gonna—”

Your words were cut short by a sharp cry as you clenched tightly around him, your walls spasming as you cried out for him, your shaking thighs pressed tightly to his and your hands gripping frantically at his shirt. He was stricken wordless by the splendor of seeing you abandon yourself to pleasure, watching you convulse unabashedly and utter some of the most exquisite moans he had ever heard.

“Why don’t you let me do the rest of the work, gorgeous?” he uttered softly, as you doubled over and rested your head on his chest, your breaths emerging in stutters and gasps.

You nodded, only able to muster a weak “Mm-hmm,” and he gathered you up and helped you lay back onto the bed. He stood up, quickly undressing, overcome with an insatiable need to bury himself inside you again as quickly as possible. As he lowered his trousers, he noticed the fly and waistband of them were drenched, your juices coating the stiff fabric; he felt his heart skip a beat at knowing he made you do that, that he made you come apart for him and soak his clothes in your wetness.

He stood at the end of the bed as he stripped his shirt off, and took in the sight before him: your body splayed across the bed, panties discarded to the side. Your shirt pulled up over your breasts and your skirt still clinging to your figure, pushed up over your hips. Your legs spread apart and your pussy exposed with your swollen, sensitive lips coated in your glistening slick.

“Are you read for more, my darling?” he asked, barely waiting for your whispered answer before plunging himself inside you, feeling your copious slick coating his length as your walls quivered around him, aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through you.

Sanji had wanted to take his time—wanted to make passionate love to you like someone as magnificent as you deserved, not just fuck you—but the way you clenched around him, the way you sighed so dreamily and so beautifully for him and only him—it was all but impossible to hold back.

He felt your legs wrapping around his muscled back, pulling him into you, as he thrust, driving him deeper into you.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips against your ear, “so beautiful. This is heaven.”

You moved together simultaneously, your hips lifting upward to his thrusting body, and you whimpered as his cock pulsed inside your needy cunt. You rocked against each other, bodies arching and colliding in perfect rhythm, his lithe frame almost elegantly hypnotic in his motions. He gazed down at you with adoration, watching your lips part to gasp with every stroke, and he found himself edging ever closer to his own release.

“Sanji,” you asked, your eyes glazed over and half-lidded, lips barely parted. “Will you cum in me?”

“Yeah? Want me to fill up that pretty pussy, baby?”

“Please, Sanji?”

“Anything for you,” he sighed. The sweetness of your voice, the way you said his name, was like a drug; it was all he needed, all he ever wanted to hear.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic and frenzied, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him becoming more and more euphoric with every stroke. At last, he groaned your name in blissful agony as his hips stuttered and he spilled himself into you, your greedy cunt pulling spasm after spasm from him, until he collapsed on top of you in exhausted bliss, your mingled juices slowly dripping out of you.

“Oh my darling, that was amazing,” he said through staccato breaths, his face buried in your neck, as he tried to regain his composure. “I don’t know how you’re even more perfect than in my dreams, but you are.”

“Was it everything you hoped for?” you asked, smiling as you ran your fingers through his damp mess of blonde hair.

“My sweet, you were spectacular,” he sighed, as he stroked your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb and planted a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Oh Sanji, you were incredible,” you grinned, tracing your fingers along the sinewy contours of his upper arms, before adding in a teasing whisper: “Can’t wait to tell my diary all about it.”

[rosellacwrites]

oh, my dreams

(part 1: it’s never quite as it seems)

summary: Your name’s put you in some strange situations before, but this one might win the prize.

pairings: Steven Grant x fem-presenting!Reader**

rating: general audiences

warnings: strangers to…?, administrative fuckups, descriptions of anxiety/anxiety attacks. **I wrote this with a masculine-named AFAB reader in mind, for reasons I’ll explain below, but it could also be read as a transfem reader being deadnamed, so please read with caution if that’s a sensitive issue for you.

word count: 2650

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #5 for “One Bed.” And thanks to @silvernight-m for the encouragement to finish this. 😘

Happy reading! ❤️

dividers by @firefly-graphics

You tap your keycard against the lock, half your mind on the lecture you’d just attended and the other half laser-focused on turning your brain off and some trash TV on. It’s the best way you’ve found to decompress, after a day of the sheer chaotic overwhelm that is more usually known as the academic conference.

Opening the door, you vaguely register someone else’s presence; it’s always irritating, the university’s insistence on saving money by forcing the grad students to share hotel rooms, but there’s nothing to be done for it. Dues must be paid, and someday, you’ll have tenure and you’ll never have to share a room again. But when you emerge from that pleasant daydream, you realize that something’s gone very wrong.

There’s a man in your room, lounging on the bed, tilting his head at you. “Hello,” he says, rather tentatively. “I — I think you might have got the wrong room.”

“Oh God — “ You fumble for the tiny envelope your keycard had come in, and can’t find it. “I’m so sorry — you must be right, let me just… but I swear it said 303, it’s got to be here somewhere…” After what feels like a year, you manage to unearth it, and it’s right there in black and white. You glance back to the still-open door, and those numbers haven’t changed either. Belatedly, it dawns on you: it’s happened again.

“Oh, shit,” you wail, dropping your bag on the floor. “Shit shit shit.”

“Are you all right?” He gets up and pads over to you, peering curiously at your stricken face. He’s British, clearly, from the accent; tousle-haired and dark-eyed and cute in the gentle, nerdy sort of way you like. Far too cute to be tainted by the swirling vortex of bullshit that always seems to follow you around.

“Fuck.” You scrub at your forehead, trying to ease the sudden headache that’s developed, and laugh bitterly. “It’s not personal, I promise — I don’t even know you…”

“Well, I’m Steven. With a V. Steven Grant.” He smiles at you, radiating a careful sort of friendliness, as though you’re a stray dog of uncertain temperament. “So now you know me a little bit, yeah? D’you want to come in and see if we can sort this out?”

You’re too flustered to object, and you step into the room and flop down into the desk chair, because your legs don’t seem to want to hold you up anymore. “Okay. It’s okay,” you repeat softly, trying to calm yourself. “He seems nice. He’s probably not a serial killer...”

“I’m definitely not a serial killer, if that helps.” His eyes are kind, concerned, and you feel oddly safe with him, despite your embarrassment at realizing you’d just said that out loud. “I’m just Steven, perpetually exhausted student. So what’s happened here? Is it something I can help with?”

“It’s my stupid name,” you growl. It happens all the time, no matter what you do to prevent it, and every time it does, it feels like sandpaper on your skin. You’ve put your pronouns in your email signature, you’ve written Ms. before your name, and none of it ever matters because people don’t fucking read. “They see it on the registration forms and just assume I’m a guy, and then something like this always goes wrong.”

“They did tell me I’d have a roommate,” he thinks out loud. “I saw your name on the list and I thought you were this bloke I know from my college, so I didn’t think anything of it…” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you, and that’s when it hits you.

The bed.

The single, solitary, admittedly large and very comfortable looking, but still only, bed.

“There’s only one bed,” you sigh. “Of fucking course there’s only one bed.” Tipping your head back, you study the ceiling as though it has an answer for you.

“Well, that’s it then,” Steven says. “We’ll have to talk to the organizers — I’m absolutely sure it wouldn’t be a problem for them to move one of us to another room. I’ll go with you and talk with them, if you like.”

“I can’t,” you interrupt. You feel it rising, that itchy, frantic, skin-too-tight feeling, the certain knowledge that when one more thing goes wrong you won’t be able to hold the screaming in. You’re frantically trying to gather up the cracking pieces of your carefully constructed shell, and the tigers in the tall grass will be upon you before you know it. “I can’t, because then I have to admit they’ve put me in the wrong room, and they’ll have to shuffle everyone around and it’ll make a big fuss and I’ll have Pain In The Ass stamped on my forehead when I go to network and I’ll never find a PhD advisor and — “

I don’t need you anymore, you’ve tried to tell it so many times. There aren’t any tigers here — you don’t need to protect me like this. But it doesn’t work that way, and you know it. It’s a bit like a wild animal itself, the anxiety, the way you’ve tried your best to tame it with meds and therapy and other, less doctor-sanctioned remedies, and sometimes it feels like you’re finally learning how to be friends.

And then it turns on you again, vicious claws and teeth sinking deep, and you remember you haven’t learned anything at all.

“I just can’t,” you whisper.

Steven’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you flinch; you hadn’t noticed him getting up to approach you again. “Breathe, love,” he says gently. “Just — take a minute, yeah?” You try, but your brain and heart and lungs don’t want to get with the program, and he sees the panic in every line of you. He half-sits down on the table, never taking his hand off your shoulder, and the other hand finds yours and curls around it comfortingly. “The only good thing about having anxiety attacks,” he says quietly, “is that you know what to do when someone else is having one.”

He breathes, deep and slow, leading by example, and gradually your heart settles into a slower rhythm as though his own is pacing it. His hands are big, and warm, and they ground you, bringing you back to yourself. Tigers in the area, the anxiety whispers, fading, but not here, not right now.

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options,” he says softly, letting go of you and ticking them off on his fingers. “Option one, we go and talk to the organizers and let them sort things out.” You shake your head quickly; he must see the panic rising again, because he switches tracks immediately. “Option two, we, er — don’t do that, and just leave things as they are.”

Your eyes fly wide. You’d been half-ready to just leave, throw your opportunities away and run back to the airport with your tail between your legs, but... “You mean…”

“This isn’t some kind of a — a come-on, or anything!” he assures you quickly, brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be the conference creeper, you know? But it is rather late, and if you’re really sure you don’t want to talk to anyone about it, I don’t mind at all if you stay.”

“Even though there’s only one bed? Doesn’t that bother you?”

He shrugs. “It’s only two nights — I think we can manage to be grown-ups about it for that long, yeah?”

The faceless Many, the Here Be Dragons on the map, versus the gentle sweet-faced One, familiar only by a technicality: it’s an easy choice, after all. It’s probably not your smartest, and even as you make it, your rational brain is pressing you to reconsider. But the anxiety, for once, is silent.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

*

You stay, and it’s — well, it’s nice. He’s nice.

He’s nothing but cheerful all evening, going out of his way to help you feel more comfortable with him and with this whole clusterfuck of a situation. And he’s funny, with a sassy wit that offers a glimpse of the brain below the messy curls. (You have a momentary thought of gratitude for the opportunity to see Steven Grant with bedhead tomorrow morning. It’s going to be epic.)

“I’m at Cambridge,” he tells you at one point. “About halfway through my PhD in Egyptology. On the linguistics end, mainly, not digging up tombs and things. But I have been on a dig or two.”

“Wow, Ancient Egypt. That’s like — the gateway drug. The thing that makes kids want to be archaeologists in the first place, and here you are doing it.” You smile at him, and he flushes.

“I suppose you’re right — always had a thing about it, as long as I can remember. Probably watched too many old movies as a kid.” He grins back at you, and it’s endearing as hell, warm and a little shy but somehow cheeky, too. “How about you? What’s your field?”

“I’m on the tech side. Mapping, satellite photography, ground-penetrating radar, all the fancy-ass things that tell you folks where to dig.”

“Oh, that’s fascinating!” he exclaims. “I could never — I’m hopeless with technology. Utter disaster.”

“Most of you are,” you retort before you can think better of it. “That’s why you have us.”

He laughs for the first time, and you immediately want to make him do it again. “That’s why we have you,” he acknowledges with a tilt of his head.

You’ve always been prone to crushes. They tend to creep up on you, more subtle than the anxiety, but no less consuming. The first tendrils always wind delicately around your ankles, and by the time you’ve registered their presence you’re already bound up to the knees. No no no no no, you tell yourself, you cannot do this right now. This is Not Allowed. This whole thing is more than weird enough already, without bringing his kindness and his intelligence and his big brown eyes into it.

Oh, no.

It’s already too late, isn’t it? the anxiety taunts.

Sure fuckin’ is, the crush responds.

You shove it down, ruthlessly, burying it as deep as you can. You keep it light, trading fieldwork tales, always the preferred currency at these things but more important than ever now. I’m for real, they say, trustworthy and honest and normal about things. I’m safe to talk to.

Steven ventures out for snacks to give you a chance to get ready for bed in privacy (god, how is he so nice), and when he comes back he nibbles on dark chocolate while he regales you with stories of Egypt. “Most people don’t know this,” he says, “but Cairo’s literally right up next to the pyramids. There’s a bloody Pizza Hut across the street.”

You stare, skeptical. “No. No way. That can’t be true.”

“Have a look at your maps,” he insists, pointing at you with the chocolate bar. “It’s absolutely true. Fastest way to spot the Egyptologist in the room is to show ‘em a movie where someone visits the pyramids and gets ‘lost in the desert.’”

You trade a few more stories, and then you can’t put it off any longer; your commitments tomorrow make a reasonable bedtime imperative. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you stand up and stretch. “I’m just gonna — “ you say awkwardly, gesturing toward the bathroom, and disappear to brush your teeth again (since he’d given you half the chocolate).

When you come out again, he’s rummaging for his own toothbrush, which means you have at least two minutes alone to decide how you want to navigate the inherent absurdity of getting into bed with a stranger. Don’t make it weird, the anxiety cautions. “By the way, do you have any, uh — bad habits I should know about?”

He looks up, startled. “Pardon?”

