#i wasn't aiming or expecting this to happen and i don't really care either way but it's an interesting indicator

[celepeace]

My doctor has me on diabetes meds even though I don't have diabetes as a prophylactic, and it's taken... 2? years now but I've been slowly noticing some weight loss and it's like oh cool so the sudden weight gain when I was in my late teens was indeed due to the whole metabolic disorder thing and not just age. Neat. Awesome. Cool. Not at all unnerving

[grandlinedreams]

I always see strawhat!reader x law stories all over the place, so can I request a kid pirate!reader x law? Where, specifically the reader is Kid’s younger sister (or killer’s, I mean a sister of one is basically the sister of the other)?

YES oh my god I didn't know I needed this til I wrote it and I hope that you like it too!! I think having Kid as a big brother would either be the best or worst thing in the world ㅡ set somewhere in timeline idk maybe around Stampede

[Heads up!: afab/fem aligned reader, some cursing, shovel talk from kid, established relationship]

Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother in and of itself is a little odd. Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother when he's the captain makes it a little odder, you suppose. At least to those who only see it at a glance, brief glimpses rather than seeing the whole picture.

You don't mind, not really. Most older brothers would probably have tried to talk their younger sister from becoming a pirate ㅡ but all Kid had done was stare at you and then scoff. "I'm not your damn babysitter, I won't stop you."

And that was that ㅡ if there'd been dissent when you joined, Kid put a swift stop to it with a fierce glare and well-described threats about what would happen if they laid a finger on you. But you're strong in your own right, and the one or two who continued to push the matter learned it the hard way.

And truth be told, Kid doesn't treat you like his little sister. He's your older brother yes, and there are hints of it here and there when you know where to look, but it's Killer who takes on the softer aspects of being an older brother to you when you need it.

Which is what makes this so surprising that it's Kid who's staring down the man you've been dating behind his back.

"So." Crimson eyes lock with gold. "You and my sister, huh." His attention shifts to you for a moment. "How long has that been going on?"

"Not longㅡ"

"A while."

If Law can feel your furious look aimed for him, he doesn't show it. Kid looks far from thrilled at the differing answers, scowling as he refocuses on Law.

"Guess it doesn't matter how long it's been going on, becauseㅡ"

"Because I'm a grownass adult, Kid!" You snap, frustrated with your brother who looks like he'd like nothing more to swing a fist at Law. He turns on you, and you match his glare for its intensity. "I'm not going to let you ruin something good for me because you decided to pull the older sibling card for once."

You know Kid cares, you know he loves you ㅡ and you love him just as much, because at the end of the day, he's your brother.

Kid stares at you for several long moments before he scoffs. "Fine. Do what you want. But you're not leaving us for that shitty crew of his."

"I wasn't planning on it, asshole! Somebody's gotta help Killer keep your dumb ass alive!"

"Don't yell at me, I'm still your older brother!" Kid glares at you and you match his gaze for its intensity before he rounds on Law. "If you hurt her, I'll let her kick your ass first, and then I'll finish the job."

Law meets his glare, his expression carefully blank. "I wasn't planning to."

Kid scoffs before he shifts his attention back to you. "I'm giving you two minutes to do whatever you need to before we leave, with or without you."

"And here you said I wasn't allowed to join their crew." Your eyes gleam. "Doesn't give me much choice if you leave me here."

Kid scowls before he stalks off, mumbling loud enough that you can hear his complaints of "dumbass little sister" and "been a pain in my ass since you were born" before it fades completely.

"That went about as well as I expected," you sigh before you approach Law. "He's nowhere near as scary as everyone thinks when you have as much blackmail as I do."

"He doesn't scare me." Law glances at you. "It's still surprising that you're related."

You raise an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment." Stepping closer, you lean up to press your lips against his in a short, chaste kiss. "I should go. Don't need him figuring out that we've done more than just kiss."

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

I didn't want to bring negativity on my last post about face lyrics but while watching I was reminded of this:

I just can't believe the nerve.

The way they try to paint a narrative of sadness and struggle and misery around Jimin's work, when literally everything we've been seeing about it has been nothing short of exhilarating. He struggled what any normal, flesh-and-bone artist goes through while working on something they really care about, but it didn't hurt him. He wasn't hurting. He wanted to talk about the things he felt and his heartache during the pandemic because he wanted to, not because it was a responsibility.

I don't know where these kind of people were when face was announced and later, released; but pjms barely talked about records or numbers. Some even thought those "goals" that army make for each comeback were too high, and that we should aim lower. People were just geniunely excited for music made by Jimin.

The same can't be said for other group of fans who, from the beginning, had the only and sole goal of "breaking records" and trying to fabricate a successful career for another member by force of remixes and versions.

There's something sinister in turning the support that people were/are trying to give Jimin into selfishness and things that have nothing to do with Jimin.

Either way, let's entertain the idea for a second and say it's about selfishness. Then, why Jimin or people who support him can't be selfish? Why is Jimin always the one who has to compromise and not be selfish?

Why can Jungkook be selfish, just take take take and take, but Jimin should be the one to put part of his life on hold or be relegated to the back of the stage?

If having equal opportunities and having fair support from the company means being selfish, then fuck yeah Jimin should be selfish. Who else is going to be selfish for him?

Or is Jungkook going to say "don't restock my CDs because none of my bandmates CDs were restocked"? Is he going to be selfless and say "split the combined versions of my songs because that's what happened to my bandmates too"? Is selflessness even expected from Jungkook or his fans?

Why weren't Jungkook's fans asked to not be selfish and buy only the same amount of remixes as everyone else got, and stream only one version of the song the same as everyone got? Why weren't Jungkook and his fans asked to not be selfish and stop supporting Jungkook? Why weren't they called selfish for asking more remixes of a song that already had 10 remixes?

This fandom is so used to Jimin being the only one compromising everything always, the only one who should put his life on hold so he can sit back and watch at the rest moving on. They're used to treating Jimin like his best trait is being there for others.

And I will talk about jikookers specifically like I've always done because merely three or four months ago I saw them praying and begging Jimin would do stuff for JK that Jungkook has never done for Jimin. I've seen them begging and praying that Jimin didn't enlist after FACE, not because they might miss him or because they worry about his health or want more music from him, but because they wanted him to be Jungkook's cheerleader during his debut. Even though during Jimin's debut Jungkook was selfish enough to never show up for Jimin. He was selfish enough that the only time he "supported" Jimin in person was the time he happened to be at hybe's so he could use their gym, and Jimin happened to be rehearsing there. But of course, it's only Jimin who's not allowed to be selfish.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do platonic yandere viggo grimborn from httyd with a dragon rider darling?

Ah yes, time to write another scary man. This is aiming to be for Season 2-3 Viggo as that's where I am. I hope I keep things in character ^^ HTTYD has been really fun to write recently.

Yandere! Platonic! Viggo Grimborn with Dragon Rider! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Mature language by me, Kidnapping, Threats, Obsession, Bribery, Violence, Murder, Forced companionship.

Personally I think Viggo has a hard time being a platonic yandere.

He's an ass to his brother and tends to see his men as expendable.

Platonic behavior towards a darling would take time to develop.

It would also show blatant favoritism, which irritates his brother.

Viggo is intelligent, cunning, devious, manipulative, and ruthless.

He's a business man at heart.

He could see a platonic darling as a close friend or a sibling.

It takes time before he shows any sort of obsession.

It takes even longer if you're a dragon rider.

Viggo is a dragon hunter.

He catches dragons and either sells or kills them.

You two immediately become enemies.

Well... he's an enemy to you, he may see things differently.

You could have the potential to be a great ally in his eyes.

The issue is... he knows you won't comply willingly.

Viggo is aware of how loyal you are to fellow riders and your own dragon.

You have such a nice quality dragon too... you really know how to pick them.

Your first encounter with Viggo is most likely due to being captured.

Your "relationship" towards each other is very rocky.

More rocky than a Gronckle's diet....

Viggo assumed right about you.

He did find it amusing that you didn't care about being captured...

You kept asking about your dragon.

You wanted to know if they were okay.

Viggo spares your dragon... it's a good bargaining chip.

With your dragon captured you'll listen to him.

"No need to freak out, my dear. Your dragon is fine... as long as you cooperate."

As a dragon rider this feels like the only way you could get close to Viggo.

That is unless you worked for him as a dragon rider... though he doesn't have many of those recruited.

They tend to betray him.

Viggo is a man to sacrifice things to get what he wants.

