#even if its crude and simple i still made it and i take a lot of joy in that

[bigmammallama5]

So this must have already been asked but I can never work tumblr’s search correctly. Is the creative life also your day job? Your work is amazing but like it is your side passion or just what also sustains you. How could I order your pottery work?

tumblr's search is mostly broken now so i'm not surprised lmao (i'm always happy to talk to yall even if it has been asked before)

I do have an actual creative career (with benefits and retirement!! LOL), I'm an art director in a small design firm and I specialize in retail package design and product photography. Most of you in the States (and probably Canada) have seen my work in the real world! It's very boring lol.

Ceramics is my true love, I think, but I don't have any desire to sell it myself online as I don't have the space to store inventory or funds to get the shipping materials (or even the clay materials) and would rather teach it. BUT. I will be selling some of my pottery very soon through the studio I learn/teach at, and I will post that link when I actually have it! They do ship at least within the States, and 60% of the sale will go to me.

But all my other creative adventures whether that's drawing or writing or any other activity that involves making with my hands are just for funsies and because it makes me happy. One of the best pieces of advice one of my bosses gave me when I first started was "You are in a creative job, make sure you have your own creative outlet that you don't monetize." And I stand by that. It keeps me sane, and that's also part of why I don't have an online ceramics shop or pushed a shop for prints too hard.

[decimal86]

New AU concept: Felltopia.

The idea is simple: The Failfleet Miis lost the fight against the Darkest Lord in the finale, leading to a darker story for The Incident and the overall storyline. Now, the fate of the universe lays in the hands of an even more dysfunctional group of adventurers brought together by demon looking to take back the power that was his.

Orion - a haunted suit of armor grown over by vines and weathered from the elements. Once donned by a member of the Greenhorne guard, only his daughter knows of its true nature. After eventually finding peace, flowers bloomed through the cracks in its helmet. A being of few words, but protective until the end.

Friend - a fallen angel whose voice was sealed away by a malicious force, twisting their power to for its own use and silencing it with a permanent smile of false serenity. But the forces of righteousness may still be able to have their victory...

Shrimp - a young siren deemed as a monstrosity by the citizens of a coastal village and a failure by her species—specifically, for having a scream capable of shattering glass. After being cast out by both humans and merfolk alike, she's been on the run, resorting to scavenging and vowing never to sing her melodies again.

Erica - a now-disgraced undead cleric who shed her robes after being unable to save her kingdom. A living corpse contained in the armor of a fallen knight, both her mind and body alike gave up on the idea of healing. The wounds of the past only remind her of what could have gone right, leaving her bitter and untrusting of any potential allies.

Chi - an alchemist gone mad from the loss of her partner in crime, she torched almost anything in her path in honor of her old companion. Impulsive and manic, but a trace of stifled innocence and longing for a new start are still left through the ashes.

Failboat - a once-optimistic and confident team captain, he left the world after losing a battle against the gods ages ago. Now elusively hiding away in the sand dunes of Neksdor, he survives only by the power of a broken artifact... which was crudely shoved into the paws of a lynx costume. While a part of him stays desperate to atone for his mistakes, it's drowned out by the memories of those he led astray.

Bo - hailing from an aristocratic family that's fallen on hard times, she's the sole undead among a small army of ghostly servants. Starved for love and nutrients alike, plus on the verge of a breakdown nearly every waking moment. Given a vampiric curse for not surrendering to the Dark Lord, the rest of her family disappeared from the public shortly after. Why? Only Bo knows, and she's not willing to talk about it.

Chat - an amalgamation of discarded facial features considered too unruly to bring life into any monsters. Now inhabiting an obsolete piece of battle machinery, the animalistic cries from victims of every corner of the globe can just barely be heard over each other. The only company they've had is themselves.

Big Bill - a witch doctor for an endangered avian race, he made a vow to aid anyone working to stop the new apocalypse in hopes of finding the resources to heal his people. The rise of the New Dark Lord unleashed a plethora of dangerous plagues, but he's endured plenty already.

Mar - the stoic, yet unhinged head of the rebellion against the new Dark Lord... and also the one one responsible for powering the one before it. Taking on the appearance of a middle-aged Italian chef, to him, destruction is merely a necessary ingredient in his recipe for vengeance. He'll get his title back through any means possible... but does that include showing kindness to his former enemies?

@rosetheocto helped with a lot of development for this AU, so big shout-out to her! I dunno what I'll do with this, but I can feel there's definitely potential. If anyone wants to make art for it, feel free to do so!

[celestias-right-hoof-mas-au]

♦ Ko-Fi ♦ Patreon ♦ WARNING: Although this particular chapter does not depict violence or cursing, future installments will. As this story is based on an adult parody of MLP called The Mentally Advanced Series. I would encourage that if you had not watched it to do so to get a grasp of the world in which this takes place. Many of the jokes, lore, and otherwise are in reference to MAS, not just simply My Little Pony. I have also made a supercut that includes every reference and appearance of Celestia in the series, in case watching the entire MAS series maybe too time consuming. If you find Celestia, or other canon characters, used in crude and unpleasant depictions offensive, this is your warning. However, I would appreciate that you take a look anyway with an open mind. Celestia Supercut Link < Previous ☼ Next > ???

     The next morning dawn came in a hazy pale blue. It was the usual time for Hilfe’s parents to awaken from their rest. After a stiff groggy stretch, they went about their daily chores. Her mother, Dearly Dove, began breakfast while her father, Schaffer Ganz, washed up for the day. 

     After combing his beard and mane, Hilfe’s father went to wake up the twins. Rabble and Rouser stumbled out of their beds and shuffled out like a pair of lost ducklings. While they made their way to brush their teeth, their father knocked on Hilfe’s door.

     “Hilfe! It’s time to get up, your mother’s getting breakfast started!” He called.

     The old horse waited for his daughter’s reply, but received no answer. He stared at her door, wondering if he should check to see if she was awake. With the day she had yesterday, though, he decided to let her rest just a bit more.

     The twins were up to their usual mischief. They splashed water on each other and everywhere else. There wasn’t a moment or activity that couldn’t be made into a game for them. While in the house, they were under constant supervision to make sure they didn’t break anything. Even the simple task of getting ready for the day required their father’s full attention. But after half an hour, they were presentable enough to go downstairs and eat. 

     Schaffer was about to join them, but saw that Hilfe had not opened her door. He gave it another knock, “Hilfe? Are you alright?” He pressed his ear against the door and listened. 

     Nothing. 

     No tired groans, not shuffling of the bed, or even hoofsteps. Just white noise.

     The workhorse opened the door with a hollow creak. He scanned the room for his daughter. The bed was made, her dresser seemed untouched, even her pet gecko slept quietly in its tank, but no Hilfe. However, what did catch his eye was the small pink envelope that rested on her bed. 

     His heart pounded in his throat as he hurriedly opened the letter and read its contents.

     Downstairs, Dearly Dove finished cooking biscuits and gravy for her hungry family. She started making plates for the twins when her husband came sprinting down the steps.

     “She’s gone! Hilfe’s gone!” Schaffer gasped.

     “W-what?!” Dearly snapped in shock.

     “She went to Canterlot! Must’ve left last night, I found this note on her bed!” 

     Dearly took the note from her husband and it read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

     I am in no doubt that you both are worried sick about me. But don’t. I’m more worried about the house, the twins, and the youngest on the way. So, I am going to Canterlot, as I said, to become a maid for the Princess. Expect a check in the mail as soon as possible, so Dad can hire someone to help him with repairs instead. 

     Like I said, don’t worry. I don’t plan on staying in Canterlot forever, I just want to help us get ahead for once. Please, don’t try to follow me, mom still needs help after all. I only ask that you all have faith in me to do what I need to for the family. I’ll be sure to send a letter as soon as I get settled.

     Love you lots.

     ~ Hilfe

(P.S. Don't forget to feed Earl for me please.)

[numberonetrashwitch]

How i think the characters would write their names

So Astarion would write of course with a lot of elegance, his signature is large and intricate (more so than i can do) with a special beginning and end, and somehow i imagined it a bit more round and fluid.

Shadowheart would write a bit more angular, but still very rounded, her writing would be very small and there would bascially be no accentuation except if she really wanted to hone a point down.

Karlach would use a lot of Force for her writing, and i imagined it a bit more crude but with it's own flair. She has her own way of writing a's and compared to the other she doesn't write cursive, but it's an honest type of elegance. She has the third largest signature of the group

Gale's signature would be the largest, and of a simple elegance, again one fluid motion, hammered down by years of signing his own work. Its, to him, the perfect symbiosis of elegance and practicality. Yes i made the G look like a clef on purpose, alluding to the tidbit in which Gale sees himself as a composer of the weave. His signature is the largest one of the group.

Wyll's signature is pretty even and tame compared to the others. Of course he knows how to write fancy, elegant cursive but he prefers to have a little gritty signature (possibly to hide / distance himself from his pompous past) it feels more 'real' to him. It's right in the middle size-wise.

I managed to lose the writing for lae'zel, but its tir'su and i cannot go through painting it again, so i'll just describe her writing as the most crude, exerting force over the material she writes in. Her hand is slow but practiced, its more a deliberate time she takes when writing in these runes as to honor their meaning. It almost has a spiritual relevance to her that she wants to capture. Out of all the signatures, her's is the most complex (as tir'su script needs a circle and is written around said circle) and she doesn't want to sign her name in common. But she makes the wait worthwhile.

Im not skilled in any of this, but i tried my best to convey it. Somehow i think thats a post this fandom really needs?

[riftdancing]

I'm back!

Question four! Blink Vaniro. Seemingly reformed raises a question. Does she miss any particular thing from her old life that she can't/shouldn't do now? Is there a scenario where she would go back, to whatever it was she was doing?

Disclaimer: I love writing flawed characters, but Blink one of my most flawed. I want to first and foremost remind those reading, Blink is a fictional character. Just because she thinks or feels one way should never be a reflection of my own thoughts, opinions, or feelings as her writer. Thank you.

I'll be blunt. Blink misses a LOT of things revolving around crime. Crime is easy. Its a simple solution to many situations if your moral compass is flexible enough and given the way she was raised (the daughter of a Sky Pirate Captain) hers certainly is.

Vaniro grew up with crime. In a lot of ways it was even habitual to her. In some minor situations the impulse is still there, despite her keeping it on a tight leash these days, and Rex keeping her on a tighter one. Originally Blink was a simple independent contractor for Firelight Trading Company. Whatever job she was given was accomplished with the rule being she would stay on the right side of the law, and the pay was damn good.

Later on, after a good amount of contracts with FTC, Blink signed on as full time employee. But, kind of like a tiger in a zoo, Blink requires enrichment if she's going to be staying on the right side of the law. Originally, she wasn't getting that enrichment. So, boredom began to set in, and when Blink gets bored she yearns for the mischief of crime.  It's like an itch she cannot scratch.  She wants to antagonize.  She wants to pick fights.  She wants to cause problems on purpose.

