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redvexillum · 22 hours ago

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✦•·.·¯˚·.·• 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒑 𝑫𝒓𝒐𝒑 •·.·˚¯·.·•✦

CW: rough oral sex (m!receiving), degradation, dirty talk, cussing, teasing

He moans as he thrusts into your mouth, overwhelmed by the feeling, needy and desperate. (jinu x reader)

It all started with a slow, teasing lick of the ridiculous, oversized swirl of the rainbow-coloured lollipop shaped like a unicorn horn. The moment the candy touched your tongue, you let out a sinful moan, eyes fluttering. It was sticky and sweet, and it made you realize how hungry you were right away. It was your first meal of the day. You made a show of it, lips tightening around the spiral, sucking slowly with hollowed cheeks as your gaze flicked up toward Jinu.

He was sitting stiffly on your bed, every inch of him flushed and tense. His cheeks were glowing red, his thighs clamped tight, back straight as a board like he was trying to will his cock into submission. Poor thing was trembling, his smile stretched taut across his face like it might snap.

You swirled the candy around your tongue, letting your lips glide up and down the shaft of sugar, slow and sensual. When you finally pulled it out with a wet, obscene pop, you tilted your head and grinned.

“You alright, Jinu?” you asked sweetly, pretending like you hadn’t just deep throated a piece of candy in front of him like it was his cock.

“Mhm-hm,” he choked out, his voice strained, avoiding your eyes like they burned.

Your eyes dragged down his body, noticing how his chest was rising just a bit too fast, how his hands were gripping the bedspread like he was holding on for dear life. And then you saw it. The bulge pressing insistently against the front of his jeans, twitching like it had a mind of its own.

Well, well. Look what we have here.

You stood slowly, letting your hips sway as you approached. Every step was a silent threat. A promise. His shoulders bunched up the second you got close, like he could sense what you were about to do.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” you asked, voice dripping with mock concern as you leaned down, just enough for your shirt to gape open and offer a full view of your tits. He looked, of course he looked, and his breath hitched.

You traced the sticky lollipop along the seam of his lips, watching them part helplessly. “Hold this for me, yeah?” you purred, pushing it into his mouth. His tongue cradled it instantly, and fuck, if the sight didn’t make your cunt throb.

Your fingers skimmed down his chest and gave a gentle push to his shoulder. He collapsed back against the mattress like a rag doll, eyes wide and dazed as the blush crept all the way to his ears.

You settled between his knees, lips curled into a wicked grin. “Oh baby, you’re so hard for me,” you crooned, eyes locked onto that delicious bulge. Your fingers made quick work of his button, then his zipper. The sound of metal teeth parting filled the room, loud and filthy.

He whimpered around the candy.

“That eager, huh?” you murmured with a laugh, and yanked his pants and boxers down in one rough pull. His cock sprang free, flushed, twitching, already leaking. It slapped against his belly and he gasped, the heat of shame and desire all tangled in his pretty features.

Slowly and deliberately, you extended your hand and encircled him with your fingers. “Mm. You’ve been sitting there rock hard while I sucked on the candy imagining this candy was you, haven’t you?”

In response, he moaned, his hips jerking.

“Oh baby… you’re about to find out how good my mouth feels when it’s wrapped around the real thing.”

His eyes flicked from your lips to the pulsing cock standing proudly between you. Desperate. Dripping.

“I was getting bored with that taste,” you teased, your voice all sugary sin and wicked intent. “Let’s try something… else.”

You dropped your head, gathering your hair in one hand like you were preparing for war, the other trailing down his trembling thigh. As your breath passed over his cock's flushed head, you heard him release a short, ragged exhale.

You slowly dragged your lips across the tip, a mere whisper of a touch that caused him to flinch. The scent of him was thick: musky, salty, addictive. Your tongue followed next, licking a long, deliberate stripe from the base to the tip, collecting sweat, precum, and heat on your tongue like it was your fucking job.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice caught between awe and agony.

Your hands dug into his thighs, feeling the muscle jump under your touch, every inch of him pulled tight like a live wire. You licked up the bead of precum sitting at his slit, savouring it with a soft, pornographic hum. He moaned, loud and unfiltered, head dropping back like he couldn’t handle watching.

Then your lips parted. You wrapped them around the head of his cock and sucked, tongue swirling, lips tight — just enough to make him jerk.

CRACK.

The sharp snap of the broken candy echoed through the room like a gunshot. He let out a strangled groan, biting out a curse as his thighs flexed hard beneath your grip. On the bed next to his head, your candy was broken and in fragments.

“Oh, you like that?” you purred around his cock, before sliding your mouth deeper, inch by inch, taking him in, stretching your throat wide. Your tongue flattened under him, your throat constricting as you swallowed him down.

Loud, dirty, and needy, you moaned when the swollen head kissed the back of your throat. Your own thighs rubbed together, your soaked panties clinging to your aching cunt as you fought the urge to grind on your own damn hand.

“Ah—fuck, babe,” he gasped, voice raw. His cock pulsed against your tongue, hips instinctively rolling forward. He was holding back by a thread, and that thread was snapping.

His hands were buried in the sheets, knuckles white, teeth clenched. “Fuck… don’t make me— I’ll fuck your throat, don’t think I won’t—”

But you wanted that. You wanted to be used, messy and sloppy and ruined. Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth, trailing down his shaft and wetting his balls, your spit pooling and stringing as you bobbed your head faster. Your cheeks hollowed, suction loud and obscene, eyes locked on his as he fought for control.

You pulled off with a filthy pop, a string of spit still tethering your lips to the flushed, leaking tip of his cock. You giggled darkly, then dove back down like you were starving for it.

He cried out, hands twitching like he wanted to shove your head down, fuck your throat raw. “Fuckfuckfuck—” His thighs were trembling, his abs clenching with every bob of your head. “You feel so fucking good, baby—so fucking good—shit, I’m gonna—”

You pulled off his cock with another obscene pop, leaving it flushed and twitching, glistening with your spit. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a marathon, and his cock bobbed in the air like it missed the heat of your mouth already.

“Don’t hold back,” you purred, sticking your tongue out, teasing the leaking tip. You flicked it just under the ridge, right where the foreskin met that overly sensitive head, and he shuddered violently.

Your hand gripped the base, squeezing just enough to make his hips twitch. “Come on, baby. Fuck my mouth like you mean it.”

That was all it took.

Something snapped in him.

Suddenly, he was upright, fists tangled in your hair, yanking you back onto his cock so fast your eyes watered. His thick shaft slammed deep, stretching your throat wide as you gagged around him, spit instantly gushing from your lips. He groaned, a loud, filthy, animal sound as the head of his cock bullied its way down your throat.

“Teasing little slut,” he growled, hips jerking forward again, and again. “You wanted this, wanted to be used, didn’t you?”

You moaned around him, the vibrations only making him hiss and fuck you faster. His rhythm was ruthless, dragging your head to match every thrust, saliva spilling freely from your chin, soaking your shirt, your tits, dripping down to his balls.

“Fuck, look at you,” he laughed breathlessly, voice wild. “Choking on my cock and touching yourself — fuck, you're so fucking sexy.”

Your fingers had already slipped beneath your waistband, swirling over your soaked clit, hips grinding against your hand as you drooled and moaned around him. His cock hit the back of your throat with every thrust, and you welcomed it, eyes glassy with lust.

“Don't worry, babe,” he panted, grinning with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “I was getting tired of that candy too.”

The implication was thick, the promise of his tongue replacing it next time, wrecking you from the inside out.

His thrusts grew ragged, brutal, as he held your head still and fucked your throat with the frantic desperation of a man possessed. Then, with a guttural snarl, he slammed deep and stilled.

“Fuuuck—”

You felt it.

The first hot pulse of his cum, thick and salty, flooding your mouth in wave after wave. You tried to swallow, but there was so much—too much—some of it spilled from your lips, sliding down your chin in white, sinful streams.

“Swallow it,” he ordered, voice rough and low, still trembling with aftershocks. “Don’t you dare waste a fucking drop.”

You gulped around him, obedient and eager, until he hissed and shivered, cock twitching one last time on your tongue.

And then, slowly, he pulled out, watching you open your mouth wide to show him the last of his load before you swallowed with a smirk and dragged the back of your hand across your lips.

He stared, pupils blown, breath shaky.

“My turn.”

Read More? 👀

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forsaken-headcanons · 2 days ago

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hi hi hi im so happy the askbox is open!!!

some silly some serious me n my best friend cook up tons

chance is a low ponytail guy, itrapped is a medium ponytail guy

007 and elliot both have notably strong immune systems and rarely get sick, and noob has the worst (chance too but his varies based on a lot of things)

noob is anxious around the other survivors because they are all at least a few years older than them and talking to older ppl is scary (twin)

^they also either steal medkits out of fear and stuff or they will give a medkit to a shedletsky on 45 when theyre on 2 or sth (either selfish or selfless)

c00lkidds milestone shackles r because one time he was like tired (which i would think are due to like pain) and didnt wanna kill and the spectre had a tpot one type crashout (according to my friend) and chained c00lkidd outside both as punishment and as example

^he also cant stop smiling like physically cannot n sometimes it hurts

noob, twotime, and especially 007 struggle to take care of themselves and it got much worse after their friends suffered their fates

^007 especially has never been the best at self care and when c00lkidd went missing it was all downhill from there

all the c00lparents (007 118 and 226) were siblings or close relationship wise, and thus sometimes they'd have the kids go over and the adults chat. so the c00lchildren (bluudud c00lkidd and pr3ty) were raised kinda like cousins

mass infection isnt a physical thing, its made of the same stuff her torso is, so when he uses mass infection he rips out a part of her like stomach and hurls it which gives it that arc shape

john doe is very rarely zoned in but sometimes he remembers/realizes that c00lkidd is scared of him and he gets kinda bummed cuz he + jane wanted kids

1x has a fluid voice, sounding higher or lower basically at random

^i imagine her sometimes sounding like the music artist ado

^^sometimes he mimics others voices and its basically a blind grab on if it makes sense (like theyll mimic someone calling out for help and the person in question is sitting right next to everyone else)

taph uses any pronouns but he/they pref

makes nests out of like anything he can find (in part caused by the whole protests outside their house making it unsafe to leave and lowk scary)

^^they have enochlophobia/fear of large crowds bcuz of it

^^^collects shiny things and cool rocks n stuff chance gets anxious when he sees nook suz they look like itrapped

^after first being forsaken he assumed that noob was like a ghost or hallucination and because noob avoided most other survivors he didnt rlly see others interact whihe lowk added evidence

removed skins got unforsaken (idk how)

dusekkar has digitigrade legs (i think thats what theyre called? the like backward ones idk how to explain)

genderfluid itrapped

^he also has a horrible poker face like even with that black box thingy its still impossible for her to not like show expression

this is like an alt timeline type thingy cause it makes too little sense to me but i still like the concept of chance knowing ag least somewhat that itrapped had bad motives but for whatever reason (lack of care, hubris, adrenaline?) not leaving

azure has curly hair

idk hiw but noli feels emotions differently (or not at sll?) than other robloxians

neurodivergent/lesrning disability c00lchildren

thats all for now i hope its like readable!! i cant check the anon tags but is 🦔🦈 taken? tysm🙏

1x with a fluid voice is so real. 1x sounding like Ado is SO REAL

Digitigrade legs are right I believe! It's like,,, deer legs for Dusekkar

Chance knowing iTrapped having bad motives but still staying does make sense, it's like being so attached to someone you overlook the negative parts and only focus on the positives because it feels good in the moment. Big picture / Dead pixel type thing.

🦔🦈 anon tag is open! ^^

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kxsagi · 1 day ago

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cheered, jumped, did jumping jacks even when i saw ur reqs r open again

ANYWAYYYSSSS can i just request a fic of kunigami as obanai and fem!reader (player for bllk) as mitsuri plzpzlzpzlz like just personality wise after kunigami got wildcareded

ESPPPP LIKE THAT ONE SCENE WITH OBANAI GIVING MITSURI THE SOCKS AND WAITITNG FO RHER TO FINISHE ATIN FHSKJDJSDH i lvoe them sm omg

anyways that's rlly it. i just beg for a fic of these two tbh of them and their shenanigans with kunigami constantly being followed around by reader & her just rambling to him about something cool she saw (even if kunigami was also there to experience it) and her having bizarre explanations for stuff idk

kinda like bachira but way more extreme. v expressive

“𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫”

a/n: hiii i apologize this request took me much longer to complete, i had a hard time writing it and honestly put it off for a while because of that… i haven’t read demon slayer in 4 years lol but i hope i did this right!

ac goes to Sideburn004 on X!

kunigami rensuke was, unfortunately, allergic to nonsense.

he liked order. discipline. rules. proper stretching techniques. silent recovery hours. full-body training suits zipped all the way up even in summer. he didn’t do “vibes,” he did “structure.” the kind of guy who kept a pocket notebook of daily macros and actually knew where it was. the kind of guy who sent anonymous complaints to the dorm monitor when someone left their protein shaker unwashed for two days straight. probably slept on his back with both arms crossed over his chest like a vampire.

you, meanwhile, were shaped like a glitter explosion in human form.

you lived in the same blue lock dorm building as him, trained on the same pitch, and unfortunately for kunigami, were also on the same team during the current evaluation phase.

you – loud, dramatic, chronically over hydrated because someone told you once that water makes emotions stronger.

him – tall, stern, a human boulder with a voice that sounded like a “no” before he even spoke.

you adored him. no, worshipped was the better word.

“kunigami-kun!! did you see that pigeon outside the gym just now?! it was standing in a puddle like it was contemplating the meaning of water!!!”

he grunted. he was also there. you were both on cooldown walks. you both saw the pigeon. but you somehow made it sound like a god-sent vision.

“we were both there,” he replied, voice deadpan, arms crossed as you jogged to keep pace with his long-legged stride.

“yeah, but like,” you said, starry-eyed, “you didn’t see it like i saw it. the way it just. stood there. like. a soggy philosopher. i think i almost cried.”

kunigami stared forward. clenched his jaw.

you were definitely going to get them both kicked out for unsanctioned emotional outbursts again.

but you couldn’t help it. you were always like this. passionate to the point of danger. if someone scored in training, you were screaming. full-on “OH MY GOSH LET’S GOOOOO” with clapping, jumping, sometimes crying. if someone missed, you’d speed walk over and pat them on the back with something like, “that was beautiful. tragic. shakespearean. arthouse. i felt that shot in my bones.”

you were, as kunigami described you (to isagi, in private), “chaotic. loud. no sense of tactical discipline. doesn’t shut up.”

you were, as kunigami wrote in his notebook (very small, back page), “energetic. different. passionate. fast.”

and you were always right behind him.

during sprints? you’d run next to him, narrating your inner monologue aloud like a shonen protagonist.

“my legs are burning!! this is so good for character development. i’m literally ascending right now. kunigami, do you think muscles have feelings, like, do they know we’re proud of them?”

“no,” he said.

you ignored him completely. “like what if every rep we do is actually us saying ‘i love you’ in muscle language–”

“shut up.”

“rude,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “i’m literally giving a TED talk here.”

he sped up. you sped up with him.

he briefly considered injury. just temporary. minor ankle sprain. maybe then he could have five seconds of peace.

the worst part was you were good. terrifyingly good. like “no one knows where you came from and you won’t tell anyone your backstory” kind of good. and every time kunigami tried to focus during training, there you were. all kinetic energy and rogue commentary.

“watch this pass,” you’d whisper at him before doing something stupidly complex and somehow making it work. and then: “DID YOU SEE THAT?? DID YOU??”

“i was on the field,” he said.

“YEAH, BUT LIKE, WAS IT SEXY OR WAS IT SEXY? BE HONEST.”

“it was acceptable.”

he was lying. he wrote down your technique that night and tried it twice in secret before bed.

you followed him everywhere. like a shadow if shadows were talkative and deeply obsessed with post-practice smoothies.

you once sat next to him during a cooldown stretch and said, “kunigami. kunigami, listen. what if soccer is just reverse volleyball.”

he blinked. “what the hell does that mean.”

you flopped dramatically onto your back and pointed at the ceiling like you were giving a thesis.

“think about it. volleyball is about not letting the ball touch the ground. soccer is about letting it only touch the ground unless you’re a freaky little goalie. so like. yin and yang. balance. duality. kunigami, are you listening? this is the most philosophical i’ve ever been.”

