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tomtenadia · 4 months

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Detours to You - 18

Hello all,

I have a surprise for you with chapter 18. It has some fluff and Maya has a really great day.

MASTERLIST

The following morning Aelin went to work with the biggest smile on her face. The previous night with Rowan had felt like a massive milestone in their evolving relationship. Nothing had happened yet, although her body screamed for him. The constant ache for him was driving her insane but she knew Rowan was not fully ready yet and even if their kisses had definitely passed the PG stage, Aelin was going to wait for him. They had been apart five years, surely she could tell her hormones to wait a bit longer.

When she walked into the shop Aelin found a cheery Lysandra preparing the bookstore for opening.

“Look at you all happy, miss engaged woman.”

Lysandra walked towards her waving a book “and look at your big smile, were you naughty with Rowan last night? Did you have hot steamy sex with him?”

Aelin paused “No, we had our date in his office. He had to stay behind to deal with the aftermath of the fire at the waterfront.”

Silence.

“I read the news.”

“Yeah, he lost three firefighters and there is a whole massive investigation because the captain messed up.”

Lysandra gave her a hug “How is he?”

“He has Maya for the day and he is taking her to his old firehouse. I think he needs it.”

“Elide said that Lorcan was in a bad mood too.”

As if summoned, Elide arrived a few minutes later and she had the same strained expression that Aelin had.

“Good morning to you too, El.”

The woman dumped the bag on the floor “Good shitty morning to all of you.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Can we have a nice day in the shop and have fun?”

Lysandra hugged them both “we need an event.”

Aelin nodded “I agree, it’s after the holidays and we all need cheering up.”

“Good then, let’s open up and start planning.”

Rowan was in his pickup truck with Maya happily chatting at the back.

She had asked him to see a firehouse and on her last day of winter school holidays he had promised to take her with him. He had to visit station 15 anyway for reports from the day before and it was also a good excuse to have Maya with him for the morning.

“Dad can I sit on the truck?”

Rowan chuckled “we can ask the guys at the station to let you climb on.”

“Yes!”

They arrived ten minutes later and Rowan parked against the wall just outside the apron in a place not in the way of the vehicles. He freed Maya and hand in hand they walked in.

As they walked in the apparatus floor he watched her expression morph in amazement when she noticed engine and truck parked up.

“Dada they are big.” Her voice dreamy.

“Morning chief.” Asterin’s voice, the resident paramedic, reached them “Hi Maya, remember me?” asked the woman as she kneeled.

“Yes you helped me and mama after the fire.”

Rowan chuckled. Ach well, at least it wasn’t a total negative memory.

As if alerted by the voices, the rest of the firehouse filed in and Rowan turned towards the group of people and lifted Maya in his arms while the girl waved happily.

“Station 15, this morning we will have a guest of honour. My daughter Maya goes back to school tomorrow but she asked to visit a real firehouse so she is tagging along.”

Brullo stepped up and went to him “Good morning muffin, do you remember me?”

“Yes.” Rowan happily passed his daughter to the man while he took it as an opportunity to talk to Lorcan“How are you holding up?”

“Besides the fact that I am pissed? That Perrington’s irresponsibility lead to three of us dying? And the man still thinks he was right.” The dark-haired man growled “He punched me when I told him he had fucked up. He benched Borte when she challenged him. I tried to take over before you arrived on the scene but he claimed that his unit had arrived before us so it was his scene.” His hand carded in his long hair “he sent people in without a plan, without knowing where the active fire was, how many people. He just sent them in randomly.”

“I know, Lorcan. I have a pile of reports on my desk and I will have the investigation launched as soon as I can. He will likely be fired from the TFD.”

Lorcan exhaled “The bastard should not have been a firefighter in the first place, you remember him at the academy, right?”

Rowan growled “He was a joke. And the old chief promoting him to captain was a bigger joke.”

The two men remained in silence and Rowan took the opportunity to watch his daughter being passed on from firefighter to the other and having the time of her life.

He looked at his daughter having fun with Fenrys “She is having fun.”

“Elide and I are trying.” Confessed Lorcan almost embarrassed.

Rowan turned at his friend “look at you. Elide really did a job on you.”

Fenrys had taken Maya for her official tour with Brullo and Ansel and Maya had been fascinated at seeing a woman firefighter.

“Do you want to see the truck?”

“Yes!”

Fenrys placed her on his shoulder and they walked around the vehicle, opened all the compartment and showed her all the tools. Brullo then opened the driver’s doors “wanna sit on it?”

The girl smiled and he climbed on the vehicle while Fenrys passed her to him.

She sat happily behind the wheel and pretended to drive “Dada look, I am driving.”

Rowan joined them and took a picture of his daughter, then grabbed a bunker jacket that was hanging on the door and placed on her shoulders, looking gigantic on her.

Soon after Ansel stole the little girl and carried her to the engine “Engine is more fun.” Added the woman while climbing with the little girl on top of the vehicle and sitting on all the hoses.

Ansel placed a plastic helmet on the girl’s head and then passed her the nozzle of a hose and together they pretended to fight a fire “Dad look, I am a firefighter!”

Rowan looked up and saw Maya on top of the engine laughing happily with Ansel. He had no doubts that the two would get along well.

Rowan filled his phone with his daughter’s pictures until Asterin came to claim the girl “My turn,” said Asterin, taking the girl’s hand “want to see the ambulance?”

“Yes!”

Asterin took Maya to her vehicle and opened the back “I am a paramedic, and in the ambulance we treat people.”

“Like you did with mama and me at the fire.”

“Yes, we look after people.”

“I want to be a pamamedic.”

Asterin laughed “I am sure your dad will be happy to hear it.”

However the morning fun got cut short when dispatch alarm went off and they all had to scramble.

Rowan quickly ran to Asterin and picked up Maya and as they stepped aside he explained her what was happening and Maya waved them goodbye.

“Dada that was so cool.”

“It was.”

“I want to be a pamamedic, dad.”

Rowan smiled “Do you?”

“Yes, I want to help people.”

He lifted Maya high up and then kissed her on her cheeks “That is a beautiful idea, my love.”

Rowan collected the reports from Lorcan’s office and then took Maya back to Aelin.

At the shop he found Aelin and the other two ladies busy with customers “Looks like mum is really busy today.”

Maya wiggled free from her dad and ran to the children’s section. Lysandra intercepted the girl and Elide walked to him.

“Having a busy day?”

“Yes, it’s good and we are planning an event too.”

“That is brilliant.”

Elide smiled “Did she have fun at the firehouse?”

“She had a blast and now she wants to be a paramedic.”

“That is great.”

He nodded “yes, I was terrified that she might want to be a firefighter,” he paused “not that I would stop her from doing something she loves but I am relieved. Being a paramedic is at least safer.”

Elide brushed her hand on his arm “I know. Lorcan’s job terrifies me. Yesterday I was watching the news and…” a ragged breath left her lungs “until he answered his phone I felt as if I was suffocating.”

Rowan pulled the woman to his side to offer comfort “Lorcan was amazing last night. He got punched to stop a man who almost risked his entire company.”

“I am proud of him.”

Aelin reached them a moment later “Morning,” Rowan stooped and gave her a gentle kiss “Maya had a great morning.”

“I heard, she was telling Lys that she wants to be a paramedic now.”

Rowan smiled “Yes, Asterin gave her a tour of the ambulance and she loved it.”

In that instant Rowan’s radio became alive “I need to go.”

Aelin kissed him “stay safe, please.”

He waved at Maya and Lysandra and rushed out of the shop.

“So nothing happened last night, eh?”

She smiled “I think we are getting there.”

“You might be the next couple who gets married.”

Aelin smiled “Not yet, El. For now I am taking him not being mad at me anymore. For now I am happy that he allows me in his life and lets me love him back.” A sigh “we are being given a second chance and I am not rushing him.”

“You seem so much happier, though. And Maya…” they both turned to the little girl “she is thriving.”

Aelin nodded. She had been right to fear how Maya would react at having a dad. It could have gone either way and apart from a moment during which she suffered because her and Rowan kept fighting, now she was happy again.

“So? How’s the baby making business going?” She changed the subject quickly.

Elide laughed “Oh it has its perks.”

“Oh I can totally imagine how cumbersome must be to have nightly sex with your hot husband.”

“I had no idea how hard it actually was to try and have a kid. The tracking and planning and all.”

Aelin chuckled “Sometimes all you need to do is to forget the condom and just go for it.”

She remembered the night that lead to Maya’s conception. She and Rowan had gone out to dinner and then a classical concert. She had worn a dress that had been driving Rowan insane the whole night. They had barely kept their cool in the car, and as soon they had crossed the threshold of their flat it had been crazy passion.

“Is that the Whitethorn-Galathynius way?”

“All I am saying, less planning and just have fun?”

Elide nodded “we can surely try.”

“Good.”

They joined Lysandra and Maya and Aelin and her daughter decided to revamp the fantasy section.

Rowan drove back to his work and prepared himself for another day of reports and to work on the investigation. On his floor he entered his office hall and saw Lyria sitting at her desk.

“Morning, Chief.” Her tone cold. She passed him a few folders “you had a few phone calls, I noted down the names.”

“Thank you.”

“So, is the wife coming to disrupt your work today?”

Rowan’s head turned abruptly “excuse me?”

“Chief, she bursts in your office unannounced and never with an appointment. This is a workplace and she has no respect.”

“Aelin can come and visit whenever she wants unless I am in a meeting. She is…” he paused “She is allowed in and I do not want to hear any other complaints.”

“Fine, chief.” His secretary almost growled and slammed some documents on the desk “fine. Be happy with your perfect wife and perfect daughter.”

He stepped closer “Lyria, my personal life is none of your business. We are colleagues. If I ever gave you any indication of anything else, I am sorry, but I am in love with another woman.” He took another step closer “You are a great secretary and I am grateful for all your help, but colleagues is all we are.”

The woman nodded “It’s okay, chief,” a pause “I am sorry how I reacted, I had no place for being jealous.”

“It’s fine, as long as we are clear on this.”

“Copy that, chief.”

He nodded and disappeared in his office where a pile of reports was awaiting him. He dumped the other one he got from Lorcan and started to work on the fire of the previous day. He had also organise the funeral for the three firefighters. It was one of the worst aspects of his job. In his long career he had seen far too many firefighters die in the line of duty but nothing hurt as much as seeing three of them be killed because of incompetence. It was not fair. Any of them knew of the risks when signed up for the job. But not for this. Not that meaningless waste of life. He knew station three was a problem, he had been working on it since day two on the job. The previous chief had ignored all the complaints that had come from the lieutenant because she was a woman. One who had proved herself to be a fantastic firefighter. Perrington had so many complaints against him that he should have been dismissed a very long time ago and not put in a position of harming people. Appointing Borte as captain was one of the first things he was going to do as soon as he had filed all of his reports. Borte was a respected firefighter and had the support of the team.

The TFD needed change and it was his job to push for it.

To make sure that no one else would die because of negligence.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius

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gachawolfiebloom · 1 month

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Your Pursuit of Perfection

Story and Artwork By: @GachaWolfieBloom

Chapter 11: It's time to take your final bow

Summary: A few months after the events of WOTFI 2023, SMG4 starts having really bad dreams about the "Its gotta be perfect" incident. One night however, his fear allows the nightmares to break through and he gets taken to a horrific dimension. He finally meets the tv adware, who manipulates him into returning to his insane ways, intent on claiming much more than the perfect video. Now it's up to his friends to stop this madness and save SMG4. Can they do it in time or will they lose SMG4 forever? (In case you are unaware this is a sequel to the its gotta be perfect movie)

Tags: angst, its gotta be perfect, love confession, luigi, mario, meggy, melony, nightmares, scary, smg3, smg4, smg34, smg3 x smg4, tari, tv adware

"We can't just leave them there like that!"

Smg1 and Smg2 had arrived back at the Showgrounds, escaping the TV that played them like puppets. "Don't worry, we'll save them, but we have to protect the others first." The tanks were fired rapidly as Swag just kept screaming "KEEP LOADING UP THE TANKS! I WILL SHOOT DOWN THESE THINGS IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" It turns out that the awful creatures that had trapped the crew came back to take over the Showgrounds and across the Mushroom Kingdom.

Chris was trying to evacuate everyone when he noticed two figures. "One and Two!? But where are the others?" They both sighed sadly and responded with such a sorrowful tone that it was surely a moment of grief. "They've been...captured..." Karen was sheltering her kids and the pets when they heard the unfortunate news. Beeg and Eggdog ran up to the meme guardians, wondering if their parents were okay. "We're so sorry you two...Smg3 is gone and Smg4 is controlled by the TV Adware."