So when Rex challenged her one day (and disrespected her shortly thereafter), Blink with no tolerance for being disrespected, gave him one chance to turn it around before having the balls to walk out on his employment.  Which, by FTC standards, is pretty unheard of.  It's rare that someone tells Rex no, let alone quits.  To which it only further sparked his interest in her.  It made him want her.

Long story short, the two spent a few weeks playing cat and mouse, Rex with the intentions of dragging her back into his employ, and Blink flat out simply enjoying the chase whilst drawing up what intel she could on him.  (This is how these two flirt, though neither of them will admit it.)  This ended in a big brawl (more flirting) where the pair wound up absolutely destroying a bar in Kugane.  Rex bested Blink, something she's not used to, and in a lot of ways it made her realize there's a lot she could learn from him.

I won't go into the nitty gritty, but despite some of the themes I'm about to touch on I will say consent is paramount between Rexonus and Blink. No matter what act Vaniro might put on, especially being the tsundere she is, nothing she does for anyone is ever against her will. Which is funny because she thrives when she is working under a superior. I think I wrote it best during some roleplay between Rex and Blink where he called her a hound. ...Because truthfully, he's not wrong.

He was right. Vaniro was a hound. She was always another's dog. Her Father’s first, then Das’, even the Empire’s. When the leash was taken off, it was like she didn’t know what to do with herself. Sure, she had her own personal goals. Goals she’d achieved. But the last five odd years had been spent in a stalemate with herself. It was a crude way of putting it, but she couldn't argue the truth.

Listen. Blink is a boss woman in her own right. She doesn't take shit from anyone unless she wants to. It takes a very powerful, patient, and caring person to wind up filling the shoes of her superior. But that's when she's at her best. When there is someone there driving her to be better. Someone aiding in giving her purpose.

Rex stepped into those shoes. He's done a lot for her beyond that too. Thanks to Rex, Blink has been going to see Shiro frequently for therapy sessions. Sessions which have helped her grow more comfortable with the idea of letting people in rather than constantly pushing them away. Since becoming romantically involved with Rex and emotionally involved with the FTC staff, she's become a lot more healthy mentally. But this means she's developed attachments, and this woman would do anything for those attachments.

Like forsake a life of crime for their safety. Not that she'd ever admit it to any of them though.

:)

[nickgerlich]

By The Gallon

There is probably no single item that is more contentious in the US than a gallon of gasoline. We so completely bought into car culture in the 1950s, the post-war era of unbridled growth, prosperity, and a move to the suburbs, that in the process, we made ourselves extremely dependent on this precious commodity. We complain when prices go up, but we keep buying it because we can’t change our addiction in the short run. We’ll pay whatever.

That’s what economists call a case of inelastic demand, meaning the quantity demanded remains fairly constant at any price level, at least within a relevant range. If we were to wake up to $5 gas tomorrow morning, we’d still pay it, in spite of swearing out someone under our breath. The US burns through 376 million gallons of gas each and every day, no matter what it costs.

Oh, and while I’m at it, I must remind you that the President of the US has very little to do with the price of gas, because the price of oil is determined on a global market. The President can release oil from our Strategic Petroleum Reserve to try to temporarily reduce prices (something each President has done since the 1970s), or reduce the federal gas tax, but that’s about it.

One more thing: The idea of energy independence is a myth. While it is true that the US has produced the most crude oil than any nation at any time during the past six years, we both export and import on the global market. We are a net exporter by a small margin. So please quit blaming one, while singing the praises of another for ridiculously low prices during a pandemic. It just doesn’t work that way, and I say that in the most politically disinterested way I can.

Today we find ourselves with prices headed downward in a hurry. Part of it is seasonal, of course, because vacation season is over. But the global market is trending down right now, and all on its own. In Canyon America, the price was $2.699 at the local Walmart. In Texas, the average is $3.054, while nationwide it is $3.36, with the overall year-over-year difference down $0.46.

But did anything change in terms of consumption? Doubtful. It’s not like you wake up one day and say, “Honey, gas sure has come down! Why don’t we go for a long drive today?” We just keep doing whatever it is we do, even our cherished family road trips, which are also part of American culture.

This last summer we took an outsized road trip covering 18 states and 12,100 miles, and included dipping our toes in both oceans. The cheapest gas I bought was right here in Canyon, while the most expensive was $4.999 in Susanville California. Yes, that one hurt a bit, but I didn’t have any option but to do it. Besides, we wanted to visit the PNW, and we were already three-fourths of the way there. All told, the gas bill on this trip was $1757.85. I know that seems like a lot, but can you think of a cheaper way for two people to travel that extensively?I’ll wait.

Now let’s compare to the price of fuel in Europe, where it is typically in the $8 a gallon range, once you convert for liters and Euros. This trip would have cost more than double had we zipped across the European continent. We have it pretty good here, at least on paper.

Of course, one thing that does matter is that we are somewhat a victim of our own geography. In population-dense areas, you usually don’t have to drive far. In remote West Texas and throughout the west, we measure distances in hours that could easily translate into multiples of 75 or 80 miles, depending on how fast you drive.

Regardless, we’re going to keep buying gas, because we need it for our jobs, education, and lifestyle. It’s hard to change the seemingly immovable objects, such as job and residence. I suppose if gas went to $10 more of us might be motivated to buy a Prius and relocate closer to our job. Until then, though, our consumer behavior is going to be predictably the same.

So how then do we adapt to rising prices? Simple. We take it out of something else. Gas is the non-negotiable product we buy. Maybe we dine out less, delay major purchases, skip the new shirt or dress. Whatever it takes, we just cut back somewhere else, because when you have inelastic demand—that is, a nearly perfectly vertical demand curve—you’re just going to keep buying, at least for the time being.

I’ll see you at the pump. Let’s all be thankful prices are down for now, because at $0.46 cheaper and considering a 20-gallon tank, that’s $9.12 we’re saving each time. That should cover your PSL or pint of craft beer, and leave enough for the tip.

Dr “Fill ‘Er Up!” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[gxldencity]

27, 36, and 68 for dolores!

 27. What is their sense of humor like?

Idk if Dolores is a very funny person!! (SHOCKING I made an OC that isn't funny) but she prefers clever humour than crude. Like play on words and not baudy

36. What is your Tav’s favorite type of environment? Like in a tavern, a library, out in the wilderness, underground, etc.

If there is one thing Dolores misses about Dayawlongon is that it's constantly warm and sunny (besides the moonsoon seasons) and it's surrounded by the ocean. The Sword Coast doesn't compare because it gets cold lol. What's the point of going to the beach if you'll be cold for half the year? Despite being in the Sword Coast for nearly five years, she's still not used to its temperate climate. She's a tropics girl at heart. You can never take that from her lol. You'll never catch her swimming in the Sword Coast, no in the obligatory beach episode. She'll be with a very lobster looking Astarion underneath an umbrella, dressed like the worlds youngest milf.

68. How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Okay SO I'm gonna be copying some of these from Twitter lol

So Dolores basically pretended that she wasn't interested in shadowheart even though she was. That also involved seeking someone else in that camp (we'll get to that with Gale)

Shadowheart: Dolores fell in love with shadowheart so hard and so quickly because truly Shadowheart had been the very first person in a while who was nice to Dolores. Shadowheart's gratitude on the beach was simple but for Dolores who never got a simple thank you from her family, it meant the entire world. But she was scared of her own feelings bc it wasn't just Shar who would be mad if she acted on them. Dolores was in a toxic situationship with her eldritch patron. So she ran away literally like In the afterparty scene, Dolores ran away when shadowheart looked like she wanted to kiss her bc she truly was Terrified what's gonna happen if she left herself fall in love with someone else.

It wasn't until Shadowheart confronted her after the Myrkul fight that they finally talked about their feelings for one another. The other thing is Shadowheart did help Dolores process her grief and anger about her family. Despite the method being a Sharran ritual, Dolores was able to confront some trauma she never know she had and found comfort in it. And ofc when shadowheart found out her entire life had been a lie Dolores was there to support her through it. Dolores too has lost her own childhood for other reasons that isn't brainwashing and memory wipes but it's the same kind of grief.

And truly if not for Shadowheart pulling Dolores back in, Dolores would've ran away that first night because Dolores had been more interested in reconnecting with her patron. Shadowheart kept her steady and sure and challenged the preconcieved notions she has of herself and Dolores's own fears 🥺🥺.

And Gale loved her 🥺 so so much that he forgets about Mystra when he was around her. And Okay, Dolores loved that kind of attention—the kind of worship. My god, imagine being loved by someone whose only love was a goddess. Dolores would know bc she only ever loved a goddess too. So when Gale confesses to her under a starry night, Dolores kisses him and they had sex. In the afterglow, Dolores realizes that she just liked the attention and yeah, she definitely did Not love Gale and she felt Bad. A few days later, she tells him exactly that which made Him cry oh no which in turn made her cry bc she was so guilty about using His feelings 😭😭😭.

Gale: In a different time, if they weren't two sorry people who had intense relationships with goddesses and if Dolores hadnt fallen in love with someone else, then Gale could've been the one. But yes, Dolores was also attracted to him because Gale showed Dolores her worth, even if he didn't intend to, even if he failed at teaching her true magic. It still meant a lot to Dolores who felt like she mattered for the first time in 28 years of her life. Like...she could manipulate the Weave without the whispers of her patron? Hello?

Anyway after all of that they're still besties and Gale promises to train Domenico and help him control his wild magic powers. Partly because Gale saw himself in Dolores's brother—that if Gale didn't have the support that he had, he would've been just like Domenico, scared of interacting with the Weave.

Then they meet the Gur hunter and Dolores finds out about Cazador and "oh he's Like me 😭🤝🏼".

Astarion: Dolores was very uncomfortable around him at first bc she did feel absolutely violated when Astarion drank from her. Like full on disassociating. Then the next day he brushed off her discomfort with he'll fight better bc of it and she'll be fine. And bc Dolores doesn't like confrontation so they basically ignored each other in Camp but outside of it doing quests and all they would make passive aggressive snipes at each other.

The more Dolores finds about Astarion and his past, the more she begins to understand him. Sure, she still holds a grudge against his prev actions (and This is why she'll never love him romantically) but she sees astarion as her little brother, her 200+ year old little brother. They're both very protective of each other, both from their abusers and their own impulses. Like Astarion would really fight her 17 year old brother but he also wants Dolores not to hold a deep grudge against Domenico bc he was and is still...a kid. Especially when Dolores stops him from sacrificing his vampire family and 7000 other vampires to ascend u know.

Lae'zel: LAE'ZEL MADE HER CRY at FIRST bc she called Dolores's nose ugly 😭😭😭. And again like with Astarion, Dolores pretty much ignored her but unlike Astarion, Lae'zel kept giving her the cold shoulder. Dolores is also intimidated by her and Yeah a lot of that is bc Lae'zel called her ugly but just the way Lae'zel carries herself as overconfident of her abilities which Dolores Does Not Have.

