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faebled-stories · 1 month ago

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Turbulence

Kinkvember Day 16: Mile High Club

Nmixx Oh Haewon x Male reader

8.8k words

“Hello, everyone! Welcome back to WORKDOL!” Haewon’s voice rang out with a contagious spark of energy, her words riding the crisp autumn breeze that teased strands of her dark hair across her face. She tucked them back with a practiced flick of her fingers, her radiant smile lighting up the screen. The sunlight played across her features, a golden halo highlighting her natural charisma as she gestured toward the sleek entrance behind her.

“I’m your beautiful and loving host, Haewon, and today’s challenge is taking me to new heights—literally.” Her laughter carried an edge of anticipation, and her enthusiasm practically leaped through the camera lens. The airline training facility behind her loomed like a modern cathedral of glass and steel, its polished facade catching the sun in a dazzling display that mirrored both her energy and the grandeur of the setting. The gleaming reflection framed her figure, a dynamic blend of her bold personality and the facility’s imposing elegance.

Spinning back to face the entrance, her boots clicking smartly against the pavement, she spread her arms in an exuberant gesture. “I’ve done some pretty wild stuff on this show, but today, I’m stepping into the shoes of a flight attendant. And trust me, there’s a lot more to it than just handing out snacks at 30,000 feet.” Her grin widened as she took a confident step forward. “Safety, service, and smooth skies—I’m going to learn it all. Let’s see if I can keep up!”

The automatic glass doors slid open with a whisper, releasing a wave of cool, conditioned air that carried a faint hint of jet fuel and a clean, soapy freshness from the nearby uniforms. Pausing inside the cavernous lobby, Haewon drew a steadying breath, her chest rising and falling as she absorbed her surroundings. The space was vast yet orderly, sunlight pouring through towering windows onto sleek tiled floors. The low hum of conversations mixed with the soft beeping of security scanners, a quiet symphony of activity that spoke of precision and focus.

It was then that she saw you.

Standing near the check-in counter, your presence immediately commanded attention. Your tailored navy-blue uniform was impeccably pressed, each detail from the sharp creases of your slacks to the polished silver wings on your chest exuding professionalism. Yet, it was your demeanor that truly captured her focus—a calm, collected confidence that made the bustling environment seem to orbit around you. When your eyes met hers, there was something both grounding and electric in your gaze, a quiet assurance paired with a welcoming warmth.

“Welcome aboard, Haewon,” you said, your voice low and steady, carrying an effortless blend of authority and approachability. Extending a hand toward her, you added with a faint smirk, “Ready for a crash course in being a flight attendant?”

She took your hand, her grip firm yet lingering just a beat longer than necessary. “Oh, I think I’m ready,” she replied, her tone light with a teasing edge. A playful glance back at the camera crew underscored her words. “The question is—are you ready for me?”

The faintest flicker of amusement crossed your face, softening your otherwise composed expression. “I’ve trained a lot of people,” you said smoothly, your tone betraying nothing but cool professionalism. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be... different.”

Her laugh rang out, light and musical. “You have no idea.”

Falling into step beside you, Haewon matched your calm stride, her eyes occasionally flicking toward you as if trying to decipher the layers beneath your poised exterior. The hallway stretched ahead, its polished floors gleaming under the soft glow of overhead lights. The distant hum of simulators grew louder with each step, a low, almost hypnotic vibration that thrummed through the air.

“So,” she began, her voice playful, “do you always keep it this formal, or are you saving the charm for later?”

You glanced at her sidelong, the corner of your mouth twitching in the faintest smile. “Let’s focus on the basics first,” you replied, your tone both firm and teasing. “Charm might come later—if you earn it.”

She let out a soft laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she shot you a challenging look. “Challenge accepted.”

When the training cabin came into view, Haewon slowed, her steps faltering ever so slightly as she took in the scene before her. The replica interior was a flawless facsimile of an airplane cabin, every detail meticulously crafted to mimic reality. Pristine rows of fabric seats stretched into the distance, their neatly aligned headrests giving an air of almost military precision.