If he happens to want your companionship, for whatever twisted reason, he won't mind using your dragon against you.

He likes keeping you compliant with him.

You're more useful this way.

You'd have to be with the dragon hunters one way or another to get him obsessed.

He wasn't expecting it but your company is quite pleasing.

One way or another a platonic yandere Viggo is manipulative.

He has no problems making threats or small deals with you.

Business is business, if you're a business man you've got to have charisma.

He prefers intimidation at times himself.

Viggo is not a good man.

He'd be even worse if you often tried to escape him.

If you ever did try anything funny, Viggo seems to always know a counter.

He's tactical... he's smart...

He always manages to outsmart you.

He will applaud your ambition... but he wishes you used it towards his cause.

Viggo could kill your dragon and at any time if you fight him.

He's making a deal with you.

He wants to keep you around, maybe you could even work with him, in return he'll allow you and your dragon to reunite.

If you fight... well...

He wants to deliver you its hide himself.

He doesn't care about your tears or tries to comfort you if he ever did make you upset.

He finds it amusing to see you so vulnerable.

He's very forceful.

With threats and emotional manipulation... Viggo plans to make you fit into the role he picked for you.

You're either his friend... or a sibling.

Ryker can't object to his brother's lunacy.

Viggo doesn't mind shutting up him if he has a problem with it.

"Ryker, they're family now. They won't cause us any trouble. I don't care if you accept them or not... they'll be beside me. Who knows... they may prove to be on my level more than you."

Viggo often talks to you in private.

It's strangely open, like he's trying to connect with you.

It's hard to tell if he's trying to get information out of you or wants to know about you more.

It could very well be both.

Viggo can be a man that's hard to read.

Viggo is someone who knows his dragons.

He knows your dragon's weaknesses and strengths.

There's times he offers to help you care for the dragon if you still have them.

After all... he's an expert.

Viggo's attempts to connect with you come off as eerie.

He's terrifying and able to outsmart you easily.

Yet he comes up to you like you're friends or something else?

You've seen how he treats his brother...

Why is he so harsh to him but not you?

Turns out it's because you have intelligence.

He likes how well-versed you are with dragons, clearly learning from Hiccup.

He even admits during a chat with you that he prefers you to his brother.

You ask why... and he compliments you.

"With some time... you and me could be so similar. My dear... you are useful. My brother's barbaric. Yet with you, conversations aren't irritating."

You fear passing glances from Ryker.

Viggo isn't dumb and notices your fear of his brother... he can fix that.

What about he just... replaces him?

It's easy to make his death look like an accident.

Or does he even need to?

He's not sad in the slightest when he does manage to get rid of Ryker.

Viggo didn't like his barbaric tendencies anyways.

Now... he'll need a replacement, won't he?

That's when he brings it up with you.

You know he killed his own brother... you know he's capable of killing those around you, too.

With Viggo... when he brings up this little promotion for you with a relaxed hand on your shoulder...

You aren't in the position to refuse this opportunity.

"Trust me, dear. You'll fit the role MUCH better."

[irrealisms]

between the moth and the moon liner notes

fic here if you haven't read it!

there are a couple things here where i don't actually remember the events very well because i haven't watched them since they were happening live. so, like, if vitalasy actually described the afterlife differently than he does in this fic, no he didn't <3

the song the title comes from is war strategies by paper bird; however, the song i consider to be this fic's song is shadow song by the mountain goats

do you ever think about the fact that (as far as i know) zam never told vitalasy he made him a grave. do you ever think about this. i do. also that (iirc! again! haven't watched these events since they were happening this past april!) vitalasy never told zam what subz's note said in its entirety. i think about these facts and i become a stick figure gore image

this fic is also nonzero inspired by the 5am red ending of we know the devil. "no, you're right. it should have been one of us. either one of us. i don't care which." lives rent-free in my head whenever i think about vitalasy and zam post-subz's-suicide.

zam asking vitalasy what being dead is like is, obviously, because he also expects to kill himself soon. i figured this was obvious enough to tag it but nonobvious enough to note in the liner notes.

the moon behind vitalasy's head, the half-halo, is a third quarter moon, not a first. i agonized for a while about how to make this obvious in the writing and then gave up--i couldn't get the line about the light being to the left to not be ambiguous between zam's left and vitalasy's left. this is taken from subz's lifesteal stream titles-- 3/29 new moon, 4/15 crescent moon, 4/16 first quarter moon, 4/18 gibbous moon, 4/22 lunar eclipse, 4/29 deliverance (subz's death). expand the pattern outward and you have all of the waning moons taking place while subz is dead.

i have kind of a Thing about "two characters where their relationship is about the absence of a third". you can see this in if this wine hasn't turned to vinegar, in our crooked aim, in how easy you are to need, in here or not here, in sweating out the poison, in whatever a moon has always meant, etc etc. i'm currently working on a wip that is also about this, with two characters i haven't written before!!! i eat that shit up! my favorite relationship or character dynamic is one where i tag a character as "technically not here but their absence is haunting the fic".

i wasn't sure whether to tag it as gen or slash but eventually went with gen. you can read it /r or /p, i don't really care, it doesn't really .. matter? to me? both readings are textually supported. the important thing either way is that they care about each other.

the moon is subz. the grave is also subz. so are the flowers. everything in this fic is subz

eclipse federation is currently winning the current round of trio polls so instead of linking their poll i'm gonna link 3 heart trio's poll, since they're losing. but also, if you're reading this in the future: check the current round! vote eclipse federation!!!

[islaytonlost]

Three's a crowd

For a prompt by @madmaxou. This is a four part series. Second Part, Third Part, Fourth Part

TW: Blood and stabby stab.

Disclamer: I am no professional in writing OSDD. Please do not use my fanfic to shape your views on the real world.

---- They were closing in. The killer was beginning to sweat, Lucy was beginning to grin. Fendi took a step back for once, letting her take the lead. She knew what she was doing after Forbodium after all and he trusted her, with every inch. She was a damn good detective.

“N-no I, uhm, I,” the killer stumbles, hands folded behind her, some false show of confidence. Fendi scoffs. Then his eyes narrow as her arms move out, too fast to be another false show of anything, no.

“Prof watch out!” Lucy calls. Pushing him to the side. She was so idiotically self sacrificing and he could never have expected otherwise. He'd always planned on being closer to the danger, to protect Lucy. Instead he found himself being pushed into a stack of paper. It tumbled to the side, he struggled to stand as paper slipped out from beneath his feet. It would be faster to look down, to stand up slowly and carefully but Lucy already had a gash in her arm as she struggled to apprehend the killer. Who only lunged at her again, aiming for her chest.

"Lucy!" He yells as she falls to the floor as if calling for her would bring her back at all. As if he could help her at all. As if he hadn't been scrambling there uselessly.

The killer stabs him on the way past. She didn't have to. He'd fumbled. Lost his partner, was she really so arrogant to believe he'd let Lucy die over stopping her.

Lucy… she lay motionless on the ground. Blood gushed freely from her wounds, pouring out with no care or concern for Lucy herself, "help!" He calls, hoping that the mystery room wasn't shoved so far out the way nobody would hear. That would be his fault after all, "help!" He needed to turn her, so gravity would start working with him.

Lucy’s eyelids flutter. She was still awake! "Lucy, Lucy can you hear me?" He crawls over to her, ignoring his own wounds, ignoring the blood smearing across what was possibly some very important documents.

"Prof?" She groans, "Prof did you get her? We can't let her get away."

"I know," She wouldn't get away with it, not for long, "but now I need to help you, alright? I need to turn you on your back. Okay?" Al was there too. For the first time in ages they were working together to control their actions.

Lucy groans out again, a mix between a sob and something else, "I don't," She pants, "I don't know if I can take it Prof. It hurts."

"I know," he begins to roll her, slowly, carefully, Lucy cries out in pain. Pain he was causing. What kind of mentor did that?

"I jus told you! It hurts! Thought you were better at listening Prof!"

He chuckles slightly, removing his lab coat. She'd stabbed across his chest, it hur6t to move, it'd hurt a whole lot mote later when the adrenaline wore off. He couldn't let that happen before he'd helped Lucy.

"You're bleeding out," he observes, folding the lab coat and pressing it against her chest. 

"So are you. What kind of detective am I, only just noticing a thing like that?"

"Your wounds are deeper," he observes, "I suppose you could be forgiven for being distracted," his chest was so warm and the rest of him so cold, maybe he was losing more blood than he thought, Lucy's eyes were fluttering closed, "no! Stay awake, please."