Then u know Lae'zel finds out that Vlaakith was just using her and the githyanki and not the true ruler. It's through that experience that they start to bury the hatch so to speak and talk to each other. Lae'zel pushes Dolores to have more confidence and Dolores pushes Lae'zel to be more considerate of others and strength doesn't come with just physical prowess.

Wyll: note this would be a wip bc I'm still hammering out what I wished to have happened to wyll. They're like warlock 🤝🏼 warlock and trauma 🤝🏼 trauma but Wyll is further ahead in his journey of realizing that Mizora has manipulated him and is aware of it. Dolores isn't lol (wrt her patron). At first she actually avoided Wyll bc he would see through her easily as a warlock (she hid that part first!) but then after she told everyone, Wyll's the first person to support her and empathize with her. Dolores too made her pact out of desperation.

She doesn't judge Wyll for doing it. The conditions of Dolores's pact were worse—servant for life / vessel for an ancient evil goddess (which Dolores isnt aware of) with no contract and most of her family + village were killed. She feels like Wyll might be burdening himself about it lol and the mistakes that he made as a child. She Gets it though. She gets burdening herself for someone else.

Once the truth is out, they have long conversations about their pacts. Then before long and after Dolores realizes that her patron was abusive, they start figuring out a way to break off their pacts. Dolores's is definitely trickier lol bc she is servant for life without any way to negotiate but it's not as if Wyll's is easy with Mizora being a pain in the ass and toying with him. This is the part where I'm not sure how it'll go lmao but just Know that they do got to the Hells where Wyll's contract is and try to steal it.

Karlach: Dolores adores Karlach and they become fast friends! When Karlach went on a rampage, cursing Zariel and all, Dolores Gets It bc she kinda...did the same thing with her own mother (but like her mother is dead so so). I feel like out of everyone in the camp, Dolores is the most at ease when talking to Karlach. She saw through Dolores immediately and encourages Dolores to just...loosen up a little and enjoy life. Also am fixing her ending and I think they figure out a way to keep Karlach from dying with the help of Dammon and some smiths in the Upper City :) (I mean It's allegedly a path that was cut).

[tally-ho-hurrah-bravo]

As elaborated in dear OP's tags (as i am the aforementioned friend), Thomas (and to some extent kazeki) are special cases and not conventional gay fiction because of the works from which they are descended. They are not made to portray real gay men—this should be clear enough as they are proto yaoi, but even if they weren't considered thus, it would still be true because they have the blood of the Proto Gay Boy's School Literary Fiction flowing through them.

Thomas, in my opinion at least, did not have a conventional crush on Juli, one that would warrant a conventional ship—he had pure admiration and pure, untainted, innocent love; he was willing to die and become a plot vehicle with which Juli could make use of to take him through the journey of character development. This is understood through the lens of the multitude of these Proto Gay Literature works set in boy's schools, like Special Friendships, where even the modern understanding of them as being gay is not befitting. We must treat it like those works—or at least to me, since I'm a big nerd about this stuff.

Thomas is set in an all boys school: a World Of Its Own— it does NOT Follow the Rules of Modern Gay Fiction. There IS no internalized homophobia in thomas because it's another world it's different from our own and it does not desire to portray real gay experiences.It transcends modern or contemporary boundaries the same way these Proto Gay Works did; you must understand Thomas as though it was written before any other gay piece of fiction was made. Homosocial relationships and romantic friendships are the model of relationships for these environments—it is NOT the same as the modern gay relationship after Stonewall.

I personally think Thomas really fits the dynamic in the work "Tim" by H. O. Sturgis. To modern minds it's gay but ... it's not. It's selfless, innocent love, untainted by any vestige of platonicism or romanticism. That is Thomas to me...

like what my friend said kazeki is a whole different thing. It's a story for another time but to keep it simple I think kazeki is a story of power and a satirization of the crude real world and further satirized by the beautiful shoujo ornaments that, because of the nature of the story, become grotesque. I also see it through the lens of a proto gay piece of all boys school literature, but the cruder ones. Watch If.. (1968)..... read the chapter David and Jonathan from the book Happiest Days, the book analysis on British all boys' school fiction.

This seems like a lot to say regarding a bunch of old yaoi, but Hagio and Takemiya themselves got their inspirations for these works from the same pieces of literature, so.....

sory for writing an essay in your reblogs Valentino

there’s like a surprising amount of thomas no shinzou academic essays but one thing i don’t agree about is that they all say juli has some form of internalized homophobia. simply not true

[agentcomstock]

A Katlas Christmas

---------

Atlas was nervous. She was never nervous.

After everything she's been through, she thought nervousness didn't exist past the age of 12.

Never scared during her combat trials. Never scared in the wild of Alaska. It was almost a new and unprocessed emotion. her stomach soured over the inkling of an idea that made her palms sweat and heart palpitate.

She had no idea what to get K.A.T for Christmas. She didn't even know if he celebrated! Oh for goodness sake, she hasn't celebrated since she was 5! Why does Christmas exist? To confide in family, eat to your heart's content and celebrate togetherness? Not to Atlas. Christmas meant more chores around the Church, including outside. Being the tallest, she was in charge of putting and taking down every single light that went into a tree or building. Rain, shine, and even snow.

She roamed the streets of her hometown, wondering what to gift him. She still really didn't know much about K.A.T besides his love of boba and a shared interest in EDM and rock music.

Maybe an album? A record player?

She finally ducked her head into an antique shop. It smelled like baby's breath flower and old cigarettes, coating her clothes and mask in the sickly sweet scent.

Shelves and tables full of old oil lamp, glass cups and bowls, and kids toys.

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye — a large stuffed bear with creamy caramel brown fur adorned with a bright red bow on its neck. She immediately picked it up and examined it. Perfect.

She walked through the music section, finding broken record players, Walkmans, and even a sealed 1977 "Heroes" album from David Bowie.

On a shelf hidden away she spotted a music box. It was made of metal and wood, at least 50 years old. She moved the hand crank and a beautiful rendition of "You are my Sunshine" started to play.

Smiling to herself, she clutched the box tighter in her hand.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all?

She stopped by another store and picked up some wrapping paper and a bow for the music box. She could have settled with a small bag, but Christmas was honestly a foreign concept.

Back at her studio, she began wrapping it in a cartoon reindeer paper, making sure the metal didn't rip the corners and placed the bow on top.

She waited for the time to come where he'd be over. Maybe he forgot the invite. Maybe she forgot to tell him? Her worries mounted until a soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. With a sigh of relief, she opened the door and smiled brighter than she ever has.

"Merry Christmas, Atlas!"

"Merry Christmas, K.A.T"

——————

"I'm... really happy you came. It means a lot, K.A.T." Atlas greeted shyly. Heat rose to her face and her skin prickled with threats of sweat. It was by no means warm in the apartment, but K.A.T brought her all the warmth she needed.

She went to the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of wine; Stella Berry. It was sweet and tasted like juice. She needed something to distract her mind for the moment.

"Want anything to drink? I have these like... Premade boba drinks. I remember you mentioning you like boba awhile back, but Cops Bay doesn't really have any of those shops."

She lived on the coast of Oregon, a couple hours outside of Eugene. It was a quiet but large city of about 15,000 with a lot of lumbering and ironwork as it's cliche job area.

Atlas heard K.A.T's helmet chirp and she looked over at him — his screen was lit up with hearts. She giggled to herself and made him a brown sugar boba; the classic.

"I don't have much else, I'm sorry." She walked over and handed him the glass, gestured to the lack of decoration besides a crude looking table top tree and string lights.

"No no! I think it's cozy. Don't need a whole lot if you're not living here, right? We don't get to go home often, so it only makes sense." K.A.T reassured her, grabbing the cup from her hands. He looked up and flashed a smile. He hadn't noticed before, but she wore a simple mask instead of the one she wears on base. He smiled softly beneath his helmet, but couldn't help to wonder what lies beyond that. What she could possibly be covering up. He shook the thought as quickly as it came, not wanting to hold onto the thought for much longer.

They chatted for awhile as Atlas built a fire in a small wood stove that was nestled into a corner.

Hours passed and Atlas found herself curled up next to K.A.T, her head resting on his chest.

What was supposed to be one glass of wine turned into three bottles. Miracle on 34th Street was playing on the TV in front of them. She might not have had much, but a functional living room was a must.

"Hey Atlas... I got you something for Christmas." K.A.T gently poked her forehead, waking her up from a micro nap.

"Y'didnt need to get me anything silly..." Her words trailed off, as if she were still half asleep. He laughed and carefully set her upright and went near the door to grab her present. He didn't see this side of her on base. She was cold and sharp, always on the lookout for threats, no matter how much he tried to tell her that if there was anyone nearby that would hurt her, he would be there in a heartbeat to save her. If not him, then Ghost and Soap. They've seemed to take a liking to her. A little too much for his taste.

Atlas was coherent and standing by the time K.A.T came back over and handed her the present.

"Here! Open it."

"Oh my god you actually got me something..." She said quietly. Atlas meticulously opened the box to find a small stuffed cat holding a star that said "press me"

"Ta da! I uh, wasn't sure what to get you. I hope you like plushies!"

Atlas pressed the star and a small message saying "hewwo! I wuv you!" played from the soundbox. Her chest tightened and her eyes stung, tears threatening to pour.

"I can't have this..." She said, looking at where K.A.T's eyes might be behind the helmet.

"What?? You don't like it??" K.A.T's screen module displayed a text emoticon of a crying face. She shook her head and explained.

"It's not that... I just don't think I can keep it safe." She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. It was the first gift she had received in years. The nuns at the orphanage she lived in would constantly take her toys and comfort items. Why? They wanted to make her life hell to coerce her into attending service.

"Well! It's a good thing it's pocket sized! You can just keep it on you. You're pretty strong, so the safest place to keep it is you, no?" He redirected her thoughts back to what they should be; happy and content. The ability to keep something safe. Just anything to keep safe. She would put her life on the line for this plushie.

"Yeah... You're right. Thank you, K.A.T" she was still looking down at the cat when she made the decision to hug him.

K.A.T was taken aback, stuttering too fast for the voice module to keep up. He was essentially glitching. He eventually brought it together and hugged her back. The person he was hugging felt so fragile, as if a pebble was enough to break her entire being. The moment passed as soon as it came, and she ducked back where her bed was.

"I also... Got you something. Great minds think alike, yeah?" She handed him the bear and music box she had picked up earlier in the day.

"Oh my god! This is amazing!" K.A.T did a little dance where he stood, like a kid being brought ice cream. He took the bear first, hugging it tight and petting the fur. "He's adorable! Oh my goodness I love him! Thank you thank you!" He couldn't contain his excitement. She laughed a little too loud, and K.A.T heard her. His display showed two exclamation marks that morphed into question marks.

"Your laugh is cute. Why don't you do that around base?" He inquired, forgetting about imaginary boundaries he set for her. He immediately back pedaled and started apologizing.