“I mean, like — do you hog the covers? Or snore?” You shrug as though it’s a perfectly normal question to ask someone you met a couple hours ago, and try to ignore the heat rising in your face.

“My, er, brothers — Marc and Jake — they say I talk in my sleep, sometimes. So I’m sorry in advance if I say anything bonkers.” Steven laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Still don’t know if I really do, or if they’re just having me on.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” I promise. “And if — if I can’t sleep, I’ll try not to keep you up.”

He smiles at that. “Likewise.”

And once he’s brushed his teeth, there’s really no putting it off any longer, and it doesn’t end up being as weird as you’d thought. Just two people climbing into opposite sides of a bed and settling down for the night, nothing weird about that at all. It feels rude to turn your back, somehow, so you curl on your side, facing him, and he clicks off the light and does the same.

You’ve tried to talk yourself out of it, but the apology spills out anyway. “I’m sorry — this is probably the last thing you needed tonight…” Your voice is small in the quiet room. “But — but thank you. For helping me.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble at all! This is good!” Steven protests. “I mean, not that you’ve got anxiety, but this — whole thing.” He waves his hand in a vague circle around the room. “It’s a good distraction. Means I’m not getting in my own head about my lecture tomorrow.”

Okay. That makes a certain amount of sense, and you begin to feel slightly better. “Do these conferences bother you too?”

He pauses for a moment. “Maybe… not quite in the same way as you? I don’t mind talking to people one-on-one and that, but presenting to a crowd always gives me a few fits, beforehand.”

“Do you — “ You swallow hard before continuing; it’s going to sound silly, maybe, but he’s looking at you so gently and like he understands, and you blurt it out. “Do you want to know a trick I have? It might help, if you want it…”

“Yeah?” He’s waiting as calmly as if you’re having this discussion over coffee, in broad daylight, not inches from each other in bed in a darkened hotel room, and it emboldens you.

“If I’m nervous about meeting someone, or — or giving a talk, or whatever, sometimes it helps me to, um — get there first.”

“Get there first,” he repeats, considering.

“Yeah. Get there first. Then it’s like — they’re coming into your territory, and you’re in charge.”

“That’s quite clever, actually.” He begins to smile, a broad grin creeping up like sunrise, and nods happily. “‘Get there first.’ I’ll remember that.”

A tiny glow of satisfaction burns in your chest, and you lie in silence together for a time. It’s a comfortable one, strangely intimate; you could talk, if you wanted, but for once you don’t feel like you need to. It’s enough just to be here, next to him, somehow knowing it’s enough for him, too.

It’s just — nice.

And then he stretches and turns, and for half a second your brain shorts out. “G’night,” he says, his voice already blurred with sleep. “Sweet dreams.” And he’s out like a light before you can even return the wish.

Even as your eyelids grow heavy, you’re convinced you’ll never sleep; how could you, when you’re literally in bed with a complete stranger, kind as he is? But the soft rise and fall of his breath is better than your white-noise machine, and the last thing you remember seeing before drifting off is his strong profile, silhouetted by the moonlight seeping through the space where the curtains don’t quite meet.

If you dream, you don’t remember it.

But it’s the first time you’ve ever been to one of these things and slept through the night.

part 2 coming soon…

@juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

author’s note, again: I got the idea for this fic from something that did, actually, happen to me as a teenager. Only in my case it was a summer music camp, not a conference, and my mother threw an unholy fit and made them change my room immediately.

(Sorry, Andrew. I guess we’ll never know what could have been.)

If your own name doesn’t match your gender presentation, for whatever reason, please know that I am fist-bumping you in solidarity and I love you.

[leviathans-watching]

i'm literally so in awe how in obey me! they all have such nice nails that don't seem to be ruined at all >__< so if u don't mind may i request how would all of them (could also be mammon centric ehe) react to an mc who gets their nails painted but literally just a few minutes into them, they accidentally get ruined with the simplest tasks they do !!! (may or may not be first hand experience bwahwhaj TT) and tysm and hope you're always doing good !!

the brothers' reactions to you messing up your nails

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: okay because i feel you. my nails never look good lol. anyway, thanks for requesting! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come say hello!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed :)

➳ lucifer hears you curse from the other room and puts his book down. “mc?” he calls, “are you alright?” after a moment, you stick your head in the doorway sheepishly. “oh, i’m alright,” you say with a sigh. “my nails aren’t, though. i always mess them up. this is why i don’t really paint them.” lucifer hides his smile. he’s not surprised you already managed to smudge the polish. you never seem to have quite enough patience to wait for them to fully dry. “how about this,” he says, standing. “i’ll do whatever you were trying to do so you don’t mess them up anymore.”

➳ mammon walks into the living room, spotting you on the couch. “whatcha doing?” he asks, and you jump. “you scared me,” you huff. “and great, i just messed up my nails.” mammon grins apologetically. “my bad. but that’s a nice color.” “thanks,” you say. “i bought it a while ago but only now am trying it out. too bad i can’t really do it justice. i wish i’d learned to paint my nails nicely when i was young because not they always come out looking like shit.” mammon laughs. “shit or now, they look nice on you,” he says. “and if ya really wanted, we could go to the manicurist and i’ll pay for ya.”

➳ levi crosses his arms. “it’s been like fifteen minutes! what do you mean your nails aren’t dry yet? come on, let’s just play games.” you shake your head. “no way, levi. just trust me, they’re gonna get smudged. no matter how long i wait, they always do.” after a few more minutes of whining and wheedling, he finally convinces you to play. that, however, doesn’t last long. “oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, and he looks over, pausing the game. “look,” you say, holding up your hand. somehow you’ve managed to smudge almost every single nail.

➳ satan watches you begin to put away dishes. “careful,” he warns. “didn’t you just paint your nails?” you roll your eyes. “that was like, thirty minutes ago. they’re definitely dry.” “don’t say i didn’t warn you,” satan says, then begins to help you, pulling plates from the dishwasher. when all of the dishes are finally put away, you turn to him, presumably to gloat about your nails, but the words die on your lips when you see he’s right and that you’ve already smudged three nails. and somehow chipped another.

➳ asmo grabs your hands, inspecting them. “your nails always smudge because you don’t wait long enough. not just for them to dry, but between coats,” he explains. “you’ve got to have patience! beauty is art, and every great piece of art took a while to make.” you laugh. “maybe i’m just not meant for pained nails.” “nonsense,” asmo dismisses. “now come on, i’ll repaint them for you. you better be grateful, i don’t offer my amazing services to just anyone, you know.” “as if you’d let me forget,” you snort, and he huffs out an affronted breath.

➳ beel squints at your nails. “those are messed up? they look fine to me.” you sigh. “they are! look at my pinkie nail! and my thumb, too. how can you not see that?” beel shrugs. “i guess everything just looks perfect when it’s on you,” he says, and you fight a smile, crossing your arms. he doesn’t even mean anything by it, either. that’s probably just what he genuinely thinks. “don’t try to flatter me,” you command, “at least not until you tell me how you never mess yours up! it’s unfair!”

➳ belphie watches you pick at a bit of nail polish, concentrating deeply. “i can never get these to look perfect,” you mutter, “but i can at least get them looking semi-decent. right?” you go in with the brush again, and almost immediately mess up. belphie can’t help how endearing he finds it, even if he’s starting to wonder what the record is for the longest time someone’s spent painting their nails. because you’ve got to be definitely getting close. “just let me do it,” he finally says, leaning over and taking the bottle from you, “or else we’re going to be here all night.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hey Gin this might be a silly thing to ask, but how did you realize you were trans? Cause ever since I saw your trans Stan and Ford I think I had some sort of relivation, it started with just really enjoying the art you drew to me feeling some sort of envy. Either that I want to dress more masculine or that I actually want to be a man, cause honestly when I look at your trans stans I just feel so much gender envy (jealousy?) And on my last period I had a whole crying fit over it starting, which has never happened before. I just don't know if this is actually what I'm feeling or if it isn't. I've had thoughts of telling my mom and fearing the consequence. This is just all so new and I'm honestly scared. I figured I'd ask you since I look up to you and from what I've seen you are quite wise. I don't really know why I have so much self doubt and constantly flip flop over things. It's frustrating, I just wish I could be certain about something for once. Sorry about this, I'm a mess really.

It’s not silly to ask. My answer is unfortunately a little silly, because I’m a goober. I also typed A LOT so its all going under a read more

So, I was 16 and on tumblr even more than I am now, and I was (still am) friends with a trans woman who reblogged a post that was like “Just trans girl things: eating dark chocolate because it has substances similar to estrogen” and I went “Haha i guess I should stop eating it.” followed by “…why do I feel that way” and THAT was followed by quite the crisis.

Trans men weren’t as well known about back then, so I was like “Well, it means nothing, since only women can be trans”. And then I found out men could be trans too and that pushed my crisis further along. And I started to think. About how I liked when people defaulted to male pronouns for me on the internet, or how when i was a kid I would use a crazy amount of shampoo to make my hair look short and flatten my chest in front of the mirror and look at it. Things like that. And I got upset because “no i can’t be trans that’s impossible”. I would google things like “how do you know if you’re trans”, “quiz to see if you’re trans”, ect.

But the idea of being seen as a man was exciting. It was tantalizingly exciting. And I knew it could be possibility for me someday, and I knew that made a part of me happy and I couldn’t un-know it.

Final straw was a nonbinary person I had been following made a post about how they were going to start taking testosterone. And instead of feeling happy for them I just got mad and started sobbing to myself. Because I was so extremely jealous. So jealousy absolutely has its place in figuring things out.

You should think. Think about attaining the things you’re envious about. Does this make you happy? It’s okay if it’s upsetting or scary at the same time. Change often is. But if it makes you happy, excites you, gives you hope for the future, it’s worth thinking more about.

-

You don’t have to jump into telling your mom right away (and I wouldn’t really recommend it till you’re a little more sure of yourself). You can go at whatever pace you want to. I didn’t tell my mom (or anyone in my real life at all) till I was like, 20. And I’d known for 4 years at that point. You’ve sent me a tumblr message, so I’m assuming you’ve got an account here. I’d say asking your friends on this website to address you as male would be a good way to ease into things. And you can see if you like that or not.

For how you dress, again, you can ease into it. Personally it made me happy to dress in athletic clothing (especially tank tops- to show off my non existent guns), or to dress like a greaser (Though I preferred a black t shirt to a white one), or a golfer. None of those things particularly scream ‘man’ but they were man enough to me. You can find things man enough for you. If you want to try out a binder and think you can get one without anyone noticing, my first ever one was a Tri-top from Underworks. They’re like $30 or so. I was able to get away with buying it because I was a cosplay nerd so I just said it was for that.

If you’re the type of person who owns makeup- you could try to find some time alone just to have an experiment of mimicking drag king makeup, or makeup for cosplayers doing male characters. I did that once early on, and while it looked admittedly goofy, it made me ecstatic at the time.

-

Er sorry for things getting so long. But I just want to say lastly that self doubt is both normal and okay. And thinking far in the future (ie- things like coming out to people or hormones or anything like that) might scare you. But you can take things one step at a time if you want to. Play with just looking at clothes, making outfits on pinterest or whatever, imagining scenarios where people address you as male, thinking of names you might like. See what makes you happy, and expand on the things that do from there.

And regardless of what you discover, in the end you will have learned more about yourself. And that's always a good thing.

[virusinfected-memes]

PONYO SENTENCE STARTERS ;

128 starters. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! 

“I can’t get it out.”

“That was weird.”

“It looks kind of dead.”

“It licked me! It’s alive!”

“_____, we’ll be late!”

“This wind is crazy.”

“Well, have you found my daughter?”

“What?! She was captured by a human?”

“You are alive!”

“This is bad. This is very bad.”

“Wow. That guy was a freak show.”

“We never judge others by their looks.”

“Another experiment for school?”

“Your teacher doesn’t really like Show and Tell…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

“She came to me. She might be magic.”

“I saved her. She’s my responsibility now.”

“Humans are disgusting!”

“Not now, _____. I’m concentrating.”

“You’ll be safe here, _____. I’ll be back soon.”

“Hmm, I wonder if there are any cats around here.”

“Look at me! My mother made me a new dress. Isn’t it pretty?”

“Hey, _____, let’s go play.”

“You’re not busy. You’re five.”

“You are so weird.”

“There are rules about bringing things to school for a reason.”

“The rules are, look but don’t touch.”

“That was my fault.”

“There it comes again. I hear old _____’s voice.”

“So it must be only in my head.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I haven’t lost my mind quite yet.”

“Are you ready to see my big surprise?”

“Maybe she could use some of her magic to fix my hips and back.”

“Fish with faces who come out of the sea cause tsunamis.”

“Come back here and apologize!”

“Don’t worry, _____. No matter what, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

“Listen, _____, you know, this could be for the best.”

“Do that. I think that’s a lovely thing to do for _____.”

“Come on, _____. Let’s get out of here.”

“What if _____ comes back?”

“Your wife must be pretty mad.”

“_____ says he’s very sorry.”

“B-U-G O-F-F!”

“_____ says he loves you. He says lots and lots.”

“Don’t cry, _____.”

“I know _____ breaks his promises sometimes. But he does his best for us.”

“I promised _____ I’d take care of her. Then I lost her. I wonder if she’s crying now.”

“You are so good!”

“Don’t you worry, _____. You did your best and _____ will be just fine.”