"'m sorry Prof. I don't want to let you down. Either of you," She mutters, eyes still closed. Her speech slightly slurred too.

"Never, you've never let me down" he looks at the door, then back at Lucy. His lab coat could work for now but nobody was coming. He needed to get someone. He needed to bet out there. Before they both bled out, "can you stay awake for me?"

Lucy doesn't answer. Crap. It was now or never. He forces himself to his feet, bunching up his jumper and sticking it half-heartedly into his chest wound, hoping it'd soak up the blood. 

This time he makes it out the office. Maybe fate thought it was funny. This time he made it partially down the corridor before stumbling over, catching himself on the ground with his own bloodied hands. Both Al and Fendi concentrated on moving now. Working in perfect sync to haul themselves along the corridor, towards an office.

Blaine Darrwrite stepped out of his, having heard the crash, "Alfendi?" Blaine called.

Oh great. Him. Alfendi didn't like him with every fibre of his being, Blaine was a pompous arrogant know-it- all who couldn't solve a case to save his life and now their life was in his hands.

"Lucy! She's still in the mystery room, help her!" He calls back to Blaine, sitting in a pool of his own blood, Blaine hesitates, "I can look after myself, please!" Blaine still hesitates, Alfendi glares and he hurries off. 

They manage, through some inexplicable strength, to find someone to call an ambulance. He sees Lucy, pale and unresponsive being carried off. Pain blossoms in his chest. His mind switches off. He lets the darkness consume him

—---

The state Alfendi is in thought most of this is what the professionals call blurry. It's when you can't tell who you are because too many alters are close to front. In this case Al and Fendi are working too closely together in too dire a situation to keep questioning whose actions are who's.

[opinions-about-tiaras]

The number of people in the notes here being objectively pro-fash is deeply appalling. I'm going to do this rant again, because I guess it's needed.

There are four ways to effect political change in a democracy.

The first is simple advocacy; winning the argument. "I think public policy should be X for Y reasons, and so should you!"

The second is direct organizational action aimed at putting pressure on the people who actually control the formal levers of power. This is less effective than it used to be for a variety of reasons but still necessary. It's one step up from winning the argument and takes many forms.

The third is by joining a political coalition and winning the intra-coalition fight over "who shall we organize behind and get to stand for office under our banner?"

The fourth is the direct use of the franchise; casting your ballot in the most effective and responsible way possible when the time comes to formally select who will control the aforementioned levers of power.

You don't like Joe Biden? Cool. He wasn't really my first pick either. But my wing of the political coalition lost that fight, and we lost it pretty legitimately; more people wanted Biden than wanted Warren/Inslee/Sanders/et. al. After losing that fight, it came down to "well, I can either leave the coalition and vote for Trump, or I can vote for our guy. Which is the most effective and responsible use of my ballot?"

That shouldn't be a hard choice.

There's theoretically a primary this year. Nobody is stopping anyone from running against Biden in it. You think you have a winning argument, go for it. There's a couple guys trying! But it seems likely that most Democrats (and if you're not a Democrat you don't get to complain about us not providing you with people you want to vote for, because you can join the party and then you get to decide who stands for election) like Biden well enough, or don't dislike him enough to dump him.

So it'll be Biden vs. Trump again. The question will again be "which is the most effective and responsible use of my ballot?"

That shouldn't be a hard choice. Again.

If you want to argue "Biden is as bad or worse than Trump, so your argument here doesn't work because he can't be said to be a more effective or responsible choice'" then you're a fool. Like just straight-up.

I'll be very blunt: if you've decided "I will not vote" then you'd better be engaged in political violence, like the actual sliding of bombs under peoples cars, which is the fifth option when you deem democracy to have failed so grotesquely that an armed uprising has become morally acceptable. Because otherwise "not gonna vote" is you declaring "I expect other people to do the hard work of presenting me with options I find acceptable, and until they do I'm gonna sit things out, thanks."

Also, that fucking original tweet is outrageously dumb. Roe vs. Wade was overturned because a Republican beat a Democrat; if 2016 goes a different way a five-four liberal Supreme Court Majority would have continued to defend it. Student loan forgiveness has happened for millions of people, and the only reason it didn't happen for more is because a Republican beat a Democrat in 2016. If you actually care about these things, elections, you know, matter.

"Lol what if Trump happened" you idiots. We saw what happened with Trump. There is no axes along which any generic Democrat, and Biden is about the most generic Democrat there is, is not light-years better than Trump. The people who said "lol do you think it matters if Clinton or Trump wins" in 2016 have been proven conclusively, disastrously wrong. Why should anyone listen to anyone selling the same snake oil in 2024?

If you're a leftist, you cannot point anywhere where Trump would be an improvement. Straight up.

[lolmanthecat]

Stage 2: Anger

*ping*

My phone complained.

"Thanks you having taken care of moving your things so fast. If later, before you leave, you'll want to talk in person about what happened it might be a good idea." read the message on it.

Curious, so the weight of starting a conversation lies with me? Newsflash: I don't want to talk. The desire to talk disappeared a month ago after your last hurl of insults.

So since you didn't say you want to talk should I understand that this isn't you wanting to talk? It is you just granting me the decision of making the first step? Oh thank you for your kindness. It was unnecessary.

I guess asserting your will isn't a thing you managed to learn in this life yet.

Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh on you since it took me 30 years to able to do it myself, and it is still hard to do, but for some reason I feel like I justified this type of behaviour way too many times. All times too many.

With my mother, with you, with many other people. Unable to say what's on their mind and therefore hiding it under either snide remarks or indirect requests. I am tired.

Just like them you managed to make me fear smiles. You made me see how insincere they are. How they are used to hide whatever the person is actually feeling. Leaving me guessing if everything is fine or if maybe there are some untold problems that will appear at the first stumble.

More than anything I asked to tone down the insults aimed only to hurt me unless you wanted to end things. I guess I was stupid to even bother to expect you to understand what I meant. You did it more than I should have accepted since early in the relationship. I guess it's on me? Or maybe you wanted to end things and therefore this is your wanted outcome? Maybe I'll never know.

I cannot even fathom an answer right now because of how angry this makes me.

Let me hope tomorrow I'll feel better.

****************************************************************

Apparently waking up angry and with a flight in a couple of hours is actually very bad. As if I wasn't already under enough stress. I guess I do owe her an answer of sorts. Leaving people without an answer is the one level I wouldn't like to stoop down to.

"oh don't worry. I don't want to talk." I type in my phone.

That does sound a tad aggressive. Morning aren't really my thing.

"so does that mean you don't want to talk? Guess we are on the same boat." I rewrite.

I actually managed to make it worse did I?

Ach. This will take a while.

...

"I have my flight in a couple of hours. I don't think I can manage to fit an appointment.

I don't know what you would want to talk about since in your last messages 2 months ago you wrote how you you are not searching for reconciliation and wanted to put some full stops in this relationship.

This is the full stop you asked for. I don't understand why would want to make it a semicolon."

Said the message I wrote.

Would you look at that. I am just as bad as you in being direct. Guess nobody grew up thanks to this relationship. Such a sad realization.

Maybe I gave up on being direct? Since it would have been a waste of time to be confrontational after this relationship has been shattered into pieces? Such a good excuse.

The incapability of saying things as they are and the desire to be the least confrontational possible unless I feel a complete disregard for my person. Nah, probably even in the case of disregard for my person I would forgive. Sigh... More growing up to do.

*send*

I guess it is done. Hopefully in the most simple way possible. Quite sad, but maybe it is peaceful enough to move forward and not drag each other in the mud for no reason. Time to put my things together and move towards the airport.

*ping*

The moment of truth is upon us.

"I guess you are right. I thought it was possible to have a vis-à-vis in a mature way, but probably it is not advisable anymore. Have safe travels."

Ah yes: Passive aggressiveness and snide remarks. You were not missed. Now hell ensues.

*****All Hell Breaks Loose*******

"Are you happy after you wrote these things? As mentioned above you are free. I don't know why this conversation is happening if getting away from me is the goal. When you will be able to communicate with less anger, I will be more willing to talk. As things stand now I am happy like this" Read my last message.

Oh look I got blocked. I guess you were just as immature as me in the end. We really did make a cute couple after all.

It is time to grow up.

How does one do it?

[doueverwonder]

PoLiet week, day three.