"No it's okay. I'm just on guard on base. I try to be all the time, but the wine said not tonight." She jeered, giving him the wrapped box. He unwrapped it as carefully as he could.

The box shown brightly. The edges were made of iron and the box of cherry. There was a woodburned design on top of a Celtic knot with smaller runes and symbols around it.

"I also... wasn't sure what to get you, but the music box called to me." Atlas said sheepishly. She was looking down, picking at her nails nervously as K.A.T had been silent for a little longer than she wanted him to be. He opened the music box and started turning the handle.

"Atlas this is... amazing. No one's ever given me something like this before." His voice was raw, as if he were choking back tears. He hummed along to the tune and started walking around the room. The humming turned into singing. The most beautiful voice Atlas has ever heard. The heat returned to her face and she silently thanked herself for still wearing the mask.

"Sing for me again sometime. Please?" She asked anxiously.

K.A.T rapidly nodded in response.

The two eventually returned to the couch, watching some more cult classic Christmas movies.

Atlas was sound asleep by 10:30 and K.A.T needed to leave before a majority of the holiday traffic took hold of the roads.

He gently picked her up bridal style and placed her in the bed, making sure to cover her up and take off her glasses. He quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed her a cup of water and scrounged for some Advil for the next morning.

Once he was sure she was settled and comfortable, he turned to leave the bedside when suddenly, Atlas' hand found itself intertwined with his.

"stay… please stay…" she mumbled. K.A.T's heart skipped several beats as he realized what situation he was in. "Don't wanna be alone… " K.A.T sighed tentatively, obliging her request. Thankfully, his bag had an extra pair of comfortable clothes. He stripped down in the bathroom and came out, forgetting his only bottoms were shorts. The metal of his prosthetics glistened softly from the lights outside. He already agreed, there was no backing out.

"I'm probably not gonna be the most comfortable person to lay next to. Kinda made of metal." He joked, sliding in next to her.

"Mmm don't care…" she rolled over and looked at him. Her mask was off, and she smiled softly at him. "You're all I wanted for Christmas… " She leaned over, almost being able to fog up his screen with her breath, and put her forehead to his.

"Thank you, K.A.T" she closed her eyes, almost instantly asleep again. He watched her breathe. Chest slowly rising and falling. Her face and arms twitching at different intervals, as if she were fighting back on the field.

If K.A.T and Atlas were sure of anything at this moment in time, it was that this was serendipitous and neither of them wanted to go back in a few days time. Just to lay here, safe and comfortable, was all they both wanted.

[nyxerebus]

Not Him (Negan X Grimes!Reader)

A/N: I have a other Negan x Grimes reader series, but this is NOT a apart of that series, just a one shot i wrote :) You can read part 1 of that series here: I'm Her Daddy Now

TW: Gore, Make out, Blood, Angst

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her back was pressed to the RV. The Saviours had started to force the people from Alexandria to kneel in front of it in a half circle. They hadn't noticed her yet. Would they recognize her? She had changed a lot since the last time she saw her dad and younger brother. Her hair was longer and darker, and her scarf was covering half her mouth and nose. She had started to look more and more like her father though, the famous Grimes stare would stare back at her in the mirror every morning. A cruel reminder of the family she had lost. The family she thought she had lost, until she saw them in front of her now.

Her eyes wouldn't leave her baby brother, how much he had grown! He was not the scared 11 year old she got separated from all those years ago, now he was a tough young man. And by the looks of his eye situation, it had been a long and rough journey since they last saw each other.

“Are we pissing our pants yet?” She rolled her eyes at Negans extravagant entrance. He was always like this, so much. “Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close”

She had been with The Saviours the past two years, been with Negan for one. She wasn't a wife, she was more than that. She was his girl, his right hand woman. By the look of how her father was staring at Negan, telling him about their relationship would be a tough talk. But nonetheless she looked forward to talking with him, to be able to be a family with them. She prayed they would forgive her for being on The Saviours side. Considering what was about to happen. This wasn't the first ‘punishment’ she had been a part of. She knew what was going to happen. She droned out when Negan went on with his speech about how they needed punishment, and how he owned them now. It wasn't until he was deciding who to kill that she focused on the conversation.

“eenie ... meenie ... miney ... mo '' Her blood ran cold when Lucille landed in front of her younger brother. “No!” She heard her father exclaim. “Shit, man. I’m usually not happy about child murdering, but Lucille is a thirsty woman!” He raised the bat. Her body acted before her brain could tell it no. She took long strides and placed herself protective in front of Carl, shielding his body from Lucille.

“Not him” She hissed out. Negan was taken back, usually (Y/N) wouldn't have trouble when he had to punish new communities. “The hell you saying?”

“Not. Him” She glared at him, she would rather die than let anything happen to her brother. Negan leaned down so only she could hear what he was saying. “You know him?”

“He's my brother,” she whispered. Negan took a step back and rubbed his beard. “You know I have to punish them” He gave her a stern look. “You want to kill him? You have to go through me. Take somebody else”.

“Listen folks” He was addressing his men. “Now some new information has occurred and it looks like my girl here knows this boy. Now I am a gentleman” His famous smirke etched its way to his face. “You all know I can't say no to my girl, but my other girl demands some punishment for their actions. Now I want to please both my girls at the same time. So, we spare the boy, but my girl has to choose who will take his place AND finish the job” He held out the end of Lucille to her, while the men in the back murmured in agreement and some even cheered her on.

She grabbed Lucille. “Go get em BabyGirl”. She turned around and faced Carl. He was crying now. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it didn't seem as if it helped. Her eyes danced between the group that was kneeling. Her eyes landed on the large redhead, he pushed up his chest, as if he presented himself as a sacrifice. She walked over and stood in front of him. The dark skinned girl next to him cried out when she realized what was about to happen. (Y/N) was standing in front of him and leaned in, whispering so only he could hear. “I’m sorry”

“Don't worry, if it saves the boy. I’ll gladly take it” She raised the bat. and with all her might swung it down. The sound of the cracking of a skull was a sound all too familiar to her, but she had never heard it when she was the cause. it almost made her stop. But she couldn't stop. She took swing after swing. Knowing how Negan wanted him to end up, to end up in a mess of blood and brain goo. Blood splattered everywhere, and she had to fight back her dinner making its way up when she saw his skin tear and expose his brain. The bat felt heavier and heavier after each blow down onto the man's head. Christ, she didn't even know the name of whom she was killing. Cries and cheers filled the silent night. When she heard the splattering sound of the bat hitting the brain goo, she stopped. She turned around to face Negan, avoiding her family's gaze.

“Look at my dirty girls!” He exclaimed, and pulled her towards him, her back pressing against his chest. Blood had splattered on her face and upper body, but Negan didn't care. He never cared about blood getting in the way. He grabbed Lucille from her and turned her head sideways, so he could whisper into her ear: “Good Girl”

“(Y/N), I, what-” Rick was trying to speak, the shock of the situation still not leaving him. “I have to say, seeing my girls work together like this, just warms my heart-” He squeezed her closer; “and tickles my balls” He grinned at his men, who mostly chuckled at his crude words. “You can go to him” He whispered and realised his grip on her. She was about to walk away, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. “Wait” He pulled her back so they were chest against chest. “Give me a kiss first” She just rolled her eyes, knowing he wanted to rub it in Rick's face that his daughter was with them, with Negan. Standing on her toes, she reached up and kissed him, she was going for a simple peck. But he tightened his grip around her and deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she had to bite back a moan. When he pulled back a string of saliva was still connected between them God, how he loved the look on her face. Covered in blood, with a post makeout haze still in her eyes. He laughed out and realised her. And without being pulled back, she walked over to Carl and kneeled down in front of him.

“Hey” She whispered out, he stared back at her with a dirty glare. But tears of seeing his sister for the first time after thinking she was dead was pressing on. But then one of the guys in the line up jumped up and punched Negan in the face. You gasped and were about to stand up. But Negans men handled it and held him down. “No, nope. Put him back”

She knew what was going to happen, Negan was going to kill one more. She wouldn't let Carl see that, see it again. “Don't look” She pulled him closer so his face was pressed against her chest, face turned the opposite direction of the group. Carl was fighting back, but gave up after his sobs got the best of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and cried into her chest. “Shhh”. The sounds of someone else getting beaten and the all too familiar cries filled the air once again. “No!”

“Its going to be okay” She tried to comfort him, “I won't let them hurt you” His sobs got louder when he heard the stuttering of the man who was being beaten; “Maggie I will find you”. He whispered the name of the dead man into her chest. “Glenn” Negan speaking and the cries of the group became just background noise. All she cared and focused on was her brother. She rubbed his head and back, trying to lull him into a calmer state. But she was pulled from her work on comforting her brother when Negan grabbed Rick and pulled him away. “No!” Carl shouted, sitting straight up and separated from her. (Y/N) held Carl back from punching up and attacking Negan. Negan sent (Y/N) a small nod, which she returned with her own nod. They were telling each other without words:

‘I can't promise he wont die’

‘As long as Carl lives, I don't care’

“Calm down Carl!” She held her back. He started to cry again, the fear of losing her father taking its hold on him. (Y/N) wiped his tears, bur cringed when some blood from her fingers stained his cheek. “Come here” He fell into her arms again. She didn't know what to do. She hoped Negan saved her father, but her father was a grown man. Her primary mission now was to secure her brother. And she would be damned if she didn't succeed.

[littlcfreaks-archive]

while mason's concerns stemmed from his past; dante's concerns stemmed from his lack of a romantic past. his romantic history had been pieced together from bits of casual relations with various men that had only cared about what he could provide for the night or in the rare case they tried to come back, dante often shoved them away. with mason - metaphorically and physically, instead he seemed to cling to him, constantly needing to feel like they were growing closer - and feeling lost when they weren't together, when they weren't talking. it was terrifying, sure, but it was also exhilarating and addicting, in the same way he felt when he was on stage; and terrifying all over again when he realized that he was becoming addicted to a person - the same flaw that had led his father down such a terrible path. how he had grown into a person who carried the worst of both of his parents when he had tried so hard, he couldn't figure out, but he tried to not dwell on it to long. instead he forced a smile to his lips, "yeah? don't worry - i will next time you hold out on me." the smile that had been forced before quickly became real at the crude words that fell from mason's lips. he hadn't expected it, the way that mason so easily made heat rise up his back and over his neck, his words going straight to his dick - despite the public setting that he found himself hating more and more the second ticked by - wishing that mason could do exactly what he was saying, "holy fuck," the words were drawn out, unable to pull away from him, despite his efforts to keep his distance out of respect for mason's wishes, "you never fail to surprise me, mase." brown eyes tilt up to meet mason's, still unable to move away from him, but keeping his stance casual enough that it might only look like two friends standing just a bit too close - even if his fingers were digging into the edge of the bar, "was more thinking of pissing you off, seeing what it would take for you to bend me over your knee." he hadn't thought of it that way - the fact that it was being willing to do a lot, but it didn't change the fact that the idea of it had him excited, that he couldn't but imagine a future that could exist where they travelled together, to a place where they could just exist without prying eyes always wondering what they were doing, "yeah, i would. or," his shoulders shrug, "you could just dance with me here. i don't give a shit if you can dance or not - its fun," but mason's reminder that nothing about this was simple (maybe he had just meant the logistics of a trip, but it didn't matter all that much) and it brought a sad smile to his lips that he hoped was hidden enough by the darkness around them that mason wouldn't be able to see just how sad it was, "i know its not." his head shakes back and forth, like he's shaking the words away from existence, "forget i said anything," but just as quickly, the words are stumbling from his mouth - always saying too much to mason, "my parents are fucking horrible people, how could i not be?" the level of intimacy that he felt wasn't one that was familiar, wasn't anything he was used to or knew how to describe - the closest he could get to describing it was like a warm blanket, mason's gray gaze melted away the walls that he had created over the years, even as they stood in a dingy alley, dante could feel the walls breaking down under mason's gaze, under his warm touch. no part of him wanted to shy away, even if he felt completely exposed, felt like mason was spreading him open, "you are - everything you've been through in your life, how hard you've worked. you're so fuckin' strong and i admire it so much." lips snap shut - always saying too much. at some point in the future - once he was able to think back on their relationship, he'd be able to pinpoint this moment - standing in a dark, dirty alley as the moment that he started to fall mason for real; not just crushing, but actually falling for him, everything that he was.