Overhead compartments gleamed under the soft fluorescent lighting, their edges perfectly contoured. At the far end, emergency equipment was arranged with a precision that exuded both order and a subtle, sobering weight.

For the first time, Haewon felt the enormity of the task ahead. Her playful energy wavered just a touch, replaced by a flicker of trepidation. This wasn’t just another challenge for the cameras—this was about responsibility. Lives could depend on what she was about to learn.

“We’re starting with the safety demonstration,” you said, your voice calm but carrying a note of gravity that pulled her back into the moment. “Passengers rely on flight attendants to guide them in emergencies, so this is one of the most critical parts of the job. You’ll learn how to operate the oxygen masks, life jackets, and cabin doors.”

“No pressure, right?” she quipped, her grin returning, though there was an edge of nervousness beneath it.

You gave her a reassuring smile, stepping forward with practiced ease to open an overhead compartment. The soft click of the latch released the panel, and you retrieved a bright yellow oxygen mask. The tubing coiled slightly as you held it aloft, the rubberized surface gleaming under the lights.

“Step by step,” you said, offering the mask to her. Your hand brushed hers briefly, the contact fleeting yet charged enough to make her pause. Haewon quickly recovered, mimicking your demonstration as she secured the mask over her face. Her movements were careful, deliberate, though she couldn’t help but notice how your steady gaze stayed on her, assessing, encouraging.

“Not bad,” you remarked, a flicker of amusement in your eyes as she fumbled slightly with the straps. “You’re a quick study.”

“I’m great at learning... with the right teacher,” she replied, her smirk returning as her confidence steadied.

Your expression didn’t waver, though there was an unmistakable warmth in your tone as you handed her a life jacket next. “We’ll see if that holds true,” you said. “Let’s keep going.”

The training session continued with a steady rhythm, each task blending professionalism with an undercurrent of tension that simmered just below the surface. As you demonstrated how to secure the life jacket, Haewon’s focus wavered. Her attention was drawn to the way your hands moved—precise, confident, every gesture purposeful.

When you stepped closer to adjust the straps on her shoulders, your fingers brushed against her collarbone. The contact was fleeting but sent a ripple of heat through her skin, as if the touch carried an unspoken promise. Her breath caught for just a second, and a soft flush crept up her neck before she quickly composed herself, hiding her reaction behind a practiced, teasing grin.

“There,” you said, stepping back to assess your work. A faint smile played at the corners of your lips, a mix of satisfaction and subtle amusement. “Now you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll pass the test?” she asked, her tone light, though a slight waver betrayed her lingering nerves.

“You’re doing well so far,” you replied, your voice low and steady, the warmth in your tone an unspoken reassurance. The way your gaze lingered on hers for just a moment longer than necessary sent her pulse racing. Then, as if sensing the shift, you turned away smoothly, giving her the space to collect herself.

When the meal service portion of the training began, Haewon found herself walking a fine line between playful confidence and distraction. Carrying the serving tray through the narrow aisles of the mock cabin was surprisingly challenging, especially with you standing close. Your quiet observations, both grounding and unnerving, felt like a spotlight she couldn’t escape. She could feel your presence even when you weren’t speaking, your calm authority acting as both a guide and a silent challenge.

By the end of the ground training, Haewon was beaming with pride. Her earlier apprehension had melted into a palpable sense of accomplishment. She straightened her posture, adjusting the collar of her uniform as she turned to you. “Not bad for my first day, right?” she teased.

“You’ve done well,” you admitted, a hint of warmth softening your typically composed demeanor. But then your expression shifted, a spark of anticipation flashing in your eyes. “But we’re not done yet. In about an hour, you’ll put everything you’ve learned to the test—on a real flight.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, though excitement quickly replaced any hesitation. “An actual flight? Already?”

You nodded, your faint smirk returning. “No pressure.”