The pets hung their heads as the guardians picked them up. This was a very sad moment, but it couldn't last forever. One snapped out of his thoughts of misery and got back to the matter at hand. "There's no time to dwell on that now. Smg4 and the TV Adware will be here soon to take over our home!"

"Don't worry, we'll be ready." Chris and Swag got the military to build defenses all around and the others were done fleeing for their lives. Shroom loaded up a gun while the teletubies took out weapons such a spears and maces. The end is near...

~Back in the nightmare realm~

"LET US OUT YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

"Bob...that's not going to work." Saiko just sat on the floor, head in her hands as she watched Bob rattling the chains and shouting out weak commands. "WELL WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!?" She rolled her eyes and said "Apparently overreacting like a five year old because someone here is too irresponsible."

"WHAT!? YOU'RE ONE TO TALK! YOU SWING THAT SUCKY HAMMER LIKE YOU'RE INSANE!!!"

Saiko got up and pointed a stern finger at bob in a fit or rage. "WELL MAYBE I'M JUST TRYING TO PROTECT MY FRIENDS! YOU'D THINK OF THAT!" Meggy watched as the two bickered on, desperately trying to think of a plan. "Guys! Enough!!!" Boopkins hid behind Tari while she comforted that poor little traumatized creature. "Wait!" Melony broke up the argument and urged them all to be quiet.

"Do you all hear that?" She got closer to the bars and stuck her ear out. The others did the same as a faint screaming could be heard from above them. "Oooo is it the tv guy?" Meggy pondered what unearth it could be until she recognized the voice. "No Mario...it sounds like...THREE! HE'S HERE!" They all cheered as they were relieved that he was safe and would hopefully rescue them. "We have to find someway to let Three know we're down here!"

Mr Puzzles watched amusingly as Three kicked and screamed until he noticed a purple book, slipping out of his pocket. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. "Oi! That's mine and your not allowed to look in it! Read the cover idiot!" This book seemed familiar to him as one picture in particular caught his eyes. "Ah yes. The notebook that I had sent Marty to retrieve a couple months ago."

"You did that? I'll kill you! Because of you, Four has had awful nightmares!" Mr Puzzles flipped the notebook around to reveal that wholesome sketch that Three did of him and Four, holding coffee cups. "Well you see, that's the problem. Apparently there is still a small bit of Smg4 left in my partner of nightmares." Three couldn't believe it. There was still time to save Four.

"What!? You have to set him free! YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Mr Puzzles just sneered as he shot back "Not a chance! You will watch as your beloved friend destroys your home along with all the love you have for him. Then his transformation will be permanent!" He tore the notebook, right in front of Three's eyes and tossed it onto the ground.

"NOOOOO!!!" Three watched in utter despair as the drawing and everything else that he had ever written was gone. Reduced to nothing. That corrupted Four came up to his master with a dastardly smile, twirling the key around his fingers. "I like the sound of that." The tears couldn't stop flooding from Three's eyes as the thought of losing Four forever made his heart ache.

"Now it is time for the era of nightmare rule!" Mr Puzzles cackled as he left to make his way to that soon to be powerful kingdom he had promised. Four followed behind unit he noticed a scarp of paper besides the crying man. He picked it up and studied it. Three noticed the interest and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Four? Do you remember that day when we got my notebook back!?" Four gasped as the memories came flooding back to when they sat together, drinking coffee and enjoying each other's company.

"What are you writing?"

"I'll never tell!"

That lovable idiot was fighting his way through, but the nightmares wouldn't allow it. He shut his eyes and threw the piece of paper on the ground. "NO!" Three watched in horror as he stomped his foot down on the paper and said "I will take over your home and watch as you lose all sense of hope!" He trudges off as Three sighs. "I thought you might say that..."

He takes out a gun and says "That's why I came prepared." He shot the tentacles, making them let go in thriving pain as he rushed back into the castle. Now that those two were gone, Three could make his way feely to find his friends. "The dungeon can't be this hard to find." Suddenly some barely audible screaming was heard. "That has to be them." He went down a staircase as the voices got louder. "Yes!" He sprinted down until he rushed up to a cage and...THERE THEY WERE!

"Three! You're okay!" Three nodded as he said "Don't worry. I'll get you out."

"But how? You don't have the-" Three pulled out a shiny object that looked like a "Key?" The others gasped as Mario cheered "SMG3 IS THE BEST!" Meggy stared blankly at him as he opened the cell. "But how did you-"

"I have my ways. Now come on! We have to stop that TV creep and Smg4 before they take over all of the Mushroom Kingdom!" They all bolted off as Three noticed something that Tari was carrying. "What the hell is that?" Tai giggled and said "Don't worry! He's my friend!" Three din't bother to ask as they made it out of the castle and saw a wide opening. "That must be where they got out!"

"HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET UP THERE!?" Three stared at his hands and remembered something. He spun around to the others and said "Mr Puzzles said that there was still a part of Smg4 left in his corrupted version. If he's still in there, we can still use our connection to teleport to him!"

"Mr Puzzles? You mean the TV Adware?" Meggy gerked her head a bit. "Doesn't matter." Three takes a breath and concentrates hard. "Come on Four...help us out here."

The Final Showdown is about to begin...

Chapter 12: The Final Showdown

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg4 mario #smg4 melony #smg4 meggy #smg4 smg3 #smg4 tari #angst #love confession #it’s gotta be perfect #tv adware #smg3 smg4 #smg3 x smg4 #luigi #scary #nightmare

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flukeoffate · 7 months

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Just some random thoughts about my own height and childhood.

I was 5’11” (roughly 181cm according to google) by the time I was 11 years old. Full grown woman at eleven.

I kinda want to know what it’s like to NOT feel like you are literally Robin Williams in the movie “Jack”, but you are a woman and somehow it feels even more unforgivable?

I looked like a grown adult in a children’s classroom. I wonder if other people have a better idea of what it feels like to grow up—I look at my sister’s kid, who is almost 13 and is still obviously a child, but a growth spurt very quickly on the way, and I’m like, wow. How are kids this short? He’s not short really, I’m just tall.

I didn’t feel like an ‘adult’ when I graduated high school. I grew up before I realized it was happening. I’d been taller than most of my teachers and my mother for years. I thought most or my peers saw me as an ogre with an anxiety problem and was into anime before it was cool, thus I was dubbed insane and childish by many people in high school. Maybe I was childish, but hey I was expected to take on adult responsibilities by the time I was 12—after all if you are adult sized, you are ready to help around the house, babysit grandma after school every day because she is senile and can’t even take herself to the bathroom anymore, and have all your homework done, before swim practice and dance class! Right? Well, what tween would NOT resort to anime or other visual media? I couldn’t handle more work. You crave distraction and fun stories are great for that kind of relief.

The point is, age wise, I was a child, and I was beholden to the rules and laws associated with childhood. Socially, people were prepared to treat me as an adult, one who often did not seem to belong. And so…after high school, I think I just turned into a person who felt like I needed permission from a higher power at all times to do things. I wasn’t rebellious. I felt like nothing had changed from school and so I followed any path that an ‘adult’ put before me. I always feel like I’m looking for approval from someone in charge. I’m still stuck in that mindset a bit and I’m nearly 40. I’m trying to break free of that mentallity…cuz I’m a fucking adult and I can’t keep looking at my peers and thinking: I must impress them with my poise, I must make myself smaller, I must use every masking technique I’ve ever learned to do with m blatant adhd just to make people like me. I keep thinking “I’m too irresponsible”, “I’m too loud”, “Now, I’m too antisocial.”

I think the Barbie Movie has me thinking about this a lot, given the plot and the characters. Like, I’m here wishing I could see myself in my teens. I have few photos. I wish I realized that I was actually really good looking…and frankly if I got past the fact that some of the peers i compared myself to weren’t ‘skinny’. They were still kids. I had regular thighs for my size. Other kids had thighs the width of my forearm. I developed a mild Barbie dislike, but not a hatred. I don’t hate dolls or Barbie at all. It was just weird. No one seemed my height till college and even then it was only a small portion of my friends.

Anyway, I’m trying to break free of all this nonsense. I’m an adult and I have a brain and ability to take my own life in my hands. I have recently replaced my ancient iMac with a top of the line model and and have reorganized my workspaces. I’m gonna work hard to get myself into some more art related pursuits, which might mean I’ll be going through an internet identity change. It’s time for a change. I want to make a little money from my art for once. I need to feel like…if my safety nets fell apart, I can climb back up.

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flockofdoves · 9 months

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obviously there is no time that is Good or Convenient to have covid and i guess technically its good that this isn't happening to me in the middle of a time where i have more active work or school responsibilities

but also it just feels like Such bad timing in a lot of other ways

i literally Just was recovering after unrelated health problems over the past couple weeks that were making me so so fucking stir crazy i had plans to go out and really start planning my days for the rest of the summer doing things like going to rhode island again and going birding more and going to museums and stuff because i was at my fucking limit with being cooped up in my apartment recovering. but now i just gotta do that all over again for at least another 9 days from today

kinda sad about ending my summer this way. and also i'm gonna have to miss my niece's christening party when i really would like to see her again i've only seen her once since she was born :(

also there are just so so many issues surrounding my lease and roommate situation. my symptoms started on tuesday the 16th which means i should isolate til the 26th (i do not trust the new recommendations saying you can even go to work if you have covid after 5 days i think thats fucking insane and would be irresponsible of me with how extremely symptomatic i am right now)

my current lease ends on the 26th. so so lucky i don't have to move but every single thing about my roommate situation and how shes supposed to move out on the 26th is made so fucking complicated by this

because my roomate is still here the whole time i have to isolate i have to stay entirely in my bedroom outside of wearing a mask to go to the bathroom (and shutting the door and taking it off to shower or brush teeth) or quickly get food to bring to my room

and my girlfriend didnt test positive yesterday but it feels kind of inevitable considering that we sleep in the same room (and cpaps even aerosolize viruses further apparently) so its not like she can even stay in the other room for the time being while periodically checking to see if she's gotten infected

and also i put in repair requests earlier this week for issues with the apartment that preexisted me and my gf moving in but that over the past year i'd been too nervous about having maintenance come in and see how bad things were bc of my roommate until me and my gf deep cleaned last week

but the repair requests were not fulfilled within a few days and then i had to cancel them obviously once i tested positive. and so now that means i cant have maintenance fix anything til after the new lease starts... which means that we're gonna have to pay back my roommate the her entire portion of the security deposit and then pay for the repairs during our new lease for things that happened when she lived here before us...

it also kinda puts a wrench into any hopes i still kinda had of trying to reach out to anyone she knows to try to help her cat

and im sad bc i realized cats can get covid so i shouldnt even really be playing with or petting her cat over the next 10 days :(

also its gonna be so so weird bc ive already doubted that shes actually gonna move out at all and now its even more ambiguous bc like. if she ever communicated with me at all i'd find it very reasonable for her to ask to move out a little later so she doesnt have to deal with that or expose anyone shes potentially bringing to help her move or anything. but like i know shes not actually gonna communicate anything so if the 26th comes and goes and shes still here its gonna feel even weirder than it was gonna originally because i'll feel more unconfident about asserting like. you need to get out of here. when i can find a reason to understand why she'd unexpectedly need to stay a little longer

#thank god my roommate unblocked my number so my text actually went through letting her know i have covid #still kinda wondering about the possibility of her ignoring texts enough that she still doesnt know tho lol #cpost

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years

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Drabble request for Namjoon & Michele from Flux:

List 5, # 1: "What a crazy turn of events."

... and/or ...

List 5, # 24: "They're coming!"

🤔😉

Story: Flux, during the camping trip Characters: Namjoon & Michele Words: 3356 CW: Smut, alcohol, sneaking around

Namjoon hadn’t set out with any sort of plan, per se. Everyone was drinking, everyone was having fun. In a way, he hadn’t been this relaxed in ages; Sasha had done most of the planning work, despite the credit she kept trying to give him, and now it was safe and easy. He didn’t feel like he needed to be on his guard about photos leaking, and he didn’t have to try to impress anyone because it was just a bunch of Sasha’s friends, and he was in nature all day and all night, which felt restorative, even when that nature was punctuated with the drunk shouts of friends. And also a truly insane number of mosquitos, he was getting eaten alive and the noise drove him nuts until he drank enough to ignore it.

He’d had no designs on anyone. Zero expectations for sex for the weekend. Not that none of the women were attractive but, you know, they were friends of Sasha’s, and even if she hadn’t said it, he felt a duty not to fuck around and make things awkward when Jungkook acted so serious about his girlfriend. He didn’t want to be the cause of any drama or hurt feelings or whatever; he could leave that to Taehyung, who’d been trailing after Sua all day.