he would find himself in the following days allowing himself to think about what it could be like if dante could figure out a way to let himself get to that point - to the trips, to the stability that mason exuded, that dante was so sorely craving, "oh, baby - i know. really enjoy going with you. i don't really like working out myself, but fuck - you look good when you do it." plump lips drop open slightly at the pressure from mason's thumb, his head dipping forwards just enough to let his lips wrap around mason's thumb for a second - always wanting to be touching him, finding a way to let the feelings he harbored inside to be let out. eyes drop away finally, "you do see me. i can't stop you from seeing me. i can't stop myself from showing you - i don't know why." a point that was sorely proven by his confession, by the way his gaze tilted back up, eyes glazed over just a bit by the adoration that he felt in the moment. he nods, "yeah - i got noticed," but a certain sadness still graced his features - because despite being noticed, he was realizing that despite all the fame he had garnered for himself - none of them knew him, not like how mason knew him, "you get noticed too though. not like you're... not kinda famous too." he heard mason's protest about the uber - he just didn't care once their lips met, his tongue shoving against mason's, eagerly tasting the vodka that he had grown so fond of - the strong taste it left in mason's mouth one that he didn't think he would ever grow to like so much. on the trip, everything had felt new and exciting - this was still exciting, but less new; though now it just felt warm - not only making his skin heat up where his arm wrapped around him, up the back of his neck, over his cheeks, but also emotionally - making him feel safe in a way a kiss had never made him feel. mason's voice practically knocked his feet out from under him, a low groan falling out of dante's lips in response, "fuck, fine," his head dips forward, one final bite pressed into mason's bottom lip, "but for future reference - i don't mind you fucking me in a dirty alleyway." still - despite the shock dante had been provided by the words mason had uttered earlier in the evening, he was almost sure that mason wouldn't fuck him in an alley. he can't make himself care as much about people not seeing them anymore, his hand keeping its grip on mason's as he led him back towards the street, "what kind of car? if its not here, i'ma get us a hotel room."

if the last half a year of his life had looked different, mason would probably not have overthought it as much as he did now. after his breakup he had sworn to himself not to make the same mistakes again. swore not to ever lose a friend like that. then again, it wasn't quite the same with dante. as unexpected as their dynamic had shifted it felt more real than he had ever deemed possible so fast. it made him wonder how deep their connection could grow to be. whether they had gone from one to one hundred in an instant or this was just the beginning of something that would make him question everything. "it's been really hard to catch actually. you should've tried a little harder if you ask me." it really had become difficult to justify not diving in deep just like dante seemed to be ready to do so. although mason just couldn't shut off his concerns very easily. "what can i say, you've officially made me curious." there was something exciting about the fact that they were somewhere so public, talking about things that had to stay between them. dante hadn't even started telling him his requests and it already felt like the temperature was rising with the way dark hues aimed at him. the heat brushing his neck didn't help either and all of a sudden he wasn't so sure he even could resist dante if he wanted to. the likeliness of them going back to dante's place without anything happening seemed to get smaller by the second. "really? i expected something more like — i want you to video me while you rail your cock so deep inside of me that my eyes roll back. or i want you to wrap your hand around my neck and then cum all over my pretty lips so i can suck it off them like a good boy." one thing about mason was no matter how reserved he may seem, he did have a dirty mouth on him. although he was carefully making sure no one else would hear him talk that way. "a club where no one would know me? — you'd go all that way just for a dance?" it didn't sound so bad, leaving the city he had grown up in and where there were so many familiar faces that he never quite felt invisible. a trip somewhere with dante to be able to forget that the outside world even existed like it had in the woods. at the same time that would feel a lot like running away from his problems and currently, he wasn't in a great place mentally. "it's not that simple." nothing about this was. for a moment mason listened to the cars driving by and the muffled voices of people walking by in the distance. it wasn't dante's fault that there were so many doubts in the mind of the hockey player. the fact that was the case was only a good thing because if he didn't care it would have been a whole lot easier. then again, the way he touched the other's face was proof enough that he did. as much as he didn't understand this deep feeling he already felt towards the brunet. "what do you mean?" not a good person, felt like it meant something deeper than the side he had seen of dante. as much as he wanted to reassure the other and say it wasn't true, he couldn't do that and it didn't sound like something mason would be able to talk him out of. "i don't believe you." that was the best he could do, as their gazes melted into one another and not a single barrier between them existed. he wasn't used to this. it made him nervous more than it seemed and as much as he wanted to look away, he chose not to. "i wish i was." he didn't feel strong. not with the way dante was able to turn his life upside down in the blink of an eye. how he couldn't fight the tendency to hold the other or kiss him. the way the soft skin felt underneath the callouses of his trained fingers reminded him of that more than enough. how he hoped to be able to touch dante that way until the end of time and wished he was better at communicating how he felt. he wanted to say that he wanted this to last, that this wasn't just hooking up for him as much as he enjoyed having sex with dante. no in between and no halfway meant something to him.

"i train hard for those and you know that." a chuckle finally came from his lips as his sight was set on the way the other leaned into his touch. it was all he longed to see as he let his thumb brush along dante's lips. it was soft, the way they were with one another and that wasn't something he was used to. it was the opposite of what he expected and he wasn't sure if he could look at dante the same after this. "but i think i actually get to see — you." he knew all about hiding himself from people as a form of self-protection, but that wasn't the case between them here. their walls turned to glass ever since they even slightly decided to try to trust each other and as open as they were right now, it only felt like the beginning. "well, it worked i guess. you got noticed." mason hoped that it was something the male in front of him was proud of. being a musician with a platform was not easy to achieve and even though it was a whole different thing than his sport, it felt like the same amount of hard work and possibly some luck played its part in it. "but —" he wanted to tell dante how important it was for them to get to a place where no one held them back. where they could do whatever they desired, but technically they were already there and the warmth felt way too good to let go of. lips found each other again in a way that was harsh. the clashing of their teeth stung, but it was all worth it as long as it was paired with dante's eager touch and no — it had never felt this intense before. his mouth opened to let their tongues meet and the taste of whiskey seemed to be hard to forget. when in no way, shape or form did he have any intention of letting go of dante's face, his other arm wrapped around the other's waist pulling him close as mason kissed with a passion he hadn't shown before. lips moved against each other as though that was what they were made to do and seconds passed between a heated kiss that had all his senses tingling. "i really wanna get you home though." his voice was husky and sounded like he was almost out of breath despite his athletic stamina. it was what dante was doing to him right now that caused it. "i don't wanna fuck you in a dirty alley, babe."

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙔 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s):

Ooh maybe edgy!karl teaching skateboarding :o. I’m also in uni and I remember my first frat party was quite interesting 😂 -🦋

ahhhh part four of your edgy karl was soooo good!!! could i get jealous karl? maybe someone else is hitting on the reader at a party

please please please more edgy!karl if u can. like maybe where him and reader get into a fight because he gets like jealous and he just shows the reader who they belong to fjsjjsj thankyouuu !! 🤍🪐 x

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, light bdsm, jealous, somewhat toxic behavior, crude language, frat boys (again), mentions of masterbation, biting, domination, spanking

∘ word count: ~3200

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: not me having to watch daddy tony hawk tutorials for this bc I'm uncultured and only skateboarded for like three months when I was 14 :)))

thank you for all the requests (especially 🦋 ily). if any of you have ideas for what I should call this series, lemme know! as always, have a great week and happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The parking lot behind the campus union was barren. The morning dew in the air left a sweet smell to combine with Karl’s cologne as he walked beside you, his arm bumping yours as he listened to you nervously ramble on about one of your classes. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of falling on your ass in front of Karl terrified you more than anything. This man had degraded you and made you completely submit to him in the past, yet you were worried that not being able to master his ~craft~ would ruin his image of you. 

He dropped his skateboard, his feet settling on it lazily as he rolled beside you. You watched quietly as he stopped, kicking his foot down on the front of his board so it popped into his hand. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you,” he joshed, tugging on your hand so you were in front of him. 

He set the board down, his hands going to your hips as you stepped on it. His fingers dipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, your skin lighting up at his touch as if his hands belonged on you. “You look like an anemic Victorian boy. I don’t trust you as a safety net,” you grumbled, your hands covering his. You knew, roughly, how to skate from a middle school phase you had. Karl only promised to teach you a few tricks, but to say you were rusty would be an understatement. 

He chuckled darkly, nudging you closer to the middle of the board and peering over your shoulder to look at your stance. “I’ve fucked you without your feet touching the floor. I think I can catch you before you hit the ground, baby,” he chided, making you scoff. 

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you mumbled. He instructed you on how to kick the board up to where you needed it. His words were simple and almost plain like he knew you could figure it out. You attempted to push the board up, but crashed into Karl’s arms, your back thumping against his chest. 

He giggled slightly as he straightened you up, setting you back on the board as his foot kept it from rolling out from under you. His hands hovered over your hips again as he moved his foot, leaving you to balance on your own. “If you fall correctly, people will just think you were giving really good head,” he jested. You shoved his arms away at his words as he laughed at his own joke. 

You attempted a few more times and nearly had it down before Karl’s hands were on your hips again, giving you further instructions. You fought not to smile as his breath ghosted against your neck. You knew he cared about teaching you something that---on paper---was seemingly so easy, but his vulgar teasing was beginning to swarm your head. With his next steps set as your goal as well as the feeling of his hold on you, you kicked the board up and attempted to jump with it. While your brain was up to speed, your feet weren’t, sending the board out from beneath you and you to fall into its place. 