Her laugh was bright and full of confidence, though a nervous energy buzzed beneath the surface. “Bring it on.”

-----

The short break passed in a blur, and before Haewon knew it, she was standing in the aisle of an actual airplane, her hands clutching a laminated safety demonstration card. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, a low, steady vibration that thrummed through her feet and echoed in her chest. The lighting overhead cast a warm glow, softening the sharp lines of the space and lending it a strangely intimate atmosphere.

You stood nearby, your posture relaxed but your gaze sharp, watching her every move with quiet intensity. Despite the weight of your presence, Haewon felt a thread of camaraderie growing between you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that had begun during the ground training. She could see it in the way your gaze softened when she stumbled slightly, and in the faint curl of your lips when she recovered with a self-deprecating joke.

The flight was already underway, the cabin filled with the faint murmur of passengers chatting, flipping through magazines, and settling into their seats. The scent of coffee brewing in the galley mingled with the sterile metallic tang of the recycled air, creating a distinct atmosphere unique to being miles above the earth.

Haewon stood near the forward galley, her hand resting lightly on the counter. She adjusted her uniform self-consciously, keenly aware of your steady presence just a few steps away.

“Ready for service?” you asked, your tone calm, with just enough of a challenge to make her lift her chin confidently.

“Born ready,” she quipped, grabbing a tray from the counter with a playful flourish. Her confidence faltered slightly when the tray shifted awkwardly in her hands, but she recovered quickly, shooting you a grin. “No big deal—I’ve got this.”

Your lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “Let’s hope the passengers feel the same.”

Haewon stepped into the aisle, her posture straightening as she approached her first task: offering drinks and snacks to the passengers. The tray was heavier than she anticipated, the weight testing her balance as she maneuvered through the narrow space. Her heart beat a little faster when she caught you watching her, your gaze steady, assessing, and just a touch amused.

As she handed a cup of coffee to an elderly passenger, she glanced over her shoulder. “See? Flawless,” she said lightly, her grin widening.

“Not bad,” you replied, following her at a measured pace. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’m more than getting the hang of it,” she retorted, her voice playful as she breezed past you to the next row. “I’m a natural.”

The subtle challenge in her tone drew a soft chuckle from you, though your expression remained composed. The exchange felt like a dance, her energy bouncing off your calm reserve in a way that kept her sharp and on edge.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “The day’s not over yet.”

By the time the aisle service was complete, Haewon’s steps carried a bit more confidence. She returned to the galley, her tray empty, and set it down with a triumphant flourish. “Mission accomplished,” she declared, turning to face you.

“You’ve done well,” you acknowledged, a note of approval in your tone that made her pulse quicken. “But the real test is consistency.”

“Oh, I’m all about consistency,” she replied, tilting her head challengingly. “Care to test me?”

Your gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary, the tension between you thickening with every second of silence. Just as the moment threatened to stretch into something unspoken, a chime from the cabin interrupted. You glanced away first, your professionalism snapping back into place like a shield.

“Passengers first,” you said, your tone lighter now, though the flicker of warmth in your eyes remained.

Haewon followed your lead for the rest of the flight, her confidence growing with every completed task. Yet, no matter how routine the work became, she couldn’t ignore the charged undercurrent in your interactions. Every time you brushed past her in the galley or caught her gaze across the cabin, her heart skipped a beat. The professionalism you maintained only heightened the tension, leaving her thoughts spinning and her pulse racing.

-----

As the plane leveled out and the hum of the engines steadied into a calm rhythm, the cabin lights softened, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. The passengers had settled into a quiet lull, the initial excitement of the flight giving way to a tranquil, almost meditative calm.

Haewon stood near the galley counter, her hands loosely gripping the edge as she exhaled, letting the whirlwind of the day finally catch up with her. Her body hummed with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, the tension of performing ebbing away to leave a buzz of satisfaction.

