#you couldn't even walk in a straight line

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Marriage AU needed its justice lol

-

Adam and Lucifer were sitting together in the living room while Nifty was cleaning the place with such passion, the Devil waited patiently for Adam’s answer to his offer. He knew he’d need time, obviously.

Adam: So let me get this straight. I, give my soul to you, and in return you’ll be giving me protection?

Lucifer: Yup, that’s it! And you’ll be under my care and service and all that.

That made the tiny maid interested. The ultimate bad boys, getting in a situationship? Ohohoho.

Nifty: Ooh, what do we have here?

She secretly went behind Adam’s chair and pretended to swipe there, she always wanted to know if these two had anything to do together.

Adam: Under your service? What’s that supposed to mean?

Lucifer: Means you’ll be under my command and control, obviously. A little payback.

Adam really, REALLY hated the idea but he supposed he didn’t have much of an other choice. Even though Lucifer’s face made him want to punch him.

Adam:.. Fine. What will I be signing?

Lucifer: I am working on it, don’t worry.

Adam: You better.

He got up and left leaving Lucifer sighing and doing as well. On his way he didn’t notice the short pink maid following him.

((I hope this is good for a start? Idk.))

((That's a great start!! Can this one take priority 🥺))

Lucifer went into his office at the hotel, he needed to put the finishing touches on Adams soul contract. He couldn't believe that he was going to get to own his soul.

Nifty watched as he wrote the contract and then left to go to bed. He had left the contract open to let the ink dry. She rushed over and looked at it and read it.

Well this needs adjustments! This works more in Lucifer's favor than Adam they need something more mutual.

Nifty grabbed a pen and got to work adding everything she wanted to the contract. There!

Nifty: Hehehe perfect.~

She hurried along to bed herself, she had worked on that contract for four hours.

The next day Lucifer rolled up the contract and walked out with it, he brought it to Adam and almost joyously handed him the pen.

Nifty watched from afar, she couldn't wait!

Adam sighed, better than being murdered all the time. That's what he had to tell himself. Hesitantly, he signed his name on the dotted line.

In a flash of gold light, three things appeared on Adams body, a golden soul chain that connected to, a golden pointy crown appeared on his head wrapping around his horns and a gold ring with a diamond on his ring finger.

Lucifer got a matching one.

Adam: Ummm, the fuck is this?

Nifty: YAY!! Congratulations!!

Adam and Lucifer jumped.

Lucifer: Huh? For what?

Nifty: For getting married.

Adam: WHAT!?!

[bigcityroadie]

You're only proving my point.

im gonna YHROW UPD

[s0dium]

Warning: Pussy drunk Toji

Toji is worried that he cant stop fucking his client's daughter.

He isn't guilty about it; in fact, he couldn't care less if he were caught, as he has other clients practically lining up for his services.

No, Toji Fushiguro is worried that he might be getting addicted, addicted to you, addicted to fucking you.

Before meeting you Toji didn't even know it was even possible for pussy to feel this good. Even from just slipping his tip in, the wind is knocked straight out of his lungs. You feel good? Try god-like, Toji's mind is in euphoria the way your pussy always clenches around him, pathetically trying to accommodate for his length. Jesus, all those other girls, his fist, even a flesh light could never compare to the way your warm walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

“S-shit you gotta loosen up baby~" Toji swears he is not a whining man but here his, voice cracking just from slipping in you. When he finally gathers the willpower to move, he has to bite his lip from spilling inside you right there and then.

"So good, so good for me." He swears under his breath, he can no longer hold in his moans as he fucks you in brutal mating press, your legs thrown over his shoulder so his tip can abuse your cervix.

Fuck. He can barely look at you, can barely open his eyes and ignore the colors he was seeing behind his eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. His skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing he could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over his body.

This is bad, really bad, Toji doesn't think he can stop even if someone where to walk in on you two right now.

"S-slow down," You whine but your cries fall upon deaf ears. You are both a moaning mess, it was truly a show of primal affection; skin sticking and unsticking to each other as you clawed his muscular back from the delicious friction of his dick thrusting in and out of you.

Suddenly, he grabs the back of your head and brings your lips to his, his hips not so much as stuttering as he entangles his tongue with yours. Even your lips are like cocaine to him, he kisses you every chance he gets; while he's fucking you, while he's fingering you, peppering light ones on your neck and jaw and deep ones while he's got you riding his dick in front of a mirror.

Yes, Toji Fushiguro cant seem to get enough of you.

[thetangibleghost]

It's kinda like before anti-psycotics I experienced my innerworld, my subconscious, the observable world, and other people innerworlds all on top of each other. They mixed together and when information was missing it was hard to tell as it was all so messy.

All those realities still exist, and they still exist all at the same time. Now, they are all the same world, instead of layered realities. Delusions no longer exist in bubbles that I get stuck in but as a part of the world that contradicts or doesn't contradict other parts.

The world is like nothing else. I'm still depressed, suicidal, and delusional. But now I can like sorta feed my self and keep my body clean. I had all the tools before to do so, but my entire life I couldn't keep up and I never knew why. I thought maybe trauma and autism, those still play a part but like literally my life is just. Exactly the same but I shower and pick up things I don't want to step on off the floor.

My self awareness too. It's always been a struggle for me to understand how I'm perceived. I'm constantly, as I think most people do, reflecting, making changes, and grieving. But now progress is more satisfying. I can make plans that have more moving parts and understand situations without that sliding reality feeling. Even if my actual follow through is the same.

I dissociate a lot still

I tend to react well to medications and antipsychotics are nothing to mess around with. But I but a lot of thought (I was lucky to be able to) into starting them and the results just. They weren't what I was expecting. Like, I expected them to work, but like. like look at this I wrote this long silly post that stays on topic and moves between subtopics. I didn't even plan that. My thoughts are just. Literally organized. And I was able to write in an organic way before my delusions got worse last year, but it still wasn't like this and I wasn't always able to.

[blumineck]

I have been wondering about this for years and I need to know, how would someone carry a zweihander that is almost as tall as them? You can't really carry it in a normal scabbard

Great question! Here's a hastily thrown together video answer:

Essentially, scabbards are for conveniently carrying weapons when you don't expect to use them right now. Weapons of this size are so bulky that you simply wouldn't carry one /unless/ you intended to use it (even if what you intend to use it for is intimidation rather than actual combat). In which case, you want it in your hands, and ready for use.

(That's not to say that you couldn't make a scabbard design for a huge sword, and I've seen some viable options, but for the most part I don't think there's much point. I've taken weapons of this size to a LARP, and even if you can strap it to your back, you end up taking it off any time you want to go through a door, bend over, walk in a group, run, sit down, climb a tree, do a flip, tie your laces, or basically do anything that's not carefully walk in a straight line.)

[thinkinonsense]

SEVEN DAYS

x2!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: desperate!logan, eating reader out, fingering, squirting?

masterlist

the mission was only supposed to last for two days. forty-eight hours and he would return home to you. instead it was dragged out much longer than it needed to be.

logan wanted nothing more than to be home in your arms instead of a motel room alone, painfully hard, trying to tune out scott snore on the other side of the wall.

so, on thursday afternoon when him, scott, and storm returned to the mansion, logan wasted no time hunting you down. he could smell you the second he walked through the front door; you were in charles office. charles, hank, jean, and you were meeting to discuss a new experiment when logan bursts through the door.

"logan! pleasure for you to join us." hank announces.

your head snaps up from your scribbling to see that your lover has returned safely. he looked like a lion ready to pounce on a naivë little lamb.

"just came by to pick something up." logan answers, ignoring everyone else in the room as he made a b-line for you.

"hey, baby–"

within seconds, logan lifts you up over his shoulder and out of the leather seat. you squeal, dropping your notepad and pen. your kitten heels kick his abs as your squirm in his arms.

"logan!" you hiss, swatting his toned back as he turns around to walk out of the room, unphased. "what the hell! put me down!"

he ignores you, pulling down your dress to cover your behind from your co-workers. no one was shocked by logan's actions. the man wasn't a patient person by any means. they all watched as you left over logan's shoulder, face blushing with embarrassment.

when logan finally shut your guys bedroom door, he placed you down on the edge of your bed; yet to say a word to you. instead, he falls straight to his knees in front of you. his big callous hands, rubs the soft skin of your inner thighs, opening your legs.

logan couldn't help but moan when he saw the pretty lacy light blue panties you were wearing. you could see the neediness in his eyes as he licked his lips. before he can remove your underwear, you cradle his face in your much smaller palms.

"you alright, baby?" you ask, looking down at him.

similarly to a cat, logan rubs the scruff of his beard against your thigh, pressing his nose against the thin panties; inhaling the scent of your arousal. you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp softly before your fingers tugging on the kitten tuffs, making him whimper against your pussy.

"mhm..." he manages to say. "i missed you."

"aw, i missed you–"

"missed your scent, your lips, your mouth..." his words are muffled as he kisses you messily over the lace. "missed this fuckin' pussy so much."

you gasp when he pulls down the soaked material and moves back for a second to look at you. he spreads you apart with his thumbs, watching you twitch and clench at the cool air hitting your pussy. she was warm, wet, and welcoming to him. logan couldn't imagine a better way to spend the rest of his day.

"there's my favorite girl." logan smiles before spitting right on your button and latching his mouth onto you. you moan loudly as he talks to your pussy, acting as if you weren't even in the room.

"you've missed me too, huh, pretty girl?" he moans incoherently as his tongue runs over core.

it's a struggle to keep your eyes open but it was worth the sight of logan's head in between your legs. the noises he made with your slick were unbelievably lewd.

"must've missed me a lot." you giggle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps your legs around his head.

"you've got not fuckin' idea." he mumbles into your folds. spit and slick pooled onto the sheets that laid under you as logan feasted.

logan looks up at you and fears he might cum just from the image of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth slightly parted as you sing his praise of 'right there, logan!', 'such a good boy for me'.

the 'good boy' comment threw logan's mind into a frenzy. he needed to hear you. he needed to be surrounded by your presence. two of his fingers dip into you, fast and rough. your thighs squeeze his head, threatening to pop it right off his body.

there was no time to warn him before your high hit. logan slurped up every bit of honey you had to offer him. you reach down for the hand that wasn't busy locating your sweet spot and place it on your tit. logan could feel your heartbeat and it only sent him further on his spiral, adding a third finger and repeatedly hitting that spot that made you see fireworks.

"i c-can't, logan" you mewl, wiggling back from logan's tongue. he catches you, latching back onto your button. "it's too m-much!"

"she's takin' me just fine." his voice is muffled against you in the dirtiest way possible.

the pressure builds in your tummy. there were no words in your brain at this point, moaning and babbling about nothing.

"that's the spot, huh?" he groan, smirking up at you. logan's fingers twist up, slamming against that gummy spot deep in your walls.

the motion caused you to let out more slick than you ever had before, gushing on logan's face. you can hear him curse as he licks you clean.

“it’s only been seven days, you know?��� you giggle, trying to catch your breath.

he climbs up your body to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself. you moan into his mouth, as logan grinds down on you, needing more.