“you’re doing hamstring stretches wrong,” he replied.

and the thing was somehow, somehow, he didn’t tell you to leave.

kunigami didn’t like people. they were messy. unpredictable. inefficient. but you? you were all of those things loudly, and still he never told you to get lost. not even once.

he told you to shut up. a lot. he told you to hydrate with electrolytes instead of pure coconut water because “you’re going to pass out one day and i’m not carrying you.” he told you to stop doing forward rolls into your warm-ups because they “aren’t real exercises” and you looked like “a deranged gymnast.”

but he never told you to go away. and that bugged him.

because the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t mind when you followed him. or when you waved at him across the field like a lunatic just because the sun “hit his hair in a majestic lion way.” or when you gave him one of your friendship bracelets and said “you need more whimsy in your life and this has a little frog charm because it looks like your grumpy face.” he wore it. still wore it.

he hated that he noticed when you weren’t around. like that one day when you had physio and the locker room was just. silent. empty. quiet. normal. he hated it.

and one afternoon, after a match simulation, you collapsed dramatically next to him on the turf, panting, hair sticking to your forehead.

“kunigami,” you whispered, voice solemn. “i think i love soccer more than i love people.”

“i thought you loved people,” he said, barely turning his head.

you stared at the sky like it held the answers. “i do. people are like walking emotional meatballs and i’m obsessed with all of them. but soccer… soccer gets me. soccer is like–”

“if you say it’s a metaphor for the universe again–”

“no. no this time it’s different. soccer is like that one best friend who lets you scream and fall over and cry into their shin guards, but still passes you the ball anyway. soccer believes in me.”

you rolled over to look at him, eyes wide, sweat-streaked and sparkling. “do you believe in me, kunigami?”

he stared at you for a moment. the sun hit your cheek like a halo. your wrist was still wrapped with a second bracelet, the one he’d returned with a matching lion charm. you looked like a disaster. but a joyful one. like if chaos and sunlight had a daughter and enrolled her in blue lock.

“… yeah,” he muttered. “i do.”

you beamed. kunigami immediately regretted it.

“does this mean you’ll let me draw you as a centaur for my next mood board–”

“no.”

the next day, kunigami found a new drawing taped to his locker.

it was him. but he was surrounded by frogs. in sunglasses. doing tactical drills. written at the bottom in pink marker: “FROGS OF DISCIPLINE – featuring king kunigami & his army of jumpy little rule-followers 🐸✨”

he stared at it for a long, long time. and then folded it neatly. tucked it into his notebook. never spoke of it again. but wore the new frog charm you snuck onto his water bottle. every single day after that.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #kunigami rensuke #rensuke kunigami #kunigami rensuke x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #discipline meets disaster

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 days ago

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🐦‍⬛ All Wrapped Up

All Wrapped Up: When your date with Morpheus is cut short, you are left with his coat and your own thoughts… and a bleeding finger from where said coat bit you. You find out that Morpheus’ coat is very much alive like the rest of the realm.

Warnings: Morpheus’ Coat Fucks You (this is your only warning on how nasty this is), Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: AFAB!Reader x Morpheus’ Coat

Word Count: ~6.4k

You stroll through the Dreaming, your boyfriend Morpheus by your side. The sky above you morphs from a star-studded abyss to a canvas of swirling pastels, the colors melting into each other like ice cream on a hot day. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers and distant rain. Yet another perfect night to spend with your handsome and beautiful boyfriend.

"You know," you say, glancing at him, "this place could use more flowers."

Morpheus' lips twitch into a barely-there smile. "Flowers? Are there not flowers throughout my realm? What more do you wish for?"

"Gilbert is currently hoarding all the best ones" you huff out in half complaint. "I'm talking about everywhere else in the realm. The places that don't have his super awesomeness."

"And what do you propose I should add?" Morpheus asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some unique roses? Lilacs? Orchids even," you gesture vaguely, enjoying the way his eyes—currently a serene blue—catch the light. They glimmer so prettily with stars. "Fun and unique flowers that you would never see together. Tulips, birds of paradise, hydrangea…"

"Fun and unique flowers, you say?" Morpheus muses, his voice like a gentle hum in the background of a dream. He lifts a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the ground around you begins to shift. Suddenly, the once bare earth is alive with a riot of colors. Roses in every hue imaginable bloom alongside lilacs, their delicate petals brushing against the striking shapes of orchids.

The air thickens with their fragrance, a heady blend that fills your senses and makes you feel dizzy with delight. You laugh, spinning around to take it all in. "See? This is what I'm talking about."

"Indeed," Morpheus replies, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Anything else you desire?"

Before you can respond, a loud caw breaks through the tranquility. You glance up to see Matthew the Raven circling overhead. "You two look like you're picking out wedding flowers," he comments, swooping down to land on Morpheus' shoulder.

"Do you have something to add, Matthew?" Morpheus asks, one eyebrow arched.

"Just that maybe you should throw in some dandelions," Matthew says, ruffling his feathers. "You know, for variety."

You chuckle, reaching out to scratch Matthew's head. "Dandelions? Really?"

"Hey, don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em," Matthew quips.

Morpheus waves his hand again and suddenly dandelions sprout amidst the more exotic blooms. Their cheerful yellow heads bob in the soft breeze, adding an unexpected touch of whimsy to the scene.

"I have to admit," you say, bending down to pluck one from the ground. "It does add something special."

The Dreaming reacts to every movement and word from Morpheus. The sky darkens slightly as if acknowledging his focus on this moment with you. The colors become more vivid, each petal and leaf shimmering as though made of dreams themselves.

You catch a hint of ozone in the air—like just before a thunderstorm—and it makes your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if every sense is heightened here: the sound of distant waves crashing against unseen shores; the feeling of soft grass beneath your feet; the sight of flowers blooming in impossible combinations.

Morpheus watches you with those enigmatic eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. "Anything else?" he asks softly.

"Hmm," you ponder aloud. "How about some bioluminescent fungi? Something that glows when it gets dark. Can't go wrong with a good mushroom."

Matthew caws approvingly. "Now that's an idea! Glowing mushrooms could make this place even more magical."

With another wave of Morpheus' hand, glowing fungi begin to appear among the flowers. They emit a soft light that bathes everything in an ethereal glow as twilight descends over the realm.

Morpheus pulls you closer, your body fitting perfectly against his chest. The feeling is almost overwhelming—his coat is soft and warm, like the comforting embrace of a dream you never want to wake from. You really didn't. His fingers trail down your back, sending pleasurable sensations up your spine.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice is a low murmur in your ear, each word vibrating through you like the distant rumble of thunder.

You nod, drawing your fingers down the lapel of his coat. The fabric feels like velvet under your touch, and the galaxy within it seems to pulse with light and energy. There is even a humming vibration beneath your fingertips that almost echo the coats appreciation of your touch.

"Morpheus," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew flaps his wings in agitation from his perch on Morpheus' shoulder. "Come on, guys. Do we have to do this right here?"

Ignoring Matthew's protest, you let your fingers wander further down Morpheus' coat. Each touch ignites a spark of passion that crackles between you both. His grip on you tightens slightly, as if he can't bear to let you go.

"If he does not wish to witness me kissing my beloved," Morpheus says, his eyes darkening with intensity as they lock onto yours, "Matthew is welcome to leave."

The raven lets out an indignant squawk but takes flight, disappearing into the shifting sky of the Dreaming.

He lowers his head slowly, giving you just enough time to close your eyes before his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brush of lips that sends a rush of warmth through you. But then it deepens, becoming more insistent as he pours all his longing and desire into that single point of contact.

The sounds around you seem to amplify—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant roll of thunder, even the faint hum of bioluminescent fungi glowing softly in the growing twilight. It's as if every element in the Dreaming is attuned to this moment, enhancing every sensation.

Your hand slides up into his hair, feeling its softness between your fingers. You press yourself closer against him until there's no space left between you. His arms wrap around you tighter still as if he could pull you into himself completely.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, your hand continues its journey down Morpheus' coat, the fabric smooth and cool against your fingertips. You can feel the coat almost react to your touch, a subtle vibration that seems to echo Morpheus' own desires.

Your fingers brush against the edge of one of his coat pockets, and without thinking, you slip your hand inside. The interior is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the outer fabric. But then, something sharp bites into your finger. You pull back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Morpheus' eyes snap open, darkening from their serene blue to a concerned silver. "What is wrong?" His voice is soft but filled with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink in confusion, glancing down at your finger. A drop of blood wells up from a tiny puncture wound, bright red against your pale skin. "I... I think something bit me," you stammer.

Morpheus frowns deeply. He takes your hand gently in his own, lifting it to inspect the wound. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies the small drop of blood. Without warning, he brings your finger up to his lips and slides it into his mouth.

The sensation is electric. His lips are warm and soft against your skin, his tongue soothing as it laps at the wound. You shiver as Morpheus' tongue glides over your finger, each lap sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. The warmth of his lips contrasts sharply with the cool evening air, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations that makes it hard to focus. His eyes, now a deep, mesmerizing silver, lock onto yours, and you feel the world around you blur into insignificance.

The faint taste of iron lingers as he continues to lick the small wound, his movements slow and deliberate. It's almost as if he's savoring every drop of your blood. You can hear the soft sound of his tongue against your skin, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic noise that seems to echo in the stillness of the Dreaming.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases your finger. The wound is gone, not even a scar remaining. You flex your hand experimentally, marveling at the seamless healing.

"That was... weird," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

Morpheus' lips curve into a slight smile. "My apologies if it caused you discomfort."

You shake your head, brushing it off. "No, it's fine. Just unexpected."

He straightens, his expression shifting from concern to something more reserved. "I must return to my duties," he says softly.

Your heart sinks at his words. The thought of him leaving, even for a short while, fills you with a sense of loss. "Already?" you pout, unable to hide your disappointment.

Morpheus chuckles, a sound like distant thunder rolling through the night sky. He reaches up and slips off his coat, the fabric whispering against itself as it moves. The galaxy within it seems to pulse with life as he drapes it around your shoulders.

The coat envelops you in warmth and comfort; it’s like being wrapped in the night sky itself. Well, you are wrapped up in a galaxy.

"Wear this," Morpheus murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "So I will be with you until I physically return."

You snuggle into the coat's embrace, feeling its gentle hum against your skin—a soft vibration that echoes Morpheus' own being. The fabric is impossibly soft, caressing your body like he truly is wrapped around you.

He cups your cheek with one hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I will not be long," he promises.

You watch as Morpheus disappears into the ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the twilight. The weight of his coat around your shoulders is comforting, like an embrace that lingers long after the person has left. With a deep breath, you turn and begin to make your way back to the palace.

The path ahead winds through a forest of bioluminescent trees. Their leaves emit a soft, otherworldly glow that illuminates your way. The air is filled with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of nocturnal creatures. As you walk, the sound of your footsteps mingles with these ambient noises, creating a symphony that feels uniquely alive.

The palace looms ahead, its grand spires reaching up to touch the star-studded sky. The entrance is guarded by three majestic creatures—a Gryphon, a Wyvern, and a Hippogryph—each one regal and imposing in its own right. They nod at you as you pass through the gates, acknowledging your presence with silent respect.

Inside, the palace is a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, each one more fascinating than the last. You wander aimlessly, letting your feet guide you. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries that seem to move and change as you look at them, depicting scenes from countless dreams and nightmares. It was hard to be bored in the dreaming, but you really just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend!

You make your way through the winding corridors of the palace, each step echoing softly against the marble floors. The air is cool, almost refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. The palace itself seems to breathe around you, walls shifting subtly as if alive.

Finally, you arrive at Morpheus' private chamber. The door creaks open with a whisper, revealing a room that feels both infinite and intimate. Soft starlight filters in from the high windows, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

Stars float lazily in the air, tiny orbs of light that shimmer and pulse as if they hold entire galaxies within them. You reach out to touch one, and it flutters away like a shy firefly before coming back to hover just above your fingertips. Its light is warm against your skin, sending tingles up your arm.

You wander around the room, brushing your fingers against the floating stars. Each one responds to your touch with a soft hum, a melody that seems to vibrate through your very being. It's like touching pieces of Morpheus himself—fragments of his essence scattered throughout his sanctuary.

As you explore, your gaze drifts down to the coat pocket where something had bitten you earlier. The memory of that sharp pinch makes you pause. Curiosity gnaws at you as you slip your hand back into the pocket cautiously this time, but all you feel is the warm, velvety lining.

"At least I have you to cuddle with," you murmur to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips. "Morpheus' coat is better than no Morpheus at all."

A warmth spreads through your body and you snuggle your face into the neckline of the material, enjoying the way the galaxy feels against your skin. You make your way over to Morpheus' bed and climb onto it, sighing as your hands and knees sink into the cloud like mattress.

The scent of Morpheus lingers on the sheets—a mix of stardust and midnight air that fills your senses and makes you feel even closer to him. You curl up in his coat, pulling it tightly around yourself as you nestle into the soft bedding. A nap would do nicely until Morpheus returns.

You wake with a start, the sensation of fabric skimming across your skin pulling you from the depths of sleep. Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the shifting, pulsating galaxy that adorns Morpheus' coat. It's draped over you like a protective cocoon, its warmth seeping into your very bones. But something is different this time.

The coat is moving, its fabric undulating with a life of its own. You gasp as it begins to slip beneath your clothing, the smooth, velvety material gliding effortlessly over your skin. The sensation is both startling and arousing, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

Your shirt is the first to go, the coat's sleeves tugging at the hem until it's lifted over your head and discarded. You try to sit up, to grasp at the fabric and halt its progress, but it's as if the coat anticipates your every move. It wraps around your arms, pinning them to your sides with a gentle but unyielding pressure.

"Hey!" you protest, a mixture of amusement and alarm in your voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

The coat doesn't answer, of course. Instead, it continues its slow, sensual exploration of your body. You can feel it tracing the contours of your chest, the touch as intimate as a lover's caress. The fabric seems to have grown impossibly softer, its movements deliberate and teasing.

Your breath hitches as it trails lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. The sensation is maddeningly erotic, a blend of ticklish delight and mounting desire. You squirm, trying to escape the coat's insistent advance, but it only tightens its grip on your legs, preventing any chance of retreat.

"First you bite me, and now you want me naked?" you murmur, the words coming out in a breathless whisper. The coat, of course, offers no response, save for the continued slide of fabric against your skin. "I don't think so!"

You thrash against the coat's hold, your heart pounding as the fabric tightens around you, holding you fast. It's an odd sensation, the feeling of being trapped yet cared for, dominated yet cherished. Despite your initial protests, there's a part of you that's intrigued, a small voice whispering that you should surrender to the coat's desires.

With surprising gentleness, the coat lifts you off the bed, suspending you in midair. You're aware of the cool air against your skin, the vulnerability of being so exposed. The coat's grip on you shifts, and you feel it deftly unhooking your bra. The fabric slides away, leaving your chest bare to the night air and the coat's lingering touch.

Your breath catches as you feel the coat's fabric against your nipples. It's a strange, intoxicating sensation that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The coat caresses your breasts with an almost reverent touch, the fabric stroking and fondling with a lover's skill. You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the sound echoing through the silent room.

The coat's attentions shift lower, and you feel it tugging at your pants. You're powerless to resist as the fabric peels away, leaving you clad in nothing but your underwear. The cool air teases your newly bared skin, and you can feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

As the coat continues to caress your breasts, you can't help but think that it's savoring this moment, relishing the feel of your soft, yielding flesh beneath its touch. The fabric moves with purpose, each stroke and caress sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, without warning, the coat vibrates against your skin, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation. It's almost as if it's communicating with you, confirming your suspicion that it wants—needs—this connection just as much as you do.

The vibrations are maddening, a constant, thrumming reminder of the coat's desire. You can feel it resonate deep within you, stoking the flames of your arousal even higher. The sound of your own breathing fills the room—harsh, ragged gasps that mirror the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

Your body responds to the coat's ministrations with an urgency that's both startling and undeniable. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your underwear clinging to your damp skin. The coat's fabric teases your sensitive nipples, each brush sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your body moving instinctively to meet the coat's touch. The fabric strokes and fondles your breasts, the movements deliberate and maddeningly skillful. You can feel your arousal building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

The coat's vibrations grow stronger, more insistent, as if it can sense how close you are to the edge. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath. You're aware of the wetness between your legs, the slick, aching need that demands fulfillment.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch becomes impossibly gentle, a soft caress that brings you back from the brink. You're left hovering on the edge of climax, your body trembling with need as the coat holds you suspended in midair, caught between ecstasy and anticipation.

