#And I'll probably go back to my corner again

[daisymbin]

2. "are you trying to distract me on purpose?"

3."you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d be mad right now."

—you're working from home & well ur bf is bored becausehe has ntg to do.

Vernon or Joshua or both(poly if u're comfortable with that)

**reader has glasses (pls)

omg this is kinda cute... I've never written poly before so this is a first for me too!! hopefully I did okay! thank you for requesting this, lovely!!! 🤍

a/n: i tried to do some research to learn more about poly relationships to hopefully have that dynamic right? i apologise if its inaccurate (you can let me know if i did so i can learn!!) this is my first time attempting a poly fic so please go easy on me 🙂‍↕️

warnings: poly relationship!! don't read if you're uncomfortable with it!!

wc: 2.3k sorry idk what happened 🥲

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list || hansol's m.list

suggestive prompt #2: are you trying to distract me on purpose?" +

suggestive prompt #3: "you're lucky you're cute, or I'd be mad right now."

it was supposed to be a quiet day. you had a mountain of work piled up, and the only thing you really wanted was to get through it without any distractions. but of course, hansol and joshua had other plans.

"babe," hansol called from the living room, his voice playful and a little too eager. you glanced up from your laptop, catching him peeking around the corner with a mischievous grin. "you need a break?"

"i’m good," you said, turning your attention back to the screen, but not without noticing how joshua was lounging on the couch with a lazy smirk, clearly bored out of his mind.

"are you sure?" joshua added, stretching his arms above his head. "you've been working non-stop."

"yeah, you should take it easy," hansol chimed in again, walking a little closer to where you sat at the desk.

"i’m fine," you said, your voice steady as you clicked through your work. but something about their energy told you this was only the beginning. "just let me finish, okay?"

they exchanged a look, one that clearly meant trouble. "we were thinking," joshua started, "since we cancelled our bowling plans to spend the day with you..." he trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement.

"yeah, we had to come up with something fun to do instead," hansol added, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "so... how about a little bet?"

you raised an eyebrow. "a bet?"

"yeah," hansol said, leaning against the doorway, "whoever gets you to crack first wins. and the winner... gets to be the first one to have you." he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine.

"real funny," you chuckled, but there was something in your chest that fluttered at the thought; you can't deny the way your stomach twisted in excitement.

"we’re just trying to have some fun," joshua said with a wink. "so, what do you say? are you up for it?"

you bit your lip, pretending to think for a moment before glancing at them both. "you can give it a go if you're that confident, but you’re both going to be disappointed when i get all this work done and don’t give either of you the time of day."

they just grinned at you, ready to prove you wrong.

attempt #1—hansol

a few minutes passed, and you were back in the zone, typing away at your laptop when you felt a familiar presence beside you. hansol’s breath fanned across your ear as he leaned in close. "you know," he whispered softly, "i'd have better restraints if you didn’t look so cute right now."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "seriously? that's what you're going with? a pick up line?" you huffed, "you’re lucky you're cute, or i’d be mad right now," you muttered, feeling his presence too distracting.

"i'll take that as a win," hansol said, voice thick with amusement as his hand brushed lightly across your shoulder. "just saying, you’d probably work better if i gave you a kiss for good luck."

you felt his lips hover near your cheek, and despite yourself, you tilted your head slightly. "stop it, hansol," you warned, but your tone was anything but firm.

hansol leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek, just as he’d promised, before lingering there, his lips soft against your skin. his hand found its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt slightly to rest there as he murmured into your ear, "now, that was good luck, don’t you think?"

attempt #2—joshua

joshua appeared out of nowhere, slipping into the chair beside you, his knee brushing against yours. you glanced over at him, only to find him wearing that impossibly charming smile. "you’re working really hard," he murmured, placing a hand on your leg as he leaned closer. "why don't you just let us take care of you? soothe than tension?"

his fingers danced across your leg for just a moment before you shook your head, trying to ignore the way his touch sent warmth rushing through you. "joshua, please. i'm busy."

"ah, but you’re so cute when you’re trying so hard to ignore me," he teased, leaning in to kiss your temple. you let out a soft sigh, resisting the pull of his lips, "cut it out, shua."

he placed a hand on your thigh and slid it up, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "don’t you want to spend time with me?"

you shifted in your seat, trying to focus on your screen, but the way joshua's hand stayed on your leg was enough to make you lose track of your thoughts.

attempt #3—hansol again

you were getting a little more frustrated now. your concentration was slipping, and your work was piling up. just as you were about to type something out, hansol was back. he dropped onto the couch beside you, his body a mere inch away from yours. he casually draped his arm over the back of your chair, leaning his head against yours.

"you’ve got this look on your face," hansol said, his voice a teasing whisper. "it’s like you want me to kiss you, but you’re too focused to admit it."

"oh my god," you muttered in playful disbelief, not sure if you were more frustrated with the work or with him.

"you don’t have to pretend," he continued, eyes twinkling mischievously. "i know what you're thinking."

you could feel his breath on your skin, and it was getting harder to focus. your hand, which had been hovering over the keyboard, finally fell into your lap as you exhaled. "i’m trying to work, baby. please."

hansol turned you to face him fully, he leans in close & ignores the way his heart flutters, instead, his gaze focuses on your glasses. with a teasing smile, he gently slid them off your face, setting them aside. his fingers lingered on your temple, tracing the edge of your skin where the glasses had been.