Karl snorted as choked back a laugh at you scrapping your hands on the concrete. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Try again,” he chided, voice uneven and laced with whatever dark humor he was getting from watching you do this. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him tug you up in front of him. As you wobbled on the board once again, you let his hands dig into your sides. Obviously, it seemed that he actually was worried about dropping you again, despite the fact that he was holding back some kind of sick laugh. “You would be great at teaching a kid how to ride a bike,” you quipped, the fact that he called you a pussy seeping into your mind. 

You gasped slightly as you slipped again, this time Karl’s arms wrapping around you tightly, pressing your body against his. “Awe, you want me to put a baby in you, pet?” He jeered with his lips near your ear. You shrugged out of his grip, breaking up your indecent thoughts at his comment. 

You could feel the heat rising to your ears as you balanced on his skateboard again. “Stop, you perv,” you deflected, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard you were having to bite back a smirk. 

After your skateboarding escapades, you sat typing away at your computer, Karl occasionally looking over his phone to peer at you. His legs were thrown lazily on either side of you as he stretched out on his pillows. 

An alarm went off on Karl’s phone, startling you in the process. He fought against smirking at your surprise as he sat up, crawling over to you. “Okay, I gave you two hours,” he stated, leaning forward to press his lips against yours and gently close your computer. The taste of him on your tongue was like a drug for you, leaving you constantly wanting more. 

You smirked into his kiss as your brain finally caught up with you. “I hope that document saved, asshole,” you groaned, pushing him back into his pillows as he chuckled at you. His fingers dragged up the length of your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands as you straddled him. “Fucking weirdo, timing me. Who are you, my dad?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his neck and digging your fingers into his hair. 

He moaned lowly, grinding against you. “Oh fuck yeah. Call me daddy,” he cantered. 

“No,” you answered simply. You sat up, reaching over to his top drawer in search of protection, but running your fingers over a lacy garment instead. Your brows knitted together as your gaze shot to the drawer, your underpants dangling from your finger. Karl tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at you nonchalantly as your mind flashed with memories of your time in the bathroom. 

Before you had the opportunity to ask him what he was still doing with them, his door popped open to reveal one of Karl’s roommates, his name beginning with a D but slipping your mind. “What are you guys doing in here?” He asked with a rather dopey smile, gesturing to Karl still between your legs. “Everyone’s downstairs, come on.” You and Karl shared a look as he left. 

You leaned back down to him, kissing him briefly before pressing your lips to his neck again. “Wanna come over instead?” You suggested softly, your lips ghosting over his ear. 

Karl loped down the stairs in front of you, a heavy layer of smoke hanging in the air above your heads. A mass of people crammed themselves together, finding solace in each other after the long week. If you weren’t so hung up on getting into Karl’s pants, you might have considered joining them. 

Before the two of you could reach the door, someone called out for Karl. Their voice boomed over the loudness of the music, making Karl wince slightly. His face flattened into a frown as “Todd” waved at the two of you. Karl took a few slugging steps to stand close enough to Todd’s group that they wouldn’t have to yell at each other. You settled your hand on Karl’s hip as you wrapped your hand around his waist, leaning against him. Todd’s eyes traced over you. 

He wet his lips. “You guys leaving already?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and accepting the joint offered to him. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like the king of the castle. Luckily, you knew better. “Come on, play a game with us!” He suggested, patting the empty spot beside him. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell Karl was rolling his eyes. “I got a seat warmed up for you, baby girl,” he nodded towards you. 

You perked an eyebrow in his direction and Karl slipped his hand into yours nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no,” Karl stated. 

“Come on, Karl. Don’t make me pull pin.” At Todd’s words, Karl groaned reluctantly, the sound barely audible. You furrowed your brows at him. “Fifteen minutes. We were gonna play Never Have I Ever.” 

You leaned towards Karl. “What’s pulling pin?” You mumbled. 

“Flexing rank,” he grunted back. He tugged you with him to join the group. Before you could sit down, Todd pulled you into the spot beside him. You laughed nervously, watching as Karl’s features darkened as he sat across from the two of you. Todd handed you a drink, which you took but avoided sipping out of. 

A boy beside Karl piped up. “Okay, so never have I ever graduated high school. My degree is literally fake.” The boy smiled before taking a drink, making you giggle slightly. Todd draped his arm around the back of the couch where you were sitting. He wasn’t touching you exactly but every ounce of his being was getting under Karl’s skin. 

Todd smugly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Those aren’t the rules. You have to say something that’s not true about you. Like…” he trailed off slightly, his gaze settling on you before his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never have I ever slashed someone’s tires.” 

You humored him with a subtle smile as if to ask if he was serious. He gestured towards Karl, who took a drink. You bit back a grin. “Well, never have I ever masturbated to a girl my roommate’s sleeping with,” Karl retaliated. Your eyes grew wide, suddenly happy to watch the event unfold before you. 

Todd took a drink after glaring at Karl. He leaned closer to you, this time his arm dropped to pull you against his side. “Do you wanna take a turn?” You shook your head, flashing your eyes to Karl before looping your fingers with Todd’s. Karl chewed the inside of his cheek, looking like he was holding back another laugh. “Alright, I’ll go.” Todd brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm. “Ah, I know. Never have I ever betrayed the secret oath of the frat and called the police.” 

Karl took another sip, his eyes on you. “Yeah, because never have I ever set the house on fire trying to light a bong,” he answered, making you snort. 

You let your free hand settle on Todd’s knee. “Awe, I’d light your bong for you,” you chided, making Todd laugh as he took a drink. 

“I bet you could do a lot for me, Princess,” he flirted, his lips nearing your ear. You raised your eyebrows in Karl’s direction, who was sitting with his chin in his hand. His expression was darkly entertained as you flirted with Todd. “Speaking of,” Todd looked to Karl again. “Never have I ever fucked someone on my roommate’s bed,” he teased, tucking his nose in the crook of your neck. 

Karl smirked. “You’re right, you probably haven’t,” he stated simply, downing the rest of his drink. Todd tensed slightly beside you. Karl stood, ruffling the hair of one of the other Brothers that were in the group before holding his hand out for you to take. As the two of you left, you heard one of the guys whistle and say something about never having peed in a pool before. 

As the two of you left the house, you walked in time with Karl’s heavy steps, swinging your entwined hands as if you were completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I made you jealous,” you taunted. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he opened the passenger car door for you. Before you could slip into the seat, Karl’s hand gripped the back of your neck, bringing you to press your lips roughly against his. He pinned you between him and the cool metal of the car as the taste of beer spread across your tongue. 

His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand tightening around your throat. The coolness of his tongue ring was a welcomed sensation as you attempted to find friction against his hips. Your fingers moved to close around his wrist as he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. His face was expressionless as his gaze danced from your lips to your eyes. “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you for the way you acted,” he ribbed, stepping away from you. 

You nearly slid down the side of the car at his words. “Okay,” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks and ultimately to your core. 

Karl’s calm exterior followed you until you finally got your apartment door open. Karl pinned you against the wood of your bedroom door, reaching to twist the lock as his lips began to commandeer your own. His hands dragged up your thighs beneath your skirt, squeezing at the flesh roughly. He yanked your shirt off, grinding his hips up and against yours as his teeth moved to nip at the skin of your neck before returning to badger your lips. 

The taste of beer on his lips blended with your flavored chapstick as your tongue slipped into his mouth. In a mess of tugging and biting each other, your body melted into his rough grasp. You wanted whatever repercussions his twisted mind could come up with. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you. You fought against diving your hands into his jeans to beg him to continue, but he broke away from you as you fought to catch your breath. 

Your lips were buzzing as the feeling of him still lingered. He brought his hand up to your jaw, tipping your chin up to him. “Fucking slut,” the devil’s grin painted across his face before he continued, pressing his lips against yours once more, his grin dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “You act like I don’t fucking own you,” he nearly growled, his face hovering over yours as his hand squeezed your throat. You moaned quietly as he regulated your breathing with his hand. You wanted to drink in his dark, commanding appearance. 

He pushed you back on the bed, making you instinctively crawl up towards the pillows. He smirked slightly, undoing his belt and slipping it into his hands. He put the garment on your bedside table. After tugging his shirt off, he was on top of you again, pushing you into the pillows and the fluffy comforter. Karl’s lips seared yours, showing you how much command he had over your body. He ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his jeans digging into you to elicit a moan echo from your mouth. You could feel his erection hardening against your leg, the tension deep within you tightening at the prospect of what he was going to do to you. 

His fingers tugged at your skirt, gripping the material in his fist and dragging it down your body as if it was nothing. He flipped you, your elbows crowding the pillows as you felt him sit on your back, snapping the belt in his hands again. You let out a short breath as Karl’s nails raked up your back before his fingers dipped in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. “I want you to scream my name tonight,” he groaned. You obliged as he dropped his grip on you. 

He pulled your wrists between the bars of your headboard before binding you to the metal with his belt, yanking the leather to sinch against your skin. He dropped his head to press his lips against your shoulder, a tender nod of affection you knew would be the last. You leaned on your side to watch him sit back on his knees to unbutton his jeans. “Be gentle,” you leered, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your grin again as you watched him spit into his hand and stroke himself in preparation.

He chuckled. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly through a smirk. He pulled your hips up and against his own, forcing your face into the mattress. Your hands tightened around the metal bars, as he angled himself at your entrance before driving himself into with an act of force you knew you deserved. A moan of his name slipped past your lips as his fingers dug into your hips, thrusting into you to drive himself deeper into you. “That’s right. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you,” he groaned, snapping his hips against yours. 

Moans of pure bliss escaped your lips as his head neared yours. Karl used your hips as leverage for his unwavering pace, leaving you a mess of pleasure beneath him. His lips found their way to your neck as he nipped against the sensitive skin. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, and he deserved to. His hand from your hair became wrapped around your throat as he began to reach his peak. 

His hand slapped your ass with such force you knew there was a handprint, but you were too overwhelmed with the noises escaping his lips and your climax threatened to disobey your control to be concerned with the sting. If anything it threatened to push you over the edge. Your hands pulled against the leather of his belt as he pounded into you. 

Your toes began to curl as he leaned over you, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you bit back heavy moans of pleasure. Karl’s hand was knotted in your hair again, his other fisting the sheets beside you. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” You moaned out his name as he punctuated his sentence with the thrusts of his hips. “That’s right, you fucking slut.” You tightened around him, your orgasm sweeping over you with an element of shock. 

You could practically hear Karl’s smirk as he moaned at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. He continued to ride you, finishing rather abruptly. He pressed his lips between your shoulder blades before loosening the belt around your wrists. Your back popped as you were finally able to move freely. He bit back a chuckle as you gingerly snuggled beneath the covers beside him. You slipped your hand across his torso, hugging his side against your chest as he rested an arm behind your head. 

As you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat began to steady, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. “I’d rather eat my own feet than sleep with Todd, you know,” you croaked, realizing just how much your voice was weakening, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

Karl chuckled softly. “Me too,” he commented, making you smile slightly. “I’m actually…” he paused slightly before continuing as if searching for what he wanted to say exactly. “I’m actually not sleeping with anyone else.” 

You couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. “I’m not either.” You hugged him tighter, letting his fingers twirl into your hair. “I’m good with you.” 

“I’m good with you, too,” he mirrored, a smirk evident in his voice as his other hand traced over the red marks on your wrists from his belt. 

Tags: 

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx

[darthzero22]

Hi idk if your taking requests but i just thought it would be really cute if Crosshair had a really happy/bubbly/positive girlfriend, but one day he sees her REALLY upset and its beacuse some person hurt her and Cross gets PISSED, because he's never seen her upset before and wants whoever hurt her to pay

Hi! I hope you have a nice day! I will open request later, I don't know when, but I will 😊

But I loved your idea, anon! I'm inspired now, so here you go. I hope it's what you wanted, or looks like it.

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Crosshair, a serious, cold, distant man with a crude personality, fell in love with you, a woman who always sees the positive side of everything. He doesn't remember you ever getting upset, whenever you could you smiled. That would change and he wouldn't take it very well.

Warning: strong language

You and your squad had landed on a planet to get fuel and repair the Marauder after that complicated mission. You went into the city to get a couple of things Tech needed for the ship, and Crosshair had seen you leave the ship with a smile on your face, but when you came back you didn't have that beautiful smile. 

You were upset, very upset. 

You didn't want to talk to him, in fact you didn't want him to know, but he could instantly see that something or someone was upsetting you.

The door to your room opens. Crosshair enters to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with your head down. Something wasn't right, he had never seen you like this, and he felt his stomach clench at the sight of you in that mood.

“Mesh’la"

"Hey, Cross..."

"What happened?”

“I don't know what you're talking about"

“Don't try to hide it from me” he rests one knee on the floor in front of you, to face you.

“I'm not hiding anything from you, really"

"I don't believe you"

"I..."

“Look at me” he grabs your chin gently.

You lift your face to look at him, and Crosshair is surprised. That beautiful smile that characterized you was gone, and now there were only sad and wet eyes as tears wanted to come out, but you did not allow it.

“Is it bad to help people, Cross?” you were suffering all those negative emotions. Anger, sadness and disappointment. “Is it wrong to want to help someone?”

“It depends on the situation"

"I am beginning to believe that..."

"What happened? I need to know”

He starts to get angry because he suspected someone had hurt you.

“When I was returning to the ship, the owner of this port needed help with some boxes that fell on the floor and I helped him, but...”

“But? Mesh’la, come on. I need to know what else happened”

“I accidentally knocked over a box and whatever was inside broke. I don't know what it was, possibly droid parts or something? I was really sorry… I wanted to help him again because I was really sorry, but he yelled at me saying that if I was so bad at helping, then don't help him anymore… and practically pushed me away”

That man pushed you? That guy dared to lay a finger on you? Crosshair felt his blood boiling more and more.

“He… Don't tell me he dared to push you” he grits his teeth, feeling increasingly pissed off.

“Yes… He even called me useless and pathetic. I... I've never been called that before, especially when I tried to help…”

That was disappointment and anger because you couldn't believe that there were such ungrateful people, and sadness because that man humiliated you in public. That man didn't care that you had helped him before, because at the slightest and simple mistake you made he treated you like a useless and pathetic woman.

You didn't want to cry because you were aware that bad things happen, but it hit you hard because you were treated like garbage when you simply wanted to help. Crosshair frowns, you've never seen him so pissed off. He squeezed the bed sheets with his hand, as he had them resting on the edge on either side of you.

“It's silly, I know…"

"Mesh'la"

"I know some people are ungrateful, but I've never been treated like this before...”

Crosshair was about to say something, but he couldn't because you hugged him by wrapping your arms around his neck, as he was still in front of you. He rests a hand on your back and I could feel you start to tremble.

“People turned to look at me and judge me…” you rested your eyes on his shoulder.

"Mesh'la"

Your shortness of breath made another horrible sensation appear in him.

"You're not... crying, are you?" his tone of voice indicated fear and concern.

Yes, you were crying. Crosshair took that very personally, something in his heart hurt. You were his girlfriend, the most important person in his life. You were always in a good mood, you always found it easy to smile, but now you only cried out of anger and sadness. Now it was hard for you to smile. He had never seen you like this before, which made the pain in his heart increase.

“He pushed you, insulted you and also humiliated you… all because you tried to help him”

"I guess..."

Crosshair hugged you back, while thinking of a thousand ways to make that guy pay for what he did. You were so beautiful, unique in this galaxy that someone dared to hurt you, and above all to prevent you from smiling again. He was stroking your back in an attempt to reassure you, and while he was succeeding, it wasn't enough.

"I'm going to kill that guy"

“Cross…"

Before you could stop him, Crosshair stands up and leaves the room. To say he was pissed was an understatement to describe how he was. He exits the ship, meeting Tech who was surprised to see him.

“Where are you going, Crosshair? We have to take off now”

Crosshair simply ignored Tech and with his eyes found the ungrateful man who hurt you from a distance. That man was just tidying up those damn boxes, so he walks over there. He was clenching his fists, it was very likely that he would beat him up, and you got out of the Marauder too to stop him. You didn't want him to get in trouble because of you.

“Hey, you!”

The man turns around when he hears that, and raises an eyebrow as he sees the tall, angry figure of Crosshair approaching him.

“Yeah? Do you need something...?”

Crosshair didn't let him finish speaking because he punched him in the nose so hard that he managed to knock him to the ground. He did not even give him time to recover because he grabbed him by his clothes in the neck area, and forced him to get up and slam him against the wall. That man had blood coming out of his nose.

“What the…?!”

“Shut up! You think you're brave for humiliating my girlfriend?” Crosshair's eyes showed nothing but fury.

“Your girlfriend…?"

"Yeah. That beautiful woman who dared to help a scumbag like you"

"Oh! I don't know what she told you, but it wasn't like that! She broke…”

“Wait. You dare to call her a liar?!”

“No, no…!"

"You are ungrateful!"

"If you don't let go, I'm going to call the authorities!”

“She helped you, you piece of shit. She helped your disgusting ass when she didn't have to! And you dared to push her? You humiliated her!"

“Please, I didn't mean to treat her like that!”

“You made her cry. You have no idea how pissed off I am... A punch will be the least of your problems”

“No!”

Crosshair was going to punch him again, harder than the first, but a hand grabbing his shoulder stops him. That hand was yours, so he lowers his fist.

“There is no need for this!”

“He hurt you! It is more than necessary”

“I don't want you to get in trouble because of me!"

"I don't care"

"Please... Let that guy go”

Seeing those sad eyes of yours convinced him, even though he didn't want to. Crosshair sighs, but before letting go of the man, he knees him in the crotch, and then the guy falls to the ground in pain from the blow. No one dares to mess with you, that message was more than clear.

"You deserve worse, you idiot"

"Stop..." you grab his hand. "Let's go back to the ship"

You begin to walk back to the ship, but before Crosshair kicks one of the guy's many boxes causing it to fall, and therefore whatever was inside to break.

"I'm a little better now, just a little" he said.

"Was all that necessary?

"He hurt you, he had to pay. No one makes my girlfriend cry"

Even though you didn't quite agree with the violence Crosshair used, it made you feel better to know that he really cared about you. You knew he didn't like public affection, so you waited until you were alone back in your ship's room to hug him. He reciprocates the hug by placing a hand on your back, and you rested your face on his shoulder.

"You could have gotten into a lot of trouble..."

"I told you, I didn't care"

"Cross..."

"Nothing you can say will change my mind. You always find it easy to smile, and then to see you like this..." he sighs. "I wanted to make him pay"

"Cross, the reason I always smile is because of you... You make me smile"

Well, Crosshair didn't expect that. A blush appears on his cheeks, he even frowns, but you feel him hug you a little tighter now.

"I hate to see you sad and to see you cry.... You have no idea how much"

"I am much better now... and thanks to you" you raise your head to look at him, and finally smile.

There was the smile that he loved, even though he loved everything about you. Crosshair brings a hand to your face and strokes one cheek with his thumb, then strokes your lower lip.

"No one will ever hurt you again, I promise" he said.

"I know..."

You give him a kiss on the corner of his lips, but he wanted something more, so he moves his face and they make you kiss each other on the mouth. You knew that with him you felt safe, loved, and above all he was the reason for your happiness. To Crosshair you were his life, so if someone dared to hurt you, it was as if someone would hurt him. He wasn't going to let them hurt you again, he wasn't going to let anyone take that smile away from you.

[titleknown]

...I mean, while promptcrafting is a skill of its own, because when trying to get the exact design you want in your head it can go quickly from "The computer is amazing" to "the computer is dumb as hell", and even a lot of those high-end prompts tend to be the results of lots and lots of culling I think even beyond that there's some other aspects you overlook?

Like, there's img-2-img, which doesn't create a design from scratch but rather uses a picture as a "base," which can be used for crude "tracing" of other people's art unfortunately... but also it can be used to take simple designs you made MSPaint-style and do some wild variations...

...After stitching together pieces from the best parts, that is. Which is another thing, in that a lot of AI art designs can be better made to work through combining pieces from multiple iterations into one piece, or sometimes you have to do that to replicate a certain design of one's own.

There's also outpainting, that involves taking a part of an image, putting it in a frame, and prompting it to expand it. Which also often produces multiple iterations. That you end up doing that sort of piecemeal combination of the best bits of.

And it gets even more insane when you combine these techniques. Like, I have taken a piece of random "noise" from an AI outpainting and used it to make its own design via outpainting, and I've used image-2-image multiple times to try and turn a manatee into a mermaid (Albeit, with a bit of "cheating" via photomanipulation on the initiating image, but still)

Like, while people make arguments for that sort of AI art you're worried about, AI art isn't just for that sort of "raw" art, and I've seen a lot of people on Are We Art Yet doing some neat stuff with it.

I think that, like, does show the tools have a purpose beyond just that automation of design? I think in its more artistic form it's gonna end up resembling photomanipulation when it matures as an actual artform, and I think the methods beyond just "type in words, get picture" are going to come into their own as a new art technique the more people start tinkering with them...

...Albeit, too damn many things from the big AI creators seem to be geared towards developing that "fire and forget" mentality rather than those more art-focused tools, but that's its own discussion....

Okay this is driving me crazy: why the hell is it the “data source” that bothers you all about AI art? That aspect is the irrelevant one to me. The sources are impossible to deduce individually. It’s more obvious where human artists get their inspiration. It’s the concept of auto-generated art itself that’s awful regardless of its dataset. Why does anyone care what it’s scraping from when that’s invisible? I thought we were all on the same page that this is a genuine legitimate case of “technology bad.” It’s a technology that can’t do any good for anyone but lazy, greedy companies. Its existence itself is sad. A “more ethical datasource” won’t change the fact that meaningless pictures created by a nonsapient force will probably outnumber actual artwork some day, isn’t that what’s disgusting?