He also just wasn’t looking for entanglements. A relationship sounded great, sure, and he’d had enough girlfriends over the years to know that they were worth the effort– assuming you had the energy and time and mental bandwidth.

Look, he didn’t need anyone making him feel like shit again because he didn’t have any of those things. There wasn’t anything wrong with him just because what time he did have, he wanted to spend on the things he really wanted to do. Not whatever a girlfriend wanted to do. Ah, he couldn’t say that to anyone, it wouldn’t sound like he meant for it to… He just was at a point in time he wanted to live for himself in what few spare minutes he had. Because the vast majority of his minutes were focused on his career. Sometimes he felt like he was drowning in it, like he was some little leaf caught in a massive river current getting spun around and around by the company, the other members, the fans, the media, the schedule, and just a little bit of the music, not nearly as much of the music as he wanted. Sometimes it felt like the music was the smallest, least important part of it all. He hated that. He was trying to pull himself back closer to the music. He was trying to preserve something of himself in all of this. Life had gone such unexpected directions for him, and sometimes he felt guilty, he knew he couldn’t complain, because wasn’t this what he had wanted? Success? He just hadn’t realized success wasn’t a destination, it was a staircase and he was beginning to think there weren’t any benches to have a rest along the way…

But sex. Yeah, he missed that. He could handle things himself as needed but yeah obviously that wasn’t as good as the real thing. More about upkeep than actual enjoyment. Nothing compared to, you know, doing that sort of thing with someone but…

Well he didn’t hook up with women often. He’d been a little irresponsible when he was younger, done some risky things, but he was a lot more cautious now about who he let into his life in such a private way. It wasn’t worth the professional risk. It wasn’t worth the health risk. It wasn’t worth the emotional risk.

Which is why when he wound up on a team with Michele in beer pong, he wasn’t thinking about fucking, even though her shorts were really short and showed off some ass when she leaned forward to take her shot. He was thinking about winning, or at least not embarrassing himself, because she was better at it than he was. And competitive. But just shy of obnoxiously competitive. He braced himself for her to needle him too far when he wasn’t doing well, but just before he felt any real shame, she suddenly asked him to take her shot because her hand was cramping. With no reason to believe he would make it.

But he did, and insisted it was because of her faith in him, and he felt genuinely (tipsily) honored when she assured him he was “all right” for a pong partner.

He wound up next to her again when she tripped on his chair a while later and immediately let out a string of curses that had him worried she’d broken her ankle.

“No, it just fucking scared me,” she admitted as he tried to grab her arm in the dark and instead grabbed her head, her back, and her ass. “Hey now, that part of me is fine! Hands off! <Unless…>”

He was mortified though and gasped out, “Ah, sorry, shit… you didn’t break your leg? Who yells like that just because they’re scared?”

As if cued, he could distinctly make out Seokjin’s yell. He couldn’t identify the others with him, but something had spooked them off in the distance, and flashlights were waving. Jimin’s and Jungkook’s laughter afterwards hinted at a sequence of events.

“Where are you going?” he asked Michele as she started walking again.

She pointed at the chair on the other side of him with her beer, then shuffled around him more carefully this time to plop down into it. For a moment he thought she’d come to talk to him, but Dominique and Eunsuh were on a blanket on the ground by the chair, and Michele started talking to them and he got that awkward feeling as if he’d waved at someone who was noticing the person behind him.

So he decided to vacate his seat, which was getting too hot by the fire anyway, and went to get another beer. But his mind was kind of running away with him at his point. He hadn’t grabbed Michele’s ass on purpose but even that squeeze was nice. How long had it been since he grabbed someone’s ass? How long had it been since he had someone naked beneath him? How long had it been since he’d cum in something other than–

H’okay. Beers were getting to him. And sangria. Maybe he shouldn’t have mixed them so much tonight, but between flip cup and beer pong and busting a move on the dance floor, he’d drank and sweated enough to leave himself dizzy.

“Shit, they’re dancing again,” he mumbled to Seokjin and Hoseok. It got a very different response: Hoseok set off to join the mob; Seokjin snorted loudly, waved at Hana, and headed for his tent. Some people had gone to bed, he didn’t know who. Some were at the pool. Pockets of light held groups of people like jars of fireflies around camp.

Namjoon stood in the dark and tried to make a decision. He could dance, he could swim, he could sleep, he could play whatever game was noisily going on at the picnic tables, he could…

He headed back to his chair at the fire. Michele was just getting out of her chair though, and Dominique and Eunsuh were gone, and Namjoon realized he’d missed the opportunity to just strike up conversation with Michele earlier. That would have been nice. Not that it happened often but they messaged back and forth sometimes, since Sua’s party, usually sending each other articles about something interesting; she sent him art stuff, he sent her psychology or brain stuff. It was interesting to hear her thoughts. She had very different ideas than he did and–

Not that he was crushing or anything. Just as a friend. A friend! But the alcohol nudged at the disappointment that he’d been briefly too horny to chat and fled and now the moment had passed–

“Namjoon?”

“Eh?”

“Why do you look so sad?”

“Ah, no,” he laughed, waving his hands and spilling some beer in the process. “No, I’m not tired.”

“What?” she laughed. “Drunk?”

She just seemed really cool to him in that moment. Casual. When everything around him seemed so serious, and everyone around him seemed so stressed, Michele’s texts were always a breath of normalcy, and right now she was flushed and bright-eyed from the alcohol and running around all day. Her nose and cheeks might be sunburned because she wasn’t the kind of woman who worried too much about that kind of thing, she just had fun and relaxed and didn’t really ask anything from him. She was so casual when they talked. He didn’t think she was starstruck by him at all, maybe not even that impressed. And he liked her style.

“Hey you look really nice out here.”

“What?” Her eyebrows raised like he’d said something weird and her reaction was endearing. She wasn’t tripping all over herself.

Maybe… she’d be… you know… down to…

“Hey, do you want to–” He started to say as he stepped towards her.

But there was a hole. And his foot went half into it. And in a bid to not twist or break his ankle, he twisted his body, and went down hard, scraping his elbow in the process like a goddamn child.

“Oh shit,” Michele gasped, and reached down. “Are you ok?”

“Fuck. Yeah. I’m fine. Embarrassed–”

“Need me to grab your ass to make sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah that would help I think,” he joked, turning it towards her as he pushed himself up.

He hadn’t fully expected she would actually reach out and squeeze, but why hadn’t he? Michele did what she said. She was bold and direct and he respected that about her.

“Ah thanks but I don’t think it was enough,” he started, belatedly considering maybe he shouldn’t finish that joke.

But she laughed and pointed, “Yeah, your elbow is bleeding.”

“Shit.”

“Damn.”

He paused and stared at her. Was the moment as heavy to her as it was to him? Was there harm in making a suggestion and seeing if she was game? She’d shoot him down if she wasn’t. Would she be shitty or cool about it? Would Jungkook be pissed?

Ah, who cared. He was drunk enough, it seemed like a good idea.

“Hey so uh… would you be interested in um…” he tried to find the right words. She cocked her eyebrow and he decided it was worth the risk.

“In uh what?” she teased.

“In just, you know, as friends…” Shit this was so much harder to do than he remembered. Once upon a time he’d believed he had game, but he sure didn't’ feel like it right now. He wanted to blame the alcohol, but really it was the alcohol making him hink he was brave enough he could pull this off, a no-strings fuck with a friend.

“Are you asking me if I’m down to fuck?” She laughed but it sounded shocked and amused, not mean.

“See that’s what I like about you, you’re so direct–”

“Oh yeah, I’m real cool,” she said. He nodded but she was still laughing. “Hell yeah I’m down to fuck. But uh… where?”

He recognized she’d asked a question but he was so excited by her response that he just stepped forward and kissed her, right out in the open. Not that being in the open matter but maybe someone would see; but he wasn’t worried about that right now. Michele was a little tal and she felt solid in his arms, and it felt so good to have someone in his arms, a mouth pressed against his, to have Michele’s wide smile meet him when he pulled away.

“So like right now,” she nodded. “Ok. Um… your place or mine?”

Namjoon grabbed her hand and led the way to his tent, shared with Yoongi, Jungwon and Bora, but it was occupied; he couldn’t tell by who. She eyed her tent warily but then worried about how soon everyone might stumble to bed.

She started laughing first, and he followed. When she grabbed him and pulled him behind the tent, he followed; he didn’t know who started the kiss, but he was drunk enough and happy enough to forget about anything else for a while.

“Let’s risk it,” he said before his brain caught up with his mouth and he realized what he was suggesting.

“Damn, you’re that hard up?” He answered by pressing her back against the tent, thinking it would be sexy and move things along, but the canvas had some give to it. She gasped and grabbed his arms, and in trying to twist her away and save her, he pulled her down onto the ground.

Honestly the laughter was as fun as the kissing. He felt wrapped up in all the laughter he’d shared with her today: a game of volleyball in which he’d done slightly better than she had, a game of chicken in the pool earlier which they’d won with her perched on his shoulders, thighs pressed to his ears, and now sprawled with her in the dirt.

“I’m out of practice with this,” he admitted.

“Hooking up?”

“Yeah. Pretend I’ve got good game right now.”

“You’ve got good game,” she assured him.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“You’re kind of cool, you know?” she teased. He pushed up from the dirt and held his hand out for her but she was already standing on her own. The world dipped and swayed and he felt himself settling through the alcohol, even though he knew he was drunk.

Suddenly footsteps to their side made them both gasp, as if they had something to hide! Or needed to hide! They were consenting adults!

“They’re coming!” Michele hissed and the two of them slid around the tent as whoever it was went stomping by. He couldn’t tell who, but his own movements were clumsy and also he was ready to keep things moving along, so when Michele stopped, he slid around her and pressed her back against the tent this time but without the weight so they didn’t teeter.

She looked up at him with a playful smile and teased, “Oh, you’re serious, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m–”

“Boxing me in like I’m a little young thing,” Michele interrupted, and grabbed his shirt, and kissed him hard. “I’m not.”

“You look kind of little from my height.”

“Wha- you wanna fight? Should we take this outside?” she demanded. His kissed her again.

“We are outside.”

“Ok then inside.”

“Where– oh shit! I knew a place!”

She didn’t even ask a question, just slid her hand beneath his waistband and kissed him as she murmured,

“Lead the way.”

The “place he knew” was a tent in another campsite, currently empty though some of the other tents were occupied. Hopefully they didn’t hear anything. At least they wouldn’t have seen anything except maybe the shadow of two people sharing a little more sangria before they turned the lights off and stripped their clothes off and fucked. There weren’t sheets on the bed and without the overhead bulb on they had only the light from their phones and a dim glow through the canvas walls to see by, but Michele wasn’t fussy either. She made all the right noises, and said exactly the things he wanted to hear, and she felt good around him; mouth, pussy, everything was good.

What a relief. What an absolute relief they both kept condoms on them, and that she was amused when he teased her about why she had one, and she teased him right back. What a relief to be with someone in a way that was comfortable and easy. What a relief that the alcohol wasn’t too much to keep him from performing well, and that she seemed slightly less drunk than him, and that she was happy on top. What a relief to really truly cum his brains out buried in her and be all tangled up with her arms and legs afterwards, high on the sound of her equally pleased heavy breathing.

The closeness didn’t last long. It was hot and humid and they had made it all sweatier, so without either suggesting it they rolled apart. He liked that she was perfectly comfortable lying there naked beside him. He liked admiring the lines and curves of her body even when they weren’t touching.

“See something you like?” she teased.

“Yeah.”

She smiled at the ceiling and stretched her arms above her head, popping her tits up. He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to squeeze and she laughed.

“What a crazy turn of events,” she mumbled. “Sure didn’t have fucking you on my BINGO card for the weekend.”

“No? What are you– you weren’t even thinking about it a little?”

“Hmmm, I’m sure thinking about it now.”

He liked that, that sense that she wasn’t really latching on. Michele was cool and this had been fun and easy and Namjoon just felt so good. It had been so long since he felt this good.

“Are we sleeping here?” he asked.

That made her laugh too and admit, “Dude, we are both sweaty as shit and I am not looking forward to the teasing if we get found. Besides, we don’t know who’s in the other tents here, huh?”

“Ah, yeah, right…”

“Don’t sound so pouty!” She reached out to poke his cheek. “This was good. Call me if you ever want to do it again.”

“Oh yeah, um… keep it just between us,” he understood from what she said. Or maybe he was suggesting that from his own mind. His brain was getting mushier by the minute.

“Ok, sure. No problem.”

“Right so maybe… one more time before we go back?”