“I say we start with dessert and go backwards!”

“It’s been a backwards kind of day.”

“I want to be a human too!”

“Human? Ugh. What do you know about humans, _____?”

“Enough! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

“You can’t be human and magic at the same time, sweetheart.”

“If you could only remain innocent and pure forever.”

“I don’t have the power to hold her for very long.”

“Calm. I must remain calm.”

“When I think of meeting her again, my heart won’t stop pounding.”

“This door still doesn’t fit right.”

“If even one living creature got in here…”

“This cursed door!”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“If I were you, I’d get out of here while you still can.”

“Oh, _____, is that you? It’s so dark in here, I can barely see.”

“I bet the lights came back on because _____’s here.”

“Ah, this stupid TV. Nobody understands weather anymore. Might as well look at shadows and listen to crickets.”

“You need to go back and seek shelter there.”

“Okay, but right now, I need to get home.”

“_____, you gotta get out of here!”

“Try to hang on to something!”

“I’ve never seen the ocean like this.”

“_____, we have to go!”

“Life is mysterious and amazing.”

“It smells like you in here!”

“There, got ya’! Now let’s rub you down and dry you off.”

“Is he an evil wizard?”

“Looks like something must have gone wrong with the fuel line.”

“I can’t get any reception. That’s really weird.”

“Do you think _____ came from far, far away?”

“I’ve gotta go help them. I can get there if I take the mountain road.”

“I’d feel better if you stay up here.”

“I’m going to leave you here in charge. You’ll do the right thing. I know it.”

“Finally, we can get our bearings again.”

“We’re someplace I’ve never seen before.”

“What mountains are those? I have no idea where we are.”

“That is a huge wall of water.”

“Something’s coming this way.”

“I just saw the Goddess of Mercy!”

“So you saw her too? I thought maybe I was hallucinating…”

“That has a powerful spell on it…”

“This is serious! I’m trying to save _____!”

“It’s been a long time, my love.”

“Why isn’t _____ with you?”

“My baby likes you.”

“It’s just like a parade!”

“Looks like the whole town is here.”

“I don’t see _____. I hope she’s okay.”

“There’s water coming from your eyes…”

“The other side is nice, isn’t it?”

“You mean this is the other side?”

“Where do you think we are? Las Vegas?”

“The time has come for you to bear witness to a sacred test of love.”

“Aren’t they too young for this?”

“Remember, this is a very important moment. A crucial moment.”

“Do you think we can trust him?”

“I wish we could hear what they’re talking about.”

“Whatever happens, I’m just glad you’re all here for this.”

“I think I’ve been here before.”

“Don’t like this place…”

“Don’t let go of my hand.”

“_____! Please don’t die!”

“We’ve all been waiting for you.”

“I promise I’m not going to take _____ away from you.”

“_____, don’t listen to that wacko!”

“Did you hear me? Nobody fools me!”

“There is so little time! A choice has to be made!”

“That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

“_____, please listen. You have to trust me.”

“Jump for it!”

“I don’t know why we’re here.”

“She needs you to accept and love her as she truly is.”

“Could you love her if she moved between two worlds?”

“I love all the _____s. It’s a big responsibility, but I really love her.”

“To become human, you must choose to abandon magic. Can you do that?”

“The balance of nature is restored. Life begins again.”

“There you are! Are you alright?”

“Try to remember me kindly, if you will.”

[achilleanwizard]

I was tagged by @punkranger (Thank you!!! 😊) And I’m going to tag @gelvaan @sataari @mutantenfisch @deviant3lover @averagejermafan @demianwas and @aelyosos (Feel free to ignore this if you’ve already done it, or just don’t feel like filling it out for your OC(s)!! I’ve just noticed you guys talking about your ocs, and I’d love to hear more about them!)

BASICS

Full Name: Alexander Valente

Gender: Male?? Look, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now, okay?

Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual

Pronouns: As of right now? Just he/him. He’s pretty comfy with she/her too though. It’s flattering that people think he might be a girl

OTHERS

Family: He never had anyone he considered family; Just very good friends. If asked about it, then he’d say something along the lines of “Do you think I would take the boost drug, with a notoriously very low survival rate, in order to get superhero powers if I had any family I wanted to talk about?”

Birthplace: ???, Nevada, USA

Job: A consultant. Who is he advising and what is he giving them advice about? Mind your business

Phobias: Spiders. Heights. Especially looking out of windows from a very tall height. Admitting he has feelings for a certain someone(s). Abandonment. Probably a whole bucketful more, but those are the main ones.

Guilty Pleasures: Sugar in all it’s various forms (even if he needs the energy to function/for his telepathy) Taking the time to read and appreciate art when not working. Painting his nails (but only when possessing the Puppet’s body) Taking time off work. Buying three entire floors of a luxury skyscraper to house his villain base/office, Renting the most luxurious top floor penthouse (That would make Mayor Osborn (from spider-man) weep tears of envy) he could afford for a home that he barely resides in, Pleasures of the flesh (it’s like a catholic priest up in here) Honestly, it would be easier to list things he isn’t guilty about. (Killing. He’s not guilty about those he’s killed, even if he should be.)

Hobbies: Playing piano. Scheming. Beating up Daniel behind a Wendy’s parking lot Training Daniel. Kissing Daniel too. Starting fights that he can’t possibly hope to win/finish

MORALS

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Sins: Desire / Despair / Envy / Fear / Hunger / Pride / Rage / Sloth (so almost all of them…)

Virtues: Charity / Chastity / Diligence / Humility / Justice / Kindness / Patience

THIS OR THAT

introvert/extrovert organized/disorganized close minded/open-minded calm/anxious disagreeable/agreeable cautious/reckless patient/impatient outspoken/reserved leader/follower empathetic/unempathic optimistic/pessimistic traditional/modern hard-working/lazy

RELATIONSHIPS

Otp: It’s cruel that you’re making me choose between Herald and Ortega. But gun to my head…. Chargestep. There’s nothing quite like old lost loves.

Ot3: I forget the ‘official’ name for it but, Herald/Sidestep/Ortega (Flychargestep? Chargeflystep?)

Acceptable Ships: Alexander flirts with everyone possible, so. Argentstep. Steelstep. Mortumstep? <- Is that the right name? Anyway, he’ll smooch just about anyone.

Brotp: I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about different Sidestep interactions from time to time. I think he’d be good buddies with some, and have a, uh, very *interesting* dynamic with others. Not naming any specific Sidesteps to 1. Avoid any favoritism and 2. Not humiliate myself even further. He’s annoying though, and he revels in that, so it might only be a good time for him. Oh, also Anathema and Sidestep. Best bros for life (or death)

Notp: Oh, this one’s tough. Shroud/Sidestep if that’s even a thing. It’s on sight for him with her. He don’t trust random Regenes like that. (Unless it’s a multiple Sidesteps AU) HG/Sidestep too cause… yeah. If you know you know. Icky. Blaze/Sidestep, because I like teasing my friends(?) (acquaintances?) 😉

[tonberry-yoda]

Hi!! This is for the valentines matchup event!

My name is Sophie, my pronouns are she/her and i’m bi!

I would prefer to be matched up with someone from hxh and i’d like it to be romantic. if you could pls not pair me with anyone from the chimera ant arc or a background character (besides anyone from the pt) that would be great 😭😭 no hate to those characters but that’s just not my thang

anywho, im an infj. I’m an introvert and definitely a very quite and observant kind of person. I can read someone like a book just by watching them and studying them for a little while. (i’m not a stalker just very curious lmfao) I would prefer someone who would be around but would also give me some space because i’m a very independent person.

I foster many puppies and kittens and older ones of course who need help or have been in an abusive household. I absolutely love animals; i have three dogs and used to have one cat but unfortunately she passed away not that long ago. I also dress depending on how i feel that day, i like form fitting things like flared leggings and stuff like that but i do wear A LOT of jewelry and love making myself look confident and presentable. I also love reading and writing, always have since i was a kid.

I absolutely adore music, any type of genre other than country. I find so much beauty in music and really see into it and how it can change someone’s mood just by some melody. I even create spotify playlists for each day lol. My love language is definitely physical touch and gifts. If the other person doesn’t like touch then i’m totally okay with that, i guess it kind of depends what my partner is okay with and i’d be okay with it too.

For the fic, i guess it would be how we meet. Or maybe they noticed me and took a liking to me. I would like someone who is observant like me and would notice the little things about me.

Thank you so much! you’re a lovely writer and i’ve seen your work. Keep it up! and have a wonderful valentine’s day <33

notes 💌: hello dear!! first of all, thank you for the lovely note at the end, it really means a lot!! second of all, thank you for requesting a matchup!!! i am super happy to have hosted this event, but boy oh boy i got burned out. I am super sorry how late this is and that it didn't make it into the actual event, but thank you so much for your patience, it really means the world. I am sending lots of love <333

THE CHARACTER I CHOOSE FOR YOU IS…

CHROLLO!!!

the fact that you are so observant is very attractive to chrollo, i can just feel it in my soul

he is also a very observant person, so you both make a good team

read him like a book

please

he thinks it's so hot

he definitely gives you the space you need because he is pretty to himself

sure he is dependent on his spiders, but he still likes to be alone, so he completely understands how you feel

HE LOVES THAT YOU FOSTER PETS

he will 100% help you

he loves that you are very caring about your looks. he doesnt need it from you, but he loves that you have a passion in it

you two will definitely just sit and read together in silence, but it's so romantic i think

he also finds beauty in music so it's nice to have someone who has a similar interest

he is definitely okay with physical touch, he loves hugs, kisses, cuddles, the whole thing

and he loves gift giving, he loves receiving gifts from you and loves getting gifts

though i think his biggest is words of affirmation

he loves reminding you how much he loves you and ADORES writing you love letters, no matter how cheesy lol