"Oh come on," you whine, tugging on the fabric holding your wrists. "Don't tell me you're gonna tease me too! Morpheus is already a bastard when it comes to teasing, I don't need both of you being mean to me!"

In response to your plea, the coat seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering your words. Then, with a newfound determination, it resumes its careful exploration of your body. You feel the fabric gliding over your hips, dipping into the crease where your thighs meet your body, and then it's slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The sensation of the fabric against your most intimate area is surprisingly erotic, and you can't help but moan as it begins to move with purpose.

The coat tugs gently at your underwear, peeling it away from your damp skin. You feel a rush of cool air against your wetness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the coat's embrace. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely naked and exposed in the coat's grasp.

You're lifted higher, your body suspended in midair as the coat positions you for its next tantalizing move. The sensation of weightlessness adds to the surrealism of the moment, amplifying the erotic sensations that course through you.

Then, without warning, the coat begins to rub between your legs, the fabric soft and insistent against your sensitive flesh. You gasp as it finds your clit, the rhythmic motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. The vibrations grow stronger, the coat's purring growing louder as it busies itself with your wetness.

The sound of your arousal fills the room, a slick, wet noise that mingles with the coat's purring. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric as it moves against your skin, the subtle whisper of the galaxy that forms the coat's lining. It's a symphony of sensations, a cacophony of sound that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The coat's movements grow more insistent, the fabric rubbing against your clit with a maddening rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath. You can feel the orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body responds instinctively to the coat's touch, your hips moving in time with its rhythmic motions. The sensation of the fabric against your most sensitive area is exquisite, a blend of friction and warmth that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

The coat's purring grows even louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that resonates deep within your core. You can feel your arousal growing with each passing second, your body tensing as the orgasm draws nearer.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch changes. The fabric between your legs begins to pulse, the rhythm matching the beating of your heart. It's as if the coat knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you over the edge.

The sensory overload is too much to bear. Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins.

As the waves of your climax wash over you, your body convulses with the intensity of the sensations. Your legs are thrashing, feet twisting in the air as they seek purchase on something—anything—to ground you in this moment of pure ecstasy. Your arms pull against the coat's embrace, the fabric tightening around your wrists in response to your struggles, holding you fast as it continues to lavish attention upon your trembling form.

The coat, sentient and eager, is greedily drinking up your release, its fabric writhing and pulsing against your most intimate areas. Each spasm of your cunt sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, and the coat seems to absorb every tremor, its vibrations harmonizing with the rhythm of your orgasm.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the wet, slick sound of the coat moving against your drenched folds, the way your breath hitches with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you, the feeling of the cool air against your heated skin. The coat's fabric is like a thousand tiny fingers, each one caressing and teasing and coaxing you towards greater heights of pleasure.

The erotic sounds that fill the room are almost as stimulating as the physical sensations. The wet squelch of the coat's ministrations, the ragged panting of your breaths, the soft whimpers and moans that escape your lips—all of it combines to create a symphony of desire that resonates with the pulsing of your blood.

"Oh god," you strain out, your body falling slack. That was an incredibly explosive orgasm. All from the coat. The coat, however, seems far from finished.

Its fabric begins to move again, slithering down your stomach in a series of slow, deliberate waves. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The coat purrs in response.

You can feel it trailing along the insides of your legs, a soft, ticklish touch that leaves you gasping for breath once more. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart. Always thirsty it seems.

As your breathing begins to steady, the coat's fabric continues its unhurried exploration of your body. It caresses your thighs, your stomach, the soft swell of your breasts. Each touch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, a reminder that the coat is far from done with you.

You feel the fabric shift, a subtle movement that draws your attention back to the apex of your thighs. The coat's touch is gentle yet insistent, its fabric teasing your sensitive folds with feather-light strokes. You can't help but moan, your body responding instinctively to the promise of more pleasure to come.

But then the fabric between your legs begins to change, to grow and harden into something entirely different. You gasp as you feel the unmistakable shape of a phallus emerging from the coat's inner lining, its size and girth enough to make you catch your breath.

"Wait," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "That place is for Morpheus."

The coat seems to hesitate for a moment, its fabric pulsing against your skin. And then, with a sense of inevitability, the phallus continues to grow, its length pressing against your entrance with an insistence that leaves you both exasperated and intrigued.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "First you strip me, then you make me come, and now you want to fuck me? You're a coat, for crying out loud!"

In response, the coat vibrates, a low, rumbling purr that vibrates all the way through your cunt. It's almost as if it's chuckling at your incredulity, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The phallus nudges at your opening, the blunt tip slick with your own arousal. You can feel it teasing you, pressing just slightly into your warmth before withdrawing once more. The sensation is both startling and arousing, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

You're aware of the erotic sounds that fill the room—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving against your drenched folds, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each teasing stroke. You hate how delicious the sounds are. The coat purrs in response, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure to the sensory overload.

The phallus nudges at your entrance once more, and this time, it doesn't withdraw. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

"Oh," you gasp out, your hips twitching and your pelvis muscles twitching from the stretch.

As the coat's phallus begins its slow, inexorable push into your body, you can't help but gasp at the sensation. It's thick and warm, a solid presence that fills you in a way you've never experienced before. Almost tentacle like, worming around against your clenching walls. The fabric of the coat's inner lining is soft against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the firmness of the phallus that's currently buried inside you.

You arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as the phallus continues its exploration. It seems to be searching for something, its movements deliberate and unhurried. Each slight shift sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation both startling and intensely arousing.

The erotic sounds of your coupling fills the room once more—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you close, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musty aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to be growing larger, its girth stretching you in the most delicious way. You can feel it pressing against your vaginal walls, each movement sending ripples of pleasure radiating through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rush of blood a rhythmic counterpoint to the thrum of the coat's purring. Each pulse of your heart sends a fresh surge of arousal coursing through your veins, making your skin flush and your breath come in short, sharp gasps. You're so attuned to the sensations that every twitch and shudder reverberates through you, a testament to the coat's mastery over your body.

And then, just when you think you can't possibly get any more aroused, the coat's phallus reaches a depth within you that makes your breath catch in your throat. You feel it probing against your cervix, a gentle nudge that sends a jolt of sensation straight to your core. Your eyes widen, and a startled gasp escapes your lips. "N-no," you stammer, your voice tremulous with a mix of desire and trepidation. "No. That place is for babies, not...not this."

In response, the coat's phallus vibrates, a low, rumbling sensation that reverberates deep within your belly. It's an acknowledgment, a silent affirmation of your boundaries, and the phallus withdraws slightly, avoiding the no-go zone with newfound respect. The change in sensation makes you gasp, and your hips jerk in response, the movement involuntary and desperate.

The vibrations increase in intensity, the coat's phallus humming with a steady rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the coat's purring. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat's phallus begins to move within you, your body responds with a rush of moisture, welcoming the thick intrusion with a slick warmth that makes each thrust an exercise in erotic sensation. The fabric inside you is velvety soft, yet unyielding, each stroke a delicious friction that stokes the fires of your arousal. The coat's movements are deliberate and measured, a slow, steady fucking that leaves you gasping for breath as it claims your body as its own.

The slithering galaxy that lines the coat's interior wraps gently around your throat, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. It tightens slowly, a sexual choking that sends a thrill of fear and arousal coursing through you. Your eyes widen, and a gasp is torn from your lips as the fabric restricts your airway just enough to heighten your senses without causing harm. The loss of control, the helplessness of your position, only serves to intensify the pleasure that's building within you.

Your body clenches around the coat's phallus, your inner walls fluttering in time with the rhythmic tightening of the fabric around your throat. The dual sensations are overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you writhing in the coat's embrace. You can feel your orgasm building, a slow, inexorable tide that threatens to sweep you away.

The room fills with dizzying and erotic sounds—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust, the subtle rasp of fabric against your throat as you struggle to breathe. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart.

You're acutely aware of the sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you aloft, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musky aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to grow even larger, its girth stretching you to your limits as it plunges into your depths. You can feel it pressing against your g-spot, each movement sending jolts of sensation straight to your core. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat continues to fuck you, the fabric around your throat pulses in time with the thrusts, a rhythmic pressure that sends you spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy. Your vision begins to blur, stars dancing at the edges of your sight as the combination of sensory overload and restricted airflow push you closer to the brink.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's phallus pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on your throat, allowing you to draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The phallus inside you softens, retreating back into the fabric of the coat's inner lining.

The aftershocks of your orgasm softly ripple through you and the coat's fabric shifts, its touch changing from demanding to soothing in an instant. You feel its fabric stroking your body, a gentle caress that traces the contours of your skin with a lover's precision. The sensation is both comforting and arousing, a reminder of the pleasure it's capable of bestowing upon you. So much better than it biting you.

"Can we cuddle now?" you mumble, your voice soft and sated. The coat seems to understand, its fabric tightening around you in a warm, comforting embrace. It lowers your body back to the bed as if you were the most precious thing in the realm.

You snuggle against the coat, your fingers gripping the lapels while your body still trembles from the intensity of your release. The scent of your arousal is heavy in the air, a musky aroma that mingles with the musty scent of the coat's inner lining. You can feel your juices leaking from your body, a slow, sticky trickle that slides down your inner thighs. Another mess you were going to have to clean up.

The coat, ever eager, seems unabashed by your wetness. Its fabric shifts between your legs, the tip of its phallus emerging once more to lap at the moisture that pools at your entrance like an eager tongue. The sensation is startling, a cool, wet touch that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom, each beat a staccato reminder of the pleasure that still courses through your veins. You're breathless, your chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as you try to regain some semblance of control over your body. But the coat, it seems, has other plans. Greedy for your pleasure.

"I can't," you protest weakly, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm exhausted."

The coat ignores your plea, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The tongue laps at your entrance, slurping up the remnants of your orgasm with an eagerness that borders on voracious. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The sound of the coat's ministrations fills the room—a wet, squelching noise that's almost as arousing as the physical sensations.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and trepidation. "It's too much."

But the coat is relentless, its tongue delving deeper into your folds with each passing moment. You feel yourself stretching once again to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

You roll and writhe on the bed, your body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. The coat's fabric tightens around you, holding you aloft as it continues its erotic assault. You're trapped, completely at the mercy of the sentient garment that seems intent on wringing every last ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body.

"Stop," you plead, your voice breaking on the word. "I can't take any more."

The coat, however, seems determined to prove you wrong. It knows you, knows your limits. Its tongue plunges into your depths, pressing against your g-spot with a precision that only serves to heighten your arousal. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the rhythmic thrusts.

Your fingers grasp at the sheets beneath you, clenching as your makes rake against the soft fabric. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure and writhes of ecstasy, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's tongue pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on you. Exhausted and sated, you collapse onto the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room, a stark contrast to the silence that follows.

And then, just as you're on the brink of unconsciousness, you feel the coat's fabric shift against your skin one last time. It wraps itself around you in a warm, comforting embrace, a silent promise of protection and care. You snuggle against the coat, your fingers clutching at the fabric as sleep claims you at last. About fucking time.

The last thing you hear before darkness takes you is the soft, rhythmic thrum of the coat's purring, a gentle lullaby that lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Date Published: 7/4/24

Last Edit: 7/4/24

Morpheus Masterlist

#morpheus fanfic #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #dream morpheus #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus sandman x reader #sandman fandom #fanfiction: morpheus

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miloonmetis · 2 days ago

Note

Hey hon!!

So I saw that you were looking for requests and I watched KDH the other night and oml I am obsessed!!

Could we get a part demon musician (various genre) reader living freely and the Saja Boys react to them/get to know them/etc? And for them to have each of their own section/fanfic (my brain stopped working lol)?

Appreciate it!! <3

True Colours

WC: 1466 Note: This was a bit of a struggle for me, truth be told, but! That doesn’t change the fact that I did enjoy the idea of putting the Saja boys into my ideas and sharing headcanons with them, which gets me to the warnings: Abby is a freak, he breaks small boundaries, and then Baby gives heavy stalker vibes. Very suggestive content, MDNI!

Jinu thought that before going for Huntrix, he should give the boys a chance to explore different musicians, get a sense of what they were up against, and what to do. Great idea, right? Wrong.

After successfully throwing off another group of singers, he was ready to move on to the next one, which was you. You were a solo artist living your dream and truthfully enjoying it to the max, he knew it would be easy to kick you off your podium and steal your fans' souls (literally.) But what he didn’t expect was to see you so clearly wearing the marks of a demon, almost proudly as you danced around and sang your heart out. He did everything in his power to avoid getting you taken down at least until he learned about you, finding out that you had told people that the marks were tattoos from old stories that you wore because you were afraid.

Jinu was confused to see someone like you wearing the patterns that he hated. The same ones that carried his guilt, his past. Yet you seemed so happy, so carefree. It baffled him at first to even try to understand how you could do such a thing, being so confident that no one would find out and that you… were okay with showing them.

He was mesmerized by you, how you held yourself, and danced along the stage without a care in the world. He wanted to know what it was like not to have that voice in your head constantly eating at you.

When you first actually talk, he notices how well you held yourself up, even when he poked at you about the markings and tried everything in his power to get you to crack, you didn’t even budge.

He would listen to you talk about your adventures, the different things that you had experienced, seeing how demons seemed to appear, then be shoved under, yet you admired how persistent some of them were. However, you hated the fact that they were stealing the souls of such beautiful people.

When you two get closer, he’d trace your markings mindlessly, admiring them and always finding them to be your best feature; they represented your confidence.

You motivated him into believing that even if he held so much guilt that the markings did not represent them, they only showed the fact that he was still fighting and was surviving even with them.

Romance wasn’t sure to think, but he knew you were beautiful, that the marks made your features pop more than they already did before, and they attracted him like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and would often make excuses to go up to the surface to be able to talk to you or see you perform any single chance he could.

When he was near you, it would almost always just be you standing (or sitting) talking to someone while he was just next to you, admiring you; if it was possible, he would have heart-shaped pupils.

He would always ask you about your marks and ask why you let the world see you, even though you were part demon. He would listen as you explained everything to him, going through your entire life story, explaining just how amazing and confident you were.

Every compliment he made toward you was toward your marks, obviously because he was a demon and he had one of his own, which would make you think he’d find it less attractive, but he found it amazing and beautiful to even be blessed on your skin.

As he spent more time around you, he would find himself interested in makeup, often doing looks on you that would match your eye colour or the markings on your skin to make them more defined. He became your full-time makeup artist when he wasn’t stuck in the underworld or with the other boys.

He was super into you, always wanting to be around you, and often, when it was just the two of you, he allowed his markings to appear, making it less stressful on himself to hide his appearance from you at least… half of his full appearance.

Abby was enamored by your confidence, the way you held yourself up on the stage, and was able to own your shows like no other, even with those markings on your skin. The fact that you were able to show them and had zero fear, he found to be admirable.

He would try to make you show off your markings all the time, wanting to see them and tracing the lines of them. Every time you’d fall asleep and… the freak that he is, he would slip your shirt up just below your chest to admire your stomach and the markings there.

Every time you wore something more revealing, he would be freaking out and excited because that meant he could see every single mark on your body to admire you in full.

When you mentioned taking showers, he would jump up instantly, trying to follow you into the bathroom before you had to shove him out. Eventually, when you two got more comfortable, you’d let him in and would trace every mark all over your body he could reach without you slapping his hand.

He just loved your marks, he wanted to praise them every moment he got and would often show you his marks, comparing them as he would often compliment your markings as if they were the same.

Mystery didn’t show much interest in you at first; actually, he would brush you off and ignore Jinu every time he would bring you up. But truth be told, that's because you made him question why he was hiding himself. The fact that you showed something that most people would hide and didn’t care, made him confused with himself.

He never talked about your marks much, just staring behind his bangs and admiring them as he wandered if one day he’d be able to show his face with the same confidence you have with your markings.

He would often ask you questions that were projecting his issues, but about your markings, you would answer him with reassuring things that would often make him feel extremely better as he lay his head down on your lap.

Just like Abby, he enjoyed tracing your marks and complimenting you almost constantly, wanting you to feel the confidence that he wanted to feel with himself.

You would help him with his issues, eventually he’d grow comfortable enough with the point that when you two were alone, he’d lift his bangs and let you stare at his eyes as he stared at your markings, the two of you enjoying each other's differences.

He would show you his markings only a few times, but he didn’t like them himself, so he hid his face for the same reason. He didn’t want to be seen as a demon, but he and you loved him just that way; he would keep you close.