She threw her head back laughing and sat up; he could make out the dark shape of her through the faint glow of camp lights coming through the canvas.

“Yeah, we can… I don’t know, will my condom fit you?”

“I’ll make it work, I think it’ll be fine.”

“You’re determined when you’re horny, huh?”

He grinned and leaned in, feeling a little more on his game now that he’d already made her cum once and insisted, “Just want to leave you with a good impression of, you know, my abilities.”

“I have a pretty good impression so far but, yeah show me–”

“I just feel like, as a feminist, since you went down on me, I should– I mean, I want to–”

“Nah, gross, it’s going to taste like condom.”

“Only for a minute and for you, I’ll endure–”

“You’re such a charmer,” she snickered.

He kissed her onto her back and told her, “I like the way you move your body, but now it’s my turn to show off.”

“Ok ok, show me what’s good.”

He paused, halfway down her body, and caveated, “But just be aware I’ve had a lot of alcohol and already worked my muscles out once so if I’m not at, you know, maximum impressive, just know it’s because I drank too much–”

“Drank too much, still a gentleman, got it. Now stop keeping me waiting, you’re making me nervous!”

Namjoon liked when a girl was straight-forward like that. He liked when he could be himself, or a little messy, and not feel like everything was being carefully tracked. He liked that she was normal and funny and smart and argued with him sometimes. She was almost enough to make him forget he was not interested in a relationship right now, the sex was really that good.

“I’ll call you,” he grinned and waved as they snuck back to their tents later. She gave him a flirty sort of shoulder pop, it was cute, and then ran off like she didn’t care if she broke her ankle.

Namjoon barely had the energy left to make it to his bed, but once there he faceplanted and got the best night of sleep he had in months. Maybe years.

Yeah. They’d need to do this again.

#namjoon x oc #kim namjoon ff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x y/n #namjoon ff #secret song series #namjoon smut #bts drabble #bts smut #bts idol au

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enfanttxrriblx · 1 year

Text

Part 1: Introspection May 2023

Have you ever wondered what happened to the sad and mythical protagonist of your favourite cutting edge teenage drama when they grow up? Well, we crave madness. We now suffer in silence. And we long for the feeling of loosing control. Now that we’re all grown up life doesn’t allow us to blame our parents or the crappy school systems for our mental deficencies anymore. It’s a trap. Suddenly we’re becoming so good at working on ourselves so that we even trick ourselves into believing we’re happy. However, we will never be cured and we’ll always revisit the place of insanity until the day that we’re able to let go of whatever is driving us crazy. At my age, it’s either improving or finally saying your good-byes to life. There is no in between. And that hurts the most. Not being able to chose a life in dreadfulness, but being forced to become better.

Madness is freedom. Acting out, doing drugs, hurting yourself… it’s all very fulfilling ways of testing your limits. It brings the illusion of living above all rules. It’s limitlessness. When you’re young and beautiful people want to take care of you. The prettier and crazier you are, the more people get obsessed with you. A feeling that is almost as intoxicating as the substances we used to pretend to be addicted to. You’re the star of the night. An icon only known to just a few. When you get older, the glamour turns into pitifulness and then suddenly to disgust.

When you’re young people feel sorry for you as you’re charming yourself through life. Suddenly you turn 25 or 26, and people start to laugh at you. “Look at her, she just tries to fuck her way up top.” A behaviour that used to be idolised as a teen queen. When you hit the magical mark of 25 you loose all innocence of your childlike dolly face. You’re a woman now. And women are not allowed to be sad. We’re supposed to mother society and fix everything and everyone that we used to break for fun.

So now, we just want to escape the cycle of madness. We need to heal, find love to not feel responsible to fix our society anymore and let go of all pressure. It’s just so tiring. I just wanted to die an icon as soon as I’d turn 27 but unfortunately I didn’t do anything remarkable until now. So my death would probably remain unnoticed by time and life.

As for now, I won’t leave a footprint in this world, I know I have to accept all conventional expectations and work. Study, work, be disciplined. Be the best and also be feminine. Be sexy, be wifey material, be as strong as men, and so on. I actually feel just like the girly from “Gone Girl”.

I used to associate myself with Tracy from Thirteen. Suddenly, I wake up just a few years after and I can understand Mme Bovary more than I ever would've wanted to. I hate it. My problems have become average. I used to be the special sad girl, so creative and talented. Making the good hearts around me slaves to wanting to help me reach my potential. I loved the attention. Now, no one cares about me when I don’t actually do anything valuable.

Partying everyday is irresponsible now. It actually even became boring. And I think too much of myself to start doing harder drugs like meth or heroine. So what’s in it even anymore? I’ve died all the ego deaths and had all the disclosures one could think of. Found the source of life on acid like a million times. Tried and abused all the psychedelics, so they don’t allow me to feel the vibrant colours anymore.

Life feels so black and white now. The last thing that could’ve brought me the rush was love, or at least that feeling of high that I associated with love. The failures of relationships that got me physically and emotionally abused kind of ruined that feeling of high too now.

Now, I have to rely on my last resort to give my life a certain meaningfulness now. I feel obliged to take care of serious matters now. What’s even more shocking is that I actually started to car4e about politics and discussions around capitalism in a serious way. As a teenager, you become performative and idealistic. Today I can understand more of their complexities. I can have rational discussions about this shit. I care about this shit. Am I shit? Am I a shitty boring person now? Am I like everyone else? Isn’t it actually a good feeling to be part of society? What do I want now that I am not destined to die a tormented young soul anymore…

Something in me wants to fall in love and start a family. Not sure if it’s just my hormones.. But recently I’ve started to be very comfortable with the thought of creating. Not only life but also knowledge. Put my thoughts and theories out there. Nevertheless, I am convinced that no one will be actually interested in what I have to say. But then again so many people loved “catcher in the Rye”. I thought that novel sucked. I hated to writing style. So maybe someone would love to listen to me?

I love being the centre of attention but without people looking at me. It’s such an annoying urge. Wanting to be seen but not noticed. This even sounds so wanna be deep. Sorry about that.

The point of life I’m locked up in doesn’t feel good. Either, I would love to be myself in 5 years from now or go back to 2013. This current feeling of in betweenness however does not feel intense enough, and I live for intensity.

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captains-simp · 3 years

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Infuriating

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word count: 8,016

Includes: dom!Carol, captain kink, brat taming, choking, degrading, fingering, edging, nipple clamps, clit clamp, thigh riding, spanking enhanced with powers, vibrator enhanced with powers, strap-on gagging and choking, strap-on sex and overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hadn't meant to fuck up Carol's mission. You weren't that petty. But the look on her face when you disobeyed her direct order and took the shot was priceless.

You and Carol had never gotten on. The first time you laid eyes on her you were infuriated by her actions. The second time you met only amplified that.

You had been under cover for a year when she came along and screwed up your mission. It had taken a long time to be trusted by those you 'worked with'.

You had set up a buy with a huge advanced (and crazy irresponsible) weapons smuggling ring that would lead to you obtaining more of their weapons for SHIELD until eventually, hopefully, you would figure out the secrets to their operation and be able to take down the business.

Just as the dealers arrived at the abandoned warehouse Carol came flying in to take on the armed men, oblivious to the mission that was happening, in all her heroic glory.

"We got the weapons, it was a success."

After writing out the report and having a long convosation with Fury (most of which involved you describing Carol in ways Steve would have been outraged by) you had at least expected an apology from the blonde. You could still remember how that went down.

"It was not a success!" You almost screamed at Carol. It infuriated you to no end that after half an hour of talking she still didn't see the bigger picture. She really thought she had done the right thing.

"Yes we got the weapons - something I could have done on my own - but that's such a small part of the rest of what they're making."

"You don't know how much there is." Carol said, her voice as calm as ever as she leant against Fury's desk with her arms crossed.

"That's the point." You said through gritted teeth, determined not to loose your cool infront of her and Fury. "My mission was to find out and put a stop to it."

"There are guys in holding. They'll talk."

You almost laughed at that. "If I could ask them my way they definitely would." You silently cursed SHIELD's moral codes that stopped you from torturing the answer out of them. They wouldn't talk any other way.

"They'll talk." Carol said stubbornly. "And anyway, you should be thanking me for cutting your mission short."

And that was it. From that moment on you couldn't look at the woman without wanting to slap her. That had been months ago.

Despite you never hiding your dislike for Carol she never seemed to mind you. In fact, she tried to be around any chance she could. Always looking for ways to get on your final nerve, everything she did she did for your reactions that you had grown worse at suppressing.

You took some of it out on her during training. It bothered her but thrilled you that you too were on the same level in combat. Apart from the times she was a sore looser and used her powers.

But you had made a strong effort to avoid training with her too. She taunted you during fighting. Although you were used to it it struck different when her body was pressed against yours to pin you to the floor.

Your most shameful day was when her actions had sent a jolt to your core that you couldn't deny.

Carol looked down at you with an insanely arrogant smirk as she straddled your waist. She was always like this in her moments of victory, always wanting to rub it in.

"Wow, you gave in quickly today." She quipped, not even trying to hide the obvious undertones. That didn't even make sense!

You weren't about to give in when she looked so god damn smug. You gripped her shirt with two hands and lifted your hips to flip her off but she caught on both too quickly and too late. She lurched forward into your grip but instantly pinned your hands above your head as her legs fell down next to yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you realised her face was inches from your own, it was only then that you become aware of the darker specs of brown in her eyes that highlighted the lighter shades. They were beau- okay. They were okay eyes. Yours were better.

The corner of her mouth raised in her familiar smirk that you always despised. But being that close brought light to how soft her lips looked. They were slightly parted and you wondered what kind of things she could do with that mouth. Professional things of course. Strictly professional and tactical thing. Not sinful things at all...

You wanted those thoughts banished from your head immediately. You wanted to leave.

All too hastily, you tried to raise your hips again, only then noticing how Carol's new position had her core right over yours. The contact and friction was undeniable, as was the slow throbbing that started.

A quiet moan slipped from your mouth that you desperetly coughed to cover up. You turned your head to the side, not wanting to see if Carol had noticed.

"Get off me, Carol." You huffed, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"What? You don't like me ontop of you?" She smirked.

God you definetly did.

As much as you tried to ignore that memory and replace it with the time you were first introduced you rarely succeeded. And even then it was like your hatred for her only encouraged how much you wanted to feel her deep insi-

"Are you even listening to me?!" Carol yelled at you with a glare. You never zoned out during meetings. Carol knew that. Fury knew that. Yet it was still very clear you just had.

"Are you done rambling?" You quipped, not having a moment to place the filter over your mouth as the thought spilled out.

Fury arched a brow at the question and Carol's jaw clenched in an annoyingly attractive way. You did not regret that one bit.

"If I hadn't taken the shot the hostages would have died."

"They almost did anyway."

"Almost."

There had been some sort of detonator with the man holding the hostages. Once dead, the storage he had loaded into his truck had been destroyed and nothing was salvageable. That was important cargo, but you always put a priority on lives. Taking the bad ones more than saving the good ones admittedly.

Once a vigilante always a vigilante.

"I don't think you understand how valuable that cargo was."

The meeting continued like that for a while. You would never admit it to anyone, especially as fucking up the mission wasn't intentional, but seeing how the tables had turned from the last time the three of you were in that office? It made you happier than it should have.

You guessed the two of you were even now. Maybe she would finally leave you alone. Your happiness faulted at that thought.

Finally, Fury told you and Carol to go and that it would be discussed again tomorrow. He was clearly tired. It had been a long day and it was late, everyone else was already asleep.

Even as you trudged down the hallway Carol continued to rant about your inability to follow orders. You would be the first to admit you weren't a team player. You still weren't used to it. But you always follow orders.

"I can follow orders, Captain. I just choose not to follow yours." You said calmly as approached the hallway towards your room.

You hated that Carol's room was next to yours. You had been there when Carol had talked to Tony about staying at the Avengers compound. You had seen her sly smirk as she pointed out on the compound map which room she wanted. Knowing full damn well it was next to yours.

How long did she plan to keep this up? You definetly didn't bug her about her screw up as long as she was you. Why couldn't she just hold the grudge in silence like you?

"You put aside personal matters when you go on a mission, y/n." She continue to scorn.

"Not personal, Captain. I just know when a decision and order is bullshit." Your room finally came into your line of sight. Just a few more meters.

"It wasn't bullshit. It was the right call. You just refuse to do what I tell you to." You rolled your eyes at her insistence, something that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde.

"The whole thing would have been fucked if I followed your orders. You should be thanking me." You taunted with a smile. But before you could fully bathe in your victory of getting under her skin, Carol gripped your neck tightly and slammed you into the wall.