"you look even better without these," he murmured, his voice rich with desire. he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing yours as he smiles & whispers, "just you and me now."

attempt #4—joshua again

at this point, it was getting ridiculous. joshua wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. he slowly slid off the couch and stood right behind you, one hand resting on the back of your chair while the other slid into your hair. he ran his fingers gently through the strands, sending a shiver down your spine.

joshua's hands rested gently on your waist, his fingers brushing the edge of your tank top. he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your earlobe as his breath warmed your skin. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured, the words sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. his hands slid slowly under your tank top, but instead of pulling it up, he traced patterns on your skin, teasing you with every movement.

you couldn’t help but smile at his light touch, the way he was taking his time, savoring the moment. "you’re being mean," you teased, glancing up at him.

"am i?" joshua grinned, his lips curling up in mischief. "maybe i’m just enjoying how you react." he kept his hands in place, gently caressing your sides before his thumbs brushed over the small of your back, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

you laughed softly, squirming slightly under his touch. "you know you’re not supposed to tease me like this, right?"

he leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "i’m not teasing," he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. "i just want you to know how much i adore you." then, with a quick, playful peck on your lips, he pulled away, keeping you close but just out of reach, enjoying the moment of sweet, teasing tension.

attempt #5—the win

you were barely holding it together when hansol returned for one final attempt. this time, he didn’t even sit beside you. instead, he stood behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist. you tried to stay focused, but when his lips brushed your neck, your resolve finally crumbled.

"are you trying to distract me on purpose?" you finally asked, breathless and frustrated. your face flushed, your work completely forgotten as you turned to face him.

"oh, i've been trying, trust me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "i just want your attention so bad."

without waiting for a response, hansol takes matters into his own hands, kissing you fiercely, pulling you into a heated make-out session. his lips were insistent, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed to your back, pulling you closer. you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against yours, his kisses growing deeper as he claimed you. your hands gripped his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer.

hansol's hands traced the curve of your shoulders, his fingers light but firm as they grazed over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his breath was warm against your neck, his lips brushing softly against the sensitive skin there. you couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, before he pulled back, his breath tickling your skin.

"you feel so good," he whispered, voice husky, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist. he drew you closer, his body pressing against yours as his lips returned to your neck, this time with more urgency. his kisses were slow but deliberate, each one more intense than the last, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

you tilted your head back, offering him more access as his lips moved to your shoulder, nipping at the soft skin there. his hands roamed, one moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer, the other tracing the curve of your hip, fingers brushing the edges of your shirt. the heat of his touch made your heart race, and you could feel your body responding to him, every inch of you craving more.

his breath grew heavier, a low murmur escaping his lips as he kissed your shoulder, his hands moving upward, sliding under the fabric of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. "can’t get enough of you," he murmured, his lips trailing further up to your jawline, his hands gently guiding you back against him.

you could hardly breathe, his touch overwhelming, consuming. but you didn’t want him to stop—how could you?

just as you were about to pull him closer, a voice broke through the haze of your senses. "you two are really going at it, huh?" the sudden interruption made both of you freeze, and you pulled away from hansol, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

joshua stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the table, a knowing smirk on his lips. his presence was warm, but there was an underlying tease in his eyes that made you feel a little exposed.

with a small laugh & his tone playful, he says to hansol, "can’t leave her alone for even a minute, can you?" his eyes flicked over to you, soft and affectionate, offering a little reassurance.

hansol gave a small shrug & smiles, the irritation from being interrupted fading away quickly, “just wanted to kiss her,”

joshua's hand move to gently brush against your arm. his eyes met yours, offering that same warmth, and you felt a wave of calm wash over you.

with a playful grin, joshua leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly, tenderly at first. you melted into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate pressure. his tongue slid against yours, the kiss growing more heated as he pulled you closer, just like hansol had. the mixture of their touches, their warmth, made your head spin in the best way, and you found yourself craving more from both of them.

joshua's lips moved to your neck, his soft kisses following the same path that hansol had begun. but there was something different in his touch—gentler, more tender, as though he was savoring every moment. his hand slid down to your waist, picking you up with ease as he walks over to the bed.

he guides you closer as his lips brushed along your skin, leaving behind a trail of soft, lingering kisses. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you at the feeling of both their touches. they were so different, yet so in sync with each other, as if they were sharing the same unspoken understanding of what you needed. with both of them so close, the heat between you all was undeniable, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in, pressing your lips against joshua’s once more, the kiss deepening in response to the heat between you.

as their kisses and touches intertwined, you felt like you were floating, caught between both of them, in a whirlwind of passion and affection.

“so who won?” joshua mumbled against your lips.

“im pretty sure i did,” hansol answers as his smug smile returns. he looks over at joshua, who was smirking back at him. joshua slowly releases his hold on your neck and pulls away.

you tug on hansol's arm, resting him against the headboard as you move to climb on top of him; trapping him beneath you.

“wanna tell me again how good i feel?” you ask as you lean down; closer, your hands run through his soft brown hair as his hands come up to your waist.

“fuck yes,” he mutters, his eyes darkening even more as he feels you move your hips aginst his.

joshua moves to kiss you again, but hansol stops him before he can, “hey I won!” he whines.

“relax,” joshua laughs softly against your lips, “im just kissing her. you can have her first.”

[alessandriana]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @glorious-spoon!

I found this on my phone earlier today; I think I must have written it on a plane some while back, and then forgotten about it until now.

-

“No! Give it back!” Jin Ling insisted, grabbing at Jiang Cheng's robes and stomping his feet when he couldn't reach. His face was red and he seemed about to cry.