Prompt: Tradition

No tw's

"Makowiec?" Tolys asked, confused, he knew what it was of course. Feliks made it every Christmas, and as it was getting towards that time of the year he shouldn't be surprised. He had never asked Tolys to make it with him before; cooking is an art, baking is a science, and Tolys was terrible at science. 

"Yeah! It'll be totally fun!" Tolys wanted to say no, he really did. The concern of just messing up his best friends... or, boyfriend? Honestly he wasn't sure about titles they hadn't discussed it. Sure, they had been to dinner a few times in a more than friends way, and yeah, they had stayed the night with each other more than once, and of course they started keeping each other's favorite foods stocked, and sides of the bed had been claimed but... that doesn't mean you are dating. And either way, Tolys didn't want to mess up one of Felik's favorite foods. 

Yet he sighed and shook his head, "Do we need to go to the grocery store?" 

"Nope! I have everything, except you" the Polish man winked, and Tolys tried not to laugh too hard at how exaggerated the gesture was. 

"Can I change so I don't get anything on my nice shirt?" 

"Nope! No time! Only Makowiec!" He went to protest saying that didn't even make sense but Feliks was already gone heading into the kitchen, expecting to be followed. Tolys huffed, and followed rolling his sleeves up as he did. 

"Feliks how long is this going to ta–" He wasn't able to finish his sentence as he was hit with a handful of still gooey dough. Hearing nothing but laughing coming from the other, who was standing at the counter, pieces of the dough still stuck to his hand. 

He was still laughing as he responded back "Not long, I..." he trailed off laughing harder again, his words barely making it through "I set the dough to rise a few hours ago" 

Tolys wasn't even sure what to do, part of him wanted to retaliate, but how? The other part of him just wanted to get the sticky substance off of his shirt. "What am I supposed to do about this?" 

"Take it off?" Feliks shrugged, turning and standing on his toes to look for something in the cabinet behind him. 

"And just walk around without a shirt?" 

Felik's flipped around, no longer interested in whatever he had been looking for, "I was going to suggest you like, borrow one of mine but... I wouldn't mind that" 

"What?" Tolys asked, of course he had heard what the other said. It was processing it he was having a hard time with, neither of them had gotten to openly expressing being well... attracted to each other. So far it had just been a quiet truth that they both knew was there. Even when they had been married they hadn't, they had never said things like that. 

Feliks showed a very rare emotion for him, embarrassment. "Nothing, just use a rag to get it off for now" He turned again quickly, going back to digging through the cabinets. Tolys walked over to the sink doing his best to pull the sticky blob off him, dropping the pieces of it down the sink not really caring that it might clog the drain. Feliks was between him and the trashcan and he didn't want to have to look him in the eyes yet. 

An awkward silence persisted for too long. Neither wanted to say anything not yet. It was stupid almost, they both thought it. Of course they had both seen each other with much less clothing than just a missing shirt, whether it's political or not you don't marry someone without it happening. This time somehow though it was... it was different. 

Feliks cleared his throat, "Do you still want to help with the filling?" 

"Of course, I–" Tolys stopped as he turned to see Feliks with a spoonful of something black, aimed right at him, a mischievous smirk on his face. 

Tolys tried not to sigh too loudly, he was starting to think getting covered in makowiec ingredients was going to be a new part of the Christmas tradition.

@polietweek2022

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxxi - really proud of you sweetie ❤❤

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The whole time you went out to buy snacks with San and Jongho, you couldn't help but think about how Yeosang was still cold towards you.

"Okay, first of all, you're not gonna let that shithead get to you, you got me?" San firmly said as he threw a bag of chips at Jongho's head, obviously aiming at the basket in his hand but he miscalculated.

"Second, hasn't he opened up to you slightly? Pretty sure he said something to Hwa hyung about being a dick to you yesterday," San shrugged as the three of you walked towards the cashier.

As Jongho put the basket on the counter, he chimed in with his own opinion, "I say let him be all pissy and bitchy towards (Y/N)," he scoffed.

You let out a whine of protest and smacked Jongho on his arm. Though that barely did anything as he only grinned and pulled you into his arms. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that if he decided to back off, the rest of us, aka ME, can have more of you," he whispered into your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

Though you were slightly affected by Jongho saying that there was a chance that Yeosang wanted to back off of your relationship, you couldn't help but blush and giggle at Jongho's rather possessive words and actions.

The three of you left the convenience store with two bags. Both of course being carried each by San and Jongho as you stood in between them with your pinkies linked to each other.

"You know, you COULD just show what Yeosang's missing, maybe then he'd realize how much of a bitch he was being and that he'd stop," San said, snickering at himself.

You thought over San's words and realized that he was right. Rather than thinking that you're the one at the disadvantage, you can simply flip things around and make Yeosang break.

So you concocted a plan in your head all the way back and as you got ready for movie night.

Whilst everyone was running around everywhere, pulling blankets and pillows from their rooms, you sat idly by and kept a close eye on Yeosang. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you're a predator and Yeosang's your prey.

As everyone took their seat, you slyly directed each of the boys to sit where you want them to sit, leaving the last comfortable position directly below you, by your feet. Since you know Yeosang tends to go to the bathroom last minute, it meant that he was going to have to sit at the available spot if he wanted to comfortably watch the movie.

Just as you expected, he walked back and froze for a second when he realized where he would be sitting.

"Yeosang, come on, we're gonna start now," Hongjoong called out from his position at the edge of the sofa.

Knowing he can't do or say anything, Yeosang gave up and went to take a seat by your feet. You smirked inconspicuously as you leaned against Seonghwa who was at your right. You nuzzled into him as your legs reached over to Wooyoung's lap on your left.

In the first ten minutes of the movie, you let Yeosang relax, not letting any parts of your body touch his. This seemed to be effective because his eyes were focused on the screen and his shoulders seemed very much relaxed.

But when he seemed to disregard your existence, you let your knee and fingers brush against the back of his neck. As your skin made contact with his, he visibly stiffened. Knowing him, his eyes were most likely bulged out and his grip on the blanket he and San shared tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.

You smirked at yourself at his reaction, knowing that teasing him was going to be fun and that he deserved it.

The subtlety of your touch seemed to awaken something in Yeosang. Maybe it was his triggered frustration or it was just simply the fact that you hadn't touched him in the longest time.

When your eyes peeked down at him, it was evident that his mind was thinking a hundred thousand thoughts a minute. With his chest rising and deflating with each breath dramatically, you know it's time to take it up a notch and to test your hypothesis.

Sexually frustrated Yeosang + subtle teasing = boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

"Oops, almost forgot my popcorn," you muttered lowly but loud enough for Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung to hear. Once Seonghwa and Wooyoung let their grip on you off, you proceeded to swing your right light over Yeosang and stepped diagonally. With the newfound balance, you leaned your body forward to pretend to reach for the popcorn bowl.

With this position, Yeosang was in direct eyeliner with your clothed core. The shorts you wore were not helping either. It was the pair you wore were the ones Wooyoung bought for you; very tight and short, the black, stretchy material both accentuated and covered only half of your ass.

To make things worse, you pretended to lose your balance and fell directly on Yeosang's lap with a high, squeaky yelp, albeit very fake. The close proximity between you two enabled you to hear the choked gasp that came out of Yeosang. Not only that, but you felt something hard pressing against your ass.

Either Yeosang hid the remote in his pants or your plan worked well.

You turned your face to look at Yeosang with a faux innocent, apologetic face, "Oops, sorry Sangie," you apologized to him, batting your eyelashes at him.

It seemed that Seonghwa and San had caught onto your plan. They were snickering at the scene unveiling before them.

Without saying anything else, you stood up. To make things worse, with your ass directly in front of Yeosang, you 'fixed' your shorts; pulling it up and exposing more of your ass.

"I'll be back," you told the room, to no one specific, before walking towards the kitchen.

You pretended to look around in there, trying to find something when suddenly a set of footsteps followed. Before you could even turn to look at who came, you had been swung and pushed until your back hit the fridge's door.

The sight of Yeosang's flustered face combined with his glare greeted you. You tried your best to not look so smug. On the contrary, you pretended to be confused.

With hands pinned at the sides, you knew you couldn't do much. You tilted your head at him and blinked innocently, "something wrong, Sangie?"

Hearing the faux innocence dripping from your voice only made Yeosang growl, slightly ticked that you dared play him like a fiddle.

"Something wrong? Are you seriously that ignorant or are you just pretending to be dumb? I don't even know which one is worse but I'm fucking sick of you flaunting your ass like a damn peacock trying to mate," he rambled on.