You eyes widened as your back hit the wall painfully and you struggled to comprehend that Carol's hand was really around your neck...and you liked it.

"What? Got nothing to say to your Captain now?" She smirked. A familiar jolt travelled throughout your body and rested between your legs at her words.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Her hand, her words and the tone that accompanied them. You could always tell Carol was a top, but a dom?!

"If I could go back..." You started, your voice quiet with an edge of fear that made Carol preen. "And do the mission again...." Carol watched your face intently, awaiting your words of apology. "I still wouldn't follow your orders. Because I don't take orders from yo-" Carol stepped forward and forced one of her legs between yours.

You bit you lip to stop yourself moaning at the friction she was causing, the urge to grind against her leg was strong.

"Brat." She whispered with poison dripping from her voice. Her warm breath hit the small area of skin her hand wasn't covering and her hair tickled you chin.

"I have just the thing to deal with that. You wont be keeping up that facade for long."

You were about to object and assure her you would. That your stubbornness was just as strong as hers and you had been down this road before with others.

As she moved away from you she gripped your shirt in her closed fist and pulled you away from the wall with her. You hated that you instantly missed the contact of her thigh between yours. But her rough nature was doing it for you too. It had been so long since someone had been rough with you and you yearned to feel that again.

Carol had barely opened her door when she pushed you through the gap into her room. You were about to take in your surroundings and even pause to assess what was happening, but Carol's hands were on you again and all doubt slipped from your mind.

The next thing you knew your face was engulfed by soft pillows before you felt Carol's strong presence above you.

You could feel her knees on either side of your waist, pressed against you as though caging you beneath her. Her hands entwined with the back of your own and held them above your head under the pillows.

You went to move your hips up out of instinct from your training but Carol was too strong. She didn't even flinch from you efforts, clearly overpowering you in strength.

You reminded yourself you would not, under any circumstances, let Carol win.

You wouldn't apologise for the mission, wouldn't do what she said and you would not fully submit to her. It was something you truly believed, Carol knew this and it made everything you eventually did all the more worthit.

You could never imagine or anticipate the things you would let her do to you that night or the desperate way you would beg her to do them.

Her hair tickled your exposed neck as she leant down to whisper into your ear. "Anything you want to say to me before I begin? Perhaps an apology?" Carol questioned, knowing you would say no such thing but wanting to have more ammunition for later on.

You chuckled into the pillows before replying. "Go fuck yourself." It was muffled. But Carol understood.

She didn't reply verbally, instead she leant further against your body as her hands left yours and wandered down your arms.

Carol inhaled the scent around your neck as her hands reached your shoulders and decended to trace your collarbones that were visible from your shirt being lowered.

The blonde took her time memorizing every inch of your body, especially cupping your clothed breasts in her hands and ever so slightly grinding herself against you as she did so.

You reminded yourself to control your breathing as you felt those motions, not allowing yourself to be caught up in the firm grip of her hands against your breasts or the way she used your body to gain some friction to her core.

Her hands continued to massage your lower stomach, admiring the feel of your finally formed abs in a way she never could when you trained.

You kept your head amongst the pillows when her fingers danced around the waistband of your trousers. You didn't want Carol to see the anticipating look on your face at the touch of her fingers. They barely dipped half an inch beneath your trousers and panties but the contract gave you chills. You wanted to feel her against your bare skin more.

Carol retracted her fingers and instead wordlessly moved them to the centre of your trousers and unbuttoned them. You could hear her pull your zip down in the deafening silence of the room and you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation again.

She didn't hesitate once in her movements. With undeniable certainty, Carol slipped her hand under your trousers and panties to meet the space between your legs that welcomed her.

Carol sighed into the crook your neck as her fingers met your wetness between your slick lips. You bit your lip to stop any sounds escaping your mouth as the arrogant hero swiped a single finger slowly through your eager folds. She collected the arousal on her fingers before pressing it firmly to your clit.

Your hips rolled into her hand before you could stop them and the action caused a smug grin from Carol that although you couldn't see, you could feel against your skin. It was considerably worse and amplified your arousal as Carol could tell.

You hated feuling her ego. You hated that she had made you so wet your throbbing clit would slip around her fingers when she had barely touched you.

"Such a wet little brat. You're so ready for me and I've barely touched you." Carol husked as her finger continued to alter between running through your folds and rubbing your clit lightly.

It took every ounce of self control in your body not to squirm against her or make any noise. Your pride helped you keep those actions at bay.

Carol gripped your chin with her free hand and turned your head away from the pillow. You tried to avoid making eye contact with the blonde, knowing it would make your self control waver, but her hand continued to guide your line of sight to her enchanting gaze.

Her face was so close to yours you were completely caught off guard when Carol's finger pushed inside you and was engulfed by your lower lips with ease.

You bit your lip hard at the action, still staring into Carol's eyes and refusing to be the one to look away first. The intense eye contact did you no favours in holding off your verbal signs of arousal, especially when her single digit curled to brush your most pleasurable spot.

You gave a breathy moan when Carol held her finger against your g-spot for a long moment before withdrawing it, your eyes marginally widening as you adjusted to the pleasure, something Carol wouldn't have noticed if your faces weren't so close.

Her finger pushed back in at a slow pace but always stroked the back of your pussy in an angelic way.

You moaned louder when Carol returned with two fingers, the additional surface area made the experience all the more pleasurable and you feared how quickly you would cum.

Carol studied your facial expressions as she fingered you slowly, figuring out the spots that made you preen in pleasure the most and even the best angles to approach it.

It didn't take her long to understand the eb and flow of your pussy better than anyone ever had. With this powerful knowledge, Carol's pace suddenly increased in an overwhelming way you could barely adjust to.

She fucked you hard and fast with her fingers. Her wrist twisted in the most agile ways that caused her fingers to burry deep within you.

You moaned continuously as you stared into Carol's brown eyes you were beginning to remember better than your own.

The pleasure was immense and you knew your orgasm would hit you hard. Your breathing became rapid and your walls clenched down on Carol's fingers desperetly as your body prepared for your release.

Carol's fingers increased in pace as she gripped your chin harder, ensuring you look at her as her smirk finally returned.

Just as you were about to explode around Carol's fingers she retracted them from your throbbing pussy and brought them up to her lips as she grinned at you.

"Carol!" You protested in disbelief and annoyance.

"What? You didn't really think I would let you cum so soon did you? You haven't earned the right. Unless, of course, you'd like to make an apology." Carol said as her eyes bore deep into yours.

"Like hell I will." You groaned.

Carol clicked her tongue in disapproval before finally looking away from you. Her fingers returned to your waistband, only this time she pulled your trousers down swiftly, deliberately leaving your soaking panties clinging to you.

She then got off the bed and strolled confidently towards her walk in closet for a few seconds, returning with a few pieces of metal you weren't surprised to be seeing yet still gave you goosebumps. Carol's keen eyes seemed to notice this and she grinned knowingly to herself.

You shifted onto your side to get a clearer view of the devices attached to the long silver chain, once Carol reached your side she roughly forced your shoulder down so you were laying on your back.

"You're very pushy you know?" You quipped as Carol moved to straddle you hips and placed the metal beside you.

Her jaw clenched tightly in annoyance of your words but she didn't look at you, instead running her hands along your lower abdomen beneath your shirt. Seeing her frustration at you, especially the slight heavy exhale through her nose very few would notice, helped you control the urge to shiver under Carol's touch.

"I hope you can do other things with that mouth of yours besides bitching, for your own sake." Carol said lowly before gripping the end of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

"It can work wonders," you winked at her with a grin, "and it's nice to know you care, Captain, not just a big, mean, dom I see."

Carol's hand wrapped tightly around your throat just as you finished your sentence. She glared at you with clear rage in her eyes, a look that made putting up your hard front difficult. You had a strong urge to apologise, but you instead pushed it aside.

"If you think for one moment I'm going to go ease on you at any point you are sadly mistaken, brat. I'm not done with you until you're a begging, quivering, pathetic mess that's forgotten her own name and only knows her Captain. Even then I won't take any pity because of the shit you keep pulling. Whores dont deserve sympathy." Your breathing was shaky as the words dripped from her mouth laced with poison, threatening to be the end of you.

You were made acutely aware of her grip of your neck tightening and her ability to cut it off and never let you breathe again. You weren't sure at what point you had given over all control, but you didn't want it to stop.

Carol leaned in next to your ear and her scent enveloped your sences again. Her voice had dropped considerably when she next spoke her whispered words. "I can't wait to break you." She bit down on your ear harshly making you yelp. You couldn't deny the effect she was having on your body, she could see it too. Of course she could, she was playing you like a fiddle and there was nothing you could do about it. It was a thrilling realisation.

Carol pulled away from you slowly while you tried to return your breathing to it's normal pace. It wasn't until you heard Carol's deep chuckled that you realised that your eyes were clenched shut. You opened them to see the blonde looking very proud of herself and the result she had gotten.

You couldn't make another witty remark. Your brain couldn't form any kind of coherent thought and you wouldn't have trusted your mouth to deliver it. Besides, after what Carol had just said, you were afraid to speak out of term again.

The self-certain hero reached around your back to unclasp your bra as her other hand came to rest on your stomach, pressing down as she used it for support while she leant forward.

Carol's eyes eagerly took in every inch of your skin the moment it was exposed. She slowly pulled your bra away before flinging it across the room without taking her eyes off of your breasts.

The cold air hitting your skin made your nipples strain in a want for attention, although you and Carol both knew that wasn't the only reason. Carol hummed at the sight and leaned forward again to rub your buds between her thumb and fingers. Your head leant back into the pillows at the attention, sighing in bliss before you hissed sharply at the the spark of pain.

The blonde smiled in amusement as she continued to pinch your nipples harshly, you didn't protests out of stubbornness.

Carol then picked up the forgotten clamps next to you, trailing the chain slowly and deliberately over your sensitive skin. She attached the left clamp with a silent concentration that filled the room with tension. You hissed again as Carol adjusted the screw to the level she saw fit, which was scarily tight, before moving to the next with the same accuracy.

You closed your eyes and tried not to enjoy the throbbing pain on you nipples, but the growing slick between your legs was telling enough.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip hard to suppress a whimper, failing when Carol gave the chain a quick tug that made you give a strained whimper that sounded more pathetic than it would have if you hadn't tried to stop it.

Carol moved further down your body and spread your legs apart so she could sit between them. You could feel the chain extending down your stomach so you opened your eyes in confusion and instantly squirmed.

The two clamps had separate chains that looped around a small ring that lay on your stomach, twinkling mischeviously in the light. There was a third chain on the bottom of the ring that had a clamp at the end of it. A clamp that Carol was guiding dangerously close to your still covered core.

You had had experience with clamps before, but the thought of one pinching painfully at your throbbing clit was one you were unfamiliar and uncertain with.

Carol adjusted herself according to your newfound protests to kneeling on your legs, each knee digging into each of your thighs as a show of control. Your hands were still free and just as you were about to sit up Carol spoke with a fake pout.

"Aww, do you not think you can handle this? Are you too sensitive?" She mocked making you freeze. "I can always stop if you want me to. All you have to do is say the magic word." The blonde continued to taunt.

Your pride screamed at you to make some snarky remark as to protect your ego, knowing saying 'please' would lead to you spiralling down the rabbit hole you refused to step foot in, while your fear begged you to stay quiet. But there was also a small part of you that was eager to experience the pleasurable pain the clamp would surely deliver to your clit.

So instead, you kept your mouth shut and stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep an eye on Carol in your peripheral while appearing to ignore her.

She smirked, unbeknownst to you, at your pettiness and trailed a single finger against the wet patch on your panties. You struggled to continue looking at the ceiling and bucked your hips to try and meet Carol's hand.

Surprisingly, Carol let you and even pressed further against your panties, rubbing your clothed lips and relishing in the effect she had on you.

Carol teased you like that for a while, rubbing her finger against your soaking folds before circling your throbbing clit. Every so often she received a quiet whine from you that flooded you with embarrassment, hating how your body betrayed you and pleased Carol.

Finally, Carol pulled your ruined panties down and gleamed at the sight of your glistening folds, the view making her pussy clench around nothing and ache more than it had all night. An idea sprung to mind and she smirked at the thought.

She took the third clamp between her long fingers and pinched at your clit. You yelped and bucked your hips up again as Carol entrapped the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"So responsive." She muttered, more to herself than you, as she slowly twisted the screw. Her eyes returned to your pained face as she adjusted the tightness, studying you to see when you would reach the peak of your pain and your limit.

Your face scrunched up at the sharp pain that jolted throughout your body and made you whine lowly as you turned your head to the side and tried to squirm away.