“seven days too long, sweetheart.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

a/n: just something short n sweet before i post part 2 of dad!logan x teacher!reader <3

[gravegoer]

Take a hint. ୨୧

sevika x oblivious!reader ♡ PART 1 [feel free to send requests, asks etc! i respond to everything :) + i defo need to make a badass reader x sevika to make up 4 this

PART 2 HERE , masterlist here

• How could you have possibly made it this far all by your lonesome in the undercity?? Almost oblivious to anyones advances, threats etc. Your last minute judgement has to have come in clutch many times.

• Having said that; obviously sevika is going to raise an eyebrow as you walk past her,

• She sat in her booth, playing a game of poker with two conspicuous-looking men (to say the least.) A cigarillo hung from her thick lips and smoke puffed out of her nose as she glanced up.

• A man follows you (cocky fella) spewing nonsense about how he so badly wanted to get to know you and how "you should come grab a drink with me, all on my tab sweetheart."

• She shook her head; this didn't snag her attention, as the man was a regular, always harassing the prettiest woman he could find at the bar. What did snag her attention was your response.

• "Oh...sure! Why not ?" You laughed, undoubtedly carefree and unaware of the man's advances. Now, this THIS is what made her lips curl downward into a sneer.

• How could someone be so stupid. Seriously. What part about this guy didnt scream "creep." Were there not flashing red lights going off in your head telling you to turn the other way and make a run for it?

•Although this wasnt normally the kind of thing she bothered to pay attention to she continued to keep an eye on you as you walked toward the bar with him.

• However, the game of cards draws her attention away from the two of you. The man to her right groans at her card selection before shuffling through his.

• This was going to be another easy cash night, huh? She thought, her eyes wandering back to where you sat. The man next to you is now a bit too close for comfort.

• "I dont see you 'round here often missy" The man drawls, smirking at you. His fingers traced the rim of your glass slowly, barely missing your fingertips.

• "Yeah im...im not around here often.. tonight jus- " You were cut off by his hand on yours.

• "A pretty lady shouldnt be out at night all by 'er self, who knows what might snag 'er up, yeah?" His grip on yours was just a bit too tight.

• "Thats true..I was going to head home soon anyways. Thank you for your concern." You half smiled at him, now feeling the uncomfortable tension between you.

• The man took your smile as a green light to do whatever the fuck he wants and he leans in closer to your face. Before he can even bring his lips within the radius of your face the slam of metal separates you two.

• A mechanical device whirrs between you, parts clanking and activating: acting as a barrier. Your drink spills onto the floor, just narrowly missing your leg.

• You look up to see the weilder of said device glaring straight foward, not looking at either of you. Although her lips settle into a tight line; disdain etched into her (quite stunning) features. You could feel the heat of her body just inches away from yours.

• "Um...were we in your way-" You are cut off by her unexpectedly deep angry tone.

• "Lance, get the fuck out of here." She spat, now turning her head to look at him. Ah so thats his name.

• Her body was turned to face yours, her large frame mostly blocked your view from Lance, but it was pretty obvious he up and left without a word of retaliation.

• You eyed her questioningly scanning her lean (buff) frame.

• "You dont know a man thats trying to get in your pants when you see one?" She spoke firmly, turning her head to you.

• "I dont think he was.." You recalled all the events in the past five minutes and sighed internally "Mmfuck"

• Sevika took a draw of her cigar, watching you piece everything together, "So you really are stupid? I thought you were playing dumb." She scoffed.

• She couldn't lie. You were beautiful. It's a shame that all the men in the bar have probably eyed you at least once since you walked in. This thought made her lips twitch downward.

• "Bartender," Her voice booms "Get her another whiskey."

• Sevika ordering for a woman?? Absolutely unheard of. She means buisness. The bartender quickly grabs your drink offering a smile (that looked more out of fear than anything else) to Sevika.

• All the regulars know she only comes to the bar to either: A) Gamble B) Drink or C) beat someones ass. And despite her rough demeanor her actions were uncharacteristically...nice?

• "Thank you," You smiled up at her "I need to get better at that kind of thing"

• She slid into the barstool next to yours, where Lance had previously sat. "Is this your first time in the undercity? If not im suprised you havent been killed yet"

• Her question went unanswered as you watched the spread of her legs when she sat down, she has thick; definitely toned thighs. You swear you can see the muscle even with her pants on. Your eyes travel upward to look at her ever so slightly visible abs-

• "Hey, do you have nothing going on up there?" She sneered at you, now getting up from her stool. She was quickly irritated.

• "Im sorry, but you're gorgeous. Whats your name?" You ask, catching her gaze as she stood.

• She makes an incredulous expression for a second before going stone faced again "Be careful with what you say to strangers"

• Your drink arrives and she nods her head towards it before walking away, not leaving any room for you to thank her.

• Right as you're about to stare at her confident walk back to her booth a voice interrupted your thoughts, "Thats Sevika, Silcos second hand man." The bartender spoke.

• He knew you werent new, you had been coming for several years, but only casually. The only reason you stook out to him was because of you're genuine kindness when you spoke to him, not demeaning or demanding drinks.

• In return he usually warded off the men and women trying to snag you up and take you home.

• At his words you turned to look at her, but she was already staring back at you. Her gaze dark and almost hungry. You shivered at that, breaking eyecontact first.

• You didn't feel like drinking any longer, aching for the warmth of your home. You took a sip of whiskey and waved at the bartender before hopping off your stool to start towards the exit.

• You passed Sevikas booth on your way out, the men at her table eyed you and one wolf whistled loudly.

• Sevikas' eye twitched as she waited for you to exit the vicinity. She made note of the bell ring when you opened and closed the door to the bar.

• She wasted absolutely no time to jump on the man who wolf whistled, grabbing him by the collar and delivering an unforgiving punch to his face with her mechanical arm.

You definitely would be meeting again.

short authors note :) this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS so be patient with me guys ... anywho.. PLEASSEE send asks im begging, i crave to write right now. Im mainly writing for sevika and female characters ! But ill do anyone. ask me about fandoms ! (im in many) and ill write for basically any ask me for part 2 !! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

comment to be added to my taglist :)

[suncoved]

HANDS OF AN ANGEL ! — RAFE CAMERON (18+ smut mdni)

in which, washing rafe's hair didn't go as you planned.

you looked up slowly from your book to the sound of your bedroom door opening roughly, rafe trudging in lethargically. your eyes followed him around the room as he threw off his clothes one by one, a trail of fabric following him until he was just left in his boxers.

you rolled your eyes at his unnecessary messiness and let your eyes travel back down to the off-white pages of your book.

you could only read about three words before rafe huffed rather dramatically across the room.

you ignored his annoying sighs and groans until it was physically impossible to not pay attention to him, slamming your book closed and looking at him from the bed.

"what is it rafey?" you asked sweetly, even though you knew what he was gonna ask. "shower" he said simply, nudging his head towards the bathroom from where he stood right outside it. "can't baby, i already put all my lotions and oils and stuff, you're gonna have to have one without me" you answered, watching his face turned into that of a five-year-olds if they were just told they couldn't go to disneyland that day.

"ok" he huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom, but leaving the door open so you could see everything. you giggled softly, turning your attention back to the book in your hands.

you only perked up when you heard the tap of the bath turn on, not the shower. rafe was having a bath?

if there was one thing you had to know about rafe cameron, is that he hated baths, more than an average human being did. he only tolerated them because he could feel you up more in the bath than in the shower because of the close proximity.

but he always took a shower after because he doesn't like 'bathing in his own filth for half and hour'

you itched to get up and hop in the bath with him, but that's what he wanted, because why else would he torture himself like that?

after about 5 minutes of reading the same line over and over again, you untangled yourself from your bedsheets and made your way over to your vanity. reaching your hand into the brown paper shopping bag, you pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, hair masks and hair oils, making your way over to the bathroom with an arm full of hair products.

he heard you from a mile away, staring straight at you as you walked into his trap. "got you baby" he said, hinting at the fact that he was having a bath, for you.

"nope" you said, padding your way over to the bathtub. he looked at you quizzically at the new products you had with you.

you were glad that even though he was very very naked, there were mounds of bubbles covering him, his face and shoulders the only thing showing above the water. because after you spent nearly an hour after your shower rubbing oils and creams over your skin, you really didn't want to end up in the bath with rafe

"what've you got there bug?" he asked as you dragged your soft bathmat to the edge of the bathtub so you could have something to kneel on, placing the products softly on the floor.

"gonna wash your hair rafe" you state, reaching over and running your hand softly through his wet hair. "yeah?" he asked, tilting his head softly in admiration. "i went out and got some stuff for your hair type, not that you need any help with your hair at all! i just wanna do stuff for you like you do stuff for me." you quickly got quieter by the end of your sentence, avoiding eye contact with him.

"c'mere baby" he whispers, matching your soft tone. you hesitantly look at him, biting your lip nervously. your chin felt wet as he gripped it softly, bringing your lips to touch his as he kissed you. he pulled back first, resting his forehead on yours as he looked at you. "thank you, baby. i don't do the stuff i do for you to get repaid, but i love that you think of me"

you beam at his words, leaning down again and placing one last peck on his lips.

you pull up the sleeves of your long-sleeved white pyjama shirt before you lean over to squirt a generous amount of shampoo on your palm.

after rubbing your hands together to create a milky white texture in the shampoo, you leaned over the tub. the white acrylic made contact with where your bra wire would be had you been wearing one, oblivious that as you were reaching your arms to rafe's hair your tits were being pushed together, his eyes immediately staring holes into your cleavage.

"your hair is gonna be so soft rafey!" you exclaimed, using your acrylics to massage the shampoo into his scalp, making his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure.

you pulled back after sudsing up the liquid, biting your lip in concentration as you placed your hands on the side of his head and lowered his hair in the water.

he looked up to you, your hair hanging over him, your stare so concentrated, and your tits fully in his face.

rafe knows you didn't notice how much harder it was getting to hide his hard-on under the now less soapy water, the combination of you scratching his scalp and your cleavage fully on view making him spiral.

"ok, all done! once you get out, ill-dry it and put some oil on the ends." you voiced after raking the conditioner and leave in treatment through his hair, leaning down to kiss him after he made a come here motion with his fingers.

what you were unaware of though, is that as rafe was deepening the kiss between you two, he was pulling his hands out of the warm water and straight to your chest.

"rafe!" you gasped, pulling back instinctively as his hands made your once white shirt now see-through at your nipples.

"shh baby, c'mere. don't make me ask you again" he groaned, sitting up straighter so he could use his hands to pull your body towards his.

as he began another steamy kiss with you, he traced your nipples through your shirt, making you shiver. "rafe... i don't wanna get all wet" you whined, pulling back for a moment, giving him a chance to latch his mouth onto one of your tits.

"ill help you put more cream on later, now let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours" he rasped, pulling your shirt and shorts off as you came to a stand in front of him.