Your expression changed as a smirk broke on your face, "didn't know you're one to give in so easily, Sangie? You think with your dick now?" you poked fun at him.

Yeosang's left eye visibly twitched at your words. One of his hands let go of one of yours to grab at the back of your hair, tugging it back rather harshly, eliciting a moan out of you, "are you comparing me with one of the cheap boy toys that you played with when you weren't here? Didn't know your standards were lowered to that extent," he smirked, trying to push you the same way you did him.

A gasp and a low groan left Yeosang when you cupped his dick with your free hand over his pyjama pants, giving it a bit more pressure to feel how hard he was.

"No matter how much you call them 'cheap boy toys', they have bigger balls than you, Sangie. How long did you plan on being all pissy with me, hmm? Did it hurt your pride that I had to be the one who initiated direct contact with you?" you snarled at him.

You could see his eyes burn in anger with a tinge of shame. You knew you had struck a nerve in him.

All of a sudden, Yeosang pulled you off the fridge, turned you around and pushed you down by the shoulder to the point that your cheek was pressed onto the cold countertop.

Excitement filled you as you realized where this was going. Your formula was spot on, your H1 was accepted and H0 was rejected.

When you realized that Yeosang was not doing anything, you took matters into your own hands. You pressed your scantily clad core directly against his boner.

"Not gonna do anything, Sangie? Do I have to get one of the boys to show you how to use a dick properly? Or should I call one of Haknyeon's friends to show you? There's this one, Hyunjae I think was his name, he-"

You couldn't complete the sentence as Yeosang had slapped your ass so hard, you were sure he had left a purple handprint there.

As you were about to protest, Yeosang had somehow taken a clean rag and wrap it around your mouth as a makeshift gag. He leaned forward so that his chest was pressed onto your back.

"Be a good girl and keep your big mouth shut, yeah?" he ordered. His hand skimmed your waist down to your legs and it slowly caressed the back of your thighs, leaving goosebumps at their wake.

When he realized you didn't give him any response, his hands smacked the sides of your legs harshly, making you jolt up in surprise.

"Too dumb to answer?" he growled. Hearing the anger in his voice made you whimper out in fear and submission.

Yeosang smiled and pecked the back of your neck after you replied to him, your submission made him feel soft for a split second.

It wasn't until he pulled your shorts and panties carelessly along with his own pyjama pants and underwear that your brain finally registered that you're about to have angry sex with Yeosang. From how he had been treating you so far, you're at least 70% sure that there will be bruises all over you tomorrow.

Without hesitation, Yeosang shoved his dick deep into you, hips pressing against your ass as his hands found anchor on your waist. His grip was tight, vice even, it almost seemed possessive.

He set a harsh and quick pace from the beginning, not caring that your hips were smacking the counter nor the fact that literally anyone could enter the kitchen area.

Yeosang isn't one to talk much during sex, he tends to focus on the action more than anything else.

The feeling of him continuously entering you at such pace and vigour were intoxicating. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and anger, but you swore your eyes rolled back even further each time his hips smacked yours harshly. You definitely won't be able to sit on your ass after this.

"Shit, I guess you were telling the truth when you said you weren't playing with your cousin's friends," he groaned out mid-thrust.

Yeosang suddenly pulled out, making you whine in protest.

If it weren't for the extreme sexual tension and both of your compromising predicament, Yeosang would've cooed at how adorable you sounded.

But that wasn't his priority at the moment.

Wordlessly, Yeosang pulled you off the counter to move you to the wooden dining table. He pushed you to lie on the table as he propped a leg up to his waist.

With this new position, you could see the defined lines of his chest peeking from his pyjama when he anchored himself above you. You thanked the workout regime he had been following internally because the sight of his muscles made your pussy throb.

Yeosang immediately went back to thrusting with an animalistic pace into you, pouring every bit of emotion he had into action. You could feel it. The way he was so close to you but still maintaining a certain distance, you knew that he was hesitating. The way he was avoiding your eyes and focus on where you both were connected, yearning for intimacy but scared to initiate it. But you also know that he wanted you beyond anything else and that he was sorry. He wasn't one to be good with words but luckily you know him well enough to understand him.

As he focused on pleasuring you both, you took the chance to prop yourself up slightly and pull the rag gag off your mouth and threw it to the side.

Your hand slapped his face, stunning him for a second. As his movements halted and eyes finally meeting yours, your grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

He froze momentarily, not knowing what to do. But when you pulled out to speak to him, you could see that his stubbornness began to chip away and crumble.

"You don't have to feel bad about what happened, I forgave you and it's about time you forgive yourself for being a jerk to me. And I'm sorry for leaving you to take care of everyone like that, Sangie. But can we please move past all that and go back to normal?"

His once vice grip on you loosened.

At first, you thought he was going to let you go and run away.

But he suddenly pulled you up and flush against him. He hugged you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

"I should've been the one to apologize first. I'm sorry, I love you so much," he said lowly against your skin. You knew that it was hard for him to be so vulnerable which was why you know him saying all that meant that he was being beyond sincere.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist.

Soon his thrusts continued.

The initial roughness and anger were replaced with longing and desperation.

Not long after, you felt that you were close to the edge. Your leg that was hoisted up on Yeosang's waist tightened and Yeosang immediately realized what it meant.

His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your chest. His fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, adding to the pleasure that he gave. The intense arousal shot to your pussy and you clenched hard as you came.

Head thrown back, exposing your neck to him, Yeosang took the opportunity to mark you up as he liked.

The feeling of his fingers on your nipples, his mouth on your skin, and his dick still moving inside you prolonged your orgasm more than you liked. The intensity made you whine as overstimulation took over.

Luckily, Yeosang soon followed suit and released his load inside you. His hips stuttered and his teeth bit down onto your shirt-covered shoulder. You yelped at the sudden pain but the pain turned to pleasure, making your thighs shook and pussy once again clamping around Yeosang.

Yeosang let out a guttural groan that was muffled by your shoulder at the feeling, not denying how good it felt.

You both stayed there, trying to catch your breath. It was then that you registered the aftermath of your intimate activity with Yeosang. Your pants and panties had somehow stuck onto one of the drawer handles of where you were pinned down, the rag that was used as a gag had somehow made its way to the edge of the room, and Yeosang was still fully dressed.

When your eyes met his again, you see fondness and love in them, He was smiling down at you, fingers trailing down to intertwine with yours.

"What would it take me to get your full forgiveness?" he asked, head tilting to the side. His bangs moved to reveal the birthmark that he had told you a while ago he was insecure about. You leaned forward and pecked the adorable mark, making him chuckle.

"Just don't pull yourself or push me away again when things are hard, okay? The last thing I want is to almost lose you again," you told him.

He brought one of your intertwined hands to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "there is no way on earth that you'd be able to lose me. I was actually thinking the other way around," he admitted shyly.

You bit back a giggle for his sake and opted to kiss him fully on his lips. "You would never lose me, Sangie, I belong with you, all of you," you assured him.

As he pulled himself out of you and began to clean himself up, he was reminded that the others were a room apart.

Yeosang visibly swallowed, suddenly turning nervous.

"D-do you think the others-"

"Seonghwa and San were well aware that we were having sex here, pretty sure the others heard everything as well," you said, cutting him off.

"Yeah we did! You both better clean and disinfect the heck out of the kitchen area," Seonghwa yelled out from the living room.

Hearing that, Yeosang blushed madly and moved to bury his face into your shoulder in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. But you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back comfortingly.