Carol took another glance at your strained bud, biting her lip at the sight, before gripping your under arms and flipped you onto your back.

You were surprised and caught off guard but all questions flew from your mind when you were pushed against the mattress, the clamps pressing down and amplifying your pain.

A tear formed in your eye as your nipples burned hot in pain and your clit ached against its restraint. You whined and tried to squirm away, the inch you did move only made things worse as your dragged the clamps and the skin they pinched across the mattress. You gave a small cry at the pain but pushed your face into the pillows to muffle it, still trying with everything you had to not let Carol win.

You were so caught up in the unnatural pain you didn't even notice Carol stripping herself of her jeans and pants. But you did notice when you felt her wet pussy lips come into contact with the back of your thigh.

You brain short circuited when you felt how wet she was and that she was slowly rocking herself on your leg, using your body to get herself off.

"What are you-"

"Quiet." Carol cut you off by demanding as her hands locked yours to the top of the mattress again.

Her arousal was spreading across your thigh as she grinded against you.

You could feel your own breathing increase rapidly as you heard Carol gasp out occasionally. You wanted to see her. You wanted to see the look of pleasure on her face as she approached her high. What did she look like cuming? Did you feel good against her? Would she ever let you make her cum with your fingers or tongue. You prayed desperetly that you would someday get the chance.

"Fuck." Carol moaned breathlessly. Your own pussy clenched around nothing at the sound and you knew that while Carol was getting her wetness over your thigh, you were getting your own on her bed.

Carol's grip on your hands tightened as her movements became more erratic, chasing her release.

"Your Captain's gonna cum on your thigh, brat. Such a good fuck toy for me to use." A moan slipped past your lips at her words. You cursed yourself for giving the reaction Carol wanted, helping her frantic movements.

"Oh you like this, slut? You like being my little fuck toy for me to use whenever I want?"

You desperetly searched for friction on the bed covers as you whined, only to accidently apply more overwhelming pressure to all 3 clamps.

Carol's cunt dug harder into the back of your thigh as she came with a low moan, coating your skin with the evident of her orgasm.

Surprisingly, Carol didn't move from your thigh as she brought a soft hand around to the soaking space between your legs. She tugged momentarily on the clamp there and you whimpered in protest making her snicker.

She fingers teased your lower lips as she spoke. "You seemed to enjoy that just as much as I did." Carol smirked arrogantly as her fingers swiped at your arousal. "Answer me." She demanded, delivering a smack to your ass to punctuate her words.

You didn't. Instead your breathed into the pillows and tried not to think about how they smelled like Carol in an annoyingly soft way.

Carol spanked you again harshly, barely giving you a chance to adjust to the last.

"No." You lied shakily.

"Don't lie to me. You're only adding to your punishment, not that I mind. It's just drawing out the fun I'm having. Being a lying little slut gives me something else to fuck out of you too." Carol spanked you again as those words left her lips. She gripped your hips tightly and pulled you up so your ass was on full display to her.

When Carol's hand returned to your ass her hand was considerably warmer. You thought it was strange at first until she did it again, this time burning hot.

You moaned into the pillow as your realised Carol was using her powers. And you loved it. The hellish heat, Carol's brute strength and the merciless ways she delivered the blows with no recovery time hit your core everytime.

Your legs shook in pleasure and pain and your moans got notably louder. Sometimes when you tried to lean back into Carol's hand she tugged sharply at the ring connecting the chains on your clamps and you immediately returned to your position.

"Something to say?" Carol inquired after a particularly loud moan from you.

It dawned on you how close you were to submitting yourself to Carol. How close you were to telling her you loved every second of what she was doing and wanted her to fuck you.

So, to convince yourself more than the dominant blonde above you, you spoke up. "Need your powers to help you, Carol? Can't do it on your own?"

The pissed off blonde spanked you unbelievably hard after that. Your whole body lurched forward so suddenly you almost hit your head on the wall. You ass was stinging terribly and you felt a tear trickle down your cheek just after you cried out.

Carol got off the bed to once again disappear into the closet, giving you a moment to wipe the stray tear away so she could never know it was there.

When the powerful hero returned your eyes immediately fell to the obnoxious toy between her legs.

You bit your lip at the thought of her fucking you with it. Despite that, you were in denial that something that long and girthy would even fit. Although you knew Carol would make it fit. And with the blonde as pissed as she was...

"God you're practically drooling on my sheets." Your cheeks redened slightly at her words. "You want my cock, brat? You wanna be your Captain's cockslut?" God you did. But you refused to admit it, even if there was a moan caught in your throat.

"It isn't for your needy little pussy yet. It's to shut you up." Carol said as she straddled your chest, the strap inches away from your face.

"I'm not sucking your fucking strap, Carol." You tried to defy passively with an amused grin. You wanted to, so much. The thought of doing something like that was making your cunt pulse. But you might as well get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. You refused to please Carol with such a submissive act, even if you could feel the cracks in your bratty walls grow with each exchange of words and acts.

To your surprise, Carol didn't push the idea any more, simply nodding with a sly smirk, as though she knew something you didn't.

Instead, the taller woman grabbed a small device from the side of the bed you had failed to notice prior. She twirled it in her hand, as though familiarizing herself with it as she positioned herself between your legs again, a place she seemed to be becoming familiar with.

As you gazed at the toy Carol held you couldn't help but feel there was something different about it. Something you couldn't quite placed. It wasn't as slim as any vibrator you had ever seen, not as pointed either, but there was something else to it too.

You didn't voice these inquires and the blonde didn't make any suggestive comments. So you let the thoughts go.

With her free hand, Carol unscrewed the clamp that had continued to grip onto you with everything it had. The release of pressure was unimaginably relieving but you didn't get long to appreciate it.

Carol wordlessly turned the vibrator on to a high setting and teased it against your skin just above your clit. Your hips jerked instantly in an attempt to lower the vibrator to where you needed it, but Carol placed a firm hand between your hip bones and kept you in place.

You almost whined at that, trying hard to keep it at bay, but Carol soon placed it directly onto your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked again as the vibrations hit you hard. The lack of a tip stopped them being focused to one point and instead pulsed down to every milimeter of your clit.

Despite this newfound pleasure, you couldn't shake the unnerving silence from Carol that hung in the room. Just as her lack of teasing with the vibrator hung over you. It seemed as though she was purely focused on drawing out your own pleasure, abandoning any precious plans. You knew that wasn't really the case. But you didn't know what was. It was anxiety inducing not knowing what Carol was planning in that stubborn head of hers.

The silent blonde watched you as she rotated the vibrator, grinding it into you like a drill that buzzed furiously. The vibrations were sending strong shock waves to your core that were carried throughout the entirety of your body in bliss.

Just as you were about to mentally praise yourself for not making a noise the vibrations seemed to multiple at an alarming rate.

You moaned the loudest you had all night at the feeling of warmth covering your core, emitting off of the vibrator that centred in on your aching clit that was drenched in arousal. Your hips tried to buck violently in search for the source of the vibrations that pulsed almost angrily.

You finally braved a look down as you panted heavily amongst moans to see what could possibly cause such uncharted pleasure only to spot the blue, yellow and red swirls of light you had come to hate the sight of. In that moment you didn't hate them though, far from it. You were entranced by the light show from Carol.

Your legs attempted to close around Carol's hand and the vibrator, but she held them apart. She watched you with an arrogant smirk as you threw your head back and moaned continuously, just as she had planned.

"Oh? I thought you didn't like me using my powers on you. You seem to be enjoying it now, judging by your slutty moans that is." She taunted knowingly.

You're unable to muster the voice to say something, to defend your ego. All you can do try to stop yourself moaning Carol's name or title.

Your breathing became increasingly ragged as Carol's powers never let up, mercilessly pulsing waves of vibrations to your core repeatedly until your legs started to shake.

Your cunt clenched around nothing as your clit throbbed aggressively, desperate to reach it's release it craved so much.

Your moans became less coherent when your back arched and toes curled. Just as you were about to fall over that glorious edge all vibrations died down to barely noticeable sensation.

You whined lowly at the worst teasing you had ever felt. It was as though Carol held you over your much needed edge by the back of your shirt, keeping you in that vulnerable state until she decided to either pull you back or let you go.

"Do you need something?" Carol asked with a shit eating grin.

You brought your hands down to push the vibrator further against you but Carol pinned them together in the middle of your stomach with one hand. The strength of just that was able to stop you and it was frustrating to no end knowing that.

Her other hand stayed firmly attached to the vibrator that was quietly buzzing against you core. Carol occasionally messed around with the vibrations levels and the inclusion of her powers to take you by surprise, constantly keeping you on the edge of where you needed to be most.

"Jesus Christ!" Your frustration bubbled to the surface, unable to control your anger at Carol for the merciless teasing she was making you ensure.

"Nope, just your Captain." If you had control of your legs, you would have kneed her in that stupidly attractive face of hers.

The vibrations were becoming too much yet still too little. Every so often they would spike to the previous level before returning to something unfairly light. Your orgasm seemed to grow closer and closer each time before it was denied.

Once, Carol slipped the powered vibrator through your drenched folds with her powers lining it. It felt insane. Energy tickling your inner walls as the vibrations hit all the right areas. But, of course, it was quickly pulled away too.

Just like that, all defiance left your body and you surrendered to your needs.

"Carol, Please, I need to cum so bad!" You wailed in desperation, not caring how you sounded.

"Really?" Carol wondered aloud as she stared down at you.

"Yes! Carol..." You whined and returned her stare pleadingly.

"Who are you begging to make you cum?"

You gulped stiffly, knowing you were about to slip head first into the rabbit hole you had been avoiding so precisely all night.

"You...My Captain." Carol preened at the use of her title, something she had long awaited to hear you say and was sure you would need no encouragement to say it countless more times that night.

"Good girl." She husked and carelessly threw the vibrator to the side now she could use something better. "You want your Captain to fuck you? You wanna cum on my cock like a good little slut?"

Your nodded eagerly, knowing the only way was forward and that you would do anything for what Carol wanted to do to you.

"Please Captain, I want you so bad." You begged shameless.

"Well then you need to get my cock ready for your cunt." Carol stated matter-of-factly as she sat up straight and edged towards you.

The silicone toy between her legs was getting nearer to your face and your mouth watered at the sight, knowing you would need it to help accomdate the size.

You were so dazed by the sight of the toy bigger than you had ever seen that Carol had to tap your cheek to prompt you to open your mouth for her strap.

You did so instantly and without hesitation, quickly having the tip of the silicone toy at your mouth.

"Such an obidient baby now. You would do anything for my cock wouldn't you?" But Carol didn't give you a chance to respond. She thrusted her hips forward and in a flash she was forcing the strap into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat.

The blonde retreated the strap slightly only to ram it back in with more force and causing you to gag as it surpassed your limit without consideration.

You tried to sit up on your elbows to try and soften Carol's thrusts but she knelt down painfully on your arms as she gripped the headboard to aid her thrusting.

"I haven't even got you tired up and you're still so helpless." She mocked cruelly as she continued to make you gag and choke on the toy you struggled to accomdate so badly.

Eventually it became too much and you body fell limp in defeat, drool spilling from your mouth.

Carol didn't fail to notice this and chuckled darkly at the sight of you spread out on her bed with a dazed expression. She hadn't even fucked you yet.

As the dominant hero withdrew her strap she felt a rush to her core at the sight of your saliva glistening on her cock. You really had gotten it ready for yourself. Not that it would help you handle the size much.

Carol didn't waste and time lining the strap up with your entrance. Her hands were firmly placed on either of your thighs to ensure you stay spread open for her.

"Please." You whispered as you both watched the strap part your folds, paving a way for itself, before disappearing into your hungry pussy. You moaned loudly as the strap stretched your walls for it's entrance. You couldn't help but cling onto Carol's bare back and scratch the prominent muscle beneath your fingers as she sunk the strap in further.

The pain was present but it was overridden by the amazing pleasure provided by it. Your pussy clenched desperately around the intruder just before Carol bottomed out into you and you cried out at the unexpected motion, gripping onto the woman above you as much as you could.

She pulled the strap out slightly, only to slam it back in with force that made your whole body jerk and shudder. She pulled out more the next time, as though giving you a moment to prepare before thrusting the toy back into your still unprepared cunt.

You moaned over and over, struggling to form words and accomdate the brutal strap. You were overwhelmed with pleasure and pain as they took over every part of your brain, body and soul.

Her pace never faulted, never giving you a break. Every thrust was just as hard as the last, leaving you a moaning and shuddering mess beneath her.

"You feel how deep I am inside you, slut?" Carol grunted as she continued her onslaught of fucking tour dripping pussy.

"Yes Captain! Feels so good. You feel so good deep inside me." You moaned between breathless pants.