"can't believe my baby would think that i would let her win and sit out there reading her book. so naive" rafe cooed, his soft mannerisms of holding your hand until you made it safely in the tub being a complete juxtaposition of the nasty words he had uttered before.

you melted in the somehow still-warm water as he sucked at your neck, his hands roaming all around your body until he made it to your core.

"you're lucky we're in the tub bunny, because i'm gonna make you cum so hard you're gonna make a mess" he whispered into your ear, bringing a strong hand up to rest firmly around your neck, and the other now making circles on your clit.

you looked up at him in a daze, you're eyes already glossed over as you laid your head against his chest. due to the confined space, you could already feel his hard length resting below your ass, making you squirm.

he entered one finger into you without warning, making you gasp. "shhh, quit whining. you're alright." rafe commanded, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. he placed soft kisses on your head, his hand on your throat providing a comforting presence to you somehow.

rafe always made sure that during these times you felt loved and appreciated by him, knowing that your mind had the tendency to roam with thoughts 24/7.

"ready for another baby?" rafe asked, your walls somehow still tight around his finger. your hum in reply earned rafe to tighten his hold around your neck, urging you to use your words.

"yes rafey, please" you replied, snuggling more in his chest and looking up and him with glossy eyes. "ok, are you sure you can take it?" he teased, earning a whine to come from your chapped lips.

he slipped another finger into you, pumping them in and out as you squirmed. "good girl, such a good girl for me" he praised, beginning to pick up speed as you gleamed at his praise.

"g-gonna come rafey" you whined, gasping as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. you immediately turned your head to look up at him in shock, annoyed that he wouldn't let you come to his reach.

"don't look at me like that brat, you can cum on my cock" he remarked, placing another kiss on your head as you whined once more.

he pulled his hand cock to line up with your entrance, stroking your cheek as he slid into you softly. "shh, your alright sweet girl. i got you" rafe reassured in response to your gasp.

he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, stalling for a moment to look at your expression before beginning to pump in and out. "shit, most perfect pussy i ever had. taking my whole cock like the perfect girl you are, love you so much" he rambled, his mind in a haze as you squeezed around him.

he began picking up his pace, slamming into you from below as the water rippled from his movements. you were to cock drunk to worry that the water could splash out of the tub, gasping as he brought a finger down to circle your clit.

"rafe" you whined as you tightened around him, signalling to him that the knot in your tummy was about to burst. "i got you baby, milk my cock"

you squeezed your eyes shut as you came around him, hearing his groan echo in your ears as he shot his load inside of you. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he worked you through your orgasm, slowing the circling of his fingers as he stroked your hair as whispered in your ear

"so perfect for me baby, so so perfect"

[radiance1]

There was a boy walking towards the invading army.

There was a civilian child walking towards the invading army from the infinite realms lead by their tyrannical ruler. The Justice League tried to stop force their way through, save the boy.

Instead of that, however, they were blocked by multiple ghosts, all hellbent on not leaving them alone. Superman tried to get close to the kid? Piles upon piles of ghosts knocked him back. Wonder Woman? The same thing happened.

The thing was, that wasn't even the ground army who did it. But the ones in the sky.

So the kid was walking towards an entire army by himself. One hellbent on taking over Earth and have no qualms about ending the short life of a human boy.

Instead of watching a child die, a life they failed to save. Something else happened.

The army parted for him.

Just as Moses parted the Red Sea, the same happened with the ghosts. They made a clear-cut line for him to walk straight towards their king with no obstacle, even clearing the way of anything that could pose as one.

Again, the Justice League tried to go down to drag the boy away, only to again be denied by the ghosts flying through the sky. Only to stop chasing as soon as they retreated a certain distance.

The ghosts stood still, and only moved as they got close, unlike their previous acts of causing havoc and mayhem. So, the Justice League, as much as they didn't want too, stood still and watched.

The boy stood at a stop before the king, painfully tiny in comparison to the massive ghostly tyrant standing before him with his arms crossed.

"Yo, dad." The boy said, and the Justice League froze in shock.

===

"Yo, dad." Danny lifted a hand up in greeting, before dropping that hand to rub at his neck. "Funny seeing you here, I guess."

"Phantom..." Pariah Dark's voice was soft yet booming and seemed to echo throughout the battlefield. "We meet once again on the field of battle, come to challenge me again, little one? Without your armor, no less?" Pariah tilted his head to the side slightly, questioning.

"Oh that? Yea that got destroyed ages ago," Danny shrugged, as if not having it didn't bother him at all. "Parents couldn't exactly, you know, finish it. Plus, they had other things to work on, so they just decided to scrap the thing altogether." He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. "So, yea..."

Pariah looked the boy over, his eyes hardening and he clicked his tongue at what he saw.

"You come here, not with armor," Pariah began, strength in his voice and a fire (literally) in his eyes. "Nor a weapon, or a shield, and no allies of any kind-"

"Well those guys are there" Danny pointed behind him, straight at the Justice League.

"-Walk up to a hostile force with no gauge of their strength." But Pariah just barreled on as if the Justice League were an afterthought. "And face their leader and do not expect to come to harm!?" The Ghost King scowled, and the Justice League tensed.

But just tilted his head slightly. "Well, are you going to harm me?" He asked.

Pariah Dark blinked, then whispered. "I could, child. I could kill you." He put a strong emphasis on the word kill.

"You could," Danny nodded. "But are you going to hurt me?"

The Ghost King remained silent, but his gaze intensified.

Danny shrugged, this time with a smile. "See? You wouldn't hurt me so it's fine. Ya big softie."

Pariah's scowl intensified. "I am not soft, child."

"Oh really?" Danny leaned forward and his smile took on a more playful edge. "Then what's you're reason for visiting Earth, hmmmm?"

"To wage war and fight against this world's mightiest heroes." The Ghost King answered quickly.

"Annnnnnnd?"

The king remained silent for a moment and Danny stepped forwards before he face planted onto concrete. "C'mon, dad. Tell me the other reason you came here." Danny crossed his arms, mimicking the Ghost King's pose.

They stared each other in the eyes for a moment, before Pariah looked off the side with green dusting his cheeks. "You have not visited in 50 years, son..." He whispered, but everyone heard it.

"Hah! Knew you missed me!" Danny said shamelessly with a satisfied and smug smile.

"And your father forced me out of the realms because I upset him." Small embers started igniting themselves on the tips of the king's hair.

Silence echoed over the battlefield, before Danny burst out laughing. Pariah Dark's hair fully exploded into green fire as he reached a hand to cover his face. "Of course, alongside the shameless and cheekiness, you get Clockwork's sense of humor as well..."

The Ghost King, at least this very moment, seemed more and more like a tired dad than some fearsome, tyrannical Ghost King.

[f1fantasys]

Lando, you and some other friends are spending the weekend with hiking and camping. But being the clumsy one you kinda slipped and hurt yourself. Lando offer to help you to go back to the tent and you just innocently ask him to massage your feet. At first it’s just an innocent act and Lando purely wants to help as a friend. Until you accidentally moan and it turns him on and the massage is not so innocent anymore. He then promise you it’s just a tip but well… all men do is a lie 😜

TIP-SY

Warnings - explicit smut 😇

Note - this pic has made me FERAL.

F1 summer break meant a parade of different experiences and getaways. As a presenter for Sky, you were quite close to some of the drivers. Lando, in particular, was one of your favorites, though he doesn't know that. You wouldn't say you were close to him, but you'd now been on a fair share of getaways with him and other mutual friends, and it was safe to say that there was an ever-growing sexual tension between he two of you.

The tension met new heights when you went on a ski-trip in Finland last winter break. You'd often catch each other staring at one-another for far too long, share lingering touches, and dance closely with wandering hands while partying, flirting shamelessly through the days and nights. Your mutual friends always teased you both about when you would finally jump each other - anyone could see the pull that gravitated you towards each other, so it was just a matter of time until the line was crossed.

Right now, you both together with Max and P and Arthur and Jade were out at a secluded resort, camping and hiking for 5 days.

Of course since the other two pairs were couples, it meant you and Lando had to share a tent. Probably the push you needed to be honest, so you weren't complaining one bit because god, you wanted him in ways that would be sinful to say out loud.

You'd arrived this morning and had set out for a hike straight away. Thanks to the gods above, you were clumsy. You were walking in front of Lando when you missed a stone and tripped over it, hurting your ankle while doing so.

''Fuck y/n'' he said, rushing to help you up. ''You okay?'' he asked, but his worry faded away when he saw you chuckling to yourself.

''Yeah good, just little miss clumsy, tripped over a fucking tiny stone'' you said, taking his hand to help you stand up.

You thought you were ok, and even managed to walk another 5 minutes until you decided that you were actually not okay, and wanted to head back to the camp.

Lando, being ever the gentleman, literally hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder to take you back.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, but you gave you no room for argument. Instead, being a cheeky bugger, he playfully smacked your ass before resuming homage on your thighs for the walk back. You were thankful you were facing the opposite direction, so he couldn't see the blush forming on your face.

Once you got back to the tent he gently placed you on your bed.

''Relax. Gonna get us some water and find you an ice pack. Need anything else?'' he asked.

'''I'm good. Thank you Lan, really for bringing me back'' you sincerely told him, your hand lingering with his for longer than it should have before you pulled away and he walked out of the tent.

''Fuck'' you thought to yourself. You were definitely in too deep.

Lando returned not 10 minutes later with a handful of snacks and drinks.

''Lando did you buy the whole supermarket?'' you asked teasingly.

''Oi, I wont share if you tease me like that!'' he said, dropping everything on your bed and smiling at you.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a desperate kiss but you held yourself back.

''So there were no ice packs but I did find this ointment, says to massage it in gently'' he said, sitting down and lifting your feet onto his lap, taking you by surprise.

''Oh you don't have to, I'll do it'' you said, already sitting up and moving your legs out of his hold but his strong hands stopped you from breaking free.

''You're not saying no to a free foot massage, are you?'' he asked. ''One time offer, by the way'' he finished, winking at you.

It wasn't worth arguing further, so you stuck your tongue out at him and said ''fine,'' relaxing back again.

His touch was gently but it felt oh so heavenly, and without realizing it you let out an involuntary moan as you felt the pleasure rip through your body.

He chuckled, though he didn't find it funny one bit. His mind was racing as to what other noises you would make and if they'd sound as good as you just did.

''Feel good?'' he asked.

''Hmm yeah, never better'' you said, eyes closed and smiling.

Lando couldn't get your noise out of his head, and he felt his dick growing harder with each second that past.

A few minutes later you moaned again, and that was his breaking point.

''Y/n'' he said, in warning.

Your breath hitched as he said you name. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology.

You looked down at him and took a deep breath in. His eyes were shades darker than they were before and he was looking at you with such an intensity.

''Lan'' you cooed, not sure what you wanted him to say or do.

He gently placed your feet back down on the bed and hovered above you, putting all his weight on his hands instead of your body.

Your eyes stayed glued to one another's until he finally stooped low and captured your lips in a swift movement.

You instantly bought your hands to his face, cupping it as he lowered his body so you could finally feel him.