At least you got the old Yeosang back.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldogblog @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @peachyho@taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @ateezminonspace @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn @kpop-khh-writer-trash

[cocained]

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."

dante felt like he would sooner stop breathing than to give up what he had started with mason; dante had never been one to wait - he was always impatient, always ready to jump head first into cold water (or in the case, jump head first into mason) and no one would or had ever been able to convince him to slow down or to think. what mason had mistaken for strength was a reckless abandon, a lack of any sense of that what if voice that so many people had. so it didn't matter that it seemed like mason was trying to dissuade him every step of the way, he was giving enough in return that dante could cling onto it. it was enough for dante to convince himself that mason felt just as strongly as he did, "oh, so you did know then? i was worried that i wasn't coming on strong enough." teeth dig into his lower lip, "oh - you want me to talk dirty to you in a bar?" lips tug into a teasing smile, "that's what does it for you, mase? act like you're a prude, want me to tell you all the different ways i want you to fuck me?" his eyes are practically shining, his voice low enough that he's sure no one but mason can hear the words that follow, his head tilted just enough that his voice is aimed at mason's ear, heated breath falling on the skin of his neck, "wanna hear all about how i want you to fuck my mouth again? how i want you to hold me against a wall? i can keep going if you want..." his shoulders shrug, "you say you're not, but i'd bet money that if i took you to a club where no one would know you - you'd let me dance all up on you." the simple idea was tempting - normally a trip with someone he was seeing might have made him uncomfortable; the idea of spending that much time with someone was intimidating. only he already had with mason - this entire new step in their relationship had been because they had taken a trip together. but now - the idea that they could find somewhere that they might be less recognized was playing over and over in his head. mason's lips for a split second tweaked up at the corners, voicing the desire he felt to kiss him, "fuck, mase. so kiss me." brown eyes practically pleaded with mason's own gray eyes. now that they had crossed the line, dante felt like he couldn't go without it - he didn't have another way to express the strength of the feelings that he felt. the words that he was able to utter didn't seem to do enough to get his point across, he didn't have the words to describe the dazed feeling that mason left him feeling - he could only hope to make mason feel the same way. mason's hand, strong, fingers gently moving over the skin over his face, giving dante exactly what he wanted - that mixture of strength and gentleness that mason had seem to perfected, that dante quickly started to crave, but right now - he needed more. he needed mason's fingers to remind him that what was between them was real; that the words that were being shared between them were more than just words. dante's hand rested on top of mason's, pressing his hand into his face, eyes still pleading for more, "no. its not easy for me." the hesitation is clear on his face, in the way his lips open and close a few times - but his eyes don't once break away from mason's. he doesn't feel the need to hide the hesitation or hide the fact that he's scared from mason - he would know anyways, he had always been able to read him like a book that had been dropped open, "i'm not a good person." it was the big truth that he had been keeping from mason - the thing that dante felt like was the reason that no relationship in his life had worked. intelligent, charismatic, loyal - there were a million positive accolades that you could reward dante with, good person unfortunately had never been one. mason's fingers press into his face harder and dante's fingers press into his hand in return, "i only want you to be you - you're...," everything i wish i was - but the words stalled in his throat, and instead his lips snapped shut, his tongue pushing through to lick his lips, "strong."

dante meant it as in he was a strong person, but of course - he had to lighten the mood, had to shift away from how serious their conversation had grown, "and not just those rock hard abs." eyes close for a moment, his head tilting into the hand that was on his face, "i get what you mean, though. you make me feel so... seen. always have." more hesitation follows his words, but his gaze shifts back up to meet mason's, "you amaze me more and more every time i learn something new about you." lips curl into a smirk, soft laughter falling from his lips, "mostly, yeah." it wasn't an answer that he would give to most people about his career, not something that he would admit, but he had no interest in hiding any part of him from mason. it wasn't just that he felt like mason would see right through it, but he felt like the last thing he wanted to do was to start their relationship (because yes, he was already confident that this would turn into a relationship - he wasn't letting mason go) with something that was less than the full truth, "right - no halfway." what dante didn't add on was that he was incapable of halfway anyways, that from the moment that mason had kissed him in that cabin, that he was all in - it didn't matter in what context, how in mason was. dante couldn't do partial - it had been true when they were friends and even more so now. mason's lips on his stole his breath, left him gasping into the kiss that was cut short, "fuck the uber." words fell from his mouth as he shoved forward on his toes, lips crashing against mason's again, meeting in a kiss that was more teeth clashing against each others, hands moving up to grab onto his his shirt, yanking him towards him. all the pent up emotion since the trip, all the tension from the confessed words since walking into the alley - it all came out in the kiss.

[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​

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

I really don't understand why people think Chuuya was genuienly happy when Dazai left the Port Mafia.

I doubt that Harakuwa took their time to convey such a contemplating and sad expression for people to completely overlook it.

Let's not forget that Chuuya and Dazai were close. They both officially joined the mafia at 15 and had been working together since then.

These two only ever acted like actual teens when they were around each other and they even had their own code language when it came to their plans to defeat their enemies.

Chuuya was basically betrayed by the Sheep so we can expect him fearing of that happening again.

When Dazai left the Port Mafia (I'm not mad at Dazai ofc, his reasons were extremely valid), and then Mori frames Dazai as a traitor to the mafia. You can't tell me that Chuuya didn't feel hurt by this, especially since Chuuya values loyalty, he actually values loyalty to a fault if im being honest.

I personally feel that if Chuuya knew the actual reason as to why Dazai left the PM, he wouldn't have felt as betrayed.

Chuuya and Dazai did have their arguments , but the arguments were very hollow since its pretty clear they both hold a certain care for each other.

I am not saying that after Dazai left Chuuya couldn't function properly, it's obvious Chuuya wasn't a depressing mess after Dazai left. But his partner that he has known for so long to leave without a word and explanation obviously made Chuuya feel anything but happiness.

So in other words: there is a middle ground to Chuuya's feelings. He wasn't in a complete slump when Dazai left but that does not mean he was celebrating either.

Dazai was Chuuya's literal combat partner for about 4 years, it is only logical for him to feel hurt by this.

Also, can we talk about the fact that even if their dynamic was strained due to Dazai's "betrayal" their relationship stayed the same? They both still constantly tease each other, and hold empty death threats above their heads yet there still is this underlying care and trust for one another.

In the Double Black episode/chapter when they had to forcibly work together (which they hadn't done in years), and due to certain circumstances Chuuya had to use corruption, that life-risking power that only the same person that Chuuya boldly "resents" can nullify. So to simplify: In order to use corruption, he needs Dazai to nulify it and if he doesn't then Chuuya will die.

The amount of trust Chuuya still holds for Dazai even after he had left the PM just shows how significant their bond truly is.

I am not even saying this from a shipping perspective, theres so much evidence that points out how strong the partnership and connection that these two share actually is.

(I do ship them ngl, but this post isn't aimed towards romance!)

If you read all the way, thank you so very much! I hope you have an amazing day<3

[thesoulesscollection]

How about V (abandoned place) for the Ask game with Terrence Suave, please?

Or M (rain/snow/storm) with Bernadette? (Whomever you want to write about the most)

Heya, thank you for the request and sorry for the delay here. Again, I do hope you like it. Like always anyone can request anything here so don't hesitate to flood my ask box. 

I decided to do both Terrence Suave and my Oc, Bernadette Warner. Both are separate one-shots here. Also, if there's any questions, asks and or requests for prompts for either character you can send it in if you want

Terrence Suave (V: An abandoned or empty place):

Tw/Tags: Minor Angst, Terrence Suave Whump, Mental Anguish, & Ambiguous Timeline (preferably one where the Toppats got into space)

"I was a really bad leader, wasn't I?" 

Surely looking like he was going mad with emotions he wasn't used to experiencing, Terrence spoke out to himself knowing no one else was there to reply back in an abandoned Toppat base. 

"I get it. I was awful. Reginald had every right to dethrone me. But this is truly unfair, really" He grumbled, kicking the loose rock from the crumbling cement floor, "I've got nobody. He has everything anyone can wish for. Living it up in space with endless riches and loyal love… And then he has the dang nerve to think I should be punished for a lifetime" 

Walking around in a circle likely wearing down a route beneath his feet while he repetitively waved his arms all over the place above his head Terrence irritably groaned plopping down in a spare seat. 

"And this stupid ancient TV isn't doing me any favors either" As he hit the top of said TV the screen was displaying yet another highly successful raid of the Toppats, their orbital space station flapping in endless starry skies with Reginald's smugly prideful face made it about ten times worse until to his relief immediately turned to black. 

'And tell me now who's fault is that, hm?' 

Swirling around to face the unknown voice that rudely yet truthfully mocked him for all his inadequacy in life, the disheveled man once so rich in practically anything he could wish for, previously decked out with expensive jewelry was currently worse for wear when he saw a familiar face staring down at him. 

'I did tell you after all that you would be the downfall of yourself" Reginald had noted with a signature cheshire grin that irritated Terrence so much. 

"You're not there. I know it so go away" 

It was painfully true, his mind wasn't what it used to be years ago and right at this moment proved it when he felt his sanity slowly slipping from him, 'Oh. Don't talk to an old friend like that. I know we didn't end our friendship in an amicable manner but this is downright rude, don't you think so, Terri?'

"Just leave me alone… Please" Terrence pitifully pleaded.