Baby tried to do everything he could to see you, never getting too close but watching. Almost always there, every show, every meet and greet, he was just there somewhere nearby watching you. He wanted to get closer, but he was scared that if he did so, it would end up with you shoving him away because of how he presented himself.

When he did show up, the way you welcomed him with open arms was different, but not something that he was going to reject. Almost instantly, he gave himself to you and would spend every second he had with you.

The few times he wasn’t with you, he would watch, hiding in the crowds or shadows. Often finding the spots in your apartment that you rarely looked at, but he could hide just to see you, enjoying seeing you like that in these states.

Eventually, you found out about him, calling him out and telling him that he didn’t need to hide to be able to see you. That you’d give him VIP tickets and that if he wanted, he was welcome to spend all his time he wanted in your apartment.

He would follow you around your apartment or town when you went for chores like a puppy, keeping his eyes scanning at all times, making sure that there was no one who was going to try and talk to you in any sense.

He shows you all of him, every marking and his other form, which you seemed to be fully okay with. He fell in love with you, even if it isn’t something that you reciprocate, he is just obsessed with you and being near you all he can.

#writing #multifandom #fanfic #x reader #kpdh spoilers #kpop demon hunters #kpdh #kpdh x reader #abby saja #romance saja #mystery saja #saja boys #baby saja

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bigmpregnm · 3 days ago

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Secret Family Ties - Interlude: Dorm Secrets 1

[Story Collection] | [Part 1] [●] [Interlude 2🔜]

Takes place between Part 1 and Part 3

Mark and Kyle returned to college after spending spring break in Georgetown, slipping back into their routine as if nothing had changed. They were identical in every way except for how they parted their shaggy brown hair—Mark to the left, Kyle to the right. They stood at 6’1” with average builds, bright blue eyes, and gentle smiles that had always charmed their peers. The week they had spent with their dad was fun, with great surprises and an experience they had never expected: a night with their long-time crush, George.

Despite their lingering thoughts about George—how his chestnut brown hair framed his handsome face, how his lean but well-defined muscles moved under his clothes, how his horse cock felt deep inside their holes—the twins quickly became engrossed in their coursework. Midterms were fast approaching, and between studying, attending lectures, and hanging out with their friends, there wasn’t much time to dwell on past events. However, they couldn’t hide the arousal that the memories of George’s body on top of them brought.

But strange things began happening as they tried to keep up with their regular lives. At first, it was subtle. Mark woke up more exhausted than usual, even after a full night’s sleep. Kyle noticed that certain foods—especially the greasy burgers and fries they used to love—made his stomach churn. They both began craving strange food combinations, ones that made no sense, like peanut butter on pickles or cold spaghetti with chocolate sauce.

Then came the weight gain. Neither twin had ever struggled with their weight, always maintaining an average build with minimal effort. But now, their abdomens were rounding out, their hips felt tighter in their jeans, and their chests—while always lean—felt heavier and rounder, almost tender. They chalked it up to the infamous “Freshman 15,” finally catching up to them in their junior year.

Their best friend, Nate, was the first to notice the change. Nate was the epitome of the all-American golden boy at 6’2” with dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled body that looked sculpted by the gods. His muscles stretched against the fabric of his tight polo shirts, his broad chest and narrow waist drawing the eyes of every passing student. His thick legs and bubble butt were his pride, filling out his khaki shorts perfectly. So, after years of dedicated fitness training, he couldn’t let his friends get thicker without teasing them.

“Damn, guys,” Nate said one afternoon as they sat in the campus café. He leaned back in his chair, sipping a milkshake as his strong arms flexed to tease the brothers. “Are you two hiding snacks under those shirts or what?”

Mark and Kyle exchanged a look, instinctively tugging at the fabric of their oversized hoodies. “It’s just some weight gain,” Kyle responded, stuffing a fry in his mouth. “No big deal. Have you ever heard about the Freshman 15? I remember you grew a small gut in your first year here.”

“Yeah, yeah, Freshman 15, all that jazz. I remember you made fun of me back then, but look…” Nate teased, grinning and lifting the hem of his polo to show them the chiseled abs he had regained. “And you guys are juniors, and that looks more like a Freshman 50. Seriously, when was the last time you hit the gym?”

Mark rolled his eyes, laughing. “We’ve been busy, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nate smirked. “Well, if you ever need a personal trainer, I’d be happy to whip you into shape.”

“Shut up and slow down with the milkshakes, or you’ll turn into a dairy cow,” Kyle said, playfully throwing a fry on Nate’s face as the trio burst into laughter.

The twins knew Nate was right. Their weight gain didn’t feel like the gut their friend developed in his Freshman year in college. Also, they didn’t tell Nate—or anyone—but their weight gain wasn’t just in their bellies. Their chests had grown fuller, their asses rounder. Their sweatpants fit differently, hugging their widening hips and plumper thighs. They weren’t only gaining weight; their bodies were changing.

Two months after spring break, the changes could no longer be ignored. Both twins stood in front of their shared dorm mirror, hesitantly lifting their shirts. Their midsections were no longer just “a little rounder.” Their once flat abdomens now jutted outward in smooth, rounded curves, resembling the shape of someone at full term with a single child. The skin of their bellies was stretched tight, their belly buttons having started to push outward.

But it wasn’t just their bellies—every part of their bodies had subtly transformed. Their hips had widened, giving them a fuller, softer shape that strained against their sweatpants. Their thighs had thickened, pressing together more than they used to, and their chests had grown heavier, their pecs rounded with unexpected fullness. Even their arms and faces had taken on a slightly softer, more glowing appearance, though neither of them had made the connection.

Kyle ran a hand over his belly, pressing gently. “This isn’t fat.”

Standing beside his brother, Mark turned to the side, his breath hitching as he saw how far his belly jutted out. “Dude… this is bad.”

They lifted their shirts even higher to inspect their pecs, where their nipples were permanently sensitive. Their asses had become thick and round, slightly jiggling as they moved to have a full view of their bodies. And to top it off, they had both been experiencing an odd, near-constant pressure deep in their abdomens, as if something was pushing outward from within. Desperate for answers, they discreetly booked an appointment with the campus doctor.

The doctor, a woman in her late thirties who had dealt with more than her fair share of pregnancy cases among female students, gave them a knowing look as they nervously explained their symptoms. She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Boys, tell me the truth—did you ever pay attention in health class?”

The twins exchanged a confused glance, their minds racing. They thought the doctor was talking about a type of hormonal disorder or imbalance. Maybe they had a rare genetic condition, or perhaps their diet had thrown something off. Kyle frowned, glancing at Mark, who looked equally uncertain. “What do you mean?” Mark finally asked apprehensively.

The doctor smirked, shaking her head. “Lie down, and we’ll see if my hypothesis is correct. I’ll run a sonogram on both of you.”

The twins looked even more confused but obeyed. “Okay. But isn’t that for…” Mark began, and a realization made him look at his brother in shock. Kyle was equally speechless.

Laying them side by side on examination cots, the doctor grabbed a bottle of gel and a sonogram wand. She spread the cool gel over Kyle’s belly first. As she moved the wand, her expression shifted from amusement to shock.

“Yeah, I was right. Let me capture the image here,” the doctor said before turning her attention to Mark and spreading gel on his belly, moving the wand over it.

“What?” Kyle asked, his heart hammering. “You were right on what?”

“Give me a second. Let me check on your brother because I’m convinced he’s going through the same.” The doctor nodded, capturing the screen of what she found on Mark’s belly before turning the screen to the twins with both captures on it. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant. Both of you.”

Kyle’s brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed. “Wait. What?”

“Pregnant.” She pointed at five distinct spots on each of the captures. “Here. Each of you is carrying quintuplets. I must admit I’m surprised. I had never seen a quintuplet pregnancy, and considering your surprise, I guess you’re not taking any fertility treatment.”

The room spun. Mark and Kyle stared at each other, their faces pale, and they could only think of George and their night together back in Spring Break.

That night, they lay in bed, stripped of their clothes with their bare, swollen bellies pressing against each other. The warmth of each other’s body heat was soothing, even as they struggled to find a comfortable position. Their hands unconsciously traced the stretched skin of their abdomens, feeling and marveling at its tautness. Mark exhaled, his fingers brushing over Kyle’s navel, imagining how much it would protrude from the strain of carrying five babies. Kyle mirrored the motion, resting his hand against Mark’s taut belly, marveling at how big it had become. They didn’t speak for a long moment, only absorbing the reality of their situation. The weight of their pregnancies pressed into them, but there was something undeniably fantastic about sharing the experience together, carrying babies from the same man.

“What do we do?” Kyle whispered.

“I don’t know. What do we tell dad?” Mark exhaled slowly. “We’re gonna be… moms?”

Kyle frowned. “Dads? Or both?”

They fell into silence, looking at each other’s bellies. Then, slowly, Mark grinned. “So, we’re having George’s babies.”

Kyle��s face turned red as a grin spread on his face. “Oh fuck! We’re having George’s babies!” He couldn’t hide his excitement.

Images of George—his handsome face, lean, sculpted muscles, and charming smile—flashed through their minds. The twins shivered as their thoughts drifted to the fact that their babies would undoubtedly inherit George’s devastatingly good looks. Strong features, dazzling green eyes, and a natural charm that could turn heads—it was almost too much to process. Despite everything, they couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride and excitement. Their kids were going to be drop-dead gorgeous.

They exchanged a glance, and even though they were overwhelmed, a smirk crept onto Kyle’s lips. “Dude… our babies are gonna be so hot.”

Mark chuckled. “They will. But…” Mark groaned, covering his face. “We’re so screwed.

Kyle smirked. “Are we, though?”

Mark peered at him. “Dude. He’s married. We met his wife, and she’s such a great woman. And let’s not even think about what our dad will say about this.”

Kyle sighed. “Yeah. But we’re carrying his kids. Ten of them.” Silence stretched between them before, and almost in unison, they both grinned.

“We’re having George’s babies!” They said, and despite everything—the confusion, the fear, the absurdity—they couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

Mark and Kyle sat nervously in their dorm room the following morning. Nate was lounging on their desk chair as usual, sipping on a milkshake as his eyes flicked between the twins, noting their hesitation.

“Alright, you two. Spit it out. What’s going on?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

The twins exchanged nervous glances before Kyle exhaled sharply. “Okay, okay. So, yesterday, we found out that we, uh, we’re pregnant.”

Nate nearly choked on his drink. He coughed a few times before setting the bottle down, his brows knitting together as he studied them. “Wait. What?”

Mark rubbed his rounded belly. “Yeah. We, uh, we’re both pregnant with quintuplets.”

For the first time in his life, Nate was speechless. He looked between them, his mouth slightly ajar. He could see it now. How their bellies pushed forward, the undeniable weight gain, the softness to their once-flat chests. Nate ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and exhaled. “It explains the Freshman 50. And I had my suspicions with all the weight you two were putting on, but pregnancy wasn’t one of my options.” Nate shook his head and let out a low whistle. “So, who… you know?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not yours,” Mark said, laughing.

“I wasn’t gonna ask that. I know how babies are made, and we haven’t been there,” Nate said, raising his hands to emphasize his innocence.

The twins laughed and felt their anxiety go away. “It’s, uh… someone from back home. It’s a long story,” Mark said vaguely.

Nate studied them for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But you guys owe me a hell of a story someday.” He stood up, approaching his friends. “So, I guess I should say congratulations! Ten babies between the two of you. Wow! These kids better call me Uncle Nate,” he added, hugging the twins and making them laugh.

As the days passed and their bellies grew rounder, the twins started to draw a few looks from fellow students. Some gave them the stink eye as they waddled past in class, their pregnant bellies impossible to hide under their oversized clothes. Others only stared in curiosity but said nothing. Thankfully, most students were too preoccupied with their own work to really pay them much attention.

Mark and Kyle had never been that popular, so they didn’t have many guy friends to shun them. But Nate was different. He had been with them from the beginning, helping them in ways they never expected. He carried their books when they got too heavy, grabbed their meals from the cafeteria when standing in long lines became too exhausting, and even helped them adjust their desks when their growing bellies made it difficult to sit comfortably.

Unfortunately, his kindness led to rumors. A few students began whispering that Nate was the father of their babies, and while he laughed it off, the twins felt guilty for dragging him into their mess.

“You know, I don’t mind letting people think I knocked you both up,” Nate joked one afternoon as he handed Mark a sandwich. “Gives me a reputation.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, because being accused of impregnating two guys at once, with quintuplets each, is really gonna boost your dating prospects.”

“Hey, some people might be into that,” Nate said with a smirk. “The guy who did this was a freaking stallion. Two sets of quintuplets conceived naturally? Well done, Georgetown guy. And, matching that high expectation works great for me if people think I did this,” he added, making the twins think of George, the real stallion who pumped them full of his babies.

Deep down, the twins wanted to tell George the truth, but they knew it was too complicated. At this point, they knew Stacey, George’s wife, had likely already given birth to their twins. So, it wasn’t a good moment to arrive at George’s house with the news that each of them was carrying five of George’s babies. They chose to keep up with their college life despite the challenges it brought.

As the semester progressed, the twins grew more and more self-conscious. None of their clothes fit. Their bellies had outgrown even their baggiest sweatshirts, stretching them so tight that the fabric bunched up over their round abdomens. Their thighs had thickened, their ass had ballooned, and their once-loose pants now clung uncomfortably to their widened hips. They could feel their bodies swaying and bouncing with each step, and despite Nate’s encouraging words, they knew it was time to find a solution to cover their bodies.

They tried buying XXL hoodies to cover up, but those were so big everywhere else besides their midsection that they just looked ridiculous. No matter what they wore, their condition was impossible to hide. They tried oversized sweatpants, but even though they weren’t that tight on their bodies, they still left little to the imagination, showcasing every exaggerated curve of their newly developed fat asses and wide hips.

Nate, ever the practical one, argued, trying to convince them to find a solution, “Why don’t you guys just call home for more money and buy some actual maternity clothes?”

Both twins immediately vetoed the idea. “No way,” Mark said firmly. “Dad can’t find out about this.”

Nate gave them a skeptical look. “You realize he’s gonna notice when you go home for the summer, right?”

That thought sent a wave of panic through them. “We won’t go home for the summer then,” Kyle said, nervously caressing his softening pecs.

“Okay. And what will you do when these babies are born?” Nate added, crossing his arms over his broad chest to emphasize the seriousness of the topic.

However, the twins could respond. They didn’t have a plan to face their dad. They didn’t know how to tell him about the pregnancies and the fact that George, their married neighbor, was the father of their ten coming babies.

So, instead of facing the inevitable, they called home after finals in early June, making up an excuse to stay at school over the summer. Nate looked at them from the desk chair again, rolling his eyes as his friends insisted on delaying the inevitable. When the twins dialed, Mike, their dad, picked up after a few rings with a calm and warm voice.

“Hey, boys! How are you? How’d finals go?” Mike said.

Kyle shot Nate a nervous glance before answering. “Uh, not great, Dad. We nearly failed algebra, and we really need to stay here and hit the books if we wanna pass in the fall.”

Mike hummed on the other end. “Is it that bad, huh? What happened? You guys had too much fun during the semester?”

Mark forced a laugh. “No, Dad. We didn’t have too much fun. The classes were tough. So, we don’t wanna risk failing. We figured it’d be best to stay and study.”

To their relief and surprise, Mike didn’t argue. “Alright. If you think that’s best, I support it. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourselves, okay? Don’t study too hard and enjoy the summer. Love you both.”

“We will, Dad. Thanks. We love you too,” Kyle said, and as soon as they hung up, they sighed in relief.

Nate smirked. “You know he’s gonna figure it out eventually, right? At some point, you’ll have to be home with the pregnant bellies or the ten babies.”

Mark groaned. “We know, and that’s a future-us problem.”

Meanwhile, back in Georgetown, Mike set his phone down and leaned back, his hands instinctively rubbing over his own swollen belly. He let out a deep sigh, feeling the heavy weight of his eight growing babies inside him.

At two months pregnant with octuplets, he was already enormous. His abdomen had rounded out far faster than when he’d been pregnant with the twins, stretching tight and full beneath his oversized T-shirt. His chest had grown heavy, his nipples more sensitive than he cared to admit, and his thighs and hips had taken on a new softness. Every step felt heavier, every movement slower.

And he was relieved. He loved his boys, but he wasn’t ready to tell them about their incoming siblings—or the fact that George, their young, married neighbor, was the father of his babies. Rubbing a hand over his taut belly, he sighed. “Looks like we’re all keeping our secret for a bit longer,” he said to his unborn babies.

...