Your Fic <3333

He noticed your eyes first. And then your hands. And then your lips. Chrollo couldn't help but stare at you as you walked into the bar. He knew you had a motive, but he couldn't tell what it was. Something told him that you weren't just there for a drink. When you sat at a lone table and stared at your phone, he made his move. Chrollo moved slowly, not wanting to scare you and when you noticed him and gave him a curious look, he took that as a sign to sit down across from you. He smiled. You smiled. "I'm y/n," you said, sticking your hand out to him. "Chrollo," he said back, taking your hand in his own not only to shake it, but turn it over in his hand and press a kiss onto your knuckles. "You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?" He tilted his head at you and admired not only your beauty, but the way he could tell that you were reading him like an open book. "I occasionally deal with a spider or two." You inquired, taking a sip of your drink. "Ah, I see." Chrollo grinned at you, tucking a loose piece of hair behind his ear. "Good to meet you, y/n."

~~~~~

pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[courtofmatchups]

Heya, I believe you may actually know me from Instagram as I think we are mutuals :)

Anyways, I wanted to see if you were okay with giving me a matchup !!

So my name is Lilith, I’m bi but for this I’d rather be matched with one of the boys, and I use she/her pronouns (but I don’t overly mind they/them pronouns either.) I’m a little shy and touch starved, I can be easily frightened by sharp and harsh behaviour, and I’m relatively fragile and sensitive to small things too. I don’t like loud or sudden noises or movements, as I can be frightened by those as well. I’m quite an introvert and stay away from the crowd, and find a lot of peace in my own company. If I get close to someone I can be clingy or over protective, but I keep that to myself because I find it an annoying trait of mine.

I’m creative and enjoy things like art, I ride horses and love being around them too, and I absolutely adore cats. I have three cats myself and a dog, but I’m not that fond of my dog because he’s a little too loud for me sometimes.

I’m polite to everyone I talk to, but I’m not that talkative in the first stages because I won’t be comfortable yet. I won’t ever be rude to anyone unless I can get extremely angry, but I don’t do much more than snap back a little. Keep in mind this is an extremely rare occurrence, I don’t really feel angry like that. When I’m comfortable talking to someone, I talk a lot and can tend to ramble. However I lose confidence quickly if they don’t seem interested, and I will go quiet again. I’m pretty much a perfectionist and always want to do my best, or how things should be in my head. I can get upset if they don’t turn out how I thought they would. To add onto that I also find I’m a people pleaser, and want others’ approval.

I’m a pretty boring girl, I don’t hang around with people and go out all the time like most others my age do, I’m happy to stay home and listen to music or draw. I’m a fan of the whole dark academia or Victorian/gothic/vampire aesthetic, this I based my ocs on.

I don’t tend to look positively on things because they often do go wrong in my case, which gives me a pessimistic view on most things. However whenever my friends are upset and need comfort, I always come up with a optimistic result for them.

As for fashion, I like things like cargo pants with oversized T shirts. I wear a lot of jewellery such as rings and necklaces, or maybe bracelets too. I also like nature-like colours for example green, brown or maybe black too. Occasionally also some greys and whites. I also do like certain types of Lolita fashion, but I don’t think I’d actually wear anything like that in real life.

I have quite a sarcastic sense of humour, and I tend to communicate a lot through dry sarcasm. But only really if I’m comfortable enough to do so. I also really like wearing perfume, and it’s refreshing to think I smell nice. I don’t want to leave the house without putting on some sort of perfume.

I have a determination to dye my hair a dark/deep red later in the summer, and I feel as though that would suit me.

So to conclude, some things I like are: cats, horses, any kind of calming animal to be around, art and drawing, history, salty things, hot chocolate and chocolate milk, baking, writing, music, snow, rain, thunderstorms, cold weather, Viennese whirls, tea, anything nostalgic, stuffed animals, calm people

Dislikes: loud or jumpy dogs, coffee, mint, anything spicy or too sweet or sour (can’t stand the taste), mornings, hot weather, spiders and bugs, uncertainty, most people, especially boisterous ones, disapproval from others

I believe that’s some basic stuff about me, and I hope this helps you find someone ^^

It seems to me that you have captured the heart of...

The Loyal Maladroit:

Tino Maes

(A/N: when I say this has been sitting in my inbox forever 💀)

Hear me out: Tino would be the most understanding of you since he's pretty experienced with highly sensitive people (*couch*Lynt*cough*). He quite understands your dislike of loud noises and sudden movements (he's seen how stress-inducing that shit is firsthand fuck you Daan), so he tries to keep those to a minimum. If he does let that slip when he panics, he will apologize to you afterward when he calms down.

You weren't that talkative the first time the two of you met, but as time passed, you noticed he went out of his way to help you in any way he could. You were often alone, so he would strike up a conversation, and if those mad fangirls were ever harassing you (let's be honest, those mfs won't leave anyone be), he would de-escalate the situation for you. At first, it came from the base-level kindness in his heart, but as he came to know you more, he couldn't help but be curious about you. At least subconsciously, someone who makes themselves smaller has quite a lot more to their personality than they let on. In turn, you were becoming more attached to him too. Understandable since he genuinely seemed interested in you. And he is. He appreciates you for your personality and interests

As for your hobbies, he would be very fascinated by them. I headcanon that the members of the House of Maes should have some iota of an interest in art, but even without that, he would be interested in the art you make. I highly doubt he would tire of hearing you ramble about the things that interest you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lilith, are you here?" Tino calls from outside your chamber

"Yeah, come in," you reply

Tino came in with two mugs of hot chocolate looking quite worried. He told you about the magical thunderstorm that would come in about half an hour. He was a bit surprised to know you actually enjoy them, despite your aversion to loud noises. He supposes there is just something calming about relaxing in someplace cozy as a thunderstorm went on outside. He sat down next to you, putting the mugs of hot chocolate on the nightstand.

"Pardon me if I'm being intrusive, but you seem a little bit down today. Would you like to talk about it?" You told him that this week hasn't been all that good. You've been drained as hell, but you still had to go on with your work for the week. Almost everything you did for either your friends or for schoolwork wasn't up to your normal standard. And just today you nearly failed a potion, and Toa seemed disappointed. Logically, you knew that Toa understands that this rarely happens, but still, that incident stung.

Huh. So this is how you feel whenever Tino worries that he's disappointed someone. You've been there for him whenever he felt down and he was there for you, and now will be no different.

"Thank you for telling me, Lilith," he said. "You must know that I commend you for all the hard work you do. I suppose coming here with the mugs of hot chocolate was a good idea."

You smiled as you took a mug and snuggled with him. He would stay there holding you as long as you like

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[shotorozu]

hi bae!!! deku, shoto, denki with an s/o who's like affectionate with all her friends and they get insecure and kinda jealous :( ?? tysm in advance <33

s/o that’s affectionate to friends

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, kinda angsty but there’s reassurance (x reader)

note(s) : another one i kinda held off doing because of it getting buried in the inbox sndjwkd i’m sorry for the delay! i didn’t like how denki’s turned out im so sorry

➽───────────────❥

midoriya izuku

man already knows that you’re very touchy with your friends, that’s just who you are

heck, i think before you guys started dating, you were touchy to him too! (but even more because,, you like him)

so he shouldn’t be shocked when you link onto kirishima’s arm, or when you jump to give mina a back hug

and most especially, when you poke at bakugou’s cheeks— and he just LETS YOU for some reason

he’s glad that you feel comfortable around people, considering that it’s why you’re even touchy in the first place.

but he can’t help but wonder,, is he doing enough to you? i mean, you basically do the same to him, but added the cheek, lip kisses

and the wonderful words you get to shower him in daily.

not only that, but he does tend to flush up when you try to initiate some sort of physical affection. maybe,, he’s supposed to let you be?

let you do all of that, since it makes you happy? i mean,, he supposes that he’s willing to do that.

izuku’s not a restrictive person when it comes to things like that, so he supposes that he’ll just have to ignore the weighted feeling on his shoulders despite not carrying a thing at that very moment

on the other hand, you couldn’t help but notice a change in izuku. not anything too concerning, of course

but he’d turn a blind eye— whenever you’d initiate physical affection to your other friends. he’d go silent, until it was over

eventually, you overhear a rather heartbreaking conversation between the dekusquad, and izuku himself

“deku! if you’re so down about it, then maybe you should tell Y/N about it! i don’t think they mean any harm.” you could hear uraraka console him

“correct. L/N-kun does not look like the type to be unfaithful. and even if they were, that would’ve been unacceptable behavior!”

and through out the discussion on how izuku could confront you, his s/o— he speaks abruptly

“i mean.. if Y/N is happy with being physically affectionate with their friends then,, i can’t stop them.” he says sadly, but it breaks your heart knowing that you’ve caused him to sound like this

“plus, i’m sure they have a reason to be acting that way, right?” you didn’t think how your affectionate attitude would have its effects on him

so, the next time you saw your boyfriend, you had a talk with him

“hey, honey!” he’d greet you with the usual demeanor, as if he didn’t just talk about his feelings “how are you? sorry that i was a little late, i was talking with the others!”

you smile, accepting the reason (since it’s true) “izuku, can you be honest with me?”

and this statement shocks him for a bit, “oh uhm,, yeah i can! did i do something wrong?” he scoots next to you, waiting for your reply

“does me being physically affectionate towards my friends make you,, uncomfortable?” you inquire, as straightforward as you could

he’s silent for a bit, which makes you speak again “you can be honest, it’s okay. you’re not in any trouble, zuku.” you ruffle his hair softly for comfort

then, he finally answers. “uhm,, uncomfortable isn’t the word. it’s not that i don’t trust you but,,”

“yeah?”

“i don’t trust,, me.”

this statement takes you by surprise, “oh, why?”

“i don’t trust myself that i could make you happy,” he continues “with physical affection, i mean. i understand if you weren’t, i just feel like i’m not giving you enough.”

“i understand though!” izuku continues, “whenever you initiate physical affection, i can’t help but get all staggery and nervous,” he rambles

he sounds normal, sure— but he’s not looking at you, his emerald eyes set in a downcast state

you make him face you, gently grabbing a hold of his shoulders “i’m sorry, zuku.” you press a kiss on his temples

“in truth, yes. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my physical affection.” you confess, “i’d see that you’d go red whenever i’d initiate something,” you tease, which gives you the exact reaction you’ve wanted

“but then,, i also didn’t think about how you felt about it. i didn’t consider the possibility of you being uncomfortable with it, so i want to apologize for that.” you lean against him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his palm

“if you want, i could stop it. there are other ways i could show affection to my friends anyway!” you suggest, but he shakes his head, smiling

“i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” he reassures, “if it makes you happy then i’ll be happy.”

“is there anything else?”

“just maybe uhm,,” he trails off for a second, before continuing “give me what you give them, but multiply it by 200!” he suggests, his regular self coming back to you

you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly, “i love you, izuku. only you. people may receive my affection, yes— but you’re the only one that deserves all of it.”

and with that, the weight on his shoulders is lifted, and he didn’t actually have anything to worry about.

todoroki shouto

despite shouto being sometimes socially ignorant, he is a very observant person when it comes to the person he likes

so the first thing he noticed was your touchy behavior, specifically towards your friends

sure, he’s had some of that physical affection— but it was like you knew him too well. so, he received it less that the others

it doesn’t mean that todoroki disliked your physical affection. during those few times, he did tend to,, not mind it at all, when he’d usually pull them off

and it doesn’t automatically mean that you didn’t like being around todoroki, it was given that he wasn’t very big on being physical

he didn’t care, again— as long as you were happy, but then there would be this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’d run off to do it to bakugou, hugging him leisurely

or even midoriya, sometimes

so, when you guys finally confess to each other— it doesn’t appear that your physical affection towards your peers came to an end

it remained the same, and while he’s the one that received your delightful words, fully devoted love, and time— he can’t help but frown whenever he sees you latch onto kaminari

or when you sit beside midoriya and count all the freckles on his cheeks— the blush on his face being hard to ignore, in your boyfriend’s eyes.

i don’t think shouto’s a jealous person— protective is one thing, and possessive? maybe that one time, he was. but jealous? maybe not.

well, it’s not like he doesn’t trust you to stay loyal and faithful, that’s a different thing. but it’s more like,, he wants for the affection you’re giving to them

needy, that’s the word

early on, (and maybe even before you got together with shouto) it’s been established that shouto wasn’t a biggest fan of physical affection, besides hand holding, and cheek kisses for now

it makes sense to you, especially hearing about his childhood, and his father’s true colors— that are far from anything heroic.

and you definitely respect what he wants— if he wants space, you’ll comply! and if he wanted more, you’ll also be willing to comply!

that’s why you’ve been keeping things just at that— the last thing you want is making shouto uncomfortable, the concept terrifies you

but,, shouto doesn’t exactly know how to tell you that he wants more, more and more— he wants all of your affection

so, what does he do? he tells you in one exact way— he tells you what’s on his mind

and quite bluntly for that matter

the both of you have been sitting in silence for a bit, no words were exchanged. however, glances were sent towards your way

his stare has a different edge to it, as if he had something in particular he wanted to say— mouth gaping open as if he were to speak, but no words come out

“shou,” you call out to him softly, “it looks like you have something to say,” you smile at him, wanting to know what was in that head of his “you can talk to me.”

a minute flies by, and he’s still silent, and you’re about to drop the topic for good— until he finally speaks up “i don’t know what i’m feeling.”

this quirks your interest, “oh, what,, are you feeling?” what he said worries you, since it kinda sounds like he was about to deliver some bad news

“i’m,, not sure myself.” he stares down at his hands “i feel weird, whenever i see you be.. touchy around the others.”

weird, huh? “what kind of weird? could you try to explain? maybe i could pinpoint what you’re feeling.”

“i feel weird, since i haven’t experienced this before,” he breathes in, before he goes on “i feel like i want more, selfishly more. i thought i would’ve been fine with receiving minimal physical affection,”

he turns to you, heterochromatic eyes staring deep into yours “but i’m not fine with it! i want more, like what you give to the others. so that’s why,, it’s weird.”

and it suddenly dawns onto you on what he’s talking about, he’s talking about you being physically affectionate towards your friends and classmates

and how he doesn’t like it.

you frown, scooting next to him “i’m sorry you feel that way, shou.” you fix a stray piece of hair that has been misplaced, hanging near his brow