'Honestly this is just sad. Pathetic even. Terrence Suave, I thought you'll be living the high life no matter what happens like you said? Right before I left you for dead? Plainly put this is worse than death, huh?'  

Twirling the ends of his curled mustache with two fingers, an odd comforting habit, the spirit strutted over his free hand freely waving around in the air to prove a point. 

'Held up in an old base of ours hiding away from the outside world? As if anyone cared where you were anyways whether you were dead or alive" 

"I said shut up!!!" 

As Terrence yelled, his voice cracking in complete despair, his entire body shook uncontrollably as he desperately got ahold of something, a large rock, throwing it directly towards Reginald's direction with aimed precision. Like expected though the spirit disappeared in an instant and the rock unexpectedly crashed into the already broken Tv screen. Shielding himself from the thousand glass shards that came his way then laid quite haphazardly across the floor where Terrence stood there stiff like an unmoving statue. His breathing was unsteady, erratic, pupils like pin pricks as he hunched over, arms wrapped around his middle attempting to regain his composure, mind, and body. 

It came to him with little success. 

***

Bernadette Warner (M: When it rains/snows/storms) First time writing my Oc so I was happy to do this. As well, same goes for Galeforce (who is a secret favorite of mines):

Tw/Tags: Nothing Major Here. Just Fluff and humor (an attempt at it cause that's not my strong suit)  

"You're absolutely drenched, Hubs" She loudly chuckled at the wet misery that was her dear tiredly stumbling into their shared tent. 

"Yes. Unfortunately it started pouring just a while ago. And I got caught in the midst of it" 

"Your poor ol' thing" She stood up from her seat near their desk, wiping the water from the man's face with her thumbs, "Is there anything I can do for you, hun?" 

"I'm over sixty, Bernadette so please. Just spare your false sympathy here. I know you're trying to hold back the laughter"

Resisting the growing urge to indeed laugh, her will did eventually break into a fit of plentiful, deep rooted laughter that echoed throughout the tent's thin, flimsy walls. 

"Okay you big baby. I was only trying to help being a long-term doctor and your supportive, loving wife here but go ahead then you can be an old, stubborn sore loser with me. I've had to deal with it for over thirty years as your partner and more if you're counting the times we were kids?" 

Though Bernadette continued to laugh before it soon died down in due time to a repressed mild-mannered snort, she fondly watched on to how Hubert merely huffed back so used to her playful antics. Nor did he pull back from her touch, rather decided to lean into it with a loving smile when she cupped his damp face with her dry hands. Short, well trimmed, and clean nails then threaded through his long mustache and beard currently in such a messy disarray where she made sure it looked properly nice once again. A tiny perfectionist side of her always wanted to trim Hubert's facial hair to something a bit more manageable or not have it at all - she never particularly liked it - however she didn't mind now. She just admires the man in silence, lightly gripping his beard and then tugging him close, her lips capturing his in a kiss. 

[whitestaghere]

Not your fault - Levi x reader

Just felt like it had been a while and came up with this. Hope ya'll enjoy reading!❤️

Warnings: none really. Mentions of death. Angst and a dash of fluff at the end.

Saying I was scared was an understatement. No, I was shook to the very brink of my existence. I hadn't expected it to be so nerve wracking as it was, now that I had finally joined the scout regiment.

I had expected this of course.

Who wouldn't? Specially when they were proned to fighting naked humans as tall as trees running at you like they were on their morning caffeine rush.

What was even worse was when the stoic captain of the special operations squad decides to pick you to be part of his squad. "I appreciate your skills," he said.

Well I guess there wasn't really much to fuss about that apart from the new mission we were setting up for and our very special rivalry.

Today, everything had gone smooth until that female titan had decided to come waltzing in.

She had managed to wipe out all of Levi squad and I felt my blood boil. My mind was in a blur, filled with thoughts of nothing but blood lust. Just from her.

Eren's screams played at the back of my mind and even as I caught sight of him shooting towards where I was, I couldn't find it in me to stop him.

As cruel as it sounded- I wanted her to feel the pain as I did.

I glanced down at Petra's body. The eyes that always greeted me with brightness were now looking at me blankly. Tasting the saltiness from the tears that streamed down my face unbeknownst to me- my cool demeanor finally broke. Snapping out of my trance I pushed myself off the branch I stood upon.

Shooting my hooks into the skin of the female titans shoulder, I zipped through the air screaming in anguish. I swung my blades over my head, aiming for the hand that covered her nape. If I could just cut through her wrist-

Just as planned, my blades sunk into the flesh of her wrist. Deep, but not deep enough.

If only I hadn't been distracted and just pushed away right then..

Her large hand came in contact with my body, swatting me off like as if I were some insect. Which in her case, I probably looked it. With a pained yelp, I was being thrown through the air.

"Y/N!" Eren.

My eyes shot open just when a bolt of lightning struck through the air. Ah.

I realised what was happening.

I tried to aim my grappling hooks at one of the trees before I probably fell to my death or by the slightest chances, fell straight into a titans mouth. But everything was in a blur and with the way the titan hit me, I couldn't quite direct my focus onto one thing. And before you know it, I had already inched closer to the ground, crashing straight into a tree. I doubled forward and my body slid down against the rough surface.

Cursing inwardly, I glanced down at my body; my lower half, sprawled out on the ground as I slumped against the tree.

I wanted to move, to assist Eren - but my body refused to respond. I couldn't budge and for a moment, I hoped I had died through impact because the thoughts that ran through my head were killing me.

My body felt limp almost like as if I was paralysed. I fought to keep my eyes open. The ground beneath me shook and my ears were filled with the sound of Eren's titan screaming. And with that, black filled my vision.

>>present<<

My body shot up at once and I winced at the sudden pain that shot through my body.

"You're awake."

That voice.

I snapped my head to my right and I was greeted by those steel eyes that belonged to none other than the captain. I had this urge to shrink and disappear out of existence under his icy gaze and-

Wait.

I was alive? Or no wait. Good Gods, please don't tell me he died too!

Without thinking, my hand shot out to grab his arm that was crossed over his chest. This took him by surprise and his eyes shifted between me and my hand with a hint of annoyance laced in his features. His body had tensed under my hold and I immediately pulled away with a gasp.

"I-I'm sorry sir. I just-"

"I found you not too far from the rest of the squad," he cut me off. My head lowered at the mention of the others. "I didn't think you were alive considering the amount of blood you lost. But that's when you coughed, splattering all your substances at me and well- you know the rest."

I didn't know what to say. Even if I did, I didn't have it in me to speak or make a snarky remark like I usually did. The thought of my fallen comrades made me sick to the stomach. But I couldn't cry either.

No. Just not with him here.

You remember how I said we had a special rivalry going on between us? Yeah.

Ever since Levi had asked me to join his squad- we'd always been at eachother's throats. Which I didn't quite expect considering how he picked me.

He'd say something sarcastic, I'd snap back at him and vice versa. It eventually came to the point that commander Erwin had to walk in one time, suggesting Levi that it would be best if I were switched to Mike's squad. But Levi had simply walked out of the room.

Just like that, Erwin asked me to make the choice and I said no. Why you ask?

I wanted Levi to accept me.

I couldn't even remember what started this rivalry to begin with and it was eating at me constantly. I had never seen him snap at people as easily as he did with me. Well he did occasionally, but this was on a daily basis and it made no sense at all.

Hanji said it was just his nature and that I'd understand him later. I realised that was she said was just ridiculous because this man, he didn't even dare to show me a little bit of respect. So I decided I'd leave him be and put up a mask whenever he'd target me but that's when things got worse. He always found reasons to argue with me and I caught up with it too.

Breaking down in front of him wasn't an option now.

Levi's chair scraped against the floor signalling that he was probably leaving.

"Thank you," I said quickly, making him stop in his tracks. I'd never said that to him before. But since he saved me, it was only right that I did.

His head turned around halfway and he eyed me narrowly. "For saving me," I finished. He clicked his tongue in response and left the room, shutting the door a little louder than I expected.

Cue the breakdown.

I flopped myself back on the bed. Grabbing the pillow that supported my head, I hugged it tightly as I screamed into it.

The tears didn't stop.

I couldn't save my comrades. Why did the captain even decide to pick me in the first place if I couldn't save my own comrades?

It was getting harder to breathe with my face stuffed in the pillow and the choked up tears didn't make it any easier. I felt so pathetic. But no matter how much I tried, it wouldn't stop. The guilt and hatred just kept coming back to me.