#mpreg #mpreg story #bigmnm commissions

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moviecritc · 1 day ago

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✦ ˚ : · PIERCING THROUGH THE HEART · : ˚✦

pairing ☆ roy harper x fem!reader

word count ☆ 1.5K

summary ☆ out of boredom, you conviced roy to let you give him a piercing

warnings ☆ none

main masterlist | letterboxd

Roy still remembered perfectly the first time you took off your mask —the one that covered your entire face— to reveal your identity to the rest of the Titans. His jaw had dropped slightly. Not just because you were gorgeous, but because you were covered in jewelry. A brow piercing, a silver septum ring, a hoop on your lip, and both ears stacked with piercings in a perfect arrangement, with earrings of different colors and shapes.

You were one of the coolest people he’d ever met. Your sense of humor always made him laugh out loud, you executed your part of the missions flawlessly, and although you sometimes came off a bit distant, whenever you were with Roy, you showed a warmth that completely disarmed him. That mix of mystery and sincerity had him utterly fascinated.

Roy wasn’t exactly sure when the affection he felt for you had gotten out of hand, but he was starting to realize he was looking at you differently. And it didn’t help that you always showed up with those impossible outfits and that attitude like the entire world belonged to you by natural right.

Sometimes, when you were training together in the Titans' training room, he'd find himself watching you a bit too long. He tried to play it off, of course. Or at least he thought he did. But Dick had already elbowed him a couple of times meaningfully, and Kory looked at him with a smile like she knew everything.

Now you had the tower all to yourselves, the rest of the team busy with different missions or personal matters. You’d spent the morning training, making fun of each other, then figuring out how to cook the simplest thing, only to end up ordering takeout.

That night, you both collapsed onto the couch, food on your laps, a movie playing in the background. It was bad. Really bad. The kind that isn’t even funny because of how bad it is. But it didn’t matter. You were comfortable. So was Roy.

Or at least, you both were until you'd been shifting side to side for about twenty minutes, sighing, turning toward him.

"I'm bored," you finally said, letting your head drop onto his shoulder.

Roy smiled without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Yeah, well, the script is a crime."

"I'm not talking about the movie. I mean everything. Bored of not doing anything."

Roy turned his head slightly toward you, just enough to meet your gaze a few inches away.

"You wanna do something?"

Your eyes sparkled with that mischievous expression he already knew meant danger.

"Can I give you a piercing?"

Roy blinked, clearly expecting something else.

"Sorry?"

"A piercing," you repeated naturally. "I’ve got my kit. All clean. All sterilized. I’ve practiced a million times."

You gestured at your rows of piercings. Roy blinked again, he had tattoos, several scars, but it had never occurred to him to get a piercing.

"You did those piercings yourself?" was all he asked, slightly frowning.

You nodded enthusiastically, clearly proud.

"All of them. Well, except the industrial," you said, raising an eyebrow slightly like it was a trophy. "That one hurt like hell. But the rest? Nothing compared to what we do."

Roy stared at you. Your relaxed expression, the way your fingers played with one of your earrings. The heat creeping up his neck wasn’t just from the idea of the piercing, it was from you. From how close you were. From how casually intimate the conversation had become.

"And what kind of piercing do you want to give me?" he asked, a mix of suspicion and curiosity in his voice.

"A small one," you said, sitting on your knees and looking at him more intently. "A hoop on your ear. No big deal. Won’t hurt. And it’s going to look amazing."

Roy hesitated. You were too close. He was feeling too much. But then you did it.

You smiled. That smile of yours that was a little cocky, a little sweet, and he felt all the air in the room collapse into his chest.

"Come on. If you don’t like it, it’ll close in a few weeks."

He felt stupid for taking so long to nod.

Twenty minutes later, you were in your room, sitting across from each other, your tools perfectly laid out on the table. He was trying to stay relaxed, but the way you were so focused, so close, with your cold fingers touching his ear, his pulse was through the roof.

"Which ear do you want it on?" you asked after picking the hoop.

"Which one is the gay ear? I want it the other one," he said completely seriously, like he was making a public statement.

You stared at him in silence for a second. Blinked once. Twice. Then burst out laughing.

"What?" you said, leaning back in laughter. "Did you seriously just say that? What year are you living in, Roy Harper?"

Roy shrugged, half-smiling, with that embarrassed sparkle in his eyes he got when he knew he’d said something dumb but wanted to keep a little dignity.

"I just wanted to avoid any misunderstandings."

"Sweetheart, if someone looks at you because of this piercing, it won’t be a misunderstanding."

You kept laughing as you leaned in again, grabbing his face to examine his ears, unable to hide your amused smirk.

"You're such an idiot sometimes," you whispered with a smile that hit him like a punch to the heart.

"And you're laughing too much," he retorted, raising his eyebrows. "You gonna pierce me or not?"

You rolled your eyes and moved closer, standing between his legs while he remained seated in the chair. You put on the gloves, cleaned the area with soft movements, and even though Roy was trying not to show it, his chest was rising and falling harder than usual.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t pain.

It was that you were so close. That your fingers brushed him so delicately. That you focused on him with so much care it felt like… like he was truly being seen. Like no one had ever touched him with that kind of intention before.

"You’re going to feel a little pinch," you whispered, as if that could prepare him.

"Go for it."

And you did. Precise. Fast. Silent.

Roy barely flinched, surprised at how little it hurt. But even more surprised by how you leaned in right after, checking the hoop with your fingers.

"You look… fucking good," you murmured. Your voice had dropped an octave. Your eyes locked onto his. Your hand still resting on his cheek.

Roy didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you.

Like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you in a different light, with a different truth. His pupils dilated, his breathing slow. His eyes so wide, so soft, that for a second, even you froze.

"What?" you asked, almost in a whisper, suddenly shy under that intensity.

Roy swallowed.

"I’ve always liked that you have so many piercings, you know?" he said without thinking too much. He hadn’t even looked at his own yet. "I like the one on your lip."

The redhead gestured shyly toward your lip, pulling his hand back before touching you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Although… doesn’t it get in the way when you kiss someone?"

You raised an eyebrow, not backing off.

"You wanna find out for yourself?"

Silence. You could practically hear his heartbeat. Roy looked you in the eye. Then down to your mouth.

He didn’t respond with words. You were so close, your lips so temptingly near his, that all he could do was nod slightly, as if that were enough to give the universe permission for it to happen.

And you kissed him.

Softly at first, barely a brush, like giving him the chance to back out. But he didn’t. On the contrary, he leaned into it, held your waist with one hand, the other still trembling slightly from gripping the chair as you came closer.

The kiss deepened, slower, loaded with a tension that had built over time and now, finally unraveling, felt endless. Roy wasn’t sure if it was the heat of your mouth or the cold metal of your piercing against his lips, but something in him had ignited like gasoline near a flame.

When you pulled back, only a few centimeters, breathing like it was hard to come back from the moment, Roy looked at you with a mix of disbelief and desire.

"Yup, doesn’t get in the way at all," Roy said, like he’d just confirmed a theory.

You looked down, a little flushed, and as Roy leaned in again, you put both hands on his jaw and turned him toward the mirror. "You like the piercing?"

Roy barely looked at it for a second, of course he liked it. You’d done it.

"I love it. I’m halfway to being as cool as you."

You let out a soft laugh, the one you used when you were too close to taking something seriously but still wanted to play. You stared at him through the mirror with an expression that was a dangerous mix of sweetness and mischief.

"I’m not as cool as you think," you said with a dumb little smile.

"Well, for me, yes, baby," Roy shot back, pulling you closer between his legs. "You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met."

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. That comment caught you off guard. Because people knew you for being sarcastic, for your punk aesthetic, for not letting anyone get too close. But Roy always found a way to see through the smoke.

"You’re so silly," you said, running a hand through his hair. "How long have you liked me?"

"I’m not gonna answer that," Roy started. "’Cause it was embarrassingly soon."

#roy harper x reader #roy harper x you #roy harper x y/n #roy harper #roy harper dc #arsenal #arsenal x reader #arsenal x you #red arrow x reader #red arrow #dc arsenal #speedy #red arrow x you #dc x reader #titans x reader #roy harper fluff #arsenal dc #red arrow dc #noraverse ･ﾟ☆

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obvious-captain-rogers · 2 days ago

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Rabbit + 20 (and 16? 🥹) if you’re feeling up for it! 💗

The way that this has been rotating around in my head like a rotisserie chicken. It probably went long but I also am like super proud of it so I don't actually care all that much XD

Prompt list here: 20. sleepy domestic sex and 16. accidental i love you’s during sex

(AO3 version here)

It had been a long shift. Not a bad one necessarily- or at least no worse than it normally was- but almost unbearably long as the hours seemed to spool out endlessly. It was a relief to pass off the place to Shen, akin to a weight lifting itself from Robby’s already bowed shoulders, and then start the short walk back home for a shower and some sleep.

Robby slipped inside his brownstone silently, toeing off his shoes at the door like he did every night before padding down the short hall to the bedroom. He shrugged off the strap of his slightly ragged JanSport and propped it against the side of his dresser beside the camouflage bag already sitting there.

A faint rustle pulled Robby’s eyes away from the bag to the vague outline of a familiar shape swathed in blankets, the hazy form limned by the weak golden light that only just slipped between the mostly drawn curtains from the streetlights outside. His mouth twitched up into a soft, relaxed smile as he let himself take in the softly blurred details of a body that he was starting to know just as well as his own.

Jack.

He’d been sleeping at Robby’s nearly every night since they’d started… whatever it was they were doing.

They hadn’t put a name to it, a label, but Robby was oddly content with that. Might have had something to do with the work he was doing with Dr. Holland to manage his anxious spiraling. Or it was just that Robby had never really felt the need to question his place or importance to Jack.

No matter what they were to each other, it was a comfort and relief to come home to Jack tucked into Robby’s bed like he belonged there.

The siren song of slipping into bed beside Jack was strong, but the need to rinse off the day and feel both physically and spiritually clean after his shift was stronger. So instead of making a beeline to the bed, Robby soundlessly stripped off his scrub top and undershirt in one pull before carefully undoing his belt so that the buckle didn’t rattle and he could step out of his cargos. There were two hampers in the closet: one for work clothes and one for street clothes. Robby carefully settled his clothes into the work hamper as he passed on his way to the bathroom. He left the door open a crack and only flipped the switch for the soft light over the mirror instead of the bright overheads.

Dr. Holland seemed to think that a post-shift routine was the best thing for Robby. To help keep him grounded, to help him delineate the line between work and home so that he could step away from the hospital in more than just the physical sense. Robby had- in his mind- dismissed the idea but after a few months was reluctantly eating his own words. Going through the motions of the shower while visualizing the events of the day sloughing off of his skin along the same path as the spray of water had actually kept the worst of his gut-churning anxiety and hopelessness at bay. So even though it made him feel ridiculous, he went through the process just as seriously and methodically as he might do a line of sutures.

By the time he was stepping out of the shower, heat-flushed and with water dripping off the ends of his hair, he felt a little more relaxed than he had been only twenty minutes earlier. He swiped a hand over to the mirror to clear it of the fog so he could see to dry his hair and brush his teeth, maybe trim his beard, and met his own eyes in the mirror in a way that had been incredibly difficult even a few weeks ago.

Robby was getting better. Even if he had setbacks in a week or a month or a year, he’d still made some headway with the heavy burden he’d been carrying for far too long on his own. Three steps forward and one step back was still technically two steps forward as Dr. Holland constantly reminded Robby when he felt he wasn’t making as much progress as he wanted to be.

Robby finished up his nightly routine before padding out to the bedroom to toss on a pair of fresh underwear and then slip beneath the covers on his side of the bed. He didn’t try to notch himself right up against Jack’s back because even though he knew that Jack had the ability to fall asleep just about anywhere, in any position, he was still a fairly light sleeper. Too much movement from Robby, too much sensory input from Robby’s body and breath brushing against him, and Jack would be squinting at him with groggy displeasure. And despite how endearing Robby found the expression, Jack could be a real bear if he was woken up before he came around on his own.

There was another rustle of sheets and Robby grimaced, an apology already forming on the tip of his tongue but before he could say anything, Jack was tucking himself against Robby’s side with a low mumble of broken syllables that were more vibrations than words. Still asleep then. Robby felt a muscle in his cheek twitch as he held back a smile. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he lay there before he dropped off to sleep, but it didn’t really matter since sleep came for him all the same.

He woke up slowly, awareness trickling in sedately one sense at a time until he was blinking against the soft mid-morning light that was slanting across the bed almost as warm as the arm that was draped across his middle, the chest at his back. Robby took a breath and leaned back against Jack, knowing that he was already awake behind him from the way he was holding himself.

“Morning,” Jack mumbled- lips and stubble rasping at the soft spot behind Robby’s ear making him shudder- before pressing a warm kiss to his skin.

“Been up long?” Robby asked and he twisted a little to be able to look at Jack over his shoulder.

Jack made a noncommittal sound from where his mouth was still pressed against Robby’s neck. Robby knocked his head back against Jack’s carefully so he could get enough space to roll over so they were chest to chest, Robby’s thigh slipping between Jack’s easily. Jack’s brow quirked up a little, but Robby also felt the way his mouth was curled up into a smile as he pressed closer to kiss him.

It was slow, leisurely, and Robby let himself sink into the simple pleasure of it the same way that someone sank into a hot bath. He felt Jack’s fingers twitch against his back before digging in a little, forcing their bodies closer even though there was barely a slip of air between them to start with. Robby huffed a laugh through his nose before he licked into Jack’s mouth.

Jack groaned and reluctantly tipped his chin up, breaking the kiss with an obscene wet sound. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mike,” Jack rasped, voice low and gravelly in a way that made Robby’s stomach swoop.

“Oh, I know I can finish. You tryin’ to tell me something, Jack?” Robby teased as he tilted his head to mouth along Jack’s jaw. Robby could feel the vibration of Jack’s chuckle against his lips as he moved down the line of Jack’s throat.

“Asshole,” Jack muttered as he threaded his fingers into Robby’s hair. “Remind me why I let you fuck me.” His voice was light, playful, as his nails scraped across Robby’s scalp softly enough for a chill to race down the back of his neck, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

“Well,” Robby said and pulled back to shoot Jack a lopsided grin, “I’ve been told that I’ve got a pretty decent cock.” Jack let out a sharp bark of sudden, delighted laughter that made Robby laugh along with him.

Jack shook his head and tugged on Robby’s hair “You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to it, just a warm fondness that Robby was slowly learning that he could get used to. Because mildly love-struck was a good look on Jack. Robby would have to figure out how to make it appear more often.

“Your fucking idiot,” Robby mumbled- the response weak but he had better things on his mind- as he ducked in to kiss Jack again, just as slow and leisurely as before but with just a touch more heat behind it.

Being with Jack, reading what he wanted, was as easy as breathing. When Jack’s hand skated down Robby’s back, fingers settling just beneath the waistband of his boxers, Robby knew that meant Jack wanted them off. When Jack hitched his leg over Robby’s calf, Robby knew that meant he was getting restless even though every movement was still syrupy and weighted from only just being awake.

Easy, simple, everything that almost all of Robby’s previous relationships had never been.

Robby helped Jack shove his boxers down when Jack got a little more purposeful about it, kicking them off the bed and then shifting back, regrettably having to part his mouth from Jack’s, so he could work Jack’s shorts off. He discarded them in the same general direction as his own clothes before he stretched over to the bedside table, grinning to himself when Jack reached to run his hand across Robby’s hip and then up his side like he couldn’t help it, to fish out the bottle of lube.

He didn’t bother with a condom since Jack had mentioned a few weeks back, offhand in tone but the words intentional, that he didn’t really need them if Robby was good with it. They both got tested regularly and neither of them was sleeping with anyone else, so they had wordlessly left the box untouched in the drawer.

Jack let out a stuttered breath against Robby’s mouth as the first finger slid into him but he chased the feeling with a tilt of his hips that let Robby know he wasn’t uncomfortable. Robby leaned in to close the scant space between them and kiss Jack again, just as unhurriedly as the motion of his hand.

It was almost muscle memory, Robby opening Jack up on his fingers until Jack had broken out into a light sweat, fingers digging into Robby’s bicep, and muscles twitching beneath his skin. “Fuck, Michael, please,” Jack gasped and Robby hummed as he pressed one last saccharine kiss to Jack’s mouth before he pulled his fingers out and reached for more lube to slick up his cock.