“i’m glad that you were being honest, and told me,” you cautiously hold his hand, looking at him to detect any discomfort

there’s none

“yes, i’ve been careful. i don’t wish to make you feel weird— in the bad way, and most especially uncomfortable!” he nods in understanding, he adjusts the hold on your hand, choosing to place his hand on top of yours

“and i didn’t.. think about how you would’ve felt about it. i should’ve asked you about it first.” you look at him with meaning, “‘m sorry.”

his gaze softens, and he leans closer— ever than before “it’s alright, love, no need to apologize,”

“that’s just who you are, if you show gratitude and affection with being physical, then that’s okay. i just,, want more— if that’s okay with you.” you nod, laughing softly

“i’ll give you more, if that’s what you wish. i’ll give you everything you want, whatever makes you happy.” shouto presses a kiss on your temple

“so,, does that mean you’re going to.. stop?” he asks— just because he wanted to know

“oh, if you want to, then i will.”

“you don’t have to but.. maybe tone it down?” he suggests, because although the idea of your physical affection towards your friends coming to a halt, is nice he wouldn’t admit that outloud

he doesn’t want you to stop, if that’s how you show gratitude to your friends. so, toning it down’s the best option

“i will,” you smile, “only high fives, pats on the back, and quick hugs, from now on!”

the statement makes him smile, a genuine one— he’s just glad that his concerns have a resolve now. man was just really touch starved, couldn’t blame him

kaminari denki

it took a while for him to actually start being concerned

i mean— dude’s practically the same as you. have you seen him play with ojirou’s tail? he always finds himself touching someone

whether it’d be him poking bakugou’s spiky head of hair (until he’d scream at him) or him resting his elbows on kirishima— he’s always touching someone

so, he understands if you’re going to be touchy feely with others. he actually finds it quite cute when you show your endearing side to your friends with touch (without crossing boundaries of course)

so, it was okay keyword : was

until you slowly started kissing your friends on the cheek— and it erupted,, something from within

it was so casual, that he had to process what just happened— following it up with a smile, to play it off.

he feels bad for feeling iffy about it, honest! he doesn’t have a reason to distrust you, so this feels all,, wrong for him

the gesture was definitely a gradual process. it wasn’t like you just randomly started to kiss people on the cheek— and it wasn’t like you were depriving him

so this made him think harder than he has ever thought before. maybe you were getting tired of being affectionate to him only, so you moved away from that?

or maybe you were tired of HIS affection?

maybe you were giving people affection, because they deserved it, and he didn’t? if this was the case, denki can’t complain.

denki knows he’s not smart like iida, or serious like bakugou.

but even to denki, all of that is a stretch. he’s just laying out all of the possible reasons— rational or not

and before he realized it, you knew that there was something up

denki; utterly afraid of losing you, switches from super affectionate to being isolated in his room— every single day

this is his way of experimenting with your reactions

even the bakusquad didn’t know what was up so,, yeah. there must be something bothering him.

you’re given a few ideas as to why kaminari might be acting this way, and the exact idea popped into your mind

you made him insecure

and you instantly felt bad— yes, you give all of your friends cheek kisses, and you give them to your boyfriend too!

but you didn’t realize that you would’ve potentially harmed him in the process. so, you sought out to talk to him

“hey babe,” it was just in time, your boyfriend enters through your door, “i was looking everywhere for you, you won’t believe it! i would’ve evaporated if i had to endure bakugou’s screaming one more time!”

“i was looking for you too,” you smile, ushering him to sit on your bed, “listen, i want to talk to you.”

“oh,”

“don’t worry, denki. you’re not in any trouble,” you reassure, “i just want to apologize”

it’s his turn to be confused “what? why?”

“let me ask you one thing, how do you feel about me giving people affection?”

he swallows harshly, but answers truthfully “i like it a lot, babe! i do find it cute.” he smiles, but you’re not fully convinced that his statement made it’s end

“i feel like there’s more i should know.”

“i,, yeah.” he admits, and not very gracefully “it’s— ugh! i’m sorry. i know this is really out of character for me, and i’m sorry that you have to see me feeling like,,”

“you can be honest.” you remind him briefly

“—weird. look, it’s not like your love language is weird to me. i think it’s just me being a needy idiot! and it’s not like i think you’re cheating on me!” he holds his hands up in defense

“but in a way,, i didn’t expect you to do that— you’ve only started doing it recently.”

“so it made you uncomfortable?” you’re preparing for the expected answer, ready for what’s about to be said

“,, if the shoe fits.”

seeing denki in this sort of manner gave you the biggest reality check. yes, you knew that you had something to do with his recent personality change

but you didn’t realize how much it made him question himself.

“i’m sorry, once again” you apologize, “it was wrong of me to assume you were fine with it, i just thought you’d be fine with it since well,,”

“hey, it’s okay,” denki smiles, his mood slightly better “i’m touchy too, i mean,, we both show affection physically! i’m not very surprised that you thought i was fine with it.” he brushes his thumb on your cheekbone

“i mean it, denki. i didn’t realize how much it would’ve affected you. you might not realize it, but i do.”

“it’s fineeee,” he whines playfully when you’re still upset, “Y/N, you’re affectionate, which is a trait i absolutely love. if you’re physically affectionate, that fine.”

“just uhm,,” he trails off, almost awkwardly. “maybe,, don’t bless them with your,, cheek kisses? ugh! omg there was definitely a better way to say that.”

to any other person, that would’ve been awkward— like,, really. but you understood, that’s how much you know about him

“got it, they will be exclusively for you.” you kiss him on the cheek, “thanks for being honest, denki.”

at that moment, denki’s shoulders felt lighter, and he suddenly forgot about why he even felt this way. yes, you still gave people physical affection BUT

denki kaminari still wins 😎 your kisses and ultimate tokens of affection are strictly for him

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

[wri0thesley]

Okay but hear me out, gojo teaching his girl how to properly touch herself bc she can't make herself cum and has been edging herself unintentionally and gojo helps out with his long fingers 🥺

instruction - gojo x fem!reader (2k)

you might be having trouble, but gojo doesn’t mind playing sensei to you. 

warnings: nsfw/minors dni! oral sex, assisted masturbation, fingering. afab reader with fem pronouns

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

The first time that Gojo gives you an orgasm, it’s using his tongue. His head is buried between your thighs, soft noises of praise coming out of his mouth interspersed with the flutter of his kisses on your inner thighs and the downright filthy sound of his mouth dragging through your slick. His tongue toys with your clit, swirling it and sucking it, circling it before he returns back to flicking the tip over it with mountingly quicker and harder motions. Your hands are knit in his hair, and as you feel the ball of pressure inside of you finally split into a thousand tiny pieces, you tug on the silver-pale strands in your grip and wail into the ceiling. He guides you through the aftershocks with slower, deeper laps of his tongue across your cunt before he lazily pulls himself up onto his elbows, looking at you with those big blue eyes, galaxies swirling with them.

“You were so noisy, doll,” he murmurs. “I know I’m good with my tongue, but hell - if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that seems like the first time you’ve ever got to cum--” 

You feel yourself squirm, embarrassment flooding your thoughts. It’s not like you haven’t tried! But something in you always seems to stop you coming, and you’ve spent too many nights frustratedly falling asleep with your thighs a mess after being unable to bring yourself any kind of relief.

You can’t really hide anything from Satoru Gojo, though. 

The look on your face tells him all that he needs to know - that flustered, half-guilty expression, your bitten lips darkened from the dig of your teeth. His own expression softens indescribably, those long fingers sliding up your damp thighs as he coos, all pity; “Oh, baby girl . . . We can’t have that, can we?”

He coaxes you, words coated in sugar, eyes gentle, to show him how you’ve been touching yourself. Before you know what’s happening, he’s taking your hand and pulling it down to rest over where you’re still slick with your own arousal and Gojo’s saliva. You’re still adorably sensitive, flinching at the pads of your fingers over your tender clit, so Gojo gently tugs on your wrist.

“Try circling it,” he murmurs. “You’ll hurt yourself if you go all in with the stimulation--”. You do your best to follow his orders for a few minutes, until the sensitivity wears off a bit. And then, he’s kneeling between your thighs and pushing your knees up a little so he has a better view of how exactly you’re rubbing at your petal-soft folds, how you’ve been treating yourself up until now. “Show me exactly how you’ve done it before,” he breathes, the crystalline sapphires of his eyes set on the space between your legs like he’s a patron at an art gallery. “Lemme see why you haven’t gotten to come, baby.”

You do your best. It’s the same as it always is, though - you rub at your clit with inexperienced, clumsy fingers. Heat seems to build up inside you, but you never manage to get it to go further than that build up. Even when you use your other hand to thrust two of your fingers inside, it feels like you’re reaching for something that isn’t quite there. It’s so annoying. You’ve read guides on how to do this, watched porn videos in the hope it’ll help you with your block - but nothing seems to work. And now, you’re being watched by your boyfriend, and you can’t help but be hot and embarrassed . . . and kind of turned on. The way that he’s looking at you. The concern knitting his usually smooth brow.

Gojo watches you, pensive, as you feel tears of frustration bubble up in the corners of your eyes. You move your hands away from your cunt, curling them into fists and giving the bed beneath you an exasperated thump. 

(Gojo’s eyebrows raise as he sees you removing the stimulation entirely. You poor little thing. No wonder you haven’t managed it.) 

“I-I can’t get it to go further,” you say, agitated. “I-it gets to a point, and then it just seems to stop! It builds up and it builds up but it just stays there!”

Gojo shifts closer to you. His hands rest on your thighs. “You know what I think?” He asks you, his voice very low. His cock has been hard in his pants since the moment he got you on his bed, never mind the orgasm he gave you with his tongue - but it’s a damn right tragedy you’ve never been able to make yourself come, and (much as he doesn’t want to admit it) being Gojo’s girlfriend can be a lonely life. He’s away on missions so often, and he loves to tease, and he knows that you’ll have his cock on the mind forever once you’ve had it for the first time. So it’s better for both of you if you learn exactly what you’re doing. “I think y’just haven’t had the right teacher yet. And . . . you’re in luck,” he flashes you one of those patented Satoru Gojo grins, half-unhinged and half-handsome. “Because I’m right here and willin’ to take some time out of my busy schedule to teach you all about the human body--!”

“Don’t put it like that,” you say, weakly, as he reaches between your thighs and pulls the lips of your cunt apart. He looks back at your sex; the swollen clit, the hole begging to be filled, the absolute mess you’ve both made with tongues and fingers and your earlier orgasm. 

“You always stop before it goes further, right? Because you get bored and frustrated?” He clicks his tongue, shaking your head in mock scolding, as you squirm. “Baby girl, you gotta have temerity. You’ve been edging yourself ever since you figured out how to jack off.” His thumb swipes down through the slit as he lets go of his thumb’s hold. “Play with your clit for me. C’mon.”

The way he meets your eyes tells you that this is an order, and Gojo when he slips into the mode of a commander is not a man to be messed with. You hesitantly slide your fingers back between your legs to gently circle your swollen clit, your touch incredibly gentle. Gojo’s pretty mouth tilts into a smile. “Use your other hand to play with your chest,” he says. “I’d ask you to use it for something else, but . . .” The smile widens, showing a hint of white teeth. “I think I’m much better placed to do that.”

You are about to ask him what he means when his hand brushes over yours and then a fingertip gently pushes into the pulsing ring of your entrance. His fingers are slender - it does not hurt for him to push them in, but you are still robbed of your breath by the sensation of it plunging slowly into your silky depths. He gives one or two cursory pumps, before withdrawing his finger entirely so he can add a second beside it.

This one is more of a stretch, but it is a stretch in the best possible way. You use the hand not playing with your clit to squeeze the weight of your breast, your breath hitching. Thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak, as Gojo finds a slow rhythm to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s deeper, right?” He rasps. “Feels better? Like places you’ve never been able to reach before?” He crooks his fingers just so and magic seems to spark, a spot on your inner walls your own shorter fingers have never managed to gain ground on. Your thighs tremble and you gasp out his name. “I thought so.” He swallows. You look up at him through the fan of your eyelashes and you see the lust in his eyes is palpable. He catches your gaze and holds it, unafraid. 

“I want you to be rougher with yourself,” he growls, low. “Press a little harder--”

The hand not currently fucking two digits into you takes hold of your wrist, pushing you to put more pressure on your clit. Fuck. The sensation of his hand guiding your wrist’s movements, in tandem with the fact that his fingers have not yet stopped hitting that special spot with every single thrust . . . You can feel the ball tightening, pulling in on itself, like a hundred knots in the same piece of thread. 

“If you didn’t have me,” Gojo rasps, and the sound of his voice gritty and dark sends a jolt of pleasure throughout you, “You’d be stopping now. You’d think you weren’t gonna get anywhere. But . . . you will, doll-- you’ve just gotta push past it--” He takes his hand away from your wrist, but you continue the pace and the pressure that he chose for you.

You whimper out his name, the hand playing with your chest squeezing hard (if you have bruised fingerprints on the soft curve of your breast tomorrow, Gojo will laugh gently at them and press on them a little meanly before he soothes you all over with kisses). 

“You gonna promise me you’ll do that when you’re alone, yeah?” Gojo asks. He’s sounding a little breathless. Your eyes manage to focus long enough to see that he’s rubbing himself through his underwear, an impressive bulge pressing against the expensive fabric. He sees you looking and gives another feral grin that seems to echo through you. “D-don’t worry, we’ll take care’a that after your lesson--”

“I promise,” you breathe, as he curls his fingers just right against that spot and your own fingers reach fever pitch. You don’t know if you’re promising to do it the way that he taught you, or if you’re promising that you’ll take care of his cock, or if you’re promising something else to him entirely - your life, your love, your very being - but you do know that the knotted threads inside of you snap all at once as Gojo’s fingertips reach so deep, so good, so perfectly inside of you.

Your channel clenches and constricts, spasming around the digits buried in it to the knuckles. Heat washes over you with a feeling of peace, different to when he’d used his tongue on you and yet similar. Gojo is practically purring as he watches you and feels you, a gush of slick coating his fingers even as he guides you over the crest of your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Gojo’s murmuring, as your breathing (when did you start panting?) evens out. “Oh, so good for me, doll . . .” His fingers come out of you with a wet pop and he brings them to his mouth, tongue flickering out teasingly to taste you. “So sweet for me, too . . .” He sighs, his eyes closing for a moment as he enjoys the lingering flavour. When those eyes open again, they’re lit with hunger.

“Well,” he says. “whaddya say? Think you can come like that next time you touch yourself?” He raises his eyebrows, a playful grin on his face. “Think y’can come at all?”

You nod fervently, and win a chuckle from Gojo. He shifts on the bed, pushing the underwear he’s still wearing down to his thighs to reveal the thick jut of his cock. You’re breathless at the sight of it, already needy despite the fact your second orgasm of the night was scant minutes ago. 