A few steps away, you leaned casually against the galley wall, your posture at ease but your gaze sharp, still assessing her as though the challenge hadn’t quite ended. The subtle intensity in your expression made her pulse quicken, though your silence carried no judgment—only a quiet, thoughtful admiration that sent her nerves fluttering.

“You did well,” you said finally, your voice low and steady, breaking the stillness like the first ripple in calm water. “Better than I expected.”

Her lips curved into a playful smile, the rare note of praise filling her with a quiet thrill. “Was there ever any doubt?” she teased, tilting her head as she leaned back slightly against the counter.

The faintest chuckle escaped you, soft and warm, like an echo of her own energy. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, the flicker of amusement in your expression lighting your features.

The honesty caught her off guard, her grin faltering for just a second before returning with a bolder edge. For a fleeting moment, the dynamic between you shifted, the playful air giving way to something deeper. Your expression softened, the lines of your usual composure blurring into something unguarded. The change drew her in, the hum of the plane fading into the background as the tension between you thickened—unspoken but palpable.

“You know,” she said, her voice light yet laced with teasing, “I think I’ve earned a little celebration for surviving my first day. Don’t you?”

Your brow arched slightly, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

Her response caught in her throat for a moment, and the faint heat that bloomed in her cheeks only added to the weight of her words when she finally spoke. “Something… exclusive,” she said, her voice steady but rich with a daring undertone.

The meaning behind her words hung in the air, unmistakable and electric. Your gaze deepened, amusement giving way to something more deliberate. You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to a quiet murmur that seemed to wrap around her. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Her heart thundered against her ribs, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the space between you with a confidence that surprised even her. The smile on her lips grew, soft yet determined, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been ready all day.”

For a moment, the cabin around you seemed to fade. The muted golden light cast soft shadows across your face, highlighting the quiet intensity in your gaze as you studied her. Neither of you moved, the charged silence between you tightening like a drawn bowstring.

Then, with deliberate calm, you extended your hand toward her. Your touch was firm yet gentle, grounding as you guided her away from the galley. She followed without hesitation, her pulse racing as you led her toward the back of the plane.

At the rear, you pushed open the small lavatory door, the soft creak of its hinges cutting through the hush. Your hand lingered at the small of her back as she stepped inside, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver up her spine. When the door clicked shut behind you, the energy that had simmered between you all day finally erupted.

The confined space sharpened every sensation—the soft rustle of fabric as you turned to face her, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the sterile metallic air, the heat radiating from your bodies in the tight quarters. Her breath hitched as your eyes locked, the tension that had stretched between you snapping in an instant.

Your hands found her waist, pulling her to you as your lips claimed hers in a kiss that was both searing and deliberate. Her gasp was muffled against your mouth as her fingers threaded into your hair, drawing you closer. Her body arched into yours, every inch of her responding to the intensity of the moment.

Your lips trailed from hers to her neck, lingering along the sensitive skin as you placed slow, deliberate kisses. Each touch drew a shiver from her, her breath catching when your teeth grazed her pulse point. “Are you sure about this?” you murmured against her neck, your voice rough with restraint.

Her reply came shaky but resolute, her hands clutching your shoulders like an anchor. “I’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, her pulse hammering beneath your lips as she tilted her head to give you better access.

The cramped space seemed to vanish as the moment consumed you both, the world outside forgotten in the wake of the energy unleashed between you.

The space was impossibly small, the metallic walls almost brushing against your shoulders, and the occasional jolt of turbulence only heightened the intensity of the moment. The space smelled faintly of disinfectant, mingled with the subtle trace of Haewon’s perfume—a delicate floral scent that teased your senses.

As you leaned back slightly against the narrow counter, Haewon knelt before you, her movements deliberate, her gaze unwavering. Her eyes, dark and filled with a mix of longing and playful confidence, locked onto yours, and the weight of her focus sent a shiver down your spine. Her breath was steady but quickening, her lips parting slightly as she settled into position.