They were in one of the courtyards in Koi Tower. One of the ponds full of the glittering fish that gave the tower its name sat a few feet away; Jin Ling's sleeves were wet up to the elbows. He'd run away from his nurse and Jiang Cheng had only just found him.

Jiang Cheng could feel the watching eyes of Lanling on him, judging him. He held the dead fish up out of Jin Ling's reach, and said patiently, “Fish are for eating, not for playing.”

Jin Ling pursed his lips and a crafty expression stole across his face; he probably thought he was being subtle, but it was incredibly transparent to Jiang Cheng. "Okay," he agreed. "Then I'll eat it!"

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes in brief misery. "You can't eat these fish," he said. "These fish are decorative--"

There was a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and Jiang Cheng stood with an excuse already on his lips, thinking surely it was Lan Xichen, because he was the only one who would be dressed in white in the middle of Koi Tower--

He cut himself off, blinking, at the sight before him. "Hanguang-Jun," he greeted, with automatic politeness. Lan Wangji looked…

Lan Wangji looked…

Shattered. That was the word he was looking for.

It had been three years since anyone had seen Lan Wangji outside of Gusu. Jiang Cheng, frankly, had given little thought about why that might be, too consumed with his own many problems to care. In fact, now that he thought about it, the last time he'd seen Lan Wangji and had been that night at Nightless City, when Wei Wuxian had raised the Yin Tiger Seal over his head and brought death and destruction to everyone around him--

--Jiang Cheng blinked, shoving the memory back into the box where it usually lived.

And yet he couldn't help but think that the Lan Wangji before him looked like he had never left that battlefield.

He was very pale, and too thin, like he had neither eaten nor slept well in a very long time. Jiang Cheng had no idea why. Had something happened in Gusu? But Jiang Cheng would have heard of anything that would make Lan Wangji look like that, surely.

Lan Wangji did not greet Jiang Cheng, though propriety demanded it. His eyes, when they met Jiang Cheng's, were flat, filled with a strange and foreboding kind of hatred.

Instinctively, Jiang Cheng stepped in between him and Jin Ling, and his right hand clenched around--

--the fish, which squished loudly between his fingers.

It was as if a spell had been broken. Lan Wangji blinked, and looked down to see what Jiang Cheng was holding. His brows drew together as he saw the now-mangled fish, and then saw Jin Ling peering out from behind Jiang Cheng's robes, wide-eyed.

Jiang Cheng flushed and turned to pitch the dead fish back into the water where it belonged, then wiped his hand on his robes, leaving a rainbow smear of shimmering fish scales behind.

Jin Ling made an abortive motion to go after the fish, and Jiang Cheng grabbed the back of his robes.

"Hanguang-Jun," he said again when he turned back. "What brings you to Koi Tower?"

Lan Wangji said, "A letter."

From whom to whom? Had the letter called him here, or was he delivering the letter? Jiang Cheng waited for more detail, but there was none. Lan Wangji had always been taciturn but this was taking it to new levels.

Well, whatever. Lan Wangji could be as antisocial as he wanted; Jiang Cheng had better things to do. He was readying himself to extract himself from this supremely awkward conversation when Lan Wangji said, "Your nephew."

Was that supposed to be a question? Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. "Yes, this is Jin Ling, Jin Rulan, my sister's--" embarrassingly, his voice unexpectedly cracked-- "my sister's son." Deeply ingrained manners made him put a hand on Jin Ling's shoulder and say, "Jin Ling, greet Hanguang-Jun."

Jin Ling blinked at Lan Wangji, and then brought up his hands in a creditable salute. "Hanguang-Jun," he said politely. Jiang Cheng felt a flash of pride; not all four-year olds would have managed that quite so well.

Hanguang-Jun did not comment on the fact that Jin Ling's hands were also covered in fish scales. He tipped his head down in the tiniest nod.

Then he swept a glance around the empty courtyard, and turned to look at Jiang Cheng again. "You do not use nursemaids," he said. Again, it was couched as a statement rather than a question.

Jiang Cheng flushed red, certain this was meant as criticism. "He's in Jin-zongzhu's care, not mine," he said shortly. "Jin-zongzhu has nurses, but I don't see the point when I only see him a few days a month." He had plans in the works for getting longer periods of custody, but it was going to require a lot of trading of resources and favors to accomplish it, and he hadn't gotten the entire thing together yet. "It's not like taking care of a child is that difficu-- A-Ling. Do not put that in your mouth."

Jin Ling looked up with guilty expression, fishy hands cupped around something already halfway to his mouth. "But jiujiu--"

"I said no." Kneeling down, he took Jin Ling's hands and pried them open. Somehow in the two seconds Jiang Cheng hadn't been watching, Jin Ling had found a bug. "You're going to get sick if you keep putting random things in your mouth. You never know where they've been…"

He barely noticed when Lan Wangji left.

[boflwoffle]

This is my dream

But I'll probably forget to water the flowers until its too late

:>

[heartbeatbookclub]

FINALLY

[macontheweb]

I think I just have to admit that, at this point in time, Good Omens just...isn't for me.

[lovebugcody]

like the very mature adults we are, we basically avoided each other at work today and the only time we made eye contact was when we had to because he needed me to process something.

i'm going to corner him tomorrow and tell him to treat me like normal, act like i never said any thing, and warn him that if he calls me sweet again i'm going to gut punch him. he loses that word. i'll go back to being called cute and short, but not sweet. never again.

[majorproblems77]

Be me.

Want to write Whumptober fics, as I've got about 10 more to go, and really want to be done before October starts if I can help it.

(Heading back to uni)

Open the whump book and just draw so many blanks on the prompts I've got left.