[demonslayedher]

The Sharing of Demon Cells

Kibutsuji Muzan is the basis upon which all other demons live. They were altered by his cells, having more of his cells makes them more powerful, he can reach into their thoughts and sight whenever he likes, and should they ever slip up and say something that will pose a threat to him, the cells of his that each demon carries will act as a curse and kill them. But each demon is also an individual, and their own cells determine what sort of being they'll become, and how useful they'll be to Muzan in doing what he cannot. To what extent can their own cells be shared and influence others, a reflection of the way Muzan's can be? This will be heavily based on info presented in Fanbook #2, but will also look at cases throughout the manga.

Influence of Muzan's Cells First, let's consider how unique or separate the demons are in the first place. All demons have Muzan's cells, except Yushiro who was created without them, and when Muzan was killed all the demons died too. This dependency, as well as the fact that each demon essentially acts as a long-distance extension of Muzan, might make it seem like they are a hivemind, or like an aspen forest, in which it looks like there are lots of trees but actually they are all one living entity connected by their roots. However, I think it's better to think of Muzan like one core tree, and the other demons like plants that growth on top on him with roots dependent on him, though they use their own leaves to reap... well, sunlight. Maybe this is a bad metaphor. We can still, however, thing of them as intimately intertwined.

Essentially, they are their own unique beings almost like parasites to him, because in most cases we've seen of people turning to demons, there was more or less a death of the human. In the two cases of demons turning human again, with the help of medicine to unweave themselves from Muzan, the mere time spent as a demon which self-repairing cells was what already zapped life back into them. In other cases, while still intimating interwoven with Muzan, that means they'd have been dragging down with him. This means Nezuko got very lucky with her timing that the medicine had an effect on her before Muzan perished; though perhaps she freed herself enough that this would not have had an effect. For those demons that aren't as lucky (Tamayo had a pure stroke of luck being able to break from, as though the thorny vines turned brittle enough for her to break through when Muzan was in pieces after encountering Yoriichi, and then it was impossible to bring her back), this means being vulnerable to Muzan's wishes at any time. While Muzan himself is essentially in pieces at all times, what with being present inside of each of his demons, he is the progenitor of demons, and this doesn't cause him any ill effects (making him more like a host rather than interdependent). However, other demons have also shown this ability to break themselves into multiple pieces.

The Swamp Demon: One demon in three bodies showing different attributes, but all the same being. Notably, this was not it's only Blood Technique, it had also developed a whole sub-dimension. Pretty rough first mission for a newbie, although it's possible it did not yet have mastery of its own rather impressive techniques (like Kaigaku). Hantengu: His self-splitting is more complicated, in that he first gains strength when he is cut, especially in taking on younger forms, until reaching the limits of this. Make enough copies, and his copies will no longer gain extra strength, like how repeated clones will have shorter and shorter DNA code on which to base themselves, or how photocopying copy after copy instead of the original will lead to blurrier copies. While like the Swamp Demon these different bodies show different personalities, it's a more advanced technique because they also show entirely different abilities, and function like multiple demons that happen to share the same basic identity. What gets really interesting is when one of these demons forcefully absorbs the others and grows more powerful.

Demon cannibalism is not an ideal way of gaining strength, but it happens. As mentioned in this post analyzing how demons rely on their human diet, demons at the Final Selection were known to eat each other, but clearly this doesn't make them as formidable as eating humans would, and it may had only been a desperate act to quell their own maddening hunger. However, in cases when demons have challenged each other, the loser may be absorbed. That is precisely what Kokushibou did on two of the three occasions he was challenged for the Upper Moon One rank, according to Fanbook #2 (he decided not to eat Akaza because he liked him). This cannibalism was done with Muzan's permission, and if it's anything like Sekido absorbing the other Hantengu quarters to become Zouhakuten, then we can assume Kokushibou got stronger because of the cells he took from those demons, perhaps similar to how cells from Muzan can make a demon more powerful. While we're on the topic of Upper Moons, Fanbook #2 states that only they have the permission to make other demons, and even so, they must ask Muzan for permission first. I'm assuming they're also the only ones allowed to call Muzan up on the mental telephone line instead of just be on the receiving end. If Muzan agrees, their blood is changed, so essentially what they give the new demon hopeful is not their own blood, but Muzan's. There is only demon we know of who has permission to share his own unique cells, which influence demons in their own unique way, separate from the influence Muzan already has. Lower Moon Five, Rui, simply by virtue of being a favorite. Fanbook #2 tells us:

Although he's only been a demon for less than twenty years, he's especially skilled, and well-favored by Muzan. In terms of absolute abilities he's thought to be more like Lower Moon One or Two, but since he isn't concerned about what number he is he's never applied for change in rank. Muzan anticipated Rui being able to kill Pillars. He probably would had been able to have a good match with a Pillar if he first reabsorbed all the abilities he split up amongst the demons playing the roles of his family (that is, his Blood Techniques which he lent to them by making them drink his blood, which gave them spider appearances), and he probably could had gotten even stronger. However, because he got over-emotional while fighting Tanjiro and the others on Mt. Natagumo, he made some misjudgments. He has a tendency to do simple attacks just throwing his weight around when he gets angry. If Rui were defeated first, his family member demons, who could not originally use Blood Techniques, would lose those abilities.

We can infer a few things from this: --All of those techniques were Rui's in the first place --Rui became weaker by doing this (though his overall strategy in spreading his abilities lead to lots and lots of Demon Slayer Corp deaths, so this is probably part of why Muzan allowed it), so there are limitations in how thinly he can spread himself --If not Rui's personal techniques and instead developed by being in combination with the individual demons' he shared his blood with, that's perhaps part of why he could had gotten more powerful by reabsorbing his own blood/blood techniques. While Rui did have special permission, I think it's also partly because Rui lacked ambition, so he never would had set about to challenge Muzan by spreading his own personal influence. Just think what, say, someone like Gyokko would had done with this permission, and how much he might had abused it in spreading his own taste and influence. Though he's subservient to Muzan, with too much of a taste for power, it's possible he could had tried to overstep his boundaries--not that Muzan would had let that last long the moment he saw it in his thoughts, but keeping tight rules prevents him from ever having to deal with any challenges from among his more powerful demons. If we look at the Rui-Demon Family relationship from the receiving end, though, this is a clear case for how taking cells from other demons can make a demon much stronger, thereby being another option besides eating humans or possible other self-strengthening methods. While they did on the whole become stronger and were newly able to use Blood Techniques with Rui's help, what about other cases of not simply getting stronger, but using each others' techniques as-is? Yahara and Susamaru, perhaps? Not quite, they each used their own Blood Techniques and willingly cooperated with each other, there was no exchange of cells, as far as we know. (That sounds dirty, and we're not going there.) How about when anybody uses Yushirou's papers? First, those abilities were freely lent, and most of the people who used them were human, and there was no ingesting of demon blood required. Perhaps with Nakime, however, forcing his own blood into her may had been how he was able to force her to see illusions. Genya using Kokushibou's techniques? Now we're getting closer. While in his temporary demon state, he was influenced by Kokushibou's cells like Rui's family was influenced by his cells in their appearance. It seems the tree was of his own making instead of being strictly a copy of Kokushibou's techniques, but we can think of this as a crude imitation of the ability to make objects based on demon cells, especially something that requires speedy growth/increase of cells. Later in that fight, Kokushibou displayed the ability to very quickly increase and transform, and the sword which Genya consumed was, essentially, a part of Kokushibou's body. (Still sounding dirty, but nope, we still are not going there.) Very notable is that this is a case of a demon's cells/abilities being absorbed and used against their own will. Even if this did subtract from Kokushibou's abilities like happened with Rui, though, the effect was probably only slight. So then what about when a demon freely wants to lends their own ability to another demon? First of all, Muzan, who will stand for absolutely nothing challenging him, will say no.

Ok. So. What if we can get around that? Answer: Yes, we can. We can totally do this. It's probably just as simple as Rui having other demons drink his blood, and they all probably have some innate ability to influence each other, albeit the more powerful ones having more influence. But, what's super interesting is that their own cells still stay unique to them, even when in another demon's body. Cases in point, Rui's family members periodically changing back to their personal appearance, and Muzan's cells lurking inside of any other demon. And, jumping ahead of ourselves, even when Muzan has absorbed Tamayo, her cells are still so unique that he can even reassemble her. (Worth noting, absorbing one demon probably only had a marginal effect on making him stronger. Also worth noting, at least when inside Muzan's inner space, she's also able to reassemble herself to some extent, and we only see her fade away in peace in a post-chapter sketch once Muzan is dead.)

Speaking of Tamayo, she did freely use a Blood Technique freely given to her by another demon, the man in Asakusa. Once they got him free of Muzan's curse too so he could act on his own will, he could lend the use of his cells and thorny flesh vines to Tamayo, specifically to be used against Muzan in Chapter 138. Muzan's first thought is, "who's Blood Technique is this?" Unsurprising he's long forgotten about the throwaway Asakusa Demon, who has now totally slipped out of his control! But he stays calm, knowing this is like any other demon, and it's not even a huge amount, he can simply absorb this. Which, of course, makes his unwittingly absorb Tamayo's fist, too. Whoops. (Aside: I had initially thought the Blood Technique Muzan uses against Himejima in Chapter 139 was Muzan taking the Asakusa Demon's attack and using it as his own, but Fanbook #2 specifies that this is Muzan's own unique technique.)

Let's back up one more moment. It's one thing to influence each other with your own cells that stay separate and unique, and to lend out Blood Techniques. But what about sharing demon cells in a way that makes it act like like a food, something that can be broken down, totally separated from its former host, and fundamentally transform its new host?

For that, we have medicine.

Yushirou might had been made with Tamayo's cells, or a medicine developed from scratch like the medicine that changed Muzan into a demon, or it could be a combination of both. However, even when Tamayo died, Yushirou could go on living, so he and Tamayo do not have a dependent host/parasite relationship like all the other demons do with Muzan. He certainly felt it with his whole being when he perished, but you could argue that this was the power of love instead of his cells being tied with hers. If her cells were used to create him (which I find likely), being used in a medicinal form severed whatever sort of standard connection there might had been if making demons in Muzan's style, and it also allowed it to fully become a part of Yushirou as an individual, instead of remaining uniquely Tamayo (not that he'd have a problem with that). Getting that process to work took Tamayo over two hundred years. That's probably part of why she could work so much faster with Nezuko's blood, and why she was able to use it as a medicine to help the Asakusa Demon, as stated in Tamayo's letter to Tanjiro in Chapter 127. There's no mention of him picking up traits from Nezuko like Exploding Blood or potential to master the sun, instead, the only effect was helping him break free of Muzan's influence, and perhaps his ability to live on a small amount of blood might also had been influenced by Nezuko's ability to function without it (though I find it more likely Tamayo already had other appetite management methods that helped her and Yushirou which also helped this fellow).

So anyway. While there are demons we don't wish to harm by shedding light on them in a thoughtless metaphor, I hope this was insightful.