“I want a video of it,” he tells you. “Next time you touch yourself. I want a video of you and I want you t’say my name as you do it. But for now . . .” He gently taps the wet (so, so, wet - ruddy and flushed and dripping with his pre-come) head of his cock against your thigh. “I think we’ve got some other business to attend to, yeah?”

[crystalcow]

Hey if your requests are open still can you do something with headcannons of c!schlatt dating reader who has a toddler already? Maybe 2 or 3 years old? (And maybe his reaction to the kid calling him dad :3)

𝑀𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑦 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡//𝐽𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑡

Masterlist

Schlatt x reader !c !mom reader

Pronouns: she/her (I can make Gn or male versions if requested!)

Warnings: fluff, alcohol, death

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Schlatt was a very lonely man

So when his good buddy Wilbur set him up on a blind date

He didn’t really expect much

Usually all of his past relationships ended up in schambles

So he drank his feelings away

Then the ram hybrid met with the most beautiful women

Her hair was perfectly dolled up

The dress she wore looked amazing

So he didn’t expect after walking down the pathway to bump into someone

And then falling in love

No it’s cheezy but it happened

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝗺𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

You were racing back home before it got dark

You were running some necessary errands trying your quickest to just go home

But then you crashed into this random man

You looked up scratching the horns on your head

Turns out you both had the same thing

You could’ve sworn that his eyes like sparkled

He was dressed in a nice fancy suit

One that you could never afford

You got distracted by him but then frowned once noticing the bags on the floor

“Oh crap sorry, here let me help you”

Oh?

He was nice too?

Didn’t mean you could trust him

“Aw damn the ice cream melted!”

Yeah now you were distracted

So he gave you his comm number

“I’ll take you to get some more I promise”

And that was the start of something unexpected

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧

Oh god you were freaking out

Your little one was making grabby hands at you as you just paced around the kitchen

Heart to brrr

So he called

A lot

And you just managed to ask him out!

he said yes

So you grabbed the bottle almost throwing it at the little baby’s face

But of course you didn’t because by then you came back do your senses

“What the fuck am i gonna wear?”

“SHIT sorry you weren’t supposed to hear that sweetie”

Schlatt on the other hand tho

Safe to say he was spamming Wilbur

Wilby over there was trying to deal with his new girlfriend Sally and impress her

And then tommy drowned her

So when he got beeps on the comms every 2 seconds man was pissed

“Schlatt you better be fucking dying”

“CLOSE ENOUGH”

He wanted to ask you out since the second he saw you and when you just popped the question

Mans just wanted to marry you

So then those two just spent a whole 3 hours planning everything out

What to wear, what to say, how to not drive you away

Oh dear this was going to be a lovley mess

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝗼𝐟 𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐲

This man certainly went soft

Before he’d have hoes on every arm

But with you he had to reassure himself a lot

You were struggling on finding a babysitter

“Oh please why not, I have you those diamonds the other day!”

“I’ll pay you in all the emeralds you want”

“I swear this is my only chance at an actual man you better do this for me after al I’ve done-“

F r u s t e r a t I o n

But you called up your friend Phil

You and him haven’t spoken in quite a bit, old, but a nice lad

Hes raising 3 boys, so he understands the pain of babysitters

Most of the time he didn’t have to worry because Techno was raised responsible

So you dropped your son off before running to the spot

Surprisingly he found a cute little ice cream place

“I told you I’d get you that ice cream back”

“I can’t believe I ever doubted you” “you what now”

The night went strangely smooth

Before he accidentally made this little kid cry

It was a little funny but your motherly instincts kicked in

I mean schlatt actually kicked the icecream out of the kids hand

HE DIDNT MEAN TO

“ heyhey sweetie it’s okay! Here let’s buy you another one! He does it quite a lot so”

He was laughing in the corner watching as you handled the child with care

How? When was anyone like you ever his type?

Love has it’s strange coincidences

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝗺𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞

The both of you have been going out a lot

A lot

There had been times where you’d accidentally stay up till 3 am

And not because of the crying toddler

But then the time actually came

He had to meet the love of your life

You couldn’t keep lying to him and safe to say the baby was curious

Curious enough as a three year old could be

So you invited Schlatt over!

Pacing around the house, making sure that everything’s clean in the small cottage

You gave little one a bath and put him in his best clothes

Laughing at some of the smaller ones promising him to get him new ones

A knock on the door drew you away from the little game

Your heart was racing, the rapid beats could be heart from across the room

So you opened the door and smiled at the tall ram, a quick peck on the lips

“Wait before you come in I have to tell you something!” “if your a slob it’s fine! So am I”

The more you fidgeted with your hands the more worried he got

Did you kill someone? It’s not that big of a deal

Are you a criminal? Okay let’s go commit crimes together

“I have a child. Schlatt meet Tubbo”

His eyes widened

Oh god that was some information he wished he was acknowledged of before

So he was internally debating to either run or to just stand still

But then he looked down at you and your shaking state

And only saw beauty

Okay so what? He’s dating a fucking milf!

“I love you”

Now it was your turn to be shocked!

He didn’t mean to it just slipped out

NOW HE REALLY DIDNT EXPECT YOU TO SAY IT BACK

So when you did the small toddler whined from his seat

You went over there, carrying Tubbo in your arms

“Wanna hold him?”

no he did not

so he backed away and fell over the couch

Tubbo started laughing and you just went along with it

You made sure he was okay tho after

Tubbo seemed to like him

Kind of

He spat in schlatts face at one point

But they grew on each other as the night went on

u think

𝗺𝐲 𝗼𝐡 𝐠𝗼𝐝

Something sparked within you and schlatt as Tubbo grew older

He became more as a father to him despite the past

Schlatt never questioned you about the past relationship or tubbos real father

Frankly enough I don’t think he wants to

But then one day your out with the both of them going out on a little “family” dinner

It was yours and schlatts 6 or 7 month anniversary

(The timeline is fucked don’t hold me to it)

So Tubbo was having trouble reaching the pizza slice over on the diner table

You guys were sitting in a booth and Tubbo and schlatt both sat next to each other so they could look at you

Tubbo wanted to admire his mama and make sure she’s always in the line of sight

Schlatt was just straight up checking you out

But then something caught all of you off guard

“Papa! pizza,now.”

You both looked wide eyes at the little boy a blush forming up on your face

He was just straight up stunned

“Tubbo sweetie-“ “Nono here you go buddy.”

You couldn’t help but just smile

but internally you were spontaneously combusting

The two of you just had the same thing in mind

The dinner went so quiet afterwards

Nobody knew what to say Except tubbos small rambles

When you guys left and you were walking through the night

You pulled schlatts hand closer to you and went on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear

“I’m sorry if that made you feel weird, you don’t have to accept that title if you want”

He raised a brow at you looking even more confused now

“Oh please you expect the little rug rat to grow up with you and you alone?”

So you gave him a punch on the arm kissing his cheek

Tubbo giggled pulling you closer as small crickets and bees flew by

Too bad it didn’t last forever

𝐃𝗼𝐰𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

So Tubbo started spending more and more time with Tommy and the two became inseparable

Not soon after your first year together he asked to move in with you

Ofcourse you said yes! That’s the very thing you’ve been wanting since that day 

So the both of you were walking around the house as the two toddlers ran around everywhere

But then you crashed

No litterly you fell down and hit your head

You said you were fine but schlatt didn’t believe it

Soon enough your condition got worse and worse and no potion or healer could do anything

So he started drinking

He couldn’t bear to see you in that state

The love of his life, the only women who could actually change him

was dying and he couldn’t do anything about it

So one day you were on the couch cradling Tubbo waiting for schlatt to come home

But when he did it wasn’t good

He was meaner then usual and reeked of that ratchet smell

So when you fell onto the floor as you were on your way over to him

He felt his world collapse

Tubbo was sobbing wondering why you wouldn’t open your eyes

And so he watched as your body laid lifeless on the floor

it was all his fault

He didn’t try hard enough

And he couldn’t do anything anymore

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

I’m sorry this took so long but here it is! Love y’all <3

Taglist: @creatorofstars @georgenctfound @samistheidiot @smolfuckingblob @ghostlysenses @stellarinstigator @bobaducky @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @uwucorpse @chaoticotaku @k-l-a-w-s

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Ineffable Con 2020 Fun Facts

Fun facts from the Ineffable Con 2 (2020) guest panels :): 

Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins

David G. Arnold (the music composer)

Claire Anderson (the costume designer)

Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)

Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)

Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)

1. Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins

What do they have from Good Omens:

Rob has the statue from St. Beryls, all four motorbikes from the four horsemen, Crowley’s Devon watch, box signed by David Tennant with Crowley’s sunglasses and Aziraphale’s cocoa mug with Michael Sheen’s DNA :).

Douglas has the playing cards from Episode 1 and heavily annotated Good Omens book they used for filming with inscription by Neil: ‘For Douglas, make us love, make us cry, 3rd August 2017’.

Neil has Aziraphale’s chair from the bookshop that he bought from the BBC and he uses it for Zoom meetings.

What is their favourite thing that was not in the book and was added to the TV show:

Neil: all of the first half of Episode 3 - an absolute joy.

Rob: also the beginning of Episode 3.

Douglas: David Arnold’s music and Peter Anderson’s front titles.

Could Aziraphale get out of the Bastille easily if he wanted to?

Neil: if he could: absolutely. Did he have any conception of the mess he was in: probably not. It’s one of Neil’s favourite pieces of acting - the absolute delight on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that Crowley’s there and then he turns around and rather petulantly, grumpily goes oh it’s you - that moment of joy on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that he’s been rescued is one of Neil’s favourite things. 

Neil and yoghurt starter: I had this slightly mad thing where I would explain to everybody that fans were yoghurt starter. And I said, ‘Basically you start out with yoghurt starter and you put it into your warm milk and you leave it, and the yoghurt starter goes off and turns the entire thing into yoghurt. 

Neil realized that there was a cat in his house (Neil doesn’t have a cat :)). After the panel Neil said that he was going to look for the cat with a can of sardines and Douglas joked that he would find Michael Sheen in a cat costume.

What was the best and worst about making the series:

Douglas: the best - the camaraderie, getting to know the people, the cast and crew. 

Rob: the best - realizing that the book could be translated to the screen and watching it happen. The worst - coming to the end of the shoot and saying goodbye to everybody.

Neil: the best - the amount of love from everybody, the worst - fighting budget battles (producers wanted gone all of the cold opening and the death of Agnes Nutter).

Did they expect that Good Omens would attract so many LBGTQ+ people and how they feel about that:

Neil: Yes, absolutely. There are definitely people out there who seem to think that I accidentally wrote a love story with all of the beats of a love story including a break-up halfway through, without somehow noticing that I’d written a love story. And I may not be the brightest candle on the candelabra, but as an author who’s been doing it for a long time, I’m very well aware of when I’m writing a love story, thank you very much. And so from my perspective I knew that the love story would be one of the driving things that would get us from the beginning to the end. And I also made a bunch of decisions about our angels and our demons in terms of casting, in terms of gender that everybody backed me up on, which I loved. You know, the idea that the archangel Michael is played by Doon [Mackichan] is something that is... or Beelzebub is Anna Maxwell Martin, whatever, there’s... it’s not like we are going: these are women, there are men, we are going: these are demons, these are angels. They... this is not a thing. And also doing something like Pollution, where you go in and go: okay  well if we were doing this in... if 1989 was now, if there were they pronouns, we probably would have done that. We didn’t think of it at the time but that’s no reason why we can’t do it now. And we did and I remember having a... not exactly a battle, but a... my very tiny skirmish with one of our execs who was very nice and very bright and was like: ‘Why are you saying they?’, and I’m like... and I... explaining, and he’s like: ‘Well I’ve never heard of that before.’, and I’m like: ‘Oh, okay, but trust me, just trust me, it’s all fine, just trust me.’

Douglas: And you know I have to say, just following on what Neil’s saying, I’ve been directing for quite a while, and I tend to notice if characters are falling in love, I tend to notice a love story happening in front of me, and I think it’s there, and everything is meant, guys, everything is meant.

Neil added: I would just say, there are some things that you do while you’re writing a script intentionally. The fact that... I wanted to do this, well, it was a thing I did that I really enjoyed doing... where whenever people accuse them of being a couple: they don’t deny it, they don’t argue, there’s no flustering on their part. They absolutely… you know, everybody… what I’m trying to say is:  yes, other people in the story are perceiving them as a couple too. And here is Uriel perceiving them as a couple, here is wonderful Dan [Starkey, playing the passerby] …and you know, you do scenes like that because that’s... you are trying to make a point here and you’re trying to make a point on how people are perceived.

Season 2, yes or no [fiends, all three of them!]:

Douglas: What’s that?

Neil: Of what?

Rob: Is it muted for me as is for everyone else?

Neil confirmed that they are going to be Funko Pops. [yay!]

2. David G. Arnold (the music composer)

He didn’t read the book before he was approached to do the music. He was asked to do it by Douglas Mackinnon he knew from the Victorian episode of Sherlock and he said yes before even knowing what it was about because he wanted to work with Douglas again.  

The first piece of music he wrote for the show was the brass band doing the Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon [Episode 6, in the park before the kidnapping].

The second piece of music he wrote was the lullaby that Crowley sings to Warlock. He always liked the lullabies like in Mary Poppins so he said to Neil: Why don’t we do it like Walt Disney, but if Walt Disney was possessed by Satan? That was about 7 months before he needed to write anything again while they were shooting and it kept going round his head the whole time - the melody stuck with him and when it came to the Opening Title of the show, this became the middle bit.

The original opening title was Everyday by Buddy Holly and each episode was supposed to be closed with a different version of it: a death metal version, an angelic choir version, a carmina burana version... and he actually made all those. But he likes to find the musical identity of the show and put it in the opening titles because it’s important and it tells you: ‘This is the word you’re going to experience’, so he wrote his own opening title with the lullaby in the middle and played it to them [probably Neil and Douglas] with Buddy Holly as the backup and: Neil just turned around in his chair and said, ‘That’s Good Omens.’. From that point the instructions were with no rules, just to create whatever he wanted: the further you can go the better, the weirder and the stranger you can think the better. It’s a rare thing to be shown a world like Good Omens and be let free to run around in it. 