So what did I do with my hyperfixation need to write today?

Wrote out an entire chapter of Unraveling in like 4 hours. (They normally take me over a week)

Like its ready to post ready to post.

Maybe ill get the one after done too today? Who knows?

[archangeldyke-all]

I JUST WATCHED ACT ONE AND HOLY SHIT

Do you think sevika likes biting? Like when other people do it? Because when I saw caitlyn doing it to her I could’ve sworn there was a smirk on sevikas face.

Anyway could you do like headcanons on this? If that’s okay. I love you❤️

oh i KNOW she likes biting AHAHHAAHAH

men and minors dni

really, nobody's been able to make you cum like sevika can. not even your trusty vibrator.

so, it's not surprising to you that you're always scratching up her back and leaving bite marks on her shoulders, but it is concerning.

you confront her about it early on in your relationship. both of you are naked and catching your breath in bed, sevika lazily smoking a cigarette and rubbing your back as you lay on top of her, your finger tracing the indent of your teeth on her breast.

"sevika... am i too rough with you?" you ask.

sevika chokes on her smokes, then sputters a laugh. "what're you talking about?!" she cackles.

"i'm always tearing your back up with my nails-- you've got, like scars on your shoulders now babe. and i worry that i'll draw blood one day, with my teeth or nails--"

"--okay, shut up." sevika cuts you off. you huff a bit and pinch her nipple, and sevika shivers and giggles. "baby. if you recall, i'm not exactly gentle with you, either. just fucked you like a bitch in heat, love, 'n 'm gonna have to lotion your ass from how much i was smacking it."

you suddenly feel bashful, sevika's casual discussion of the mindblowing sex you just had giving you butterflies. you bite her again, much more gently, now, right on the collarbone. "shush." you demand.

"what, you're shy now?" sevika teases. she takes a long drag off her cigarette before stubbing it out out and wrapping you up in her arms. "babe. i like it when you bite me. feels good to know i'm making you feel that good but... i also just like it. the feeling, and the bruises, 'n the way i get to show everyone you're fuckin' me... in fact, i'd like it if you did it even harder. 'n more. could probably cum in my pants from your teeth on my throat..." sevika admits, her voice trailing off and her eyes darting away from yours.

you chuckle and kiss her cheek. "who's shy now?"

sevika just smacks your ass.

so... you start biting her harder. in your time with sevika you've learned how to treat all kinds of wounds, so you aren't as hesitant as you might be to make her bleed. plus, sevika really fucking does love it.

she gets this excited little smirk going on her face when you start gnawing at her flesh, and when you finally really sink your teeth in (usually on her thighs, just a few inches away from her dripping cunt) she just melts. she whimpers and collapses against the bed and sometimes, if you're lucky, you can see her clit twitch in pleasure, despite the fact that you haven't touched her yet.

the first time she cums from it, it's an accident on your part.

you're at the last drop with her, drunk and grinding and making out sloppily in your little corner of the bar, and some woman across the room keeps eyeing her.

eventually, you pull away from her with a huff, smacking her shoulder a bit.

"w-what?" sevika asks, a little out of breath. you have to bite your lip to concentrate enough to get your words out, to resist the temptation of just kissing her again.

"d'you know her?" you ask, gesturing to the woman.

sevika quickly looks over her shoulder, a frown on her face. "w-who?"

"the bitch that's eyeing you like she's gonna be the one going home with you tonight." you growl.

a smile ticks up at the side of sevika's lips, and you scowl. "jealous, baby?"

"no. jealousy would be if you weren't mine. but you are. i'm possessive."

sevika's smile only grows, and she turns her back on her admirer to wrap her arms back around your waist. "i dunno her, love. even if i did, she'd be the last fuckin' thing on my mind tonight. first thing is your ass. second is your tongue. third and forth right here." sevika says as she squeezes your tits. you can't keep your giggles in.

"what about my teeth?" you tease.

sevika shudders, and before you know it, you're being pinned to a wall.

you groan in her mouth, wrapping one of your legs around her hips as she grinds against you. she shoves a hand under your shirt, groping your stomach and tits as you kiss.

you grab her lower lip between your teeth, and sevika freezes, hot little puffs of air hitting your face as she waits in anticipation for your next move.

you give her lip a soft nip before letting it go and ducking down to lick at her throat.

"ba-baby. please." sevika whines, her hips bucking against you in uncoordinated, sloppy little thrusts.

fuck. fuck. you don't have any real reason to worry, not when sevika's begging for your teeth in her throat. it's so hot it makes you dizzy, and you lose yourself for just a second as you clamp your teeth down into her flesh, hard.

sevika stiffens, squeaks, and then starts to shiver, her body collapsing against you and pinning you to the wall. you wrap your arms around her waist, groaning into her skin as she shivers against you.

"f-fuck!" sevika shouts. you pull away from her throat, blood and spit connecting your lips to her skin as you nuzzle her cheek. "fuck. fuck, i love you." sevika sighs.

you giggle, kissing her scars. "i love you, too, baby. can't believe you just came in your fuckin' pants for me."

sevika chuckles. "'s hot watching you get jealous, or possessive, or whatever." she says with a shrug. "'n i really fuckin' like your teeth."

you gently nip her cheek, then press your bloody lips to hers.

sevika moans at the taste.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[tojisun]

something about best friend simon not knowing any boundaries (or, deliberately bulldozing through boundaries)—

the way he’s the one who picks you up in the airport even though you and your boyfriend already made arrangements for the pick up, but simon just says he offered to take over because your parents needed help setting things up in their lake house and that your boyfriend offered to help them.