Sliding into Jack felt pretty much the same as when he stepped through his door after a long shift. The same comfort, the same security, the feeling of coming home. Robby brushed his nose against Jack’s softly before he caught his mouth in a slow, searing kiss to distract from the pleasure that seemed to wrap itself around his throat and lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

Jack made a low noise in the back of his throat and Robby felt his mouth curl up at the corner before Jack broke the kiss. “Good?” Robby asked and he smoothed his hand down Jack’s side, fingers pressing in at the cut of his hip. Not as sharp as when they’d first met- though Robby certainly wasn’t one to judge since Jack was the one that still made time to go on runs and hit the gym- but still just as aesthetically fascinating. His fingers tripped over his iliac crest and then down the line of his iliotibial band.

Jack twitched under Robby’s light, almost exploratory touch. The movement- though barely there- had Robby pressing up against something inside Jack that made his eyes flutter shut, brows knit, and teeth buried into his bottom lip. Probably his prostate then. And even if it wasn’t, that was unequivocally a look of pleasure so Robby used his touch on Jack’s thigh to guide his knee up around Robby’s hip to give him even more access.

“Jesus,” Jack breathed out shakily, tone almost reverent, as he dropped his head down to rest against Robby’s collarbone. “Fuck, yes, it’s good. Just-” Jack rocked his hips with the limited leverage he had and mouthed at Robby’s shoulder to muffle the moan that slipped from his lips. “Move. I’m good, just need you to move already.”

“I’ve got you,” Robby murmured and he adjusted his hand from Jack’s thigh to his hip to have a better grip as he pulled back and then pressed back in. Jack made a punched out little sound against Robby before setting his teeth to the line of bone in front of his mouth. Not biting, though that wasn’t always out of the question for Jack, but just resting there as he let out another garbled noise as Robby set a slow but steady pace.

Robby didn’t have the leverage that he might have had if Jack were on his back or his stomach, his thrusts more shallow rocks of his hips to change up the amount of pressure against Jack’s prostate, but there was a close intimacy to the position that settled something in Robby. He could see- when Jack’s head wasn’t buried in his neck and shoulder- every expression that flickered across Jack’s face, could hear and feel every breath and curse that fell from his mouth. It was nearly as overwhelming as the hot clench of Jack around Robby’s cock.

Neither of them were going to last long, but that was fine. The moment wasn’t even about the sex, not really. Not for Robby anyways. “Jack,” Robby’s voice came out hoarse as he knocked his cheek against Jack’s temple to get him to lift his head. Heat flared in Robby’s gut, sharp enough to pull a helpless moan from his chest, at the slightly glazed look in Jack’s eyes when he dragged his head up to look at Robby properly. “Shit.” Robby pressed forward and kissed Jack desperately, the slick slide of their lips spurring on the burn of his building orgasm.

Jack clutched onto Robby’s hair and canted his hips to match the increasingly staccato rhythm of Robby’s movements. Robby pressed his hand against Jack’s hip in warning- Jack’s thigh tightening beneath his touch while his knee and the end of his stump dug into Robby’s hip and thigh respectively- before he reached between them to wrap his hand around Jack’s cock. Because he wasn’t going to finish and leave Jack hanging until he could get enough of his brain and breath back to get Jack off too.

His whole body jolted at the touch- like Jack had almost forgotten about the hard, flushed line of his cock caught between his and Robby’s stomachs- and Robby felt the vibrations of Jack’s stifled moan against the edge of his teeth. An expert twist of Robby’s wrist had Jack jerking hard enough that their mouths disconnected with a wet sound as he came all over Robby’s hand and stomach.

“God, Michael, don’t- don’t stop,” Jack panted into the space between them as he clenched around Robby, pressing his knee into Robby’s waist to keep him moving inside him. As if Robby needed any encouragement with the way he was barely hanging onto the edge by his fingernails. He let go of Jack’s cock- knowing that Jack had to be sensitive- to hold onto his waist with fingers still slippery from Jack’s release as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” Jack gasped and his fingers pressed into the nape of Robby’s neck, eyes screw shut tightly against the sparks of oversensitivity that had to be flashing behind his eyes. “Jesus, Mike, I-” Jack’s breath hitched in his chest and his brows knit together as he smeared a sloppy kiss against the corner of Robby’s mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

The words sent liquid heat through Robby, his hands trembling against Jack like he’d just gotten a shot of straight epi, and the thread of tension in him snapped like those words were what he’d been waiting for. Robby nearly clocked their heads together harsh enough to break both their noses as he dove forward to kiss Jack, hips pressed as deep as he could get as he came hard, all the air seemingly knocked from his lungs.

Jack made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he gentled their kiss, smoothing his fingers against the back of Robby’s neck in an absent gesture that helped to ease some of the tension there. He pressed one last close-mouthed kiss to Robby’s lips before he just propped his forehead against Robby’s so they could catch their breath.

Robby hummed as he tipped his head to pepper kisses along Jack’s throat just because, but after a moment, he could feel the tension slowly rising in Jack as Robby continued to not say anything. “Relax, Jack,” Robby murmured and he skimmed his palm up Jack’s thigh and then over hip in a soothing circle. “Gonna hurt yourself when I go to pull out.” He wasn’t going to just yet, liked the closeness of still being inside Jack even as he started to go soft, but he’d have to eventually.

“Robby, I-” Jack started, voice a little shaky, but Robby just cut him off.

“I know,” he murmured and pulled back so they could look at each other. He cracked an easy smile as he gave Jack a brief kiss. “If you don’t want me to say anything about it, I won’t,” Robby said and he swept his thumb over Jack’s waist in an attempt to keep him relaxed, “but it’s okay. I’m not-” Robby searched Jack’s expression for what it was exactly that he seemed to be worried about. “You know I feel the same.” The admission didn’t feel as strained as he thought it might have been. How it had been in the past even when he felt it so strongly.

“Yeah?” Jack asked and he broke out into a lopsided little grin, something boyish and light and vulnerable in a way that Jack never was if he could help it.

“Yes, Jack,” Robby said in a huff of breathless laughter. “I love you too.”

The words made something bright spark behind Jack’s eyes and he leaned in to kiss Robby, sweet and eager and long enough that both their lungs were burning a little when they parted.

Robby bumped his nose against Jack’s before he let out a soft, contented sigh. “Definitely going to need another shower now, though,” Robby teased and Jack shoved his face away with a scoff.

“Way to ruin the moment,” Jack muttered and rolled his eyes. But there was still amusement lifting the corner of his mouth so Robby was sure that he would be forgiven.

“I’ll have to think of some way to make it up to you,” Robby mused thoughtfully as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against Jack’s carotid. He felt the flutter of it beneath his lips and smiled softly to himself. Because they might not have a name for the thing between them- though Jack’s words had nailed the depth of feeling at the heart of whatever it was- but it was still important and real and good. A thing for Robby to hold onto when the rest of the world started to not make sense to him anymore.

#asked and answered #my writing #my fic #the pitt #the pitt fic #rabbot #jackrobby #michael robinavitch #jack abbot

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fatherstarkey · 2 days ago

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RAFE CAMERON - character analysis: notes - this is all based on my personal opinions and analysis of his charcter. i tried to go into as much depth as possible. w/c - 1546

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although rafe was initially portrayed as the villain, the ‘monster’ of the series, there’s a lot more depth and complexity to his character than meets the eye. while some of his actions are difficult to justify, though a closer analysis of his behavior provides insight into why he acts the way he does.

rafe comes across as impulsive and erratic, a character who won’t take no for an answer. he has been violent and volatile towards the pogues, often driven by his belief that kooks are inherently superior, due to their wealth, status, and privileges. however, this viewpoint only scratches the surface of his motivations.

a key factor behind his aggression toward the pogues could be jealousy. though it may not seem obvious at first, rafe is an insecure man grappling with his own turbulent emotions. the pogues share a deep sense of loyalty and community, always having each other’s backs, something rafe has never truly experienced. he’s never known what it’s like to feel secure in a connection where someone is there for you no matter what. which leads us to another crucial point: rafe’s desperate need for his father’s approval.

since season 1, he’s been willing to go to any lengths, whether through violence or even murder, to gain that approval. his actions, often extreme and self destructive, stem from a deep insecurity and a fear of being rejected by the one person whose validation he craves the most, his father.

no matter what rafe did, his actions were always measured against Sarah’s, with everyone reminding him that he was old enough to make his own decisions and provide for himself. even his own father dropped the threat of kicking him out, telling him he’d have to live like a pogue if he didn’t get his life together. rafe’s dad constantly mentally tormented him, playing mind games that forced him to grow up too fast and take on the role of the ‘man of the house.’ he wasn’t seen as rafe cameron, his son, but as a failure, a problem that needed to be fixed. he was compared to everyone else and no matter how hard he tried, it always felt like he couldn’t measure up. so, when rafe focused on something, it was usually in an attempt to earn approval. and he wouldn’t stop until he got it. when rafe killed the sheriff, he believed he was protecting ward, convinced that his father was in danger of being shot or sent to prison. for years, rafe had seen ward as a good man, someone without a cruel bone in his body. he thought that if he saved him, it would finally earn him his father's approval. but instead, he got the opposite. ward’s words, telling him he ‘you fucked us, all of us’, left rafe broken. his emotions, raw and vulnerable, played out on his face. especially when his jaw was grabbed by his own father. he was confused, hurt and shaken when the truth sank in. once again, it seemed like no matter how much he fought for his father’s love, he was still unworthy of it.

it’s important to remember that john b had been working on the druthers for a while, the cameron’s yacht, during that time, rafe was coexisting with the pogues, yet still holding a certain level of tolerance towards them. it wasn’t until ward fired john b and made degrading comments about the pogues that rafe’s attitude shifted. his father’s words were the final push, driving rafe to make their lives a living hell. everything he did was rooted in trying to live up to his father’s expectations. we also know that ward saw the pogues as beneath the kooks, hence the threat he made to rafe, telling him to ‘live like a pogue’ if he didn’t shape up. rafe was desperate to do whatever it took to be like his father, to gain his approval. having always been held to impossible standards and subjected to emotional abuse, rafe turned to the one thing that made him feel confident and numbed his insecurities, coke. when things became overwhelming, whether emotionally or with nerves getting the best of him, he resorted to habits that only led him down a destructive path. the more he consumed, the more volatile he became. with every hit, his confidence soared and he began to believe he was invincible. but that sense of invincibility only pushed him further down the road to his own self destruction.

all of rafe's behavior points to one thing, daddy issues. ward, as the only parental figure left in his life, plays a major role in rafe’s character development. his constant need for approval and validation is obvious. ward has always been emotionally abusive, distant, manipulative and cruel, which only fueled rafe’s downward spiral. rafe is constantly compared to his sister, sarah, which i briefly mentioned before, who seems to get more of their father's attention and affection. this constant comparison deepens rafe’s feelings of inadequacy, pushing him to go to desperate lengths to win ward’s love, often through violence, manipulation or impulsive decisions. ward doesn't help by belittling and controlling rafe, reinforcing his belief that he's unworthy and incapable. instead of offering guidance or support, ward pits rafe against others, creating a sense of competition that only drives him further into darkness.

i think this also points to rafe being a bit of a mama’s boy before her disappearance, which remains a mystery to viewers. he seems to have been close to his mother (in theory) and after she was gone, he was left with just ward. the balance between love, emotional connection and masculinity got completely muddled by ward’s rigid and harsh approach. ward’s strictness probably made it even harder for rafe to understand what healthy affection and emotional support should look like.

in season 2, rafe finally opened up to his father, admitting that he needed help and that something was wrong. instead of offering any support, ward dismissed him, pushing him to keep it together and basically telling him to man up. he shut down rafe’s emotions, making him believe that being vulnerable or emotional was a sign of weakness. this moment was crucial because it was the first time we saw any remorse from rafe, the first glimpse of a different side to him. it showed that there was far more complexity to his character than what we’d seen up until then.

after his father’s death, we begin to notice a gradual change in rafe, but at the same time, glimpses of ward’s personality snd reinforcement’s start to surface in him. rafe becomes the new CEO, the head of the house and tries to force himself to live up to his father’s expectations, despite ward no longer being around to enforce them. he even enters into a relationship with sofia, a pogue. now, this next part is key to understanding rafe character and i want to emphasise that everything said here is purely based on opinions and theories. but here's my take: i believe rafe’s relationship with sofia is rooted in his desire to emulate his father. for rafe, a relationship seems more about fulfilling an ideal, having a partner, providing for them, and seeing them as an accessory, much like ward did with rose. he craves validation and the love he never fully received, even before his father’s passing. sofia saw a version of him that wasn’t entirely real. she didn’t know the full, unfiltered rafe and in a way, she painted a picture of him he wanted to project, but one he knew wasn’t entirely true. the relationship, was a fantasy for both of them, built on false perceptions.

this dynamic also sheds light on rafe’s feelings toward the pogues. he never really had a reason to hate them, which reinforces the idea that his disdain was largely shaped by his father, not his own personal beliefs. still, it’s clear he carries some sort of animosity toward them, but it’s driven more by his own internal struggles than by any real ideology.

the notion that his relationship with sofia was more about mimicking his father’s life is further supported when rafe denies being in a real relationship with her, despite being seen together. when he talks to his friends, he minimises her, referring to her just as a ‘pogue’ and saying he has “standards,” implying he’d never take her seriously. in private, however, he’s completely different, showing a side of him that’s vulnerable, embarrassed and insecure. sofia, it seems, is the one person who sticks by him through it all. and this may be why he holds on to her: she's the one person who hasn’t abandoned him.

they’ve been together for over a year and a half and he’s never once called her his girlfriend. this is a clear sign of his deep, rooted abandonment issues, showing that he’s terrified of fully committing or labeling the relationship because, at some level, he fears being left behind once again.

rafe craves love and support, a connection where he’s truly accepted, flaws and all. he longs for a space where he can be himself without feeling diminished or abandoned. his greatest fear is being left alone, with no one in his corner.

#rafe cameron #obx character analysis #obx #rafe obx #obx rafe

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shsl-simp · 14 hours ago

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tetro pink normal album artworks postmortem

under the cut will be a full post explaining (almost) all of the choices i made in the process of making my tetro normal album art series now that ive finished it, as well as things i dislike about the finished products and what i might change. enjoy!

tw // major tetro pink spoilers, blood, gore, nooses, suicide, sh

1 -- suburbia / chiba

this is one of my least favorites, but it makes sense as this was my first one PLUS i drew it while actively having an anxiety attack/mental breakdown while trying to hide it because i was on vc 😭

on the positive side, i really enjoy my color choices on chiba! her hair looks WONDERFUL, the background not so much ... !! idk what id change really.

suburbia chiba was one of the first ones i decided for this project. it fit her SO well, from the happy town turned bloodbath to the "blonde, blue-eyed baby" line. my initial plan for this piece was to have chiba walking/skipping down a classic suburban street covered in blood and guts, but i couldnt get it to look right, so we got this. i ended up making a magazine just for sillies :P

the quote i chose for this piece was "It takes a village to fake a whole culture. Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball. Your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall." i chose this because the eye on the ball/brains on the wall line encapsulates the feeling of the song i wanted this piece to represent, as well as the first part of the quote which i really wanted to include.

2 -- 222 isono

choosing a character for 222 was surprisingly hard??? i fully believe that okazaki fits this song better but ... laplace's angel .............. isono was the cloest.

besides that there's just something about this piece that feels wrong. might be the color pallet or the way i rendered the hair. it just feels ..... off. i dont like it.

there are many references in the posters !!! the first one is meant to imply the shape of noose, the next one is chiba's piece, the 3rd is an inside joke between my friends (mizucest ..), and the last one is a sticker in the server i drew this on vc with! i really dont have much else to say about this piece. not the worst but definitely not the best.

the quote i chose here was "Now to row, row, row my boat over the falls. and maybe wake up from but a dream." i felt this was the lyric from the song that best fit isono, so i chose it.

3 -- laplace okazaki

i dont think i need to explain why i chose okazaki for this one. just look at the lyrics.

the dotted line across her neck represents kamimua, and the red string tied around her waist represents tsuno. i may have chose red string bc of the red string of fate and okazakis odd homoerotic villain yearning for tsuno ..... maybe ............

this one im not as happy with just because i didnt really include the song at all. it was just .... okazaki. if i were to redo it i'd definitely add a much more apparent reference to laplace's angel. overall, not bad, but couldve been better.

i was initially going to choose "it doesnt take a killer to murder, it only takes a reason to kill," for this, but i decided to go for something i bit more fun, "If you were in my shoes, you’d see I wear the same size as you."