It felt like I had been crying for hours already as my body spasmed, signalling the next fresh batch of tears approaching.

The sound of the door opening and closing again made my body freeze.

I peeped up from my pillow and regretted it instantly seeing the captain standing at the foot of my bed, holding two cups in his hands. His eyes locked with mine again.

Maybe it was me just seeing things but his eyes widened and very slowly, he made his way upto the side of my bed.

"I brought you some tea," he said stoically. "Drink it before it gets cold."

I subtly wiped my eyes against the pillow and sat myself up on the bed like as if I hadn't been crying my eyes out just a few moments ago.

Avoiding eye contact, I thanked him silently and took the cup from his hand. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel his gaze lingering on my face. Feeling too self conscious, I brought the cup up to my mouth only to wince as I burned my tongue. A weird sound came from me and I slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Tch. Be careful idiot. I didn't ask you to drink it that fast," Levi scolded. I face palmed inwardly, brushing it off with a sheepish grin. He cocked a brow and shifted his gaze outside the window.

Silence.

I didn't mind the silence, but with him sitting right there, it felt like my nerves were dancing. If that was even possible.

Eyeing him subtly, I noticed how his gaze seemed distant, longing. And that's when I realised. I was being selfish.

I wasn't the only one who had lost my comrades.

"C-captain-"

"Levi."

I tilted my head in confusion and nodded right after catching what he had meant. "Levi. I-I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For everything."

"Be specific." I gulped. So he wanted a full on confession. Here it goes.

"Well for being.. for being a brat." He raised his brows and turned to look at me. I shifted my gaze to the floor at once, finding it easier to speak calmly that way.

"That wasn't a joke, I promise. I was being selfish. I didn't know how much pressure I might have been putting on you by always being snarky and uncooperative. And now too.. I was considering my own feelings without thinking about how you felt. I just- didn't understand why you hate me so much."

"I don't hate you," he said abruptly. I looked at him slowly but reluctantly.

"I-" he ran a hand through his hair, releasing a frustrated sigh. "I don't hate you. I was just worried."

"Worried?" I asked.

"Worried you'd end up like this. Or by the least, end up dead."

Ouch.

"You doubted my skills.. yet you picked me to be a part of your squad. I don't get it," I mumbled.

"Idiot. It's not like that," he barked. "I recall saying I respected your skills. I really do. It's just that you can be reckless at times."

I gasped in disbelief.

"Reckless?"

"Yes. Reckless."

"How could you-" he raised a brow and eyed my position on the bed. I followed his gaze and it dawned on me. Half of my body was wrapped in bandages and my arm was in a cast.

Yeah. Reckless.

"I had no doubt in your skills, keep that in mind brat. I picked you for my squad because I knew you'd be a good addition to it and-" He paused, looking like as if he were in thought before continuing.

"It was easier to keep an eye on you this way."

I shut my eyes tightly, guilt flooding through my veins little by little.

"But I failed." My eyes shot open hearing this.

"I failed you and I failed my squad."

"Levi-"

"No y/n. There's no denying it," he said. I noticed how his voice was beginning to shake and that just made my heart ache. I had never seen him this way. "I told you that I added you to keep an eye on you and look at you now. Even worse, I failed to protect the rest of my squad."

"Levi," I said softly. "You know, if I ever end up dying out there- I'd never blame you. I'd never say you failed to protect me. But what I would want you to do, is to give our sacrifices meaning. We devoted our lives. We chose to go down this path knowing the circumstances. Knowing that someday there could be a chance we wouldn't come back home. So just know, this is not your fault and they don't blame you either. Even if it is, we must make their sacrifices worth something."

Levi stared intently at me but this time, I didn't feel like shrinking away. I wanted the man in front of me to have reason to fight, to know he wasn't to blame. And that all of this- we were facing all of this together.

He didn't say a word. I didn't expect him to either and I didn't mind it.

His gaze was everywhere and for a second when his eyes met mine, I couldn't help my urge and slowly yet hesitantly- reached out for him.

"May I?" I asked.

He tilted his head, confused by what I was asking permission for. I opened my arms slightly for him and after a short while, he shockingly leaned in slowly (not before shifting awkwardly in his seat though). Wrapping one arm around his shoulders and one hand on his nape, I pulled him into my embrace gently.

I felt his fingers trace over my clothes slightly like as if he were contemplating what to do. After a few seconds, his body completely relaxed in my arms and I felt his hands slowly snake around my waist.

"It's okay Levi," I whispered and rubbed his back in attempt to comfort him. He tucked his head into the crook of my neck. That made a soft smile crawl up my face.

This man was a fighter but he was also human. A human with feelings no matter how stoic he could be. Hanji was right.

>>Third person's pov<<

It was at that moment, that a new friendship began to blossom between the two. A spark of hope and a reason to fight in their dark world.

Okay phew.

That came out a lot more angsty than I thought it would be haha. But I hope you all enjoyed reading it and have a wonderful day/night!❤️

[lol-jackles]

The first live edition of the Oscars after the pandemic had its moment: comments on the incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock?

Anybody seen the How I Met Your Mother episode called "Slap Bet"?  No?  Just me?  Anyways, a few things (I'll try to keep this short).

First, Americans who knew none of the backstories leading up to The Slap were polled and generally found that young, working class, Trump-voting women side with Will Smith, while Biden voters were more likely to support Chris Rock.  Basically, Americans tend to analyze the event through a more traditional set of mores: if you insult a man’s wife, expect to be slapped.

Second, it's never okay to go up on stage and hit a dude because you don’t like the joke.  It’s not ok at concert halls, comedy clubs, and award shows.  None of you liked it when Kanye interrupted Taylor Swift's award acceptance at MTV, and he didn't hit anybody.  Standing up for one’s wife does not need to include assault. The only place for physical violence being used as a defense oneself or another from physical violence.

Third, Chris Rock said that he had no idea that Jada had alopecia. You can't make fun of a condition if you don't know anything about it.  And even if Chris knew about her condition, his joke was about buzzing her hair for a movie role, that's where the GI Jane joke came from.  It wasn't about her condition.

With that out of the way, I know what you really want to hear from me.  Gossip!

First, my relatives were first in line to get my opinions on The Slap.  Funny thing is whenever I've said (most) celebrity feuds and prank stories are scripted/fake, they refuse to believe me, especially the Dwayne Johnson vs Vin Diesel "feud" ahead of the release of their Fast & Furious movie.  Now that I'm saying The Slap wasn't scripted, they don't want to believe me.  Why?  Because then Will will be in the wrong if The Slap wasn't a publicity stunt.  

Second, Will’s anger, in my opinion, is actually aimed at his wife, who has repeatedly made a fool of him with her extramarital affairs and her obsession with dead boyfriend Tupac.  In my opinion Chris's joke was a very mild joke but was the straw that broke the camel's back since earlier Regina Hall had joked about the Smith's open marriage. Will and Jada have been a laughing stock ever since the “entanglement” conversation in 2020 (google Jada entanglement).   But Will is either too much of a "nice guy" or too much in love to break up with Jada, so he takes his anger out on a more socially acceptable target for assault: another man.  And he gets to show Jada, "look, I still love you, and I have your back regardless of what happened". (It's the kind of shit I would have pulled to impress my crush when I was 13)

Will Smith has about a ton of unprocessed trauma. 

Third, remember when Will and Jada boycotted the Oscar during the #OscarsSoWhite debacle?  Well, Will and the protestors got what they wanted - opportunity.  A Black man won Best Actor for the first time in 16 years, but no one cares because the same man's action overshadowed what would have been an extraordinary night for him and millions of others, including the cast of CODA, a little film that broke flew of Oscar records (I haven't seen it yet) and featured deaf actors.  But now all people talk about isn’t Smith winning a much-deserved Oscar, but him losing his temper. Keep your cool, people. Don’t rain on your own parade.

But at least Will Smith bought the Oscar telecast at least another year on life support, amiright?

Btw, King Richard is a very well done movie.  It's much more than a sports movie or biography of the Williams sisters. It’s a story about family and, more importantly, fatherhood. I enjoyed it very much.

Finally, there’s only one person who can walk away from this with his head held high, and that’s Chris Rock.  Chris was a thorough professional, he kept his composure the best he could and continued to do his job.  If he had chosen to, he could have eviscerated Smith; he’s a comedian who was holding the mike. But Chris took the high road; one of the few people in that room who had the grace to do so.

On the other hand, Will just gave Chris a treasure map to mine for his stand-up routine.