(simon made him offer to help. it’s hidden so well behind honest concern that your boyfriend didn’t notice that simon’s been pushing him into the role until simon's calling out his goodbye's, saying he's off to pick you up now.

"oh, i can-"

"don't sweat it, mate," simon replies with a pinched smile. "i'll drive carefully, promise. bring her back, all safe and lovely.")

you didn’t even know simon’s invited to the vacation, but you gladly murmured to him your thanks, too caught up in your exhaustion to notice the little mean grin that tugged his lips up.

you clamber to his rover messily, blinking slowly, and before you can reach over to buckle your seatbelt, simon leans over and does it for you.

"could've done it myself, y'know?" you whine.

"sure you can," he grunts as he pulls himself back to his seat. "not like y'were one blown wind away from keeling over, but sure."

you roll your eyes at him playfully before biting a giggle when he scrunches his nose at you in reply.

he takes the long route back.

"want anythin' to eat?" simon asks after a while.

"don't we—" you pause, yawning. "need to hurry back?"

"not really," he replies, eyes flicking to the side mirror before he rounds a sharp curve. your body jostles, falling to the side, slipping towards the gear, and simon's hand falls to your lap to steady you.

he doesn't remove it even when the road straightens.

"okay," you finally reply, tired eyes blinking at the size of his hand on your leg. "m'kinda hungry."

he huffs a fond laugh and says he knows a place close by.

it's a local burger joint, apparently known for their fries and milkshake. simon buys you one.

"aww," you croon, grabby hands pulling the cold cup closer to you. "thank you, si."

you two eat in his rover, too lazy to actually settle in the diner.

it's greasy and messy and delicious. simon says you look filthy, before reaching over to wipe the stray milkshake on the corner of your lips. you poke your tongue out to him in reply; he says to swallow that back in before he yanks it out.

you laugh, chucking a balled-up napkin towards him before jumping out of his SUV to run to the bathroom.

(you didn't notice the throngs of messages coming in from your boyfriend nor the way simon swiped your phone from your back pocket and kept it.

he remembers your passcode—still unchanged even after all these years—and reads the messages that your boyfriend sent.

he's asking if you've landed or if you and simon are on your way back. he says he also misses you dearly, and that he can't wait to finally be with you again.

simon deletes them all.)

the two of you return when it’s well into the night, and everyone's gone to sleep. you sigh, feeling the exhaustion hitting you harder now, and amble to your room where you know your boyfriend must be waiting for you, only to stop when simon holds your arm.

"wanna sleep with me?"

"what," you begin, turning your sleepy eyes up at him. "no that's alright. my boyfriend's—"

"asleep, already. probably got ordered 'round by your pa, huh?" he smiles, his thumb swiping along the side of your forearm. "y'might wake up the poor lad if you go there so why don't you sleep in my room just for tonight?"

simon's words wash over you and you know, somehow, there's something wrong with them, with him, but your mind is bogged down by your drowsiness. you can't rationalize what's going on, so you say yes.

that's all simon needed to pull you to his room and into his bed.

you slip out of your clothes, per simon's instructions—his words all muffled as you try to stay up awake—and slip into something loose and baggy—stretched in its overuse but so comfortable on your skin.

it's simon's shirt, you'll learn tomorrow, but for now, you drop to the bed, your eyes shut close, and fall in deep sleep.

the last thing you feel is the heavy dip on the mattress behind you before a thick arm is thrown over your side, pressing into the fat of your stomach to push you back and into simon's front.

limbs lay tangled together, breaths shared, and the summer heat buzzing as skin meets skin.

-

simon doesn't get any better after that. he gets so clingy, and intrudes in your space and forces your boyfriend out.

your boyfriend complained, of course he did, but what could you do? what could you say? simon's your childhood friend so there's nothing malicious between you two. there's nothing more into it.

he gave up fighting then, fists tucked close to his sides as you kissed his jaw and told him to trust you on your words.

but—

how can he calm down? how can he not burn in anger when he sees the way simon pulls you to his lap and you readily nuzzle close. granted it's all because the two of you are watching some game on your phone and the position must be the only way to watch it comfortably, whatever, but it rubs him so wrong how familiar you and simon fall into each other.

how can he not doubt your words when he catches simon's eyes narrowed at him in quiet delight, before deliberately curling his arm around your stomach, and throws the other one on your lap, so dangerously close to your crotch.

it's even worse when the family gathers to the lake, and you and simon are chasing each other, playfighting in front of everyone. simon picks you up with ease, big hands digging into the fat of your belly or your thighs or gripping your ass like simon's so intimately familiar with your body.

how can he not hate himself a little bit when he realizes that it was always you and simon. that that's the dynamic.

-

(and if simon successfully seduces you during this vacation, well—)

-

ext

[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy Meets Batfam

First | Previous | Next

"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoodie the size of a 3-year-old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The best way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oddly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick give up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

[prael]

A Bargain To Remember

Kinktember Day 13: Car sex

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist

"Finally, a face to the name."

You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.

The surprise is that she knows you.

Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.

"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.

"I would like to make a purchase."

"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"

She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."

You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."

She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.

"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."

There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.

Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."

You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."

Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."

You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"

"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."

"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.

"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."

She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.

"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.

You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.

"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."

She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.

"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.

She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.

She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"

"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."

Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."

You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.

The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.

"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.

You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"

"Do it." She's insistent.

A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.

There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.

Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.

"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.

"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."

Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.

"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"

Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"

You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."

"You're going to manually record?"