4 - i/me/myself wada

oughhh wada :(

this was really the point where i think this series took off and got GOOD. experimenting with collage elements here really helped make this one stand out.

the reason i chose wada is pretty obvious - tfem wada :( poor girl never got her awakening ..... sigh

this was one of the fastest ones to make, but all of them only took about an hour each. this one was very unrendered, but i still like how it looks. i love this one, no notes!

"I wish I could be a girl, and really, I'd prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself," the classic line of the final chorus. not really any hidden meanings or anything.

5 - better than the alternative watari

this one was straight fire, no pun intended. the hands are meant to represent her siblings, clinging onto her for dear life. the hand on her head is meant to represent her mother. the candle shes protecting represents her livelihood :3 i love this piece a lot. no notes!

the quote i chose was "She’s gonna be a lot like me, but I don’t wanna be at all like me," the context of this lyric in the song is the speaker character talking about their daughter, but in this context i thought of it more as watari and one of her younger siblings. sigh ily watari

6 - oultliars ken

this one. this one. i have so much to say.

first of all, i had some deliberation between ken outliars and ken laplace but im REALLY glad i ended up doing outliars bc i love this piece. as soon as the idea of a worm borrowed into his eye came to me i was obsessed.

the worm is blue to represent how kamimura would never leave his mind, even after he died. i remembered seeing an excerpt from the odyssey while searching for stuff for wada's piece, so i dug it out and used it here. i really love this one. it might be my favorite. this one is so fun ......

7 - blackbox warrior hiroaki

okay this one is my least favorite so im not gonna talk about it much. i genuinely hate this one so much its not even funny

the idea was good but i .... just didnt execte it well. sorry. the ivs tying into a noose was cool tho

i chose the quote "You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you'll be fine," in reference to hiroakis suicide attempt in canon.

8 -

this one is my actual favorite, right next to ken's. i don't really have much to say, just ... ough. kamimur.

the "bled out in the bath" line of the song really caught my eye, and it gave me the inspo for this piece! i really relate to kamimura in a lot of ways, so this one was kinda personal for me. i think it turned out really well!! i dont really have much else to say lol

9 - love me normally ojima

this ones a bit boring, but i still enjoy it! i was intending to do something a lot more ... colorful. but i think this still conveys the message i wanted.

fuck ..... ojima ........ again, i relate to him a LOT so this one was kinda personal as well, just less than kamimuras. i wish i had a bit more obvious inspo from the song, but thats about it. love you (normally) ojima <3

10 - memento mori hayashi

i had a REALLY hard time with this one, and if im being honest i still dont like the composition or pose. bleh. i dont even want to look at it 😭

the perspective is entirely wrong, and it .. sorta tells the story i wanted? i really needed to show the horror in her expression tho ... i think that was the main problem.

the book page is from the raven by edgar allen poe, and if im being honest i just searched for morbid book pages on pinterest 😭🙏

aaaand thank you! this is the end :) i really wanna do something like this again, maybe with tdrb. this was incredibly fun even if i dont like how most of the paintings came out. after all, for every masterpiece that artist has 100 fucking horrific artworks <3

edit: forgot to do my ranking lmaoooo

kamimura

hasegawa

wada

chiba

ojima

watari

hayashi

isono

okazaki

hiroaki

#tetro danganronpa #tdrp #tetro danganronpa pink #✦ tea's art #tetro danganronpa spoilers #tetro danganronpa pink spoilers #not tagging everyone im eeby

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call-me-chips · 3 days ago

Note

CHIPS send me your tips!

on how to draw legs, arms and hands.

please

You ask and you shall receive, my good anon. More chipstips (My advice has a name now yay) (let me know if that means something nauseating on urban dictionary)

Arms first. I separate them into 3 sections

Shoulders are triangley, upper arm is a rectangle, and the forearm is more curved

I tend to make my shoulders more blocky to start out, but I shave them down later

Map out where the belly button would be, then draw a roughly quarter/half circle from there. This is where the elbow should be

IMPORTANT NOTES:

-Most of the time, clothing will cover the arms, so they likely do not have to be perfectly detailed and anatomy-accurate. If the character is wearing a coat or a baggy top, all you have to rlly get down is the very rough shape of just where the arm is, and it will look believable

-The very tip of the forearm/beginning of the wrist should be in line with the bottom of the crotch:

Alrighty, on to legs.

And wow this has made me realize just how much I don't know how to draw legs.

I only have a relatively consistent "way" I draw legs

In that little thing in the top-left corner, red is straighter lines, blue is more curved lines, and green is more "sharp" lines ig

I have a few leg positions memorized, but most of the time, I just wing it based off what I think looks right and go off a reference when needed

Here's some breakdowns using two full-body pieces I've done

Only important things to note here is that (Length from top of head to bottom of crotch) = (Length from bottom of crotch to feet)

If that makes even a sliver of sense

This was probably shit, but I tried 😭

Hand tut coming soon 👍

#chipsdraws #art tips #art tutorial #how to draw #art #artists on tumblr #drawing tips #drawing tutorial #sketches

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manifestingitgurlll · 2 days ago

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hiii!!! 💗💗💗💗

can you tell me if my beliefs on nd is right or wrong? im new & i just wanna make sure :))

⋆ okay, the "everything is you / separation is an illusion" statement:

all this means is that the separate things we see around us, including ourselves as separate people, don’t really exist on their own or forever. they might seem solid and separate, but that feeling of being separate is actually something our mind creates. in Sanskrit, this idea is called maya. it’s like a kind of “veil” that makes us see everything as divided and separate, hiding the truth that everything is actually one. when people say “everything and everyone is you,” what they really mean is that there isn’t actually separate consciousnesses out there. we all come from the same source , which is **one** universal awareness or consciousness. there is only one!!! thats why people say "everyone is you" because you originate from the same ONE thing. that doesn’t mean you have the same brain as everyone else or that you’re responsible for what other people do (lmao dont worry). It also doesn’t mean we all think the same things. we're not npc's. our brains, bodies, life experiences, memories, cultures, and personalities shape how this one awareness shows up and thinks through each of us. imagine consciousness like the ocean, and each of us like a wave on that ocean. each wave looks different and moves differently, but it’s all just water. different waves focus on different parts of the ocean, so their views are different, but they’re all part of the same ONE ocean. that’s what people mean when they say we’re not really separate. it means we all come from the same source. that one source is the ONE thing, but it has many expressions (that’s us), and those expressions experience different things. there is only one Being, one Knowing, one Awareness that is appearing as many. You do not “have” awareness. you are awareness.

⋆ now onto the "everything is "fake" statement:

what’s truly real (in non-duality) must be unchanging and always present. and the only thing that is unchanging and always present is consciousness/awareness. that’s it. that’s all that is real. now, since that’s the only thing non-duality defines as real, that means everything else (the world, people, events, thoughts, objects, emotions, even your sense of identity) is considered “fake” (or illusory) in the absolute sense. why? because all of it comes and goes. and anything that comes and goes can’t be the ultimate truth of who or what you are. that’s why it’s an illusion. or as we’re calling it here, fake. the reason these forms aren’t “real” in the non-dual sense is because they’re always changing. everything is FLUID. like i said before, the only thing that doesn’t shift, fade, or break down is awareness itself. everything that appears (the world, body, mind, ego, etc.) is not ultimately real, because it is: impermanent (it doesn’t last), dependent (it relies on awareness to even appear), and not separate from that awareness. but that doesn’t mean life is meaningless or should be ignored! that’s not what i’m saying. you can absolutely enjoy life and this silly little illusion. it just means that everything you experience is a fluid expression of consciousness. please really get what i just said: FLUID (not fixed) EXPRESSION (appearance, movement, forms, events) OF CONSCIOUSNESS (meaning it’s you — since you are consciousness, and consciousness is you, then you are everything appearing as everything). so everything you see, feel, think, or experience is a temporary, changing appearance within the one unchanging awareness/consciousness that you are. hopefully that made sense lmao. now anyways, because everything is always changing and flowing, yes, that means you’re able to create or manifest whatever you want. you can experience literally anything. but when I say manifest, it might sound like you’re trying to go get something new. but actually, you’re not getting anything. it’s already there. it already exists. you just become aware of it. and things are only real when you become aware of them is because awareness is the only thing not appearing inside something else. everything else is just a fluid appearance in awareness. they dont stand alone. things might not seem to change or feel fluid to some people because they assume or believe that reality is fixed. so that’s the kind of reality they experience. (self-fulfilling illusion lol.) since you are consciousness/awareness, and everything you’re aware of right now is fluid as fawkkkk, then yes — you can become aware of whatever you want. you are the dreamer, not the dream. you are the awareness, not the appearance.

YESSS U ATE WITH EVERYTHING!!! 🙂‍↕️ i loved how you explained the real and fake part! everyone should read this 🫶🏽

#nondualism #nonduality #law of assumption #loassumption #consciousness #loa tumblr #loa #loablr #void state #loass #loa blog #manifestation #manifesting #awareness #pure consciousness #self concept #reality shifting

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burritowitch · 2 days ago

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in honor of my debate friends & i finally making superman movie plans here is my batman speech and debate au. because i dont even know.

Bruce - he's the coach. i imagine he's the teacher for a social studies ap. i wanna say modern world history. (normally i cannot imagine bruce as a teacher but how else would he be a debate coach). hes been running a debate team in some way shape or form since dick was starting middle school. bruce had been a student teacher at dicks middle school and helped run the debate team before getting a teaching job at the middle school for 2 years and continuing the debate team before starting to teach at the high school and taking over the debate team there. hes the kind of coach that Will show up to every single tournie and stay at the table in the cafeteria so he can be there for the kids. wont leave till the end and will drive people home if he needs to (even though its against the rules). despite this, he expects a shit ton from every team member. also the kind of coach to have daily after school practices and require people show up, even if they have sports or other commitments or they cant show up to the next tourney. BUT hell show up to team dinners and pay for everyones food (no small deed, high schoolers already eat a lot, they eat even more if theyve been surviving off basically nothing but their breakfast and maybe a single slice of costco pizza for 12-15 hours). when he was in highschool he did lincoln douglass debate and info speech.

From this point on I'll break it up into grades because that's going to make the groupings make more sense.

Seniors

Dick Grayson: he's literally been on bruces debate team for seven years. because of this, bruce expects him to be the best. because of this, dick feels comfortable arguing with bruce and calling him on his bullshit. he's also on the gymnastics team and is constantly ditching debate team practices for gymnastics meetups, a big point of contention between him and bruce. Dick did public forum debate for his first four years before switching to policy debate, and he's stuck consistently to international extemp for speech. He's also the kind of senior that will just grab a freshman if he needs a debate partner and his usual partners not there. he will do 100% of the debate prep and just let the kid be first speaker with his prepared speeches. this is because he Has to show up to literally every tournament. at those tournaments, he is the first person to just straight up Disappear until awards. is he in some back corner of the school punching the brick walls? is he four blocks away in the parking lot of an apartment complex taking a nap in his car? is he smoking on the football field? no one knows. one of those probably. he's a horrible driver and will run red lights on the way to chilis but he is also everyone who cant drive's first pick for a ride to team dinner. he has made freshmen race for shotgun on many occasions. he's a nats champ and plans on continuing his streak. despite it all, he is NOT a board member.

Barbara Gordon: joined Bruce's team a year after Dick did, when she was in 7th grade. bruce trusts her incredibly, and while he has the same high standards for her as he does for dick, he believes she doesnt need him to help her reach them. it helps that her dad is also a teacher. for debate she's been competing congress for years. for speech she is constantly booking it between events, competing in domestic and international extemp as well as info. she is delaying rounds by like a good twenty minutes. she mostly stays at the table between rounds, being the general game master of any games the teams playing. shes the person in charge of the mario kart bracket, shes the poker dealer, shes the one explaining the rules of catan for the twentieth time. when novices dont know whats going on or need help figuring out what exactly to do for prep or how events work, she's who everyone else directs them towards. she's also the person who seems to be in contact with the people running the tournament, shes who starts telling people to clean tf up and get their shit together for awards. first person to realize when blasts drop on tabroom. shes been president for two years, and shes already training her replacement for when she graduates. and yes, she has won nationals.

Helena Bertinelli: transferred to the school a year ago, does not like most of the people here. mostly sticks to herself. before this, she'd been doing debate since her freshmen year. bruce remembers his team competing against helena specifically, so he has a little bit of harboring resentment for all the times she beat dick and babs and the kids who graduated before them. she regularly ditches practice because of this. she debates in lincoln douglass and speaks in international extemp and original oratory. she has competed in public forum exactly once (1). at tournaments, she mostly sticks to herself. she does this by either sitting in her car after her rounds end or by entirely just leaving after rounds end and not sticking around for awards or team dinner. this is another point of contention between her and bruce. when she does stick around at tournies, its because shes hanging out in a little group with babs and the other bop members in a back hallway. because she had a different original coach, her prep style is vastly different from the way bruce taught all his kids. she cannot wait to graduate and get away from bruce and get into the college debate circuit.

Jean Paul Valley: only joined the team this year. mostly joined to try and build his confidence and ability to speak in front of other people. hes trying his best. but he's also that one guy that no one wants to partner with because they know he's a gauranteed 0 chance of breaking. bruce tried to get him to compete in varsity in one of his first tournaments and regrets it dearly. he (tries to) compete in public forum debate and does do original oratory speech. at tournaments he wants to go home as soon as prelims are over but his ride is always one of the other seniors he cant go anywhere. ends up just wandering the area surrounding the school for eight hours before he gets to go home. he tries to get freshmen to partner with him but they also want to win. babs does her best to help him but theres only so much she can do when he struggles to make it through a speech. he just wanted to have something good to put on his college apps, this is not working out for him.

Juniors

Jason Todd: was first on the team in his freshman year, then took a hiatus sophmore year and now is back. he was a sweet kid his first time on the team, dick partnered with him once or twice and most of the now varsity members liked him. but then when he came back it was like he was a whole different person. no one likes him, he's an ass, and bruce gets more and more frustrated with his lack of taking things seriously at every tournament. he competes in original oratory and used to compete in policy, but doesn't anymore. he debated in lincoln douglass for a few months and was an ass to his opponents. people cringe when they see him walk into their room in a round. mostly avoids the table after his rounds, opting to instead wander around outside the school or the area around it. he's a good speaker, and consistently places high, he just doesnt show up to awards because he doesnt want to deal with bruce. bruce consistently thinks he could be doing even better if he cared and if he actually showed up to practice, but jason could not care less. he shows up to team dinner just to sit at another table by himself.

Cass Cain: this is her second year in debate. babs was her tutor and thought it would be good for her to help her learn how to speak more easily, and babs thinks she should explore more events. bruce thinks she could be doing more and keeps trying to get her to do the events he did, but cass doesnt do them. instead, she exclusively does dramatic interp speech. and only with scripts that bruce buys for her. she consistently breaks even though her speaking isnt the best just because her acts convey so much emotion and clarity. despite only doing speech, she will show up to debate day just for the sake of hanging around. shes done pf all of once, and it was with jpv. it did not go the best. after her first tournament, she determined that she was going to go to nationals and win her event there. to do this, she practices constantly to the point where she could recite her speech in her sleep. if she doesn't break she simply walks out of the building and walks home. several hours. and does not tell babs (her ride). this has only happened twice and everyone would like to keep it that way (especially bruce. who does not know where his student who he's responsible for is). she does not log into tab room ever and babs just has to tell her about her blasts. she'll disappear and then magically turn up for awards after no one's seen her in an hour.

Sophomores

Tim Drake: started in his freshman year and immediately started doing everything he could. every tournament, every opportunity, he's there. bruce is preparing for tim to be the next champion of the team. originally joined the team when he found out dick was on it and hasnt left since. he was everyones favorite freshman his first year on the team, and hes still the varsity members favorite. he started off debating policy with dick, but has done public forum a handful of times. is responsible for the single time helena did public forum. he typically ends up doing policy with dick though. for speech he does domestic extemp and info. during tournaments he usually stays at the table the whole time with the whole group or ends up following around varsity members to wherever they chose to run off to. either that, or he's the guy who ends up passed out underneath the table for a good two hours while a very loud game happens above him. he Will be the guy whos laptop dies with five minutes left of his extemp prep and the guy who delays debate starts because he has to plug his laptop in and can't find the outlet. almost always ends up the deciding vote on where the team goes for team dinner. despite only being a sophmore, he's definitely on the board. he's the secretary. when barbara was deciding board positions he was a shoe in. only debating in varsity because hes debating with dick, otherwise hed still want to be debating jv.