The kiss was messy and desperate, spit already running down both of your chins'.

You moaned again and he pulled back only to whisper ''you don't know what that fucking does to me y/n,'' before he leaned down again and quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it.

You pulled at his curls which had his moaning in return, smiling through the kiss.

His lips left yours and moved down to your neck, very quickly finding your sweet spot where his bit and sucked at it then soothed it with his tongue.

''Lan'' you said, begging him for more.

''I know babygirl'' he said, his hand snaking down and slipping past your leggings to your core - which was dripping wet by now.

He pulled his head up to look at you again. ''So fucking wet. For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''For you'' you whimpered as your felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

He found your clit and immediately assaulted it bu pinching at pulling at it. By now your moans were obscene, the feeling of his hand down there stimulating to your core.

''More, Lan'' you begged again, biting down on your lower lip before pulling his face back to yours so you could kiss him again.

With ease, he slid two fingers through your entrance at once. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into his biceps.

You whimpered again as he set a quick pace, thrusting in and out of you and curling his digits at just the right time to tap the spongy spot inside of you.

''So tight, fuck you're gonna feel amazing around me'' he whispered, adding a third finger to the mix.

You couldn't help but moan at the thought of finally fucking him, but you needed to calm yourself down before getting ahead.

His lips were back on your neck now and you leaned to the side to give him better access, lightly biting at his biceps.

He sped up his pace and you soon felt the all too familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

''I'm close'' you coxed out, breathing increasing.

''Do it'' he mumbled. ''Let it out.''

Lando made his thumb brush against your clit with each thrust and in no time you were releasing all over his fingers, moaning his name through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut.

You panted through your breaths, expecting him to slow down and ride you through your orgasm but if anything, he sped up even more.

''I know you have more in you, come in, y/n'' he said, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and nibbling on your ear.

Your breath hitched again. ''Lan'' was all you were able to get out, and not two minutes later you were gushing all over his fingers again, your throbbing pussy clenching around them which had him moaning with you.

''Fuck'' you let out a breath as he slowed his fingers and pulled them out of you.

He pulled back, looking at you again and took his digits into his own mouth, sucking him clean and moaning at the taste of you.

''My new favorite flavor'' he said, smirking, before kissing you again.

He pulled back for a second to remove you t-shirt, ridding is as well before returning his lips to yours.

Your hands explored his muscle-clad body, internally moaning at how hot he was - physically and mentally.

His hands also roamed your body, stopping at your boobs and giving them a few squeezes before sliding them under your bra and pinching at your nipples.

The action had your back arching, digging your nails into his skin.

Your mind was racing at 1000 miles per hour, trying to catch up to what was happening. A feel of joy and euphoria overwhelming you.

Lando took your bra off completely and you didn't miss the way he licked his lips when he looked at them.

He roughly took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked and bit at it, earning breathless moans from you as you pulled on his hair, edging him on.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you moaned.

''So fucking perfect angel'' he whispered, rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

He continued his onslaught for a while until you started ti grow impatient. You pussy was desperate, clenching around nothing.

''Lando please'' you begged him. He quickly notes that he loved it when you begged him.

He finally sat back on his knees and looked at you, though the expression you had on your face was not one he was expecting to see.

You weren't looking back at him with lust and desperation, instead you looked confused and constricted.

Rewind - just as you had begged him for more, your mind caught up to what was happening and something clicked. You liked Lando, too much, and you didn't want just a quick fuck.

''Baby?'' he asked.

''Lan, ugh, fuck. I like you too much for just a one time fuck'' you said, slightly shy at your confession and use of words.

His eyes grew wide and he couldn't help but chuckle a sarcastic one.

''You seriously think I want just a fuck from you? Really y/n?'' he questioned.

''I-I'' you started but he cut you off.

''You're fucking blind if you think I don't like you and want to be with you for something real. Fuck y/n you're the most amazing person, and yes i want to fuck you senseless right now, but i want to fuck you senseless everyday, and after that I want to clean you up and cuddle with you and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you!''

Words had left your brain by now so instead you just pulled him down for a feverish, passionate kiss. ''I want all that too'' you said between pecks at his lips the both of you smiling.

Just as Lando was about to pull your leggings down again you stopped him, again.

He pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

''Lan fuck we can't do it now like this, in a tent in the middle of nowhere!'' you blurted out.

''You're joking, right?'' he asked, unable to keep a smile a bay.

You tried to keep a stern face but failed miserably as he ignored you and took your leggings off.

''I'm serious! We can't have our first fuck like this''

Lando groaned. ''Ugh, ok, how about this - just the tip''

''Huh?'' you asked.

''I just let my tip enter you, for now, until your 'content' with the perfect date'' he reasoned.

You took a few seconds to think. You were so desperate for him, but at the same time you were so desperate for everything to be perfect, so maybe him inserting just his tip was a win-win.

''Okay fine'' you said, palming him through his shorts.

His own breath hitched as you pulled down his shorts and freed his aching dick.

You'd always suspected he'd be big. But not this big. You were speechless, thinking how the hell he was gonna fit in you. It stood tall and angry, begging for attention, with precum already dripping out the slit at the top.

''Easy,'' he said, seeing you thinking at a million miles per hour. ''I'll take care of you'' he whispered.

You nodded you head and he settled above you again. He slid his cock through your wet folds numerous times, often stopping at the clit to push against it, as he kissed you for the hundredth time today.

''Please, need you'' you mumbled.

And finally, he entered you. Just feeling his tip was a sore enough stretch, but it felt fucking amazing.

He slid out and pushed in again, hands on your hips to hold you still while your nails were digging into his neck muscles.

''Fuck baby, so tight'' he said, breath faltering each each movement.

''Lan you're so fucking big, feels so good'' you managed to mumble, pulling his lips down to yours for a feverish kiss.

A few thrust later, Lando's eyes turned shades darker. ''Y/n, i need you you. All of you, please'' he begged.

You knew what he meant because you wanted him just as much, and just as you started saying ''Ye-'' yes to him, he bottomed out, thrusting his whole dick into you.

You had no time to react, your breath getting caught into your throat as he was fucking into to at a relentless pace.

''Shit, how are you so fucking tight y/n, feels so good'' you said through gritted teeth.

''Hmm Lando. Fuck. Please. Harder. Give me more'' you begged him again, the pleasure fully taking over the pain and every time you shut your eyes you swear you could see stars.

His face was close to yours, breath mingling with yours and as he tightened his grip on your waist, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow, while you wrapped your legs around him as tight as you could, nails now stretching at his back.

You weren't surprised to already feel the warmth in your stomach building up. ''Lan I'm close'' you warned as he bought his fingers to toy with your clit.

The noises in the tent were obscene, and if anyone were to walk past they'd surely hear both of your pornographic moans and slick bodies slamming each other.

''Let it out'' he said breathlessly, lips violently sucking on your nipples as you pulled on his hair as hard as you could.

In no time you body was shaking underneath him, your juices gushing all over his dick and dripping out of you.

'Fuck me, Lando'' you moaned his name over and over again, praising him.

He didn't slow his movements, instead he quickened his pace further, chasing his own orgasm now as you felt his dick start to twitch and his movements become careless.

''So proud of you, taking me so well. Fucking waited for this day for too long. Not gonna get you go now y/n, you're too fucking amazing'' he said through grunts and moans.

hearing him say that tipped you over the edge again, violently releasing around him again. You let out a series of moans and closed your eyes, rolling them to the back of your head.

''Gonna cum, where do you want it?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to say anything back.

''Y/n, tell me. Fuck I can't hold on anymore'' he all but shouted through gritted teeth.

''Ug, fuck, in me. Cum in me, please'' you finally said.

He bit down on your shoulder as you felt him shoot sheets of warm cum to paint your walls, his body shuddering above yours, now praising your name.

Finally he slowed his movements and settled still, still inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his back and held him as tight as you could as he settled his weight on you.

You both tried to catch your breaths, unable to move or say anything but just content to be in each others' arms.

Lando's head was nestled in your hair while yours was just in the perfect position to leave kisses on his shoulder.

He finally pulled his head up after some time and gave you a sheepish smile. He looked handsome as ever, and his curls were stuck to his forehead with a thin sheet of sweat that was dripped down his neck.

You couldn't help but lean up and lick the sweat that was dripping off.

Lando moaned again/ ''Úgh y/n, you're incredible. That was amazing'' he cooed, pecking your nose and looking back at you.

You decided you had to tease him a bit. ''You said 'just the tip!' what happened to that?'' you asked, chuckling so he'd know you were only playing him.

He raised a brow. ''How can i not give you a good fuck when you're here looking all pretty and making the best sounds from your mouth?'' he questioned back causing you to blush.

''Ugh, okay but you still owe me a romantic dinner'' you replied.

''Deal. You're mine now'' he said, kissing you again.

A/N - this was sooo much fun to write! Please send more requests!!

These pics though 😮‍💨

[wheeboo]

just a roommate thing | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which playful flirting between you and your roommate has always been the norm, but how does that help with how you really feel towards him? PAIRING. kim mingyu x gn!reader (ft. seokmin) GENRE. fluff, humour?, roommates (and prob idiots) to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, slightly suggestive, just... flirting?, reader is shorter than him, mingyu is shirtless, reader is referred as "princess" once, mentioned that reader is wearing makeup, reader dislikes pizza for the sake of plot sorry to my pizza lovers HAHAHA, reader is gender neutral but they briefly compare themselves to another girl, kissing WORD COUNT. 5.2k

requested by anon: Hii, I wanna request a Mingyu fic where him and reader are roomies and they’re very lovey dovey ig but “jokingly”. But then reader is like trying to go on dates and stuff and Mingyus jealous💀 idk man

notes: this was actually a random request that i started months ago and suddenly decided i wanted to finish RIGHT NOW when i was scrolling thru drafts. no idea if the anon who sent this remembers this but um... yeah ! lowk turned out a bit of a mess i think this plot sounded better in my head, enjoy nonetheless :')

You like to think that being roommates with Kim Mingyu is both a blessing and a curse.

You used to believe that having your very first roommate straight up abandon you at the very beginning of the semester was something you could pull off with, because you'd rather be living alone than living with someone you can hardly vibe with. It worked for a while, until the housing department paired you with Kim Mingyu: tall, obnoxiously handsome, ridiculously muscular for seriously no goddamn reason at all, annoyingly charming, and a goofy smile that could light up a room.

Any person would probably kill to be in your place right now, but sometimes you think you'd rather trade places with the pigeons outside your window. Mingyu wasn't a bad roommate𑁋far from it, actually. He kept the apartment spotless, never hogged the bathroom, and even cooks mean late-night ramen whenever you both are drowning in deadlines.

But the problem was, Mingyu was also excruciatingly touchy. Not in a creepy way, but more like a human koala bear who couldn't seem to function without some form of physical contact. Whether it was ruffling your hair as you walked past him, casually draping his arm over your shoulder while watching a movie together, or sneaking up behind you to give you a surprise bear hug while you cooked, there was a line between friendly and... something more.