"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.

She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.

A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.

A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.

"Where are we?" you ask.

"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.

"When are we?"

"2024."

"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"

She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"

"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"

She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."

Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.

"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."

"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.

And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.

She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.

"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.

Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.

It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.

You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.

She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.

You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.

Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.

She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.

You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.

You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.

"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."

You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.

"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."

You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.

You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.

"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.

"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.

Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.

Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.

You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.

"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.

Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."

She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.

You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.

"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."

"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.

"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.

She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."

You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.

A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.

You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.

Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."

"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."

You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.

The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.

"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.

It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.

"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."

Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.

From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.

Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.

And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.

"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"

"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.

"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.

You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...

"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."

You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.

She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.

"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.

There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.

"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.

You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.

"Incredible," you breathe.

Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.

"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.

"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.

"I'll get started."

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: you and him kiss—a lot—while the stream's still going, but neither of you notice

contents: fem!reader. pda written by someone who doesn't particularly like pda. gets a little suggestive around the end. inumaki tells satoru 'kys' multiple times. not proofread.

author's note: kissin' and hope they caught us, whether they like or not, i wanna show you off, i wanna show you offff

"i swear you guys are really out to get me," satoru groans, addressing the flood of comments filling up his chatbox. he spins around in his chair, tilting his head back and exhaling when he stops. you watch him shake his hair out of his eyes and grin at the camera, just like he does every time he's getting ready to end the stream.

"okay, guys, that's enough, i gotta go," satoru says, right on cue. he partially turns around and shoots a rueful smile your way, taking a quick moment to admire the way you look all cozied up on his couch. and it's only an added bonus that you're even wearing his hoodie—the same one he wore on your first date.

turning back to the screen, satoru stretches his arms and waves. "see ya tomorrow, can't wait. except for you, toji, and inumaki too. fuck you guys," he adds, snorting when he sees their replies just a moment later.

inumaki: kys!!!

inumaki has been kicked from the stream by satoru-gojo.

"aw, and we were almost about to set a new streak of one day without me kicking inumaki," satoru sighs, shaking his head dramatically. "maybe one day we'll even make it to two streams, but i think that'll take a couple centuries." satoru laughs and waves offhandedly, clicking the 'x' in the corner of his stream to end it.

he switches tabs to go back to his previous game's stats and turns around again, spinning his chair to face you. satoru opens his arms and beckons you with both his hands, a puppy-like shine in his eyes. "c'mere, lemme hold you for a little," he says, smiling wider when you begrudgingly get up from your spot on his couch.

"i was so comfy," you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk over to satoru. if his stream was still on, you'd probably be on camera now.

"i'll make you even comfier," satoru insists, grabbing your hand and tugging you into his lap. his arms snake around your waist and hold you snugly against his chest, hands slipping into the pockets of your hoodie. "you look so cute, wearin' my hoodie like that," he smiles, kissing your cheek affectionately.

"satoru, your lips are cold," you grumble, leaning away from his mouth—but you don't put that much distance between you two, considering his snug grip on your torso. satoru ignores your protests and kisses you again, peppering kisses all over the side of your face.

"you're so—fuckin'—cute," satoru murmurs, punctuating each word with a kiss. his lips are soft and you can feel them warm up a little more with each press to your cheek. his minty breath tickles your face as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, decorating your face with his lips.

"what's the occasion?" you ask tentatively, looking at satoru's blushing face out of the corner of your eye. he tilts his head and shrugs, and you feel his chest rise and fall as he does so.

"do i need an excuse to kiss my girlfriend?" satoru replies cheekily, rubbing your tummy through the pockets of your hoodie. "my hands are cold, baby, wanna warm them up?"

"huh—"

satoru doesn't wait for an answer before he tugs your hands into your pockets with his, hiding a smile at the little indignant sound you make. "you're so cute, i just wanna eat you up," satoru mumbles, scrunching up his nose. his white hair falls into his eyes for the thousandth time, and he blows out a puff of air in an attempt to clear up his vision. it doesn't work—his hair just falls right back into his eyes.

so you extract your hands from where they're clasped in between satoru's and brush back his hair, fingertips lingering on the sides of his face. he turns his head and presses his lips to the palm of one of your hands, cold lips curling into a smile at the cat-like look on your face.

"how was the stream today?" you ask, leaning into his chest. satoru shrugs again, kissing the top of your head.

"fine, i won a couple rounds," satoru says indifferently. his attention is on you, only you—right now, his stream and his games are at the back of his mind. "don't change the subject, baby."

you huff in disbelief, nudging your elbow against his chest. "what even was the subject?"

"me wanting to eat you up," satoru replies instantly. he grins playfully, hugging you tighter and burying his face in your hair. "c'mon, you know you wanna—"

the flickering red dot in the top-right corner of his screen catches your eye, and you practically flinch out of his arms. satoru looks at you, confusion evident on every part of his face. "what is it, baby?"

you groan and lean away from him and closer to his table, dragging the mouse over to one of his tabs and clicking it open. and just like that, satoru realizes that this entire time you've been live. to thousands of people. for five whole minutes.

"oops," satoru says with a sheepish smile, scratching his head bashfully. you turn and shoot a venomous look at him, and he laughs nervously. "oh, uh, that's my bad, honey—"

"you're dead," you mutter, grinning when satoru shrinks back into his chair. satoru swallows and gives you a thumbs-up, gently nudging you out of the way to check the comments.

yuuji-itadori: aw they're so cute together :)

toji-fushiguro: she can do so much better

inumaki: how does this loser have more streams than me. kys kys kys!!!!!

inumaki has been banned from the stream by satoru-gojo.