His favourite ending title is the Queen one in Episode 1.

One of the reasons he didn’t do a theme for Crowley and a theme for Aziraphale is that the theme of the show is theirs - it’s theirs and they share it and it’s both of theirs and there is no separating in that regard. 

About Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship reflected in the music score: It’s interesting isn’t it, because the relationship changed in a way slightly frequently and majorly infrequently. It seemed right from the start that their relationship was somehow seeded and planted and had begun by the time we saw them even though they may not have realised it themselves, you know, with the pair of them on the wall, considering one is a demon in the Garden of Eden and one is an angel. They act very charitably towards each other and they act with a lot of things you might not expect. And underneath that there is a sort of sense of togetherness and support even though they both know that their paths are going to diverge and they have different responsibilities. So I always felt like, right from that moment, when the wing came up on the wall, that there was something special about their relationship. Three moments that stuck with him: in Episode 3 saving the books in the church when they completely rely on the other for survival in the way that they were very open about, one in the car outside the nightclub in 60s Soho - the Holy Water, you go too fast for me, that genuinely tearing, that there was reluctance in those words that he spoke and that sort of things as a composer is gold, it’s about making those moments more, and in the last episode in a scene they’re not event in when we see Adam and Dog in the fields and Anathema that music there which celebrates Crowley and Aziraphale’s music which is the theme of the show - their shadow has passed over everyone’s emotional journey, and everyone’s emotional journey is theirs as well. The argument in the bandstand was important as well.

His favourite leitmotif from the series is the lullaby.

About the scene in the car in episode 2 when Thomas Tallis changes into Queen: Terry’s favourite piece of classical music was the Thomas Tallis piece [Spem in Alium] so Neil asked if they can go from Thomas Tallis - a choral piece from 16th century - to We Will Rock You, and: ‘You never say no. You don’t say that you can’t do it. What you have to do is to be the first person who solves the problem.’ In the end it was a two-days work just for this little bit and he mentioned that he never had these sorts of challenges anywhere else before.

His favourite non-musical detail in the show - the crucifixion, how the scene was shot, how it was upsetting, and how it was made more effective by Aziraphale and Crowley’s inability to stop it, that they had to observe and watch it, that it had to happen. I remember seeing that at the time and thinking, I wasn’t expecting that level of brutal honesty, in terms of the pictures that I was looking at and what they chose to show. And I think all the more effective for it. 

3. Claire Anderson (the costume designer)

When creating the costumes for the characters she started with mood boards. 

Aziraphale - she knew that he needed to have something winglike in his collar so that’s why there are sweeping lapels very often. Using velvet [for the waistcoat] because that was nice and soft and had all the appropriate qualities. His watch and fob that has little gold wings hanging from it and other tiny bits of symbolism. Tartan bow tie. Beautiful cashmere checkered trousers - not quite tartan but a nod to it. A mid to late Victorian coat, Michael only made his decision on the coat a couple of days before the filming. Aziraphale in the present settled on a ring with angelic symbol and harp cufflinks, earlier his ring in ancient times has got a much more roughly hewn set of wings on it, so before jewellery making became sophisticated he modernised slightly - he magicked it up to be a bit more modern, more gentleman signet type of ring, but he never modernises entirely. His heart is much more in the past.

After they began to define Aziraphale they started to look at how the Heaven army of angels might look - the element of tartan came sort of from Aziraphale and the angels have a not-tartan kilt with a semi military type jacket and a military band across that might hold arms or not, because they are not really violent. She used spats to make them look quite neutral and genderless so hiding fastenings and concealing little details like that seemed a way to do that.

Gabriel doesn’t wear spats because he’s on Earth such a lot. His shoe has a cover with two buckles on the side giving the same neutral element. He wears a cashmere light-as-air suit.

The other angels are all in bastardized versions of what era they may have died in, so they could have died in the 1930s or the 1800s and the costume would have an element of that era about it - though of course as an angel you can change things.

The Quartermaster Angel - the costume is a combination of slightly Indian type military, maharaja pants, longer spats from another era, all combined pieces of military tailored to be magical and slightly nonsensical, as Heaven might be.

Crowley - she felt that he wrapped around like a snake sheds its skin so she wanted something double breasted because that seemed to envelope his snakey charm. David wanted to be more casual than wearing a suit. Under his collar he always has a flash of red like the snake that he comes from - the red belly. They put a red seam into the sole of his boots so always there is a hint of where he came from. The red tie in the blitz. He was more rock and roll than Aziraphale and modernised more to a snakehipped rock and roll star really. His present jacket - the fabric there is quilted, they found an 80s jacket that had elements of things they enjoyed - part of that was that it had a slightly quilted quality to the fabric which was like a textured snakeskin. It took quite a long time to create the fabric and then to make the jacket from that - they quilted some fabric and washed and whooshed it repeatedly to create a bit of puckering in it. He has a snakey scarf around his neck like a chain mail linked scales of skin scarf that he wore that complemented his neck chain. The trousers he wore in Victorian times are the same he wore in the 60s when he meets young Shadwell. His present trousers - slightly waxy denim - we just were looking for a slithery finish. Crowley’s neck chain - there is only one in the world - her tailor has a Gothic church full of interesting stuff like busts and drapes with old things, this chain mail scarf was there and David was looking for something to complete his costume and liked it. 

Hastur and Ligur are her favourite characters - they were so enjoyable to create. She had an amazing book of 1920s and 30s criminals and they used that as a starting point, because they were all quite worn out and bedraggled and poverty stricken and like hell might be ideally. They burnt and decayed the bottom of them as if they were rotting from the Earth and rotting back into the ground - all demons have sort of gators as if they were rotting from the ground up.

One of the most difficult things was the demons - when they realized they had a few days to create hundreds of demons in South Africa (4-5 days for almost 200 demons). It was as if I had been dissolved in holy water when they asked me for another 150 costumes.

The sleeves of Anathema’s coat have been inspired by a Victorian cycling coat. 

The historical costume that Newt’s ancestor wore influenced his and Shadwell’s costumes - they used elements of the historical costume to put a little cape on Newt and Shadwell and their wax coats to give them the quality of that look. Newt's costume has a lot of mustard to make him feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable - it's not the most flattering colour on a northern European complexion.

The nuns’ headdress needed to look a little bit demonic - she bought a whole book on nuns’ headdresses for research. They also used the V in the nurse's apron because that was nicely demonic. The nurses' watch has got this Satanic symbol at the top - a little take on the medical since old nurses’ uniforms used to have watches.

For Madame Tracy she went back into the 70s, slightly Biba-esque makeup and a cape. They had only one pair of her goggles so it was always a nightmare to find them.

Which part of the cold opening is her favourite: I love ancient Rome because there is at least 6 to 12 metre of fabric in a toga and that was quite fun wrapping that around the boys and creating those., and her favourite was the Globe.

The lapels represent wings in every way and every shape and every form. Wings are very important.

4. Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)

The first thing that the director Douglas Mackinnon (with whom he worked on Doctor Who and Sherlock) said to him was: for all the graphics, for all the title sequence, for everything, I want you to promise me one thing, and that is very, very simple, promise that you send me emails that say: ‘this might be absolutely nuts, but my idea is...’.

The opening title it’s full of easter eggs - it’s a type of sequence that’s been designed to watch a thousand times, for example: on the escalator down to Hell there is one character running up deciding that he doesn’t want to go to Hell or the sea is full of plastic bags because we don’t look after the planet.

Every single face in the title sequence is either Crowley’s or Azriphale’s, they are repeated all the way through - inspired by Neil saying that there’s good and evil in all of us, so there is a grand procession of people of all the characters from the story - marching towards Armageddon - but all the characters have been taken over by good or evil. And along the way our two heroes are kind of playing tricks on each other, doing good, doing evil

The opening title combines multiple elements - two dimensional animation elements, three dimensional animation elements, CGI and live action (the people in the procession were created by live action on a travelator). So the result is a kind of strangeness - such as 3D figures with 2D animated tracked heads - which makes it unique.

Their first idea and version of the opening title was based on tapestries of old, subverting them, but then they wanted something more new and fresh.

Both Douglas and Neil were an important part of the opening title creation process.

The opening title sequence took about a year to make from the creative start with four intensive months towards the end.

One of things that inspired him was a Bauhaus theatre image from 1930s.

Question if the hand-drawn font for the graphics will be a purchasable font: no, because it was original and it’s unique and it was created just for this - it was for the love of the show and the story and it will be kept there.

In the scene where there are three photos of witchfinders - Neil and Douglas revealed in the DVD commentaries that two of them are their grandfathers - the third one is Peter’s great uncle.

Originally the signs telling us things like ‘Thursday’ or ‘Mesopotamia’ - were done as if somebody (who was living inside the television screen) ran up close to the screen and showed us the sign. In the end they simplified it, only showing the signs. The one time that it was sort of left in the show was when in Episode 5 a little demon in the video game shows a sign ‘GAME OVER’.

Outside of his work on it, what was his favourite thing on Good Omens: spending time with Douglas and Neil, and also working with Milk VFX - I think I can honestly say it's the best job I've ever worked on with the nicest people. 

5. Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)

He first read the book when preparing for the audition - the character wasn’t in the book but he got into it, loved it and couldn’t put it down.

He didn’t know about the name Eric until the script was published and people started calling the demon that, he really likes the name and thinks it fits.

There was a version of the script where the demon was going to be dressed in different costumes each time he was discorporated (for example one in long hair wearing a dress) - they would be all the same but different incarnations, in one version they had different accents. 

The first scene he shot was the one where the demon goes to Heaven to deliver the Hellfire (and also wants to hit ‘Aziraphale’ which was cut). That first day was also his favourite moment of shooting because there was an immediate welcoming atmosphere and everyone was lovely and in love with the production.

Disposable Demon is like a permanent intern, running errands for the higher ups in Hell.

His favourite part of the costume were the eyelashes (though he loved the whole costume).

If he could change anything about the costume he would also want cool contact lenses - some brightly coloured ones.

Question what animal (like other demons have on their heads) comes to mind when we see the Disposable Demon: he didn’t think about it at the time, but later he saw people talking about his horns as bunny ears and found it interesting, and also the facts that there are so many of him and that he is quite happy and friendly for a demon so the bunny makes sense, so he might be a sort of a rabbit. Or perhaps something goat type because of the horns.

Question if there is another role in Good Omens he would have liked to have played: he always thought that the four horsemen were very cool and Pollution was his favourite so probably Pollution (also was the most jealous of Pollution’s contact lenses). 

If there were a season 2, he would be there in a heartbeat.

Question about Eric’s feelings on Crowley, if he’s a bit of a Crowley fan: I think he might be. There is something about Crowley and how he is somehow a little bit different from the rest of the demons. - and the Disposable Demon has, much like Crowley, interest in the human world. He could well be 6,000 how many years old, the same as everyone else, but he seems to have this younger vibe and I think he thinks that Crowley is quite cool.

Good Omens fandom is his first experience with a fandom of this scale. It speaks a lot, the fact that this kind of very, this minor character, a character who is only on screen for a very short amount of time gets any kind of attention at all, it's quite amazing really, it goes to show how big and enthusiastic the fans are. I never experienced anything like that.

6. Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)

When Crowley used a miracle to switch off the Bentley lights in Episode 1 at nuns manor it was done by: there was actually a very small guy called Louis turning on and off the switches quickly.

David Tennant was allowed to wear the snake eye contacts for only 3 hours a day otherwise they could damage his eyesight.

For Mary, the Bentley, it was the second time she was ‘blown up’ on film - first being in the Endeavour with Inspector Morse about three years earlier.

He was a bit nervous during filming the bookshop fire scene because the Bentley was so close to a real fire - not wanting the paint to blister. The car was moved off after a few minutes of filming but still.

About the damage to Mary: Unfortunately, we overran, and Rob my stunt driver had already booked a holiday and off he went and so when he returned in January, on the 10th of January, I had this new driver who really had no clue how to drive old cars, so I showed him around, I showed him to go around corners. He came around the corner, the door was not closed properly for some reason and the door flew open as he went around. And instead of slamming on the brakes which is extremely efficient and would stop him straight away he kept on going, hit another car and really smashed the door quite badly. It did take the car off the roads for 10 months. The door was completely remade because of this accident and it cost the total of  £24 000 to rebuild the car to get it back to running as it is today.

The Bentley’s part most difficult to maintain and service is the engine. 

Would Mary be available for a potential season 2: definitely!

[spicysoftsweet]

A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn​‘s Hanahaki collab! 

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?” 

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment. 

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?” 

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected. 

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured. 

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other. 

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye. 

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you. 

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic. 

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly. 

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right. 

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss. 

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent. 

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail. 

It couldn’t be. Not you. 

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building. 

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly. 

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you. 

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up. 

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other. 

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection? 