It was comfortable, almost too comfortable. You told yourself it was just a roommate thing, just a Mingyu thing𑁋that you were both really good friends who happened to be a little more affectionate than most. But you seriously want to smack his head sometimes. And maybe your own too, even if you secretly like the attention. Because deep down, you know there's nothing casual about the way you feel about Mingyu.

But lately, for God's sake, you don't know how much more you can handle.

"Need any help with that?" Mingyu's voice snatches your attention from your aimless stirring of some cookie dough, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull.

Here he is. Kim Mingyu in all his glory𑁋shirtless with a towel in-hand dabbing at his dripping strands of hair, his tan skin glistening with droplets of water from the shower. You try your best to keep your gaze focused on the cookie dough in front of you, trying to ignore the way his damp hair sticks to his forehead and how the sight of his abs are practically boring into your soul, but that's easier said than done.

Your throat tightens, and you let out a cough.

"Yeah, um...." You let your eyes drift down to the plain-looking batter of cookie dough in front of you. "Can you grab some chocolate chips from the pantry?"

Mingyu just raises a brow, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Sure thing, princess."

You feel your cheeks burn unpleasantly at the playful nickname, and you mutter a quick thanks as he saunters past, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him. You focus back on stirring, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest and the way your fingers fumble against the spoon.

He returns with a bag of chocolate, and as he leans over to pour some into the bowl, your arms brushing lightly. A jolt shoots through you, and you almost drop the spoon. He pauses, eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before you get yourself back to mixing the dough again.

"Here, let me help you," Mingyu offers, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches over to try to grab the spoon from your grasp. You can practically feel the warmth of his body radiating through his bare arm.

You let out a scoff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "I can handle it, Gyu."

He just chuckles, and the sound seems to send shivers down your spine.

"Nonsense," he insists adamantly, tone playful but there's a pinch of softness in there too. "Two hands are twice as fast, right?"

You roll your eyes in slight annoyance, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

"More like twice as messy." Yet you end up surrendering the spoon to him anyway, because simply saying no to him is a strenuous thing to do over anything else. His hand meets yours halfway, fingers touching against your knuckles as he snatches the whisk from your hands.

The heat from his hand lingers even after he pulls away, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from him, mesmerised by the way his biceps flex, the way his hair falls in messy dark strands across his forehead, the way his lips curve as he focuses on whisking in a way that's both infuriating and endearing.

But amidst this, you can't help but feel the nagging feeling settling at the pit of your stomach.

"So, what's the occasion?" Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I mean, you don't usually bake cookies on a random Wednesday night. Is there something special going on?"

You swallow, feeling your mind draw a blank, trying to come up with a nonchalant answer. "Oh, you know... just felt like baking."

Mingyu just scoffs, clearly not buying your words. "Come on, Y/N. You're a terrible liar."

God, how can he always see right through you? Does he have some sort of sixth sense? And yet, even despite the discomfort of being so transparent, there's a strange sense of comfort in knowing that Mingyu can see you for who you truly are, except for the one thing you want him to notice about you.

"Fine." You give in, running a slightly frustrated hand through your hair. "It's... Seokmin."

For just a single, most miniscule moment, Mingyu pauses.

"Seokmin?"

You swear you can feel your feet sinking into quicksand. "The guy from my history class, remember? He... uh, I asked him out the other day."

Mingyu's whisking slows down as he processes your words, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes. But before you can dwell on it further, he masks it with a faint smirk.

"You asked him out?" he asks, as if still trying to wrap his head around it.

"Yeah, I..." You seriously want to sew your mouth shut right now. "I thought I would, um, you know... put myself out there for once."

You watch as Mingyu throws another handful of chocolate chips into the batter, a little more forcefully this time, the clatter against the metal bowl echoing in the sudden silence. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the way his jaw clenches and unclenches.

"So," he continues, seemingly unfazed. "what did he say?"

You hesitate, watching as his hands work the dough, mind whirling with confusion and caution.

"He... um, he said yes."

"Huh," Mingyu murmurs, tone teasing. "And here I thought I was the only one who got to enjoy your company."

His words jab at your heart, a pang of guilt twisting around in your stomach, but you try to brush it off with a forced chuckle.

"You know you're irreplaceable, Gyu."

Mingyu's gaze flickers to yours, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of... something in his eyes. But before you can decipher it, he offers you a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right," he replies casually. "I'm glad you think so."

Mingyu is wearing one of your hoodies.

Sure, you've worn a couple hoodies and sweatshirts that he has given to you out of practicality as they were really oversized and comfortable. But here, in the middle of your kitchen, highlighted under the warm glow of the overhead light and the aroma of cooked ramen, seeing Mingyu draped in your favourite oversized, white hoodie felt awfully intimate, and it brings that overwhelming flutter to your chest.

"Hey," he greets you when you walk in. "How was the date?"

You can still hardly believe what you're seeing right now, gaze staring at the way the fabric seems to cling at this broad frame, and your own lips doesn't seem to be functioning correctly.

"It was, uh... it was good," You manage to stammer out, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and forcing your gaze away from the way Mingyu rolls up his sleeves. "He liked the cookies."

"He liked the cookies?" Mingyu raises an amused brow, leaning against the counter with a casual ease that throws your already flustered mind into further disarray.

You shrug, feeling like your burying yourself down into an inescapable hole. "Yeah, he did. We, uh, had a meal at the park, talked for a while, the usual stuff, you know."

Some silence stretches between you, filled with the soft sizzle of the ramen and the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You watch the way Mingyu twirls the noodles around a pair of chopsticks, before shutting off the heat of the stove.

"Are you wearing my hoodie?" You ask as he's taking a sip of the soup, the question tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. "I swear I've been looking for that one for ages."

Mingyu looks down at himself as if he remembering what he's wearing, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, and he scratches the back of his neck in a gesture that's so uniquely him𑁋it makes your heart ache.

"I... forgot to do my laundry, and it was the first thing I could find," he admits, then takes a sip of the ramen, eyes meeting yours briefly before dropping back down to the bowl. "Looks comfy on me, though, doesn't it?"

He wasn't wrong. It usually engulfed you, but it hung loosely on Mingyu's bigger frame, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows to reveal his strong forearms.

"Well," You say, clearing your throat. "I wouldn't mind having it back, actually. It's my favourite."

"Yeah?" he tests playfully, raising a mischievous eyebrow. "I don't know, it looks pretty good on me."

You watch as he flexes his arm playfully, making the fabric of the hoodie stretch across his bicep. You can't help but let out a small, choked laugh, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest despite yourself.

"Oh, come on," You fret, trying to keep your voice light. "You got plenty of hoodies, dude."

But Mingyu just takes another casual sip of his ramen, his expression calm.

"Maybe," he says finally. "But this one smells good. It smells like you."

You freeze up. It smells... like me? Well, obviously, it fucking does𑁋

"Just bring it back to me when you're done with it," You say almost lamely, unsure if you wanted to laugh or flee to your room and hide.

"I mean, if you want it so bad I can take it off right no𑁋"

"No! Don't do that. Oh my gosh," You shoot a glare towards him, pursing your lips together tightly at the sight of him reaching for the ends of the hoodie like he was actually about to take it off... right in front of you. "You know what? I'm tired. Goodnight."

You're already marching off to your room in the middle of Mingyu bringing another mouthful of ramen into his mouth.

"Hey!" he calls out to you, nearly spitting out noodles in the process. "Where's my goodnight hug?"

You freeze at that in the middle of your doorway. Seriously, are you really in this deep to the point that you've made it a habit to hug each other before going to bed?

You hardly register Mingyu coming up from behind once you turn around to see him. His mouth is drooped into a pout, eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you expectantly. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly adorable he looks, and your need to be annoyed at him falters each passing second.

"Fine," You relent, stepping forward to give him a very brief, obligatory hug. But the moment you feel his strong arms wrap around you even more, you know it’s not going to be a quick one.

Mingyu’s warmth seeps through the layers of your clothes and down to your core, and you find yourself relaxing against him, as if it was a natural response for your body to do. He squeezes you a little tighter, letting his chin resting lightly on top of your head. A low sigh escapes him.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You close your eyes, only for a moment, letting yourself relinquish the way he holds you. It feels like everything you’ve been trying to ignore𑁋all laid bare in the simple act of a hug.

"Goodnight, Gyu."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, the features to his face softer than you’ve ever seen it. For a moment, you think he might say something more, because his lips seem to attempt at forming a word, yet nothing comes out. But then he simply smiles, and the seconds finally pass.

"Sleep well," he says quietly, releasing you reluctantly, and giving you a gentle pat on the head before heading back to the kitchen.

You have your next date with Seokmin a week later.

You told Mingyu ahead of time as well, and he reacted the same way as last time𑁋nonchalant, playful, a pinch of tease, an averted gaze down towards his phone, and simply bidding you with a have a good time. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely unbothered or if he was just playing it cool, and the thought sort of irked you the entire day.

After Seokmin dropped you off home, you find yourself standing in front of the door to your place, as if you're trying to laser a hole through it with your eyes. Yet you simply huff a breath, fumble with getting the keys out of your bag and inserting it into the keyhole, before stepping inside.

And the fresh smell of food hits you.

It's really hard to not acknowledge the fact that Mingyu is quite literally a living, breathing chef sleeping in the same apartment as you.

Mingyu turns his head around, noticing you standing in the doorway, and lets his gaze scan over you from head to toe. He could see the bits of extra effort you put into your appearance today that he wasn't able to see earlier as he was out. There was a pink colour that dusted over your cheeks of the blush you probably put, a bit of glimmer to your eyes from some eyeshadow, and your lips glossed with a soft sheen that catches the kitchen light just right.

"Hey," he lets out airily, watching you place your bag on the table. "How was the date?"

You run a hand through your hair. "It was... It was good. Seokmin's really nice. He took me to a pizza place."

Mingyu stills at that for a second, lifting a brow in question. "I thought you don't like pizza."

"Well, yeah, but I said it was fine so𑁋"

"If he was going to take you out on more dates, then he should know what kinds of places you don't like to eat."

"I said I was fine with it, Gyu," You retort a bit harshly, immediately regretting your tone in the silence that instantly engulfs the two of you. "We ended up having a good time anyway."

The sounds of something cooking reverberate throughout your shared place. You watch the way Mingyu stirs something in a large pot with a pair of chopsticks, before taking it out, blowing on it a few times, and taking it into his mouth for a brief taste test.

When he puts the chopsticks back down and kills the heat on the stove, he faces back to you with his hands placed firmly on the counter.

"Did you two do anything else?"

The smell of the food makes your stomach rumble quietly, but you attempt to conceal it with clearing your throat. "What do you mean?"

"Like..." Mingyu motions something with his hands and you could only peer at him quizzically. "Like have you𑁋"

"Are… Are you about to ask me if we kissed?" You nearly want to scoff at that. "Do I look like the kind of person that kisses on the second date?"

Mingyu just laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I don't know. Do you?"

All you do is shrug your shoulders, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Well, no, we didn't kiss. We just... talked."