Stephanie Brown: this is her first year on the team and shes doing it between other extracurriculers. bruce is very Not Happy about her percieved lack of dedication. she ends up going to maybe four tournaments across the whole year. when she does compete, she does public forum debate with tim and domestic extemp. she competes in novice for speech and jv for debate. shell stick around the table after rounds but she mostly stays on her phone since she doesnt know most of the people there very well. shows up to maybe one practice a week where she just does homework. when she does compete, it does go pretty well for her.

okay thats all im doing right now im tired and if people like this ill add more people i dont know. this is a 2000 word post thats enough.

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon #helena bertinelli #jean paul valley #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #stephanie brown #i promise all characters get a fully thought out section i did not just give lesser known characters two lines of text and then moved on

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oleander-cup · 2 days ago

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molded - a pottery class gone wrong (right) // wc: 626

“you have to be gentle when you’re working with the clay,” her voice is soft but carries through the room like an echo. it bounces off the walls and encases the room in practiced ease. “oh dear—“ she cuts herself off. kiyoko barely registers it before hands cover her own. the hands warm and slightly rough against her’s. “gentle.” it’s barely above a whisper. kiyoko can feel the breath fan over her neck and the heat radiate from the body behind her. as soon as they appeared it’s gone. “there we go.” the instructor praises before returning to her spot at the front of the room.

goosebumps rise on her skin as she replays the touch over and over in her mind. what’s gotten into her? it was a simple touch. she returns her focus to the clay beneath her hands and attempts to shape it again. laughter like bells ring in her ears. “it’s easier if you don’t force the clay and let it move with you.” oh, she’s talking to her. “if your pieces are ready to put in the kiln then you can bring them to me, keep working if you’re not quite there.”

kiyoko can register the scrapping of chairs against the tiled floor. the quite chattering as pieces are passed to the hands of the instructor, the squeak of the door as it closes. she’s not sure when she took her foot off the pedal, when the table stopped turning. “do you need help?” it’s just the two of them now.

“yes— please.” her voice cracks slightly but it’s ignored in turn for warm hands encasing hers again.

“what shape are you going for?”

“just—“ she clears her throat— “just a basic cup. a mug for a friends birthday. i thought it would be nice to give them something i made instead of, i’m sorry. i was rambling.” her cheeks flush.

“no, it’s okay,” the bells ring again as y/n laughs. “you’re not too far off.” everything suddenly feels so close. so…warm. “just more pressure towards the bottom as you move the clay upwards. you don’t want to crush the structure though.”

“right, yes, makes sense,” kiyoko mumbles as her hands are guided.

“see, you’re getting it.”

“with your help,” a small delicate smile like lace.

“everyone needs help at something. i needed a lot of help before i got to where i am now. i was so bad at pottery when i started.” it’s simple. nothing feels forced.

“i can’t believe that, you seem like such a natural.”

“oh no, i was truly awful. my instructor at the time actually told me i should quit,” she laughs.

“well i’m glad you didn’t…”

“me too.”

“i think we’re done, it looks ready for the kiln now. i can attach a handle for you so no need to worry about that.” she misses the conversation already. she fears another voice will sound as wonderful to her ears.

“i..uhm,” the words get caught in kiyoko’s throat. “i may have to come back for another class.”

“please do, it’s always lovely to see returning faces in my classes.” oh god, please let her not have gotten this wrong. “you’ve got—“ she smiles and sets the newly made cup down on a table as she wets a cloth. “excuse me,” a gentle warning as kiyoko feels a hand on her cheek to hold her face as the cloth wipes at her skin. her heart thrums in her ears. why has this girl got her so…well, flustered. “there, no more clay disrupting your pretty face.” a smile, one warm like the sun, it rivals the heat in her cheeks. “same time next week?” she dumbly nods her head. “i can’t wait.”

maybe pottery wasn’t so bad.

i’m sorry, i know kiyoko is very ooc! this isn’t my best writing but i got inspired!!! this is a gift for @ottocre <33

gen taglist (fill out this form) @tansypansydandy @phoenix-eclipses @h-llsp-wn @megapteraurelia @nomyimi @ottocre @xiaoquanquans @yatoatyourservice @avis-writeshq @fweakygyatt @a2hl3yxx @moochiwoochi

masterlist

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyuu fluff #kiyoko fluff #kiyoko shimizu x reader #kiyoko x reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu!! x reader #haha another queue post

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vidavalor · 13 hours ago

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Hi @yowlthinks 💕Thanks for reading. A couple of thoughts in response:

<<I have observed a few peacocks like that at work, and if you get them alone, they can be all charming and human, then puff their chest out and throw you under the bus>>

I could see how Gabriel could be mistaken for one of those but that isn't actually in line with his actions, imho.

In Gabriel's very first scene, he told Aziraphale that his informant (so, Beez lol) had told him that Crowley was involved in starting Armageddon-- which means he had just come from listening to Beez vent their frustration and upset over not having the power to do anything in this instance to keep Satan away from Crowley. This is the big night of Armageddon beginning but The Supreme Archangel is taking time out of it to help a demon who is caught up in the middle of it. What did Gabriel do to try to help where he could?

He went directly to Aziraphale after comforting Beez and told Aziraphale that he needed to keep Crowley "under observation" because of Crowley's involvement with Armageddon. Spying on Crowley was already Aziraphale's job-- which Aziraphale pointed out in the scene. Why was The Supreme Archangel taking time on such a big night in Heaven & Hell to be in this restaurant to talk about Crowley? Because he was trying once again to tell Aziraphale that he knew about them and was trying to help.

He was saying to Aziraphale: look, let me worry about Heaven-- you just take care of Crowley. If someone catches you two, we tell them that I gave you a special assignment to get close to him. Me and my own informant in Hell-- and three guesses as to who that is, Aziraphale-- care about you and Crowley, and we're on your side.

It's not just even that, though-- Gabriel protected Aziraphale from Sandalphon in 1.02 and, in the script book, he's the reason why Aziraphale was able to give Crowley safe haven because he's who fought The Metatron to allow the bookshop to happen. There is no way that Gabriel would have believed Crowley doing those voices outside the tailors. He heard enough in it, though, to understand that the bookshop wasn't just a whim of Aziraphale's that he could leave behind for a little while.

He didn't want to bring Aziraphale back to Heaven in 1800 but he was being pressured by The Metatron to not let an embassy open, likely because it made a space that was less under The Metatron's control. Before Gabriel knew what the place really was, he probably thought okay, well, sucks that I have to bring Aziraphale back Up here when he likes it better on Earth and wants to be with Crowley but maybe I can just have him come back for a bit and then find a way to send him back there asap.

What Gabriel got there, though, from what Aziraphale was saying and then, really, from listening to Crowley putting on that whole show to try to get them to let Aziraphale stay, Gabriel realized why Aziraphale had built this bookshop embassy in the first place. He knew that if he recalled Aziraphale to Heaven that Crowley wouldn't be able to get into the bookshop and that would mean that Crowley would have nowhere to go to escape Satan and Hell. He helped Aziraphale keep Crowley safe because he's been on their side all along.

<<Is the Metatron looking to get an even higher position and rule fully over everything, ideally without involving God at all?>>

One of the biggest discrepancies in Good Omens right now is the fact that Frances McDormand's Voice of God absolutely, in no way, shape or form, can be the same God that The Metatron claims to be able to talk to.

Can you imagine her ordering genocide? I can't. How would a character like her, who loves Crowley so much, believe it okay to make a bet that involves killing children and taking away Job and Sitis' bodily autonomy? It doesn't make any sense. Her personality and her ideas are completely at odds with what The Metatron tells everyone are the orders of God that they are supposed to follow. To me, that suggests that he's a liar.

We've never actually seen anyone in Heaven-- The Metatron, Gabriel, Michael, anybody-- talk to God. The Metatron claims to be "The Voice of The Almighty" but the one actually credited as "The Voice of God" in the series is Frances McDormand. The Voice of God? She loves humanity and is curious and funny and adores Crowley and are you seeing where I'm going with this?

If the only person who has ever really, truly, reliably heard The Voice of God (besides the audience) is Aziraphale? Which is still the case because Job was having a religious meltdown and Crowley was drunk? Then The Voice of God is how Aziraphale hears God in his head. Frances McDormand is essentially playing Aziraphale-- she's playing a God that lives in his mind that he talks to sometimes.

This then would immediately suggest that there is no God running Heaven. The Metatron is nothing more than a dictator and a cult leader who has amassed power by telling the angels that he speaks for God when, in reality, there is no God that he's talking to. It's just The Metatron. He controls everything. He and Satan are the co-Big Bads of the story.

Ironically, one of the ways that Satan and The Metatron are controlling the other characters is by making them all see one another as enemies without realizing that they're all actually in the same boat. They're distracting everyone else by making them all too busy hating one another to work together to come at Satan and The Metatron. So, the biggest threat to the villains are those who break away, start to talk to one another, and realize who the true enemy is.

Gabriel wasn't the bad guy in Heaven-- The Metatron was, and is.

Gabriel defended Crowley in shutting down Michael's "Shua" slander...

Just after Bildad joined the group scene to help Sitis, Michael was bothered by how Gabriel was willing to allow Bildad to join them. She saw herself and the angels as superior to whoever this bedraggled, black-clad interloper was and was irritated by the fact Gabriel didn't just instantly dismiss Bildad's presence.

Michael-- a character who, in the present in S2, ordered the death of a pair of humans for simply being in the room with the immortal beings-- thought she would try to remind Gabriel with a little hint that they were superior beings to Bildad the Shuhite and that he didn't have to treat him as an equal.

Michael did this by jumping in with a know-it-all tone to draw attention to the etymology of Bildad's self-professed surname. She said: "'Shuhite', of course, means 'from the land of Shua"... which is an example of an angelic-world microaggression because what it was really doing was bringing up among all of them-- without directly saying so-- what it is that the word shua means-- and calling Crowley one.

While shua can mean prosperity, it apparently derived that meaning from an earlier sense of "sinful" opulence. It also means a series of other things, like... to cry out for salvation, to prostrate oneself, to have low morals, to drown, to be at the bottom of society, and to fall to a lower position.

Some of the definitions of shua indicate that she might have suspected he was a demon but, either way, it didn't matter to her because her point was that she thought Bildad wasn't someone she and the other angels should be associating with. Bildad wasn't "their kind" because he was from "the land of Shua"-- the bottom rungs of society.

She seemed to be saying to Gabriel that this Bildad person who had just arrived was likely a demon in the supernatural sense or, if not, was just a similarly low class, immoral, human person of no consequence, and that, either way, he was beneath them and not worthy of their time and respect.

This comment was both classist and racist and she said it aloud to Gabriel, right in front of Crowley, adding to the insult by assuming that Crowley wouldn't be as intelligent or educated as she is (lolololol) and so maybe wouldnt understand that she was insulting him. She didn't seem to care if he did.

That is why Aziraphale looked ready to murder Michael for saying that. He was glaring at Michael, furious, his teeth grinding from anger at one point. It was not just that Aziraphale was irritated that this could have gotten in the way of saving the kids-- it was that she was insulting Crowley to his face.

Unlike Gabriel and Aziraphale, Michael reacted to Crowley's presence the way that The Metatron would have expected them to behave to anyone they suspected was outside of their species or rank. She was trying to telegraph to Gabriel a warning that she thought he should not be willing to listen to whatever this Shuhite person had to say. She wanted Gabriel to shut this down.

Instead, Gabriel shut Michael down-- hard.

Gabriel threw up a hand and one of his patented withering looks and said "yes" in that fuck all the way off, Michael tone that said he knew what 'shua' meant, thanks, and it didn't bother him there might be someone from a different part of society in their midst.

His response was just instantly a reaction of don't even with the bigotry, Michael. Bildad is a person and we will be treating him respectfully.

This is the Jim in Gabriel showing up. Jimbriel had no issue with spending time with and befriending people of different species and social classes in the present of S2, just as Gabriel didn't think it inappropriate in the past that they should allow Bildad the Shuhite into their conversation.

Gabriel was always walking a tightrope with his position, trying to throw suspicion off of him long enough to hold onto the role that gave him just enough power to help as many as he could, even if it was really always The Metatron who was in charge.

Gabriel was the only one with power enough in this scene to put a stop to Michael's bigotry and he did so without a single hesitation.

Without Gabriel being open-minded and principled enough to stand up for Bildad? Job and Sitis' kids would have died because Aziraphale needed Crowley's help to save the kids and Gabriel was in control of who was in the room. Without Gabriel being fundamentally decent and overriding Michael to ensure that Bildad was treated with respect, there would have been no path for Aziraphale to help Job and Sitis.

It's also clear that none of Michael's insult escaped Crowley's sharp notice-- not that we would expect someone as clever and into words as he is to have not understood what she was saying. What Michael's bigotry blinded her to was the fact that, in trying to use etymology to insult Crowley? She had basically challenged Serena Williams to a tennis match. 😂

Crowley's response to Michael was to easily beat her at her own game. He had the space to do so after seeing that Gabriel might be a lot of things but he wasn't a bigot. Gabriel supported it by not interjecting and was probably pretty bemused by the response.

"Indeed, it does," Crowley told Michael about how being Bildad the Shuhite meant that he came from "the land of Shua", with a tone and an eyebrow raise that said he knew exactly what Michael was saying about him by bring up shua's etymology...

...where, as it happens, I am a leading shoemaker.

The Serpent of Eden, bitch. Prince of Hell. Not just a Shuhite, Archangel Michael, but *the* Shuhite. 😂

Crowley was pointing out that there's are whole worlds in various lands of Shua, too-- in Hell and places like it on Earth-- and that where Michael comes from is not the center of the universe. "What, you think they don't wear shoes in Shua?"...

You don't think we aren't people, too, Michael? You don't think we have social classes and prejudices and power struggles and all the same bullshit on Earth and in Hell the way you have them in Heaven, Michael? The same wants and needs of all people? Gabriel seems to have clued into the fact that we're all the same but it doesn't seem like you read that memo yet...

What's also of note here is that, during this reply of Bildad's? Gabriel didn't say a word. He didn't interject. He didn't tell Crowley to knock it off. He didn't flex any political muscle in the scene here at all. He thought Crowley was within his rights to sass Michael a bit and his way of supporting that was to not say anything and let him speak. He also then did something else helpful: he basically handed control of what was happening in the scene over to Aziraphale.

By the time Crowley was on "shoes in Shua," Aziraphale had his plan so he interjected with the "yes, well, it would be really helpful if you were an expert in human births" that ranks in the Top Five Most Obvious 'Shenanigans Are Afoot' Moments Imaginable. Gabriel, quiet, was just raising his eyebrow at Aziraphale but letting him run the show.

Gabriel didn't have to be basically just standing there for this moment and, at any time, he could have said enough was enough but he let it all play out. His response to the leading shoemaker suddenly maybe also being a midwife was basically just to turn to Crowley and wait patiently to find out if he was going to declare himself a birthing expert. 😂

Gabriel was just going with it by that point, letting it be The Aziraphale and Bildad Show, tacitly helping them by prioritizing Crowley's sense of safety and actively choosing to protect him over pandering to Michael's bigoted discomfort.

He used his power to defend Crowley and help him and Aziraphale save Job and Sitis' kids from Heaven, taking on great risk to himself in doing so.

That was obviously the right thing to do but it came back to bite Gabriel in S1 when Michael took a swing at him by going after Aziraphale and Crowley and showing Gabriel pictures that forced them into not ignoring the fact that they both knew that Bildad the Shuhite had been the demon Crowley.

Michael was letting Gabriel know that she knew that he had known that for a long time-- that she remembered his empathetic response to Bildad and support of Aziraphale and suspected Gabriel of having known Aziraphale was in a relationship with Crowley and having been protecting them from being caught by Satan and The Metatron.

These actions of Gabriel's during Job also add an interesting layer to the recurring thing in S2 about Crowley's long-held little pash on The Supreme Archangel that Crowley otherwise does enjoy mocking-- even if he will admit, a little moony-eyed, that he thinks Gabriel is beautiful.

It could be argued that said pash might have been helped along a bit by the fact that, from what we've seen? Gabriel was pretty much the only angel not named Aziraphale to ever really treat Crowley with respect after his fall. Crowley appreciated Gabriel standing up for him to Michael and admired the risk he took in doing so.

It adds additional layers to all the emotions he has over how S1 led to a lot of misunderstandings and missing context between them that begin to get worked out during S2.

#good omens #good omens meta #the archangel fucking gabriel #the metatron

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