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any. 

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you. 

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

[nojey]

reminiscing (fans 2)

dreamwastaken x streamer!reader

genre: angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): failed relationship, cursing

fans (part 1)

synopsis: after taking 6 months off from social media, you finally explain to your fans why you took so long and why you needed it.

go live. *click*

you watched as your chat strolled in and viewer count go up. your computer screen illuminating your face in the dark room as your webcam caught the nervous look. you were shaking your leg up and down, a habit you caught whenever you tried to calm yourself down. 

“hi everyone, it’s been a while since my last stream, huh?” you dryly chuckled. “it’s been about.. 6 months since i last streamed and at this point i think i’ve taken enough time to correctly word how i’m going to tell everyone why i decided to take a break from streaming.” you said looking down at the ground and fiddling with your fingers.

“uh, donation notifications will be off for this stream and chat will be on emotes only because i really just want to focus on getting this out. but if you plan on donating, thank you so much, really, it means the world to me.” you said finally looking at your webcam and smiling a bit. you read a chat and answer, “yes, i’m doing okay. i just have a big announcement i want to say after i tell you guys why i took a break.”

you took a deep breath in and started. “ over a year ago, almost 2, i met this guy through a friend and we started talking. it was very little at the beginning but as little as it was, his texts always made me smile.” you scratched the back of your neck. “and as time went on, we started talking more and more and he just became part of my daily routine. when i woke up i’d see a good morning text from him, we’d spend most of our day being on the phone with each other, i was even on facetime with him most of my streams but i had an airpod under my headset so you couldn’t really see it, i almost always fell asleep on facetime with him. i really fell for this guy.” you fondly smiled, looking at your desk, where your phone used to be propped up and you would see clays face just looking at you.

“then we started streaming together. ‘omg he’s a streamer too’ yeah, and a lot of you probably know who i’m talking about at this point but i still won’t disclose who it is. i uh, got a lot of messages from you guys telling me that i looked super happy that stream and i was. i was always happy when i talked to him. but along with those messages i also got a lot of hate, telling me to stay away from him. it didn’t really bother me because i always get hate when i stream with my guy friends; i was used to it.” you said, taking a sip from your water then wiping the side of your eye as it teared up. 

“and today... i’ll be going on the dream smp! with the man himself, dream. dream, say hi now.” you introduced, you waited a few seconds but was only met with silence. you grabbed your phone and sent him a voice message, “clay! you’re on deafen! introduce yourself!” you screamed into your phone. dream then took himself off deafen and said. “hi (y/s/n)’s chat! i’m dream, i’ll be showing (y/n) around the smp today and we’re gonna get started on their house.” you smiled fondly when you heard him speak. “yeah! what dream said!” 

so you both logged into the dream smp, said hi to sapnap, and dream gave you a tour. you then started building your house in a forest, quite far from everyone else, “i don’t want anyone bothering you or ruining your house when you’re not on.” he explained. you told dream you wanted to build a cottage so if anyone does end up stumbling upon it, it looks welcoming to them. so dream started building your house for you even though you insisted you do it together. “dream! let me help, this is supposed to be my house.” you dragged. “well we can both decorate inside and make it our house.” you started blushing. “i guess..” you mumbled. you then started adventuring out to look for flowers and some things to decorate the house with.

you started placing flowers down into flower pots when you noticed something. “dream there’s only one bedroom.” you mentioned. he slowly turned around to look at you and quickly turned back and placed two beds next to each other. “this is our room, dumbass.”

later that night you checked your twitter dms and saw many people telling you to stop talking to dream and that you weren’t good enough to even know him. you sighed and powered down your phone.

“i think a few weeks after that he asked me if i could fly out to him and we’d meet in person. i was so excited i immediately started packing and i met him. it was amazing! i got to meet the guy i’ve been in love with for the past few months. i think it may have been a year already. but yeah, i finally got to meet him and being in his arms was the best feeling in the world, i felt so safe being with him.”

“it was the day after that, when he asked me on a date and i, of course, said yes. like who would say no to the person they fell in love with... so we went on a date and at the end of it we were just sitting on top of the hood of the car, eating dinner, watching the sunset and talking about a future we wanted together. and it may seem like we were moving fast but i knew 7 months into talking to him that he felt the same way about me. no matter if either of us disclosed it. i could tell and i knew he knew the same about me. then i went home and everything was perfect, i wasn’t his girlfriend yet though because we wanted to wait a bit.”

“that’s when everything went downhill, i think” you looked up to try to stop the tears from going down your face, but they fell anyways so you just let it be.

“we started streaming more and more and i started getting more hate than i usually got, this time getting death threats, people threatening to leak my address if i didn’t stop being friends with him. it was crazy but i was willing to endure it all for him. who cares what people on the internet are going to say to me? i really didn’t because i was happy enough with him that, that happiness overcame whatever type of hate i was getting.” tears kept falling from your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe it, knowing it would just keep happening.

“dude you’re so annoying! you definitely cheated!” you screamed as you died. through your headset you could hear clay wheezing. “there was no way i was cheating!” he said through his laughs. “ask my chat, they saw the whole thing.” you breathed out, not wanting to believe him till a dono was sent to you, “yeah, (y/n) you just suck at this game,” you gasped, your jaw hanging then you started pouting. it was clipped and one of your viewers sent it to dream. he suddenly started laughing harder and you asked him why he was laughing, with a pout still on your face. “even your chat knows i didn’t cheat!” you started laughing too, till you read a message in the chat saying, “ew, their laugh is ugly. i don’t know why dream likes them.” you stopped laughing but kept a fake smile on your face.

“then he called me and he told me that he didn’t think we should be dating anymore, or even be friends. and i think it was because he saw the hate i was getting and he didn’t like that. he told me a different reason as to why he didn’t think we should date anymore but i didn’t believe it, but i let him go. because i was not going to force him to be with me if he really did mean it. “ you said, sniffling after so you didn’t sound too congested as you spoke.

after you hung up, you curled into a ball and cried. you cried, and cried, and cried. the feeling in your chest hurting more than you could ever imagine. you just lost the guy you wanted to marry, the guy you had spent over a year going to because of your problems, the guys you saw having kids with, the guy that made everything worth it. he was the only person on your mind as the pain in your chest grew. you tweeted and powered your phone off straight after. you didn’t want anyone messaging you asking what was wrong, knowing your friends they would do that. 

“so the reason i took a break from streaming was because of that. because i resented the people that sent me hate so much i couldn’t bring myself to stream. i didn’t resent them because they sent me hate. i resent them because the hate they sent me caused the guy i really wanted to be with to make me believe he didn’t love me like i love him.” now, you were sobbing, letting your cry’s out because you had been holding them in for too long. 

it had been a few months and you were on snapchat, seeing that you had a memory a year ago today, you checked it. “i think i literally met my soulmate.” with a picture of you and clay in a discord call. your breath got caught in your throat and your breathing became labored. your eyes started stinging as the tears started falling. it’s happening again, all the pain from the day you stopped talking to him came back and once again, you were crying into your hands and you couldn’t stop.

“i had always known that becoming a streamer i would get hate, but i never thought that i would get enough hate to prevent a relationship i really wanted to work. now all i do is reminisce of a guy i wish could be mine”

“streaming has brought me so many opportunities and i am so grateful for everything you guys have done for me, and for me to be able to do something i love and make money from it is insane to me. you guys have given me everything i ever wanted in life up until that point and i am so grateful and appreciative of that. you guys gave me friendships that i will never lose and never forget. so many of you have told me that i’ve saved you and changed your lives but trust me when i say you guys have saved me and changed my life too. i hope i repaid you back by making you smile, being your comfort streamer, and being a support system for each of you. but i think this is my end of the road. i fucking love streaming, i love you guys. but every time i click that “go live” button or even try to, all i think about is him and that’s too painful for me right now. maybe in the future i’ll find my way back here but i can’t promise that.”

“thank you guys, so, so, so, so, much for every single opportunity given to me, for everything. i love you all. my dms are still open. and this was (y/s/n), signing off for possibly the last time. goodbye everyone.”

end stream. *click*

a tear rolling down his face and falling onto his keyboard as he watched you finally say goodbye to your stream. it all just felt like you were saying your last goodbye to him again. 

for the last 6 months all clay could do was think about you and how he wished he just messaged you and told you he was sorry and didn’t mean what he said. that he misses you and he would quit streaming if that meant he could be with you. that all he wanted was to feel you in his arms again and just live out the future you two planned together. 

but if you just said goodbye to your chat for your last stream because you couldn’t stand the thought of him whenever you tried to stream. how could you ever forgive him?

the thought of never speaking to you hit him once more and again, he cried, sobbed, screamed, threw things, and even then, he knew.. you would never be coming back to him, with every fiber in his being, wishing you would.

—————

taglist: @loxbbg @bozowrites @noahsfag @sparklykeylime @bi-narystars @axths @cheybaee @letsloveimagines @meatte @julesamen21 @classyunknownlover @bad268 @strawbrinkofdeath

[seriouslyextra]

some “ted lasso” prompts (season 1)

feel free to adjust wording/pronouns/etc as needed!  

"if that's a joke, i love it. if not, i cannot wait to unpack that with you." "do you believe in ghosts?" "good times aren't always a good time, i've found." "i never know how to react when a grown man beatboxes in front of me." "sometimes the best way to stick it to the man is to go right between his legs, huh?" "i'm not always sure what's a joke and what isn't." "i'm me. why would i wanna be anything else?" "and all this time i thought men couldn't multitask." "i am equally livid." "i'm sorry, i have a real tricky time hearing folks who don't believe in themselves." "i am cute as a button and i can rhyme my ass off. god, it's no wonder they want to destroy me." "that's not a compliment i've had before." "you know what you do with tough cookies, donchya? you dip 'em in milk!" "i used to think that was the funniest thing i'd ever seen, but then i just saw that, and now i'm gonna have to rethink my order of what i think is the funniest thing i've ever seen." "you look like you've forgotten something." "i don't like being tricked." "wow, you're like, really, really bad at impressions, man." "i know he's trying to push my buttons, but i cannot be manipulated!" "i could push all of your buttons right now if i wanted to." "it made me think of you. it's strong and a bit prickly." "you know, i've decided to not be scared of you anymore." "come on, you wouldn't have said something if you weren't dying to show someone." "i feel like a teenage boy. i can't stop staring at them." "wow, you really blew my brains out with those beautiful breasts of yours!" "enough. i've had it with your mind games and your stupid gifts." "what you're doing is irresponsible." "for me, success is not about the wins and losses." "it ain't always easy, but neither is growing up without someone believing in you." "i really enjoyed getting to spend this time with you." "i'm done with you being a prick to everyone." "i am a world class problem solver." "oi. down, boy." "i had a hunch you were going to pick this dress. and might i say, you are wearing the heck out of it." "this is gonna be so uncomfortable." "well, here's an idea that's gonna help a little or hurt a whole lot: who needs a drink?" "why is your face so close to mine?" "i don't want to be alone." "you looked so jealous. it was so cool." "oh, you think jealousy is cool, do you?" "you do not want to judge this book by its cover right here, okay?" "you may think that you're the only one who can see who he really is, but you're not." "will you stop being mad at me now?" "do you even know what you're sorry for?" "being accountable matters." "do you wanna go get, like, really drunk?" "you really don't have to talk about this if you don't want to." "it feels good to laugh." "and this sharing of feelings is because i opened up to you? well, that's a lesson learned." "you can't get mad! you broke up with me." "what am i supposed to do? shower by myself?" "why be sorry? i think it's all going rather smashingly." "no judgement, but are you back with that twat?" "i'd kiss you on the mouth if i could reach those lips." "i'm sort of famous for being almost famous." "nice recovery. well executed." "every day i wake up hoping that i'll feel the way i felt at the beginning." "that's the thing though, isn't it? if you're with the right person, even the hard times are easy." "i promised myself i would never quit anything in my life." "i really wanted to be the one to comfort you, not break it to you." "wow! that was on purpose, yes?" "we got ourselves a curse to reverse." "that's too many ghosts." "we cannot fight them all." "you're a battler. it's really hot. but maybe someday you should stop battling people who are just trying to help you." "a lot warmer over there by the fire." "you're not always right. most of the time you're an arse." "i didn't know i had abandonment issues until right now!" "i'm gonna tell you something, but then i don't wanna talk about it ever again, okay?" "i could really use a bucket of coffee to nurse this hangover." "you seem intent on going 12 rounds with yourself. why? what did you do wrong?" "so that's how you get sex? by not trying for sex?" "you took off like it was a shit kiss, and it was not a shit kiss! i was on fire." "why don't you just come and tell me how you feel about it once you've figured out how to speak again?" "okay, this is my fucking nightmare." "i like to give away joy for free." "so, why should i trust this sudden change of heart?" "i believe some folks call it white knighting, but i'm just following my gut here." "i'm gonna kiss you now. unless it's gonna make you run away again." "i thought we were friends. you had every opportunity to do the right thing and you never did." "don't deny it or pretend that you don't know." "can you just tell me i fucked up and then go?" "imagine doing something unforgivable to someone who doesn't deserve it and then having to look them in the eye and tell them what you've done." "i forgive you." "you know, i think that if you care about someone, and you got a little love in your heart, there ain't nothing you can't get through together." "there are a lot of surprises happening here." "i think it makes me look how i feel: chill." "you know what the little shit did? he forgave me." "i lost my way for a minute, but i'm on the road back." "i think men who feel sorry for themselves are so sexy." "who put a firecracker up your butt and lit it?" "that was the sexiest fucking thing i've ever seen in my life." "i never know how to react when a grown man does the carlton in front of me." "last night i had a nightmare that i was pecking you to death like a crow. i'm so sorry." "this is why it's hard to love you." "oops, innit?" "it's the hope that kills you." "not everyone in your life is out to get you." "what? thought you respected honesty." "i think it's the lack of hope that comes and gets you." "i believe in hope. i believe in belief." "i love you when you give a shit."