Mingyu seems to take in your words for a second, before nodding slowly. "Okay. That's... That's good."

The way he says it makes you feel a bit uneasy. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you are, both from the evening and from this conversation. Mingyu glances at you again, something apologetic forming in his eyes.

"Sorry," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to pry. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, it's... fine," You reply, though you're not sure if it is. "I'm just tired."

Mingyu gestures over to the pot on the stove. "I made some food if you're hungry."

You walk to the side of the kitchen where he's at, taking a peek inside the pot. "Is it...?"

"Yep!" Mingyu exclaims excitedly and steps up beside you, where you could practically feel his presence lingering right on your skin. "My signature jjajangmyeon. Your favourite."

Your stomach rumbles again, and you swear Mingyu hears it from the way his lips quirk up in a smirk down at you. You almost want to (affectionately) shove that expression off his face, but you don't, because his gaze toward you relaxes when you look back up at him. It's a look that feels familiar, comforting, and slightly intimidating all at once.

You feel your heart clench tightly in your chest.

"I'm starting to think," Seokmin starts, loudly slurping up his cup of boba tea. "that this is a very bad idea."

You grimly shove the straw through the plastic and take a long sip, the flavours from the drink bursting in your mouth as you do so. You hear the loud screech of Seokmin bringing his chair closer to the table.

"I'm starting to think it is too."

Seokmin's eyes widen. "You are?" Then he scoots himself closer to you almost pleadingly. "Does that mean you're gonna tell him?"

"I..." You mentally want to facepalm yourself right now. "I don't know."

"Y/N!"

"I know! I know! I'm a coward!" You bury your face in your arms for a moment, letting out a few muffled groans at the cold surface of the table. "We're literally roommates and it complicates everything! There are times where I feel like there's just something a little... more to us, you know? I mean, do you usually give goodnight hugs to your roommate?"

Seokmin snorts a little at that. "I don't think Minghao would like it if I did that to him."

"Okay, okay. Just𑁋If your roommate wasn't Minghao and someone you liked, would you give them goodnight hugs too?"

You could tell Seokmin is genuinely thinking about the question. His lips purse together in thought, his hand running over the sides of his cup.

"If I liked them, I'd probably find any excuse to be close to them. Like sharing food, doing little favours here and there, wanting to hug them and stuff like that..." Seokmin admits a bit bashfully. "Isn't that what he does to you?"

"Yes, and it's driving me absolutely bonkers. And he... He knows a lot about me, you know? We've had, like, late-night talks and stuff. I've never gotten close with any other person like that. He's just so... ugh!" You glance up at Seokmin with helpless eyes. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess, Seokmin."

Seokmin chuckles lightly. "Hey, I only agreed to be your fake boyfriend because I owed you for saving my grades in class. I didn't realise the extent of how bad this is."

You glare at him playfully at that, lightly swatting him on the arm, but Seokmin just manages to dodge it and swipe your cup of boba tea away from you.

"Okay, but, hypothetically speaking. Let's say he does like you..."

You snatch your drink back and take a long sip, catching a boba pearl between your teeth. "Mhm..."

"And I know the whole point of this was to see if he'll get jealous," Seokmin continues. "but let's say he does like you, wouldn't that mean you're kind of... playing with his feelings?"

Seokmin's words make you pause mid-sip. With the straw between your lips, you contemplate his question as you stare blankly at the swirling boba tea. Playing with Mingyu's feelings𑁋could that really be what you're doing? The whole fake dating plan had started as a test of sorts to see if Mingyu would show any signs of jealousy. But now, as you're sitting here with Seokmin, you're starting to think you might have fucked up a bit. Maybe a lot.

"Because I think from all the details that you told me and how he acts around you," Seokmin pauses and fixes up his posture, looking at you with a lighthearted yet serious expression. "it sounds like he likes you. And if he does, pretending to date me is just going to hurt him. Or confuse him. Or both."

Your mind races with Seokmin's words, and you feel a pang of guilt settling in your chest. "You think so?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, honestly."

"That's not reassuring at all."

"Well, you never know!" Seokmin exclaims. "Look, I'm no love expert. Maybe you two have been pining for each other the entire year but just don't have the guts to say anything about it. And if that's the case, you owe me another free meal, or a few them. You owe me another three free meals!"

You scoff at that before bringing the straw up to your mouth again, hoping that you could drink away the heat blooming within your face.

"Ugh, I'm getting headache𑁋"

"Isn't that Mingyu right there?"

You nearly spit out your drink at that, swearing you could hear the snap of your neck as you bring your head up to where Seokmin is looking with wide eyes. And low and behold, you spot Mingyu entering inside the boba shop.

He's not alone though; he's with a girl.

You feel your heart drop down to your feet as you watch them approach to the ordering counter. They seem comfortable with one another, even if you can't hear what they're saying, their easy smiles and relaxed body language twisting your insides into knots. Mingyu leans in slightly, saying something that makes the girl laugh, and you can't help but notice how effortlessly he charms her, just like he does with everyone.

A tap lands on your shoulder, and you face away to see Seokmin looking at you with worried eyes.

"Do you want to leave?" he mouths to you quietly.

You glance back toward Mingyu and the girl, and the second you see them turning in your direction, you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the chair letting out an earth-shattering squeak.

And you freeze up.

"Y/N?"

You slowly turn around to see Mingyu and the girl approach the table. The first thing you notice is how pretty she looks, her long, flowing hair showering down her shoulders in soft waves. There's a cheery, whimsical aura that you can sense from her, and that seems to be enough to convince yourself that's the kind of personality that Mingyu likes.

"Hey," Mingyu calls out to you again, a smile to his face once he realises it's really you. Briefly, however, his lips seem to straighten out when he shoots a glance toward Seokmin. "I didn't know the two of you came here for your date."

Seokmin laughs a bit too obviously. "Yeah, man, what a coinc𑁋"

"We were just leaving, actually." You swiftly grab Seokmin by the wrist, tugging him toward you. Then you offer nothing but an unsteady grin. "I'll see you later, Mingyu."

You drag Seokmin out of the shop before hearing whatever Mingyu was saying, your heart pounding like a damn drum in your chest. You don't look back until you're safely outside and a long distance away.

You let go of Seokmin's hand to catch your breath. And when you manage to pick yourself back up, Seokmin's already peering at you with an amused look.

"What was that?" he asks airily, arching up a single brow. "Did you just run away from your roommate?"

"Be quiet," You hiss back at him, attempting to shove him but failing miserably. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh, you hear that?" Seokmin taunts annoyingly, tapping his foot on the ground. "That's the sound of jealousy."

You gulp down a lump in your throat. He's right. You are jealous.

"Dammit," You curse to yourself. "The whole fake dating thing... It was stupid. I thought that, maybe, if Mingyu got jealous, it would mean something. But now, seeing him with that girl..."

"It hit you hard."

"Yeah," You finish simply. "It did."

"And so..." Seokmin lightly nudges you with his hip. "what will the answer be?"

You only narrow your eyes at him, and the resigned sigh that you let out afterwards is enough to send Seokmin's excitement into orbit.

"Yes!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you relentlessly. "I'm getting free food!"

Hours pass, and the ache in your chest hasn't eased.

You find yourself melting into the couch, anxiously tugging the ends of your sleeves as you replay the scene over and over back at the boba place. This stupid plan really had backfired on you big time, like a slap to the face, a punch to the gut, a kick to the heart𑁋all in one go.

Every detail from the way Mingyu and that girl walked in together, the ease with which they interacted, and the pang you felt in your chest from how perfect they appeared right next to each other𑁋it all played on a loop in your mind. You knew now that you have to confront your feelings, but the thought of it makes your stomach twist into a pretzel.

There's some random show playing on the TV in front of you, but you could care less at paying attention to it. The apartment is still quiet since Mingyu wasn't back yet, and you could only clench your fists together in a suppressed fit of panic.

"You're an idiot," You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "A complete idiot. How could you be so stupid𑁋"

A rattle at the locks on the door shuts you up, and maybe the world stops spinning too. You feel yourself sink more into the couch out of anticipation.

When the door swings open, Mingyu steps inside, and you hear the rustling sounds of plastic bags. He peers around the apartment for a moment, and when his eyes land on you, he visibly relaxes.

"Y/N?" Even knowing that he's here, his voice still seems to catch you off-guard every single time. "I brought some ice cream for𑁋"

"I'm not dating Seokmin."

The silence that follows is almost suffocating. Mingyu drops the bag of ice cream on top of the kitchen counter, his gaze still not leaving yours. He blinks a few times, as if processing what you just said.

"You're... not?"

You shake your head, a knot forming in your throat. This is it.

"No, Gyu, I'm not dating him," You clarify, tone more serious this time. "We never dated. It was all fake."

All Mingyu does is continue to stand there under the dim lighting of the kitchen light. You can hardly decipher the expression on his face; it was something between confusion and surprise. You try to catch for signs of disappointment, but when he steps a tad bit closer to you, your mind goes a bit haywire.

"Why?" he finally questions after what seems like an eternity.

You take in a deep breath. "I was... I was stupid, okay? I... I thought that if I could make you jealous, it would mean something. That it would mean..." There's a brief pause as you rekindle yourself. "...that you liked me too."

Mingyu's brows furrow slightly in confusion, and you can't tell if the situation is getting worser or not; if the room was getting hotter and your skin was at the point of boiling; if all of this was already tumbling down before your eyes.

"Look, I know we're roommates. But sometimes I think𑁋I feel like there's more to that. We always hug… and flirt, and I..." You purse your lips together as your tongue struggles to grasp the right words. "I like you, okay? I fell for your stupid smile, your stupid hugs, your stupidly good cooking skills. I fell for everything about you. And I couldn't tell you that because I was scared of fucking everything up."

The room seems to hold its breath as you finish speaking. You feel awfully vulnerable right now, like you've laid bare your heart and soul and every single one of your insecurities. Mingyu only remains still, his eyes with surprise. The silence stretches on, and you find yourself gathering your thoughts together as if sensing impending doom.

You let your shoulders slouch in defeat. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, we could just𑁋"

"I was jealous."

"𑁋pretend all this never happened𑁋what?"

"Of course I was jealous, Y/N." Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, the action all too endearing. "I was stupid too. For not telling you. For not taking the chance when I could. I was jealous when you talked about Seokmin, but I was also a coward for not wanting to screw anything up.”

You could only knit your brows together dazedly, gazing up at him as if he's said a foreign language. "You... were jealous? What about... what about the girl from earlier?"

"She's just a classmate from my English class, and she's interested in one of my other friends. We just happened to cross paths and I offered to grab boba so I could help her with𑁋"

"Shut up," You suddenly say firmly, and Mingyu does immediately, his focused, half-lidded eyes boring down into yours with a look that sends a jump to your stomach. That was all that you need to hear.

He's practically looming above you. You don't recall how exactly he got closer to you but you have nothing in you to complain. If anything, your feet drag you closer toward him, close enough you're able to smell the faint scent of his cologne and perhaps hear the way his heart is beating just as fast as yours.