"God you're such a desperate slut for me. Dripping whore for me to use whenever I want." She punctuated each word with the snap of her hips.

The coil in your lower abdomen was starting to tighten and you craved your release.

"C-Captain." You stuttered as you started to shudder. "I'm gonna...cum."

"Beg me for it." Carol demanded and you complied without question.

"Please! Please Captain, I'm gonna cum so hard! Please let me! I'll be good for you." You begged as though Carol held your life in her hands.

"Why should I let you?"

"Because I- because I'm sorry!" You looked Carol in the eyes as you pleaded, letting you see her expression when she knew she had won. You both knew.

"How sorry?" Carol asked as her pace increased. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold off your orgasm for much longer.

"I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again. I promise." Carol watched you for a moment as she memorized every inch of you during her victory.

"Cum for your Captain." With a cry, you came incredibly hard on Carol's cock. Your whole body shuddered violently as Carol fucked you through your orgasm in the most ungentle way possible.

"I'm cuming! I'm cuming on your cock, Captain!" Never in your life did you think you would talk like this to someone, especially not Carol. Never since meeting the arrogant hero did you think you would submit to her in such a wanton way.

Carol fucked you through your orgasm and into another one without even considering giving you a break or chance to recover from the earth shattering one you had just experienced. Your vision was still spotted with blanks as you tried to speak this to her but you couldn't manage to form any coherent words, the only sounds resonating throughout the room were your desperate moans, slapping of Carol's thighs against your own and the wet sound of your pussy being fucked, this being amplified even more now that your cum was swirling around inside of you with the strap.

Carol unexpectedly reached out quicker than you could react to and locked her hand around your throat. Her pace was harder this time, as though reminding you she hadn't forgotten she was punishing you and that she was still mad at you. Clearly very mad.

The strap slammed against the back of your pussy and had you crying out in a failed attempt to adjust to it. Even that was muffled by Carol's grip on your airways.

You couldn't believe the force she was able to gather to drive herself into you with each thrust. Over and over. You began to loose your grip on the world around you.

You plummeted into another orgasm in no time, your overworked pussy spasming around the strap as it released more sticky liquid onto it that you were too blissed out to notice was dripping onto yours and Carol's thighs. She smacked your thigh hard to show she at least had acknowledged it.

You lost count of how many times you had cum. When your limbs went weak and finally dropped from Carol's back she withdrew. Something you were thankful for until she flipped you onto your front and dove back in. Her stamina and sex drive was unforgivable and unmatched. And soon, it was the only thing you knew.

You continued to moan and scream profanities into the pillow while Carol wrecked your world above you. She had your head forced into the pillows with one hand and showed no signs of letting up.

You mustered as much energy as you could to squirm away but your efforts were futile. Your pussy ached with the punishing pace and extreme overstimulation you were experiencing. But you had no way to escape it. All you could do was lay beneath your Captain, voice horse from screaming so loud countless times, and take everything she was giving.

When the final orgasm was ripped from your body it was as though it had taken every part of you with it. Your exhausted and overworked body finally abandoned you and left you to be enveloped by the darkness and the strong arms of Carol Danvers.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel smut #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers smut #carol danvers x reader #marvel

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thekingofwinterblog · 3 years

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It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi #endeavor #endeavour #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #character study #301 #meta

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1kook · 4 years

Text

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #mine

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bxebxee · 4 years

Text

What I have to say: This is really not what I typically write, but please allow me my self-indulgence. Also, I am rusty and unpracticed, but this made me happy to write.

What this is: Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.

What this wants to be: Romance

What this warrants: Rated R for Rotten Relationships (and other things)

You hold your sister’s new baby reverently. The baby is so small, and you’re scared that your bad morals would somehow seep into the skin through contact diffusion.

“I feel like I’m already the irresponsible aunt,” you whisper, shooting your sister a terrified look. The baby isn’t even sleeping, but what if your bellowing voice would upset him. “Are you sure-”

“Yes,” she says firmly, “You’ll be a good godparent. There’s literally nothing to do except spoil your nephew every now and again.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Unless we die. Then I guess you’d have to be more of a parental figure...”

You and your brother-in-law interject at the same time in a cacophony of protest.

“Okay, we are not dying,” he sighs as your octave increases by a half-step, “Please do not say that as I hold your offspring in my arms. I can’t feel them by the way. Seokjin, can you take him? I don’t want to drop him.”

Seokjin takes the baby, and you feel bereft of warmth. It’s a weird feeling to note that considering your firm No Babies Policy. You miss the baby already. This is witchcraft.

“It’s just a fucking hypothetical, relax,” your sister laughs, her eyes softening considerably as she sees Seokjin coo over his son.

“If our baby’s first word is ‘fuck’ I am not taking responsibility,” Seokjin says mildly, eyes never leaving his baby. You don’t really blame him.

“And you’re not blaming me either. I’ve been good,” you say.

“Oh please, everyone curses younger these days anyway. I’d rather my son know than not know, you know?”

“You’re pushing it,” Seokjin warns.

“You’re such a dad,” she scoffs.

“And you like it,” he counters.

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I do.”

You check your phone for the time, and it’s thirty minutes before the official start of the baby gathering. Time for you to leave.

“Hey, it was good to see you guys. And the baby,” you tell them, hugging both lightly so as not to disturb the tenderness of the moment. Bear hugs were for a different day. “I have to head out, but I’ll come visit a lot, okay? I’ll even babysit. For free.”

“Not staying for lunch?” your sister asks, looking very sad and disappointed, but you steel your heart. The two of you have inherited your mother’s knack of guilt-inducing looks, and you’re not about to fall for it.

“Not today, no.”

Seokjin nods, bidding you to take care. He knows why you want to leave before the crowd gets too heavy.

Unfortunately for you, cosmic luck was not on your side because as soon as the front door shuts behind you, the elevator dings and Yoongi steps out, clad head to toe in celebrity black and holding five Burberry shopping bags. There’s no one around, so you don’t particularly feel the need to stand on the niceties of greetings and choose instead to brush past him in favor of the elevator.

“And hello to you too.” he remarks sarcastically.

“Go to hell,” you reply, wishing that you didn’t have to be in a close fucking hallway because you could smell his cologne.

“Oh come on-”

You press on the close door button rapidly, and the doors shut out Yoongi with a soft, muted click.

Twelve hours later, you get a text from an unknown number. Coward is all it said. You stare at your phone screen in bed, seeing typing bubbles start and stop and start and stop. Mister Unknown Number finally settles on silence because nothing follows after the one-word epithet.

It feels like a dare.

Yoongi finally puts his phone down. You were too smart and too self-respecting to try this all over again with him, and he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that goading you would work when you were clearly over him-

His phone vibrates intensely and consistently. You’re calling him.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, picking up the phone after just a single ring. Desperate, to be sure, but he wasn’t positive you’d wait for five rings anyway.

“You changed your number again,” you say without preamble.

“I’ve actually had this number for two years now,” Yoongi says. “Been getting hacked less and less. Guess you never saved the number.”

“Why would I?” you ask, petulance peppering every syllable of your words.

“Why didn’t you stay for the luncheon?” he asks instead of answering your question.

“And sit in a room with you for a couple of hours pretending everything’s normal? No thanks,” you scoff. “And luncheon? Really?”

“You missed out on the shrimp toast.”

“I think I’ll live.”

“So why’d you call?”

You could take the easy way out. Save your pride and your face, and pretend that you still don’t carry a torch for Yoongi. You could lie and say you just wanted to call and make sure it really was him. But you were always a glutton for pain, and he was all too happy to oblige to your needs.

“You wanna come over?” you offer, not feeling an ounce of trepidation that he’d reject you. Yoongi always came when you asked.

“Where do you live?”

“It’s the same place as last time.” It’s a test. Let’s see if he even remembers my address-

“Be there in thirty.”

He’s late by a few minutes, but Yoongi explains through interrupted kisses and hasty undressing that there was traffic, and he showered-

“You could have showered here, you know,” you mutter, pawing at his dick and biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Yoongi always like a little pain.

“I’ll shower here after.” (After he fucked you at least twice, minimum. After he got to see you naked and temporarily his. After he was somewhat satisfied but much too sweaty for sleep.)

And then it’s No Talking Time for a short while because he has your face occupied with inhaling scant oxygen against the mattress while his own head was buried between your asscheeks and legs, lapping and sucking at you like he had something to prove. Could this count as some form of asphyxiation? Probably. You don’t expect his mouth to make you feel close to losing control. The act had always unnerved you, but you found yourself uncaring of past discomforts and losing yourself into the feeling of soft, insistent lips.

Yoongi eats you out with soft grunts, hands holding your thighs apart and firm. Don’t move, his hands say. His tongue up your cunt isn’t any sort of giving on Yoongi’s part; this was all selfish. He wants you to cum and feel starstruck and ruined, wants you to get it through your head that your flesh craved his flesh in the same animalistic way he needed you.

You turn your head around just enough to be able to get out, “You can sto-”

But he silences you with a warning slap on the ass. You are not to be deterred.

“Stop with the tongue,” you order.

“You’re insane,” he hisses, pulling away and shamelessly licking his lips. “You can’t ever just let me-”

“Put it in now,” you demand.

Yoongi lets out a terse sigh. “I should just leave right now,” he grumbles, getting up on his knees to rub his dick against you and nudges the head on your opening. “I shouldn’t be here.” He presses inside at “here” and wrenches a moan from your lips.

“Then leave,” you sigh, pressing your ass back against him, relishing in the feeling of being filled again by Yoongi. “Just go home and jerk off instead. That’s what you’re good at, right? Leaving me?”

“You’re a bitch for bringing that up during sex,” Yoongi says, fucking into you steadily and slowly, resisting the urge to pound into you like his baser instincts demanded. He was going to enjoy you for as long as he wanted. He knew you wanted it rough and bordering on violent, but he wasn’t going to add more ammo to your already large arsenal of Reasons To Hate Min Yoongi.

Yoongi leans over completely, letting his torso lay flush against your back, unbothered by your sweat as it mixed with his own. You were going to feel every last inch of him inside and out. He pumps in and out slowly, sucking on your neck and breathing into your hair with audible moans of enjoyment.

“I’m not leaving,” he groans, reaching over to rub your lower stomach gently, as if comforting you. The intimacy of this wasn’t lost on you, but you can’t find the words to tell him off. You missed his heat and the familiar weight. You are only human, after all.

Yoongi threads his fingers through your unkempt hair, stroking gently before balling his fists into a pronounced grip. He turns your head to the side and kisses you, your neck straining from the awkward, uncomfortable position. But it reminds you of the beginning - of the before times when things were easier in the shadows of his success and unavailability.

It’s impossible not to feel things when he fucks you this way, and kisses you, and moans soft nothings into your ear like you’re the only woman he’s ever done this with. You are atrocious at protecting your heart, and even after two years of icing him out, Yoongi barges into you like it’s nothing.

“Don’t stop,” you moan, heart thumping against your chest. You really, really can’t stand to want him so much.

“I won’t,” Yoongi reassures, kissing the corner of your eye. He doesn’t speed up, and instead chooses to test the limits of your patience with languorous but firm strokes. “Not until you tell me to.”

There was nothing that compared to this - not heated fucks with attractive strangers, or money, or getting crossfaded by the Han River. When Yoongi did this to you, you almost felt like he loved you.

Yoongi sleeps silently besides you in the sunlight, completely worn out after an emotionally exhausting round of sex that made him cry when he came inside you. He’s usually sensitive to the light, but he’s out cold and completely drained. You hadn’t expected that part - the crying. You thought it was just sweat until you heard rattling breaths and a hiccup.

You watch him breathe silently from your place in his arms, unwilling to leave the small cocoon of warmth. You’re the opposite of him, and right now, you’re wired. You’ll probably end up crashing sometime later in the day, but for right now, you’re content to just watch him sleep in your bed, on your pillows, smelling like your body wash.

You’re too old to be scared, and yet this moment fills you with dread; that once the spell of sex and yearning was broken, everything would tilt back to its regular axis, and you’d be all alone again. If you were younger, you might have up and left already. Leave him before he leaves you. And it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Your entire relationship with Yoongi is always filled with one person leaving behind the other one because nothing about the two of you ever lined up properly.

But this time, you’re too tired to run away. So you close your eyes and pretend to sleep until it finally comes to claim you.

#bxebxee comeback season #lol jk #drafts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yes its vague #yes it can be about anyone #but i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings and maybe i'll have another part

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

You Gotta Fend for Yourself

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Bruce is Tim's emergency contact. He gets a call to meet Tim at the ER.