[propertyofwicked]

SCANDALOUS - OP

summary - in which oscar discovers what type of books his girlfriend is actually reading

warnings: 18+ allusions to smut, but mostly fluff

this is my first oscar piece and i am considering a part 2! lemme know what you think! <3 (also sorry for disappearing my life has been all over the place)

masterlist the playlist

as they arrived at the silverstone track, oscar and y/n could feel the palpable anticipation in the air. navigating through the crowds was something y/n could only compare to her idea of personal hell. people everywhere, sporting the bright colours of different teams, people approaching the two of them, holding out hats and phones for oscar to sign. if this was friday, y/n hated to think what the rest of the weekend would be like - hopefully she could arrive later than oscar and avoid the hustle and bustle.

"are you going to be okay here?" oscar asked softly, concern evident in his eyes, as he led the two of them into mclaren hospitality. he wasn’t blind, if anything he could read her emotions better than he could read his own - he knew she was overwhelmed, but not quite at breaking point.

"yeah, i've got my book and headphones,” y/n replied, patting her bag quickly, “i'll find a quiet spot,” she added with a nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

“i’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked her again, holding her wrists softly in his hands.

“i’ll be here,” she replied, still smiling as she stepped up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

y/n watched as oscar left, before turning on her heel and trying to find a cosy corner, tucked away from the commotion where she could read her book in peace. and as she sat with her back to the wall, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that no one could walk behind her and glimpse at what she was reading. her flushed cheeks may slightly give it away to anyone who recognised the book, but as she flipped through the pages she was met with nothing but pure, indulgent smut. it was a guilty pleasure that she seldom admitted to enjoying, and whilst she was more than content with oscar, she was too shy to admit she’d want him to do more than half of the acts she reads about.

maybe next time, she should bring a murder mystery book with her, instead of reading 82 pages of unforgiving sex scenes that are described in such detail that she could almost imagine how oscar would recreate it beautifully - yeah, maybe not the right thing to be reading at your boyfriend’s place of work.

“hi,” a voice interrupted, causing y/n to jump quickly as she looked up to see one of the hospitality staff stood in front of her, “i was just wondering if we would be able to steal this chair? i can find you somewhere else to sit - it’s just a guest would like to sit here.”

“of course,” y/n replied, smiling up at the nervous girl before moving to shove everything back into her bag, “i probably should go on a walk anyways.”

“thank you so much, and sorry for making you move - the guest is a sponsor, so they expect us to move heaven and earth to accommodate them,” the employee added with a grin.

“i understand,” y/n replied, laughing lightly as she stood, “your hair is so beautiful by the way.”

“thank you,” the girl smiled, blushing at the compliment.

oscar had been engrossed with his team, discussing strategy and making adjustments for the practice session, when he realised it had been several hours since he’d seen his girlfriend. and once the practice session had finally ended, with a full team debrief, he made it his mission to find her.

"have you seen y/n around?" oscar inquired casually, glancing over at lando who had walked into hospitality with him.

"yeah, she was sitting in the corner over there," lando chuckled, gesturing towards the quieter section of the hospitality area, “….but she’s not there anymore,” he added, trailing off as he noticed the empty chair.

"thanks mate, glad you’ve still got those keen observational skills," oscar replied sarcastically, “don’t know what i’d do without you around.”

“hey! i was just telling you where i last saw her!” lando defended, holding his hands up, ”she’s probably in a quiet corner somewhere, reading that book. she’s probably the only person that didn’t notice i’d even walked in earlier ‘cos she was nose deep in it.”

“sounds about right,” oscar hummed, pulling his phone out to shoot her a quick where are you text.

sure enough, oscar found y/n in a quieter corner, still engrossed in her book. he approached her quietly and gently tapped her shoulder. y/n looked up, removing her headphones and quickly closing the pages before smiling warmly at him.

"hey there, lost track of time?" oscar asked, sitting down beside her, pulling his legs up to his chest as his back leant on the wall.

y/n nodded, "yeah, i guess i did. how was practice?"

"pretty good," oscar replied, "we made some solid improvements. what about you? what are you reading?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness crossing her expression. "oh, it's just a book. nothing special."

oscar raised an eyebrow, sensing her reluctance to share. "come on, it can't be that bad. is it some secret spy novel or something?"

y/n chuckled nervously. "no, nothing like that. just... personal. i'll tell you about it later, maybe."

"alright, fair enough," he replied, "ready to head back to the hotel?"

y/n sighed with relief. "yes please.”

“that bored, huh?” he asked as he stood, extending his arms to help pull her from the floor.

“not bored, just-”

“overwhelmed? hungry? eager to see me after a shower?”

“always.”

“good to know,” he added, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you know, you're quite the mystery sometimes," he teased gently as they began to walk to the car.

"keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" y/n smirked, “no fun in being predictable.”

they arrived at the hotel room, and as they settled in, the atmosphere relaxed. y/n flopped down on the bed, and oscar joined her, laying his entire body on top of hers, her hands moving to stroke along his back softly.

"so, how's the book?" oscar asked again, with a playful glint in his eye.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't suppress a smile. "it's good. maybe i'll let you read it someday."

"wow, such a privilege!" oscar feigned shock, “but how would i ever repay you for such an offer.”

"don't push your luck, piastri,” she replied, her arms grabbing his sides in attempt to push him off. he laughed, rolling to the side to lay next to her.