With one of your hands, you reach up slowly, letting your fingers toy carefully with the collar of his shirt as you search his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But Mingyu's gaze softens, probably like it always has when he's with you, his breath hitching slightly as your touch lingers on his shirt, curling more into the fabric.

Then your lips tug up into a faint smirk, and you pull him down just slightly.

"Don't make me regret this, Kim Mingyu," is all you say before closing the gap and pressing your mouth against his.

He nearly melts right there at the touch of your lips together, but it doesn’t take him long to be kissing you back with more desperation than you expected. His hands slowly draw down your sides, bringing you even further into his embrace. The briefest contact of the tips of his fingers under your shirt makes you tense.

“I won’t,” he whispers in between kisses. “I won’t.”

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[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. 😁)

[swampjawn]

Dungeon Meshi just keeps getting more consistent as we get closer to the dragon.

(^Another beautiful cut from Kai Ikarashi, who did the childhood memory sequence from the living armor fight, as well as a bunch more from that episode)

The first half of episode 8, focusing on Marcille and Falin's magic school days, can't help but feel very reminiscent of TRIGGER's past work on Little Witch Academia.

In fact it was a fitting crew for this episode, because episode director Yuuichi Shimodaira, storyboard artist Yuuki Yonemori, and of course series director Yoshihiro Miyajima all had significant roles on Little Witch Academia (Shimodaira and Miyajima directing several episode each, and Yonemori doing key animation).

Yonemori even mentioned on Twitter that it felt nostalgic.

This whole section is all about character acting, and draws a stark distinction between the body language of Falin and Marcille.

This straightforward little cut of tiny Falin carrying her dungeonium illustrates her whole essence through simple character acting. You can infer that she's carefree and whimsical from the way she bounces up and down with each step, and that she's physically kinda weak from the way she sways a little as she lifts the jar onto the desk.

And same with this walk cycle when they enter the tiny dungeon! She wobbles clumsily back and forth and her cheerful confidence shows that she's done this dozens of times before,.

If you were to draw a straight line from her head through her spine, it would rotate back and forth, pivoting at the feet rather than the hips, which makes it feel like she's not really bending her legs as she walks.

Meanwhile, Marcille carries herself in a way that's much more reserved.

But she sees an openness in Falin that she hadn't considered as a possibility, and in the modern day, we can see that she's influenced by her. She's mostly dropped the air of importance and dignity, and now allows more of her own clumsy, energetic nature to shine through.

In fact you could see this burst of energy (the type of frantic jerky movements that we see her do all the time in the modern day) earlier as the first instance where she was inspired by Falin and momentarily couldn't contain her excitement.

There's more yummy animation analysis juice where that came from, because I broke down the whole episode in this video! (and the second half is where the animation really starts to be off the proverbial chain) Thanks for reading and watching if you're interested!

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + cannibalism (😁)

heian era!sukuna loves breaking humans.

he has no trouble tearing them apart, either with his hands or his words. sometimes even his eyes are enough. humans are but feeble things, mere toys for his entertainment – and you are no different.

kneeling before him as he lounges on his throne, you stare up at him with big, wide eyes. your hands rest on your lap, your back straight as a log. you don't sniffle, nor do you tremble; the only thing that seperates you from the rest of them is the lack of fear. curiosity runs in your veins, mixing with adrenaline as you wait for his command.

that never comes.

sukuna rests his head on his hand, all of his four eyes strained on you while the corners of his lips tug up. it's rather unusual for him to get this much enjoyment out of a human – sure, their screams sound great and their flesh tastes good, but he doesn't love it. it's getting boring, they're all the same.

but the way you're looking at him is... exciting.

you want to do what he tells you but it's not the type of want all the servants share. oh, no – this is something different entirely. sukuna wonders whether you'd say no to him, whether you'd refuse him just for the sake of your own entertainment. your eyes are dark with playfulness – so far from horror, so far from devotion.

(it might be a kind of love nonetheless.)

he sees the twitch of your eyebrow – the tinge of impatiance and it only furthers his interest in you. what kind of a human are you? who are you to show the king anything other than ardor? why are you so comfortable with sitting before him? don't you know what he's capable of?

sukuna picked you himself. you stood in a line of humans with your head up high and your eyes glued forward. and you were nothing special until he and uraume made their way over to you.

you just couldn't help it.

your eyes flicked up to his and your cheek was immediately met with the palm of uraume's hand. a stinging pain bloomed under your skin, crawling further and further over your body as you let your head hang – you bowed and apologized, just the way you're meant to but sukuna saw it.

the smirk on your lips.

no tears, no sobbing. no shame.

oh, you just might be the one to break him instead.

sukuna's heartbeat is steady, his eyes glued to yours as he admires your pretty face. he thinks about how you'd look while crying, while bleeding. but for once, those are not his goals.

this time, he really does just want to play. to push you. to study you. to see what you are made of.

to see what you are.

his one hand raises from the throne and you don't flinch. sukuna reaches out, the tips of his fingers brushing over your plump lips ever-so-gently and you take a second to think about how soft his touch is. though his skin is rough and calloused, scars littered all across it – he handles you like you're made out of glass.

(but he likes breaking things, doesn't he?)

the room is dimly lit with only two big lanters hanging by the door. the dark, golden light dance on your king's face, the shadows caressing his face in a way that's making you jealous.

neither of you have spoken a single word since you walked through the big wooden doors. the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat and the quiet hum that your king lets out when he makes contact with you. it feels... intimate.

he's still leaned back in the throne, his posture relaxed and his legs wide apart, giving you enough room to sit perfectly in the middle of them. you're closer than any of the other toys that have stepped a foot in this room and sukuna knows that if he were to tell you that, you'd beam. something in you would grow and if he's being honest, he wouldn't mind. he wants to see that. deep inside, he wants you to push him, too.

sukuna watches you flutter your eyelashes at him when his index fingers presses past your soft lips and meets the wet and warm inside of your mouth. he feels over your teeth, your sharp canines and lets out a pleased hum. heat takes over your whole body, from your throat to your ears, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. it's all over.

you hollow your cheeks and suck on his digit, letting pride flourish in your chest at the sight of your king's chest rising sharply from the new sensation.

"feed."

you think about it.

you think about your life. you think about what might come after this.

but none of it matters; do you really want to be another coward? why live at all if you're going to do it in fear? your king is going out of his way to offer you his hand. his body, and you're here contemplating it. he should strike you just for wasting time.

you are different.

sukuna feels your teeth settle between his second and third knuckle and he feels your tongue press up against the underside of the finger. his heart beats a little faster. will you? will you do it? will you take him? the second last more than one, the newly found excitement eating away at the king's intestines.

it wasn't a command. it wasn't.

you want to.

the gift sits heavy on top your awaiting tongue, your saliva coating it in desire. your eyes are dark and your pupils are blown wide, but the look is the same – tempting. playful. sukuna can't tell who's really in control now; is he doing this to you or are you doing it to him? is he doing it to himself or are you doing it to yourself?

and what is it exactly that you're doing in the first place?

pain shoots through sukuna's body, but he can't look away. blood trickles from the corner of your lips as you sink into him. you keep your gaze on him, never letting it sway because you need to watch him. you're feeding off of him in more ways than he even realizes.

iron fills your mouth and paints all your teeth a pretty maroon color. your thighs press together as you lean forward – silently asking for more.

sukuna doesn't care for scars, nor is he a stranger to pain but he should draw the line at pleasuring a human. but you're hungry, so why would he deny you when you're being so good for him?

nobody else has ever treated him this way, always so scared to do wrong by him but here you are – drawing blood from your king as if it's nothing. he feels you pull flesh from his bone and that on it's own is enough for him to know that he wants to keep you.

but when you pull back with your mouth and chin all covered in a mixture of his ichor and your saliva, and when you chew on his skin right there in front of him with a smile on your face... he knows it in his gut. you're the one for him.

[takes1]

Hi theree!! If you dont mind, can you write iwa, kuroo, akaashi having a major crush on cool reader who is very good in hiding her feeling

kuroo x hard to get!reader p. 1

hey!! thanks for the request! this was originally meant to be all one part, but had to split it because of word count/pacing. nsfw to follow, reply to be tagged in next part pls!

warnings. lite!nsfw, minors DNI

details. kuroo crushing on reader / player!kuroo / hard to get!reader / kinda fuckboy!kuroo / kuroo pining / cool!reader / karasuno manager!reader / flirty!kuroo / future smut / a dash of whiny kuroo / vague feelings / noncommunicative!reader / failed?courtship / 2.2k words - reply to be tagged in next part

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part two here. part three here. requests OPEN.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a training camp?"

That was yet another version of a weak line you heard often. Emphasis on weak. The Nekoma captain lost your attention before he could even begin; made plain as day in a quiet sigh and the way you squeezed your clipboard closer to you.

All Kuroo noticed was how it pressed your chest up, real pretty in that tank top. It was the first time in days he felt an ounce of gratitude for the still heat of this summer, the lack of circulation in the gymnasium.

"What's the matter?" He chuckled, puffing his collar to get some air on his warm skin, "You shy?"

Guys that drooled over you, obsessive but ultimately bitter, made it so hard for themselves. There was nothing more attractive to you than a guy who just told you straight up what he wanted, what he liked about you, how it made him feel. But they always found it necessary to add extra steps.

You didn't have the time.

He followed your eyeline for a second, towards your team warming up, and threw a glance at his own. When he first saw you, he thought this would be quicker. The game would start soon and he needed your number, fast.

"That's alright if you are," Kuroo kept at this line of reasoning -surely the only reason you wouldn't look or speak to him- and leaned closer, "I'm into that."

The assumption was a little ridiculous.

You turned your chin away from him as if he wasn't there, then took a step forward, closer to the court, with a resigned hum.

A surprised, breathy laugh at the action. His brow furrowed a moment, not at all used to navigating around this kind of reaction, and finally understood that something was off. Yet, it still didn't occur to him that it was disinterest that motivated your avoidance.

A squeakity-squeak of shoes approaching, quick but heavy, didn't help at thawing your icy demeanor. He did notice that you at least looked at the captain of Karasuno.

Kuroo straightened up to his full height, shoulders squared at his mirrored rival.

"Kuroo."

"Sawamura."

"Is there a problem over here?" The subtle squint in his eyes let Kuroo know that he was suspicious of this bullshit right away.

They were a step away from whipping the measuring tape out. You rolled your eyes but it went vastly ignored.

"Don't know- you should go ask your team." Kuroo tilted his head, eyes low- threatening.

He didn't have the patience here to keep up appearances. Rival school was enough. Now he was cockblocking? There was simply no time to waste when he could already tell you wouldn't be so easy to crack. He liked your challenge, not Daichi's.

"Oh, okay-," Daichi's fake smile fell away to reveal a chilling scowl, "It's like that?"

Kuroo didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, it's like that."

You cleared your throat, a successful interruption and deterrent: "He was trying to ask for my number."

His jaw almost hit the floor. He couldn't believe how blunt you were.

Daichi, delighted, laughed at Kuroo's shitty, rushed cover-up to hide how surprised he was.