“I’m looking for a patient.” The woman behind the ER desk looks bored as she eyes Bruce, takes in the pressed suit and diamond cufflinks. The way he fidgets, drumming his fingers on the desk and trying very hard not to look as anxious as he feels. It’s easier to reign in his worry when he’s wearing the cowl. “Name?” “Tim Drake.” “Give me a minute.” She types his name into the computer, and Bruce can’t help but wonder how she manages to type with such long fingernails. “Your son is in bed eight. It’s over there, against the far wall.” She points him in the general direction. Bruce considers correcting her on the fact that Tim is certainly not his son, but he doesn’t need to tell this complete stranger that. Let her think what she wants. He thanks her and goes where directed. His chest loosens when he finds Tim sitting on a medical cot, neither bleeding out from a gaping wound nor missing any limbs. Instead he’s playing some sort of racing game on his phone, indifferent to the bustling emergency room around him. An oxygen mask sits beside him, forgotten. He and Bruce should really have a conversation about the importance of listening to medical professionals. “Hey, kiddo.”

Tim looks up and his eyes go wide. “Bruce. You...actually came?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been gargling sand. “Of course I did. I am your emergency contact, after all.” Tim blushes. “I told them not to call you. You really don’t need to be here if you’re busy, I can get a cab home. And I’m sure I can talk the doctors into letting me check myself out without an adult, so—” “It’s okay, Tim. Really. You actually saved me from a board meeting.” Tim doesn’t look at all reassured. Bruce sits on the side of the cot beside Tim, who moves over a few inches. “Your teacher told me you went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of geometry.” Tim rolls his eyes. “I got a candy bar from the vending machine and the wrapper forgot to mention there were walnuts in it. It’s not that big a deal.” “Oh, sure, not that big a deal. You just stopped breathing for two minutes. Totally normal.” “I’m breathing now, aren’t I?” Tim takes an exaggerated breath. “See? I’m fine. And, for the record, it was the teacher’s fault. I had my hand raised for a whole minute trying to tell her that I couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t even look at me. Eventually I just passed out.” Bruce blinks. “You raised your hand? While your life was in danger?” “I didn’t want to be rude.” Lord, beer me patience. “I’ll get you an EpiPen to carry with you from now on.” “I usually have one, but I used it up a couple months ago and kept forgetting to ask my dad for another one.” A shrug. “Don’t you keep one in your utility belt?” “That’s for civilians.” Bruce’s eyebrows crease. “It’s for keeping people safe, not just civilians. You’re a person, so I want you to use whatever you need to keep yourself from dying in the middle of class. Got it?” Tim nods, a little sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” “Good. Now, how are you feeling?” Tim flicks the IV tube. “Cortisone and a shot of epinephrine earlier. I’ll be fine.” Even so, Bruce can’t stop himself from checking Tim over anyway, just to be sure. He needs to see that Tim is okay with his own eyes. He feels Tim’s throat for any residual swelling, checks his pulse. “Can you breathe okay?” “Yep.” “What about your mouth, does it feel numb or tingly? Any swelling?” “No and no.” “Are you dizzy at all, nauseous?” “You do realize we’re in a hospital, right? Surrounded by actual doctors?” “Yes, and I don’t trust a single one of them unless their name is Leslie Thompkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Bruce Wayne.” “You’re insane.” “Good. Maybe then you’ll stay alive long enough to see the new year.” Bruce takes out his cell phone and drafts the beginning of an email in his notes app. “I should call the school and give them hell for not looking after you. Or at least for not being more aware of their vending machine snacks.” He knew Tim never should have been allowed in a public school. That’s like locking the most perfect, innocent kitten in the world in a cage with rabid coyotes. Completely irresponsible. “You’re overreacting, B.” “You could have died.” Tim scoffs. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t even the worst allergic reaction I’ve had. My parents were terrible at remembering to tell the nannies about my walnut energy, so there were a lot of close calls.” Bruce should be more surprised at that information. After he sues the school for the wrongful almost-death of a student, he should sue Drake Industries just for the hell of it. “Where are your parents? Are they on their way?” Jack Drake is as disagreeable a man as disagreeable men get, but he’s always revving for conflict. Bruce will definitely be able to sway him to his side of this matter. They can bring it up to the board of education, draw up new regulations for the school’s allergy protocols. Tim scratches absently at the rash on his neck. Bruce swats his hand away. “Dad brought Dana on a business trip to Philadelphia. It was only supposed to last the weekend, but they decided to stay a few extra days.” “A few?” “Eleven, to be exact.” Yikes. Big yikes. “You at least called them, right? They’ll want to know you’re safe.” “I called Dad when I first got here, but he didn’t pick up so I left him a message. I’m pretty sure he got it, because Dana keeps texting me to make sure I’m okay and asking if they should come home early. Dad still hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s worried too.” Even as Tim says the words, it’s clear he doesn’t believe them. Never mind, fuck Jack Drake. Bruce can find another parent to start an alliance with—one who actually cares about their kid. Maybe Crystal Brown is free tonight… Bruce flags down a passing nurse. “Can I get some discharge papers for my son, here?” Might as well throw that in, give himself some extra authority. Whatever gets them out of here quicker. “Thank god,” Tim says. He plucks out the IV and swings his legs off the bed. “I’m sick of this place. You can just drop me off at home and I’ll be all set?” “Drop you off? You’re coming home with me, Tim.” Was that part not clear? “It’s cool, really. I’ll be fine after some rest. You don’t have to look after me.” “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Bruce thanks the nurse who brings over the discharge papers in record time. People really don’t appreciate nurses enough; he should donate a few million to boost their salaries. He pushes the clipboard into Tim’s hands. “Here, fill these out and we can get going. I’ll call ahead and have Alfred make supper.” “And then I can go home?” Bruce shrugs, eyes fixed on his phone screen as his thumbs fly. “You already have a room made up at the manor, so I don’t see why you can’t stay over tonight. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on you, just in case.” Anaphylaxis can be a tricky thing. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mother hen?” “Once or twice.” “Well, they’re right.” Bruce snorts. He works more on his email draft to the school, making a mental note to censor out the swear words during revision. He’s getting flashbacks to years ago when Jason had a close call with some shrimp at a party for a museum opening. Bruce nearly decimated the catering company for not putting out warnings for potential allergens. “Tim?” “Hm?” “How come I’m your emergency contact?” Tim freezes. He doesn’t look at Bruce and twiddles the pen, quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know who else to put? I figured it would never actually be needed, so it wasn’t like you’d ever find out about it anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll change it tomorrow so you don’t need to do this again.” “No,” Bruce says, a little too quickly. “Keep it. It’s...more logical for it to be me. And I really don’t mind.” “You sure? You don’t have to.” “I want to. Partners look out for each other, right?” Tim’s cheeks are flushed under the allergy-induced redness, but he nods. “Right.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.29 #emergency room #batfamily #batfam #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #bruce wayne #batman #batdad #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

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llendrinall · 3 years

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As we all know, Charlie Weasley could have played for Britain had he not gone off chasing dragons. There’s a lot of gold that comes with being a good international player. What do you think it would have been like if the Weasleys were doing better financially?

Frankly, I don’t think things would change all that much. Not everybody is a Ronaldo or a Messi (to draw parallels with football/soccer) making really stupid amounts of money. At least during the first few years, until Charlie became a Big Name, he would make money, maybe even tons of money, but I doubt it would be enough to change things significantly.

Mostly I think Charlie would be very unhappy and Percy’s break with the family would be much more intense (what! After the way he behaved in canon? Yes, more than that. Percy would be the next Charlie, getting a job far away and visiting home rarely).

The question here is: why are the Weasleys poor? There is a quick and dirty answer, which is that JKR wanted a rich=bad, poor= good - noble, structure. But she didn’t build a reason as to whyit is so. (There is also no reason why the Malfoys are rich, but money has inertia so we can half buy it). Thus, she accidentally made the Weasleys come across as reeeeally financially irresponsible and the creators of their own poverty.

Let’s look at the money. Supposedly, Hogwarts is free for all students, which makes sense because a significant portion of those students will me muggleborns and I can’t imagine how that conversation would go with their parents (“Your child is gifted! Magical! Now let us take them for 10 months of the year and give us money”). Hogwarts budget must come from the Ministry and the expenses are supervised by the Board of Governors. This, together with how big the Ministry infrastructure seems to be, makes me think that taxes in the wizarding world must be pretty high.

(US readers, double whatever number you are thinking).

Let’s say… 40% of income at the very least. That’s a big chunk for the Weasleys, considering they only have one salary. Since Arthur is overlooked for promotions, we can guess his salary isn’t high. He is head of a department, but it’s a joke department.

The books hint that the Weasleys own the land they live in. If they were renting the Burrow, and it would be hilariousif their landlord were Malfoy, then the house should be in a better state and they wouldn’t be responsible for the gnomes or the ghoul. Since there was no dramatic subplot about Malfoy trying to kick them out, I will assume they own the house and the land. Maybe they have a mortgage on it? One with ridiculous high rates, for argument’s sake.

So that’s most of the money accounted for. What other expenses do they have? According to the ONS the average UK household, after taxes, has a budget as follows (simplified):

Housing (rent, interest and upkeep) – 33%

Food and utilities – 20%

Transport – 14%

Recreation – 12%

Holidays – 11%

Restaurants – 7%

Other – 3%

Let’s say that the mortgage has an insane rate, so 40% of the budget, after taxes, is going there. But we can scratch transportation right away since they have apparition and side apparition and, more importantly, they have nowhere to go. The kids are homeschooled and the one person in the household who has to go to work everyday, can simply apparate right before the office. So that 14% of transportation can go to the housing budget.

Next, food. The Weasleys have many more children than average so the food expense should be higher. On the other hand, they have a lot of land. Supposedly a plot of land of 24x30m (80x100 feet or, for the Americans, about the size of a small Starbucks, the kind that is integrated inside a business) is enough to feed one person for a year in an exclusively plant-based diet. My experience is that a plot of 10x10 meters (32x32 feet or a small Subway shop) can feed a family of 4 if they supplement with eggs and milk and they are smart with the crop distribution.

If the Weasleys kept hens and an orchard, they could keep the food costs low enough that the large family size wouldn’t matter. Plus, during the teenage years, when the calorie demand is higher, the kids are in Hogwarts 10 out of 12 months of the year.

This still leaves them with a very small budget. But considering the only thing magic can’t produce is a) food b) a property deed, almost everything else can be procured with a spell. Furniture wear and tear? A reparo will take care of that. Kids are growing and we need bigger beds? Transfiguration. Clothes? Buy the fabric and use a spell. Maybe it won’t be pretty, but it will be cheap. There will be many luxuries they can’t afford. No eating out, no holidays, no fancy broomsticks. And there are some unavoidable expenses, like school supplies (although books could be reused). Although with the exception of Ginny, there are 2-3 years between children so they have time to save. The moment a kid reaches Hogwarts age they have to make a big investment of wand, cauldron, etc. and then they can write them off. The high taxes also mean they have services like free healthcare and free education with board and room.

It’s a difficult situation. But notice that it’s one that I have created myself. We don’t know if they have a mortgage and we don’t know the tax duties. I’m just coming up with reasons for the expenses while not giving them supplemental income, like Molly selling preserves and whatnot.

I still think that things shouldn’t be so tight that they can’t afford a new wand for each kid. Yet Ron went to Hogwarts with Charlie’s old wand and spent a whole academic year with his wand broken. The Weasleys should had been able to afford a wand. Sure, they just bought Ginny’s school package, but Harry gave her some of the books. It might set them back, it might mean no new robes for the family, but they ought to have that money. Books you can reuse and hope the content is pretty much the same. Wands, you cannot. With broken wands, you are putting your child’s education and even life in danger.

Ron didn’t get the new wand because it was useful for the story that his wand was broken, but the internal logic of the story speaks of extreme economic irresponsibility. Despite all the excuses I tried to come up with (high taxes, high mortgage, Molly is working all day at the garden) not giving Ron a new wand points at a situation of extreme financial ignorance.

So, if Charlie went the Quidditch route the Weasleys would do a bit better, they might pay off their debt, but I don’t think they would be able to grow savings because they simply don’t know how. Charlie would have the added stress of not only performing well in his job but also being the main bread-winner for the whole family. Percy, who is quite observant, would have constant fights about what he considers unnecessary luxuries. He would resent his father even more and he would accept the first job that took him out of the country. The twins would probably resent Ron and Ginny a bit, since they would be the ones to experience having new things.

Charlie would have to make truly astounding amounts of money so that his earnings overcome the family’s blundering of the budget.

#asks #weasley family #hypothetical finances #textpost

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thevividgreenmoss · 3 years

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My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

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