"alright, alright. i won't push. but seriously, thanks for coming with me today. it means a lot."

y/n's expression softened. "of course. i wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

oscar leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "i'm lucky to have you, you know that?"

y/n's eyes sparkled with affection. "i think we're both pretty lucky."

“i’d be even luckier if you let me read that book of yours,” he grinned.

"you're ridiculous.”

"only for you," he replied with a grin, his arm reaching across her waist for his fingers to draw circles into the skin of her stomach. his head dipped, trailing kissed along her clothed shoulder, until he was resting on his arm, hovering over her slightly, his lips finding their way to the skin of her neck.

“please,” he whispered, kissing along her jaw.

“fine,” y/n replied with a loud huff, pushing herself up from the bed to retrieve the book from her bag. oscar remained on the bed, resting on his side and using his arm to hold his head up as his eyes followed her across the room.

she launched the book at him, watching as it landed just shy of his stomach.

“come and join me,” he beckoned, shuffling himself up the bed, book in hand.

“i’d rather stand here, actually.”

“ok weirdo.”

the room fell to a silence as oscar opened the book, choosing to open at a page in the middle.

“why is this all highlighte- oh. OH. oh wow,” he spoke aloud, grimacing slightly in between raising his eyebrows at the literature, “this is - is that even possible? how has he got her leg up there?”

“you can stop now,” y/n begged, climbing on the bed and stretching over in attempt to snatch the book from his hands.

“no, i don’t think i will,” he teased, raising the book above his head, though at an angle where he could still read it, “ ‘…..he said, grabbing my other leg and placing them both behind his head’ - this girl is flexible jesus.”

“oscar piastri you give me that book right now.”

“ok! ok!” he said defensively, “….on one condition.”

“…what?” y/n responded cautiously, noticing the way he smirked at her.

“you tell me, is this something you wanna try?” he asked, “the things in this book? is that what you want?”

“minus the kidnapping part….maybe?” she replied, fiddling with her fingers.

“maybe, huh?” he teased, placing the book to his side before grabbing her waist to pull her into him. y/n straddled his lap, though desperately tried to look anywhere but his face, desperate to hide the flush of her cheeks, only worsened by looking in his eyes.

“honestly, i just wanna know if im that flexible,” she replied with a laugh, still playing anxiously with her fingers whilst trying to fight against her own awkwardness.

“i know you can get at least one leg up there,” oscar joked, fingers tickling at her sides playfully, “although, you’re not very good at twister.”

“we have played twister ONCE. and i was drunk. you cannot hold that against me.”

“drunk or not, your foot was still dangerously close to going up my ass.”

“and yet no assholes were harmed.”

“speaking of.. does this book mention anyth-”

“if you think you are putting ANYTHING up there you are very much mistaken mr piastri,” y/n argued, holding his jaw in her hands to make her point clear.

“mr piastri? i prefer da-”

“NOPE! LA LA LA,” she interrupted, quickly covering her ears before he finished his sentence.

“im kidding, im kidding,” he laughed out breathlessly, holding on to her hips as his body shook with laughter, “so about this flexibility thing.”

“let me stretch first,” she told him, kissing his lips softly. y/n moved to climb off him, only half serious about stretching, but his hands stayed put on her waist, pulling her back into him. he kissed her again, a hand traveling up her body to rest on her jaw and he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip briefly.

“no need, i know a good way to get you warmed up,” he told her cheekily, his lips returning to her neck once more, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin below her ear.

“oh really?” she replied, her eyebrows raising at the suggestion, “please, go on. tell me more.”

[suiana]

(yandere! gym rat x gn! pilates princess/prince/liege)

"cutie! you're back again!"

"...yes? this is a public gym."

you stare at the buff man before rolling your eyes and going back to doing your squats.

he's weird, you think. always watching you, trying to chat you up while not so subtly mentioning how he knows where you stay and some private life details.

you don't want to get close to him even if he seems nice.

i mean, he looks and acts pretty dumb. kinda like a beefy himbo. but what if he isn't a himbo? you'd be in a precarious situation then. men are emotional creatures after all. who knows what he'd do?

"hey want me to spot you! you're doing squats-"

"yeah, without weights. i think I'll be fine, thank you very much."

you snap at him, eyes narrowed as you turn up the volume of your music. ugh, will he just leave you alone? all you ever want is to exercise in peace! do your silly little pilates... but no! he has to annoy you all the time!

"w-well... if you need me I'll be in my corner... doing pilates... you know, because i picked it up for you..."

you glance at him as he walks to his pink mat near you, pitifully getting on his knees as he does some pilates exercises. you would've totally ignored him if not for the moans and whimpers he let out with each rep he did.

you pause your squats, raising an eyebrow as your cheeks flush slightly red. was he always this noisy even with his normal exercises?

"dude can you shut- and you're not doing it right... you need to do it like this."

you walk up to him, taking off your headphones as you adjust his position. hopefully this would help him to shut up... he probably just made the noise because he wasn't in the correct pose. your hands brush against his sweaty skin, helping him to get into the correct position instead.

but as you were doing so, he let out even more noises, flustering you beyond belief. what the heck?! can he just shut up?!

you immediately retract your hands, staring at him like he just murdered somebody before walking away.

nuh uh, you're not dealing with freaky men anymore. you tried helping him but he just wouldn't stop his silly acts.

"s-sweetie wait! I'm sorry! please keep going!"

the male whines, immediately crawling after you as his cheeks flush a beautiful hue of red. however, you obviously ignored him, walking back to your own mat as you resumed your squats, headphones plugged in with music blasting loudly.

ugh, so he really is a weird beefy himbo.

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)