He couldn't stay to keep throwing digs; there was a game to get to and he only had a minute to spare in the first place.

After you waved him goodbye, you turned around and walked towards the side wall for Karasuno's gear, all strewn about and disorganized. You began tidying up before the game.

Kuroo remained.

He stood still, dumbfounded that you walked away from him, at how easily you could speak, and shook his head full of growing doubts. He couldn't believe you didn't want him just yet.

Eyes locked on your pretty figure from behind, bent over while you gathered Karasuno's half-full bottles into the hefty carrier, he ran his fingers through his hair and prepared himself.

He was next to you, squatted down to help you collect every bottle.

For a minute he said nothing. He simply helped you clean up. You appreciated it only to an extent, because you knew it came with conditions.

One of the last bottles sported a message, scribbled in capital letters across some tape, 'DO NOT TOUCH' signed, 'TSUKIshima.'

The corners of your mouth tugged up at how quick he found the means to designate his own bottle. He really did hate it when the other guys drank from 'his' bottle. You sympathized with him, backing him up when he got uppity about the germs.

While they were supposed to share, part of that understanding was that they also shouldn't touch the mouth of the bottle with their lips (and most of them did, anyway).

As you placed it into the upper left corner of the carrier, where he often liked to put it, you smirked again at how the name scrunched up where he couldn't fit all the letters onto the tape.

"So you can smile."

You frowned. He was nothing if not persistent.

Sure, that alone was a turn-on, but it was obvious that he was ill-intentioned and misguided in his thought processes.

You didn't want him to feel like he won you over. You wanted a guy like him to beg a little. Step off the high-horse, get his hands dirty, work for something.

He clearly wasn't used to having to use his brain when it came to women. Guys like him pride themselves on how easy it is; they walk with a certain confidence, a coolness because there's no pressure to make accommodations in their behavior for girls they like. They can spend all their time playing shirtless sand volleyball and wait for girls to get in line.

When you stood, you slid the box of extra rags towards the water case with marked effort. He didn't help you with something so difficult- he was still reeling in the fact that you ignored him again, after he helped you.

If he chose not to chase after you, you could at least be the first time he got turned down so harshly. Both outcomes served in your favor.

He came to his senses a bit late. You both stood, and you had to dodge his unnecessary grab for your team's equipment.

"Let me help you with that, babe--,"

A scoff made him freeze again.

You shouldered the box of rags and balanced the heavy water case on your hip without so much as a word. You made your way outside to go fill the water case and dry out the rags in the sun.

His chest felt... tight.

Why did that hurt so bad? Fuck, what was he doing? Frustrated, he shook his head and walked back towards his team, at the end of their warm-up. He never had to work this hard for some chick's number, or even a laugh. In fact, since he never got turned down, he felt a sense of entitlement to -at the very least- your attention.

The fact that you wouldn't look at him was a unfamiliar mixture of sexy and cruel.

"Having some trouble?" Yaku's suggestive tone grated his nerves like nails on glass.

"Fuck off," Was a defeated sigh rolling off his tongue.

He sounded so gloomy that Yaku found the explicit discourtesy funny.

In your absence, he was able to focus on getting himself and his team ready-- he needed to worry about winning this game. He got the impression you didn't settle for losers.

They were all in position at the start. He took a breath to center himself.

"Let's go!" You shouted. Innocent, encouraging, with two thumbs up towards your team.

It was hardly audible over the constant noise level of the other games going on, but a sharp look still shot over to you.

He was able to dial back that momentary weakness by forcing himself to watch Suga instead, up to serve- literally anything, anyone else, but discovered his own unfortunate reality was that he could not tear his eyes off of you.

It made for a tough time. He had to balance his mind's bias (checking out just how soaked your little white tank top got from filling up the bottles outside) and the objectively greater value of keeping his head in the game.

Yet, his failure to stay focused didn't hinder his team's performance. He was able to translate his desire to an easier task; giving you a good performance.

You didn't have any distraction from it, the way he did.

So, the distance that the game called for made your heart grow fonder of him.

He couldn't keep digging his grave from so far away by opening his mouth, to put it simply. And more importantly, you could recognize how gorgeous he actually was.

Tall, tan, handsome- yeah sure, whatever. That tall, straight nose bridge? His high cheekbones? That dark, messy hair that just kept getting fucked up because he ran his hands through it when he was nervous? The way his jaw flexed, more defined, when the ball went back over the net? How the veins in his forearms grew plumper the longer the time ran? Anytime he touched the ball, really, and the sounds that left his mouth with each impact?

It got hot, pretty fast.

As you scribbled notes for your team's plays, the observations about how an opponent like Nekoma operated became increasingly more impressive. Kuroo wasn't the peacock-superstar you had assumed him to be.

He made room for his little blond friend, and facilitated his team with a kind of responsibility and restraint that you found yourself getting absorbed in. Your clipboard was the only presence grounding you for the last round, usually pulled towards your chest or covering half of your face.

Pearls of hot, dripping sweat made little wet spots on his shirt as he waited for the ball to come to him, completely immersed in the game. God, was he good.

It wasn't the most groundbreaking realization of all time, but it helped your opinion of him shift favorably. Your vendetta against his sly confidence began to chip and crack with every save, every slam, every hasty wipe of perspiration from his face.

The ball once seemed to find its way to you close to the end of the match, in a sneaky curve around the antennae.

You stutter-stepped back as three Nekoma players chased after it. Kuroo dove for it, slamming onto his side-- right where you were standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground with a loud and labored groan.

You watched the ball as it soared through the air, still in play thanks to his sacrifice. He scampered back up and joined the court again all too fast- it made you wish the ball had hit you so he would've stayed for longer.

The final score wasn't even close. Karasuno lost the second round 15 to 25. They were too scattered, trying out too many new things at once.

It didn't even feel like a real win to Kuroo, until he spared his thousandth passing glance to the sidelines.

And there you were. Finally looking at him.

A big grin overtook his face and he had to displace his excitement by running both of his hands through his sweaty hair. It's not like you were obvious, shit you still looked at him like he was the dirt beneath your shoe, but at least you noticed him.

It was brief, but it was enough.

You understood your slip-up just as much and broke away, growing warm at how one tiny moment could be so telling. You moved towards your team.

It took your knowledge of where Karasuno came from to understand that it wasn't a genuine loss, it was only an investment; getting the chance to work out these kinks with real competitors would serve them in the future. That's why you weren't upset with any of your guys when they jogged off-court. You held out their bottles and spoke only to the seniors when they looked like they wanted your commentary.

"You're all getting better. Hang in there," You patted Asahi on the back, who needed the extra reassurance, and nodded to Suga, who barely needed it at all.

Daichi clapped and rounded up the rest of the guys with a motivational shout, the third-years leading the way for their drills, but he made a brief stop to skim your notes.

"Keep your head up," You muttered, focused on the trouble you found in his expression.

He quickly grinned and thanked you- as he faced the exit, the concern was back almost right away. It didn't help having to move past Nekoma's huddle on the way out.

"Oooh, shocker!" Kuroo snickered, still giddy with pride, as Daichi walked by.

He wiggled his fingers at him with a jovial smile. They were almost nose-to-nose for a moment.

Your keen eyes caught Kuroo mouth a sweet and saccharine 'Bye-bye.'

Evil, silly sounding giggles under a bitten lip amused you, but you didn't make it known.

He was funny, quick-witted, and so pretty. You wanted to see how long you could drag this out. Ideally you'd string a guy like him along for the whole camp, if possible. Or break him. Whatever came first- all you knew at the moment was that you were down to entertain this.

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@integers @yuchacco

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[thebestsetter]

Michael Kaiser HATES parties.

He usually avoids them. He doesn't go to the parties his team hosts after they win an important game nor to the press parties. He feels like throwing up at the very mention of the word.

He hates everything in it. He hates the smell of alcohol that linges in the air, hates the lights that seem almost blinding, hates how sweaty the air feels.

But what he absolutely LOATHES are the people who frequent parties. He despises them.

He doesn't get what's wrong with them, honestly. They get drunk and all that crap, claim they're "having fun" when they can't even walk a straight line without tumbling. Kaiser hates alcohol. He hates people who idealize it, treating it as a savior when it ruined his life since he was only a kid with no name or fortune who got beaten daily by a drunk father. Therefore, he hates places where alcohol is treated as something good. He hates parties.

They're stupid. They're stupid, and yet people still go. It makes him feel like rolling his eyes and cussing them out at how dumb and blind they are.

But what makes him really hate the "party animals" is their twisted concept of love.

Love is not, by any means, an ideal that's easy to grasp. He, himself, didn't now what it was until 3 months ago. But he knows their idea of love couldn't be further from the truth.

They go around on parties, kissing strangers and dancing with shadows trying to fill the void that is where their heart should be. They lay down with people and kiss faceless silhouettes and claim that it's in the name of "love". He couldn't feel more repulsed by them. Because he knows that is NOT love.

He knows that because he, once, thought love came like that, too. He thought love meant just kissing and holding hands, finding someone pretty and settling down with them. He thought marriage was just a title, and love just a meaningless concept mothers tell their children before they go to bed.

His mind only changed when he met the embodiment of love itself: you.

You introduced him to what love really feels like. Love is not a myth. It'a not a legend. It's a reality. And he feels it every day, every hour and every second he spends with you.

He always thought he was unworthy of loving and being loved, but you showed him he can have this feeling in his life. That love is not something you deserve: it's something you just recieve. You don't need anything back: you just need him. And he's not complaining, even though he'll never understand.

Now, he knows love is really blind. Not saying you're ugly, God no. You're the prettiest person he's ever met. But he knows love is blind because he doesn't need to see you to love you.

All these people in parties need to see the person to fall for them. Their love is conditional, it's based on the ambient around them.

The music, the lights, the alcohol. It all makes people idealize what they see. They're influenced by the clothes, by the atmosphere. That's not love. That's reverie. Illusion. A trick their drunk brains pull.

When the party is over, their "love" dies. When they see the other without a skilled makeup or beautiful clothes, they stop loving the person they met. That is not love.

Love comes in the form of you.

Love is there when you go to his games. Love is there when you hold him close to your chest, caressing his hair after yet another episode of remembering his harsh childhood. Love is present when you wake up right beside one another, both laughing at each other's ridiculous bed hair. Love is there when you kiss the side of his eye, right at his tattooed eyeshadow. Or when you trace his arm tattoo.

Love is there whenever you are.

Because you are love for him. And when he sees you in your pajamas, almost sleeping and yet staying awake just to see him come back home after training and greet him, he knows for sure.

He doesn't need parties. He doesn't need lights, or alcohol.

His love for you is sober. It's unconditional. Endless.

And when you hug him, and he hears your sweet voice saying "Welcome home, my love. I missed you", he swears he feels like crying.

He never thought he'd be lucky enough, but he did it.

He found true love.

He found you. And he couldn't ask for anything more.

You are love, after all. What else could he possibly want?

~ Based on the poem "Se se morre de amor" by Gonçalves Dias!!!

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