The rustle of fabric was almost deafening in the otherwise quiet space as you undid your belt, the metallic clink of the buckle punctuating the silence. Haewon’s hands moved lightly to your thighs, her touch sending an electric jolt through your skin. Her fingers curled slightly, their delicate pressure grounding you even as your pulse quickened.

Her lips parted with deliberate intent, her breath warm against your skin as she began, her tongue tracing the underside of your length in slow, purposeful strokes. The first touch sent a shiver through you, your breath catching as she took her time, savoring each movement. Her tongue flattened against you, the slick glide paired with soft, teasing flicks that made your pulse pound. The confined space seemed to amplify everything—the wet sound of her tongue, the low, needy hum vibrating in her throat, and the sharp inhale you couldn’t suppress as her mouth enveloped you.

She started with an almost agonizing slowness, her lips forming a tight seal as she slid over you, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked with increasing intensity. Her tongue danced in deliberate patterns, tracing every vein and ridge as if committing them to memory. Each time she withdrew, she paused to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your length, her lips lingering as if savoring your taste. The contrast between the wet heat of her mouth and the cool air when she pulled away only heightened your sensitivity.

Her arousal became evident as she worked, her thighs pressing together as if seeking friction, a faint sheen of moisture beginning to darken the fabric at the apex of her legs. She shifted slightly, her hips grinding subtly against the floor as if responding to the growing heat building within her. A quiet, breathy moan escaped her lips as she took you deeper, the vibration against your skin sending a wave of pleasure surging through you.

Haewon’s movements became more confident, more urgent, her lips sliding over you with a rhythm that left no room for hesitation. She adjusted herself, her knees pressing firmly into the floor as her fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady. Each time she took you into her throat, her muscles relaxed just enough to accommodate you, her moans growing louder as her arousal deepened. The faint scent of her arousal mixed with the confined air, a subtle but intoxicating reminder of how much she was enjoying this.

She pulled back slightly, her tongue flicking against your sensitive tip before she plunged forward again, her pace quickening. Her movements were fluid yet hungry, her cheeks flushed with exertion and desire. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, catching the dim light, her effort and arousal written across every inch of her face. Her thighs shifted again, the friction of her movements drawing faint, involuntary gasps from her lips. You could see the way her body responded, her nipples pressing against her shirt, and the faint wetness between her legs growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in her hair, guiding her rhythm as she moaned around you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. She glanced up, her eyes glassy with desire, locking with yours as her lips stretched around you. That single look—filled with submission, need, and the unmistakable hunger to please—nearly undid you. Her mouth worked with a relentless precision, her tongue swirling in ways that left you gasping, her moans becoming increasingly desperate as if her own pleasure was tied to yours.

Her free hand slid up her own thigh, disappearing beneath the fabric of her shorts. You could see the subtle movement as her fingers pressed against herself, her hips rolling slightly to meet her touch. The sight of her pleasuring herself while her mouth remained focused on you sent a fresh wave of heat surging through your core. Her moans grew louder, muffled by your length, the vibrations intensifying as she worked herself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Haewon,” you groaned, your voice thick with desire. She responded by taking you deeper, her throat relaxing as she let out a low, guttural moan that sent your head spinning. The slick heat of her mouth combined with the knowledge of her growing arousal pushed you closer to your breaking point.

As you felt the tension cresting, you tugged her hair gently, guiding her upward. Her lips released you with a wet, lewd pop, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and glistening, and her eyes dark with lust. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her arousal evident in the way her breath hitched, the damp spot on her shorts impossible to miss as she rose to her feet.

You tilted her chin upward, your thumb brushing along her jawline as you gazed into her eyes. “You’re fucking perfect,” you murmured, your voice thick with need. Her lips parted, her breath quick and shallow, as she leaned into you. The heat radiating from her skin matched your own as you claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against you.

Haewon’s breaths came faster now, shallow and uneven, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips betraying the storm of emotions building within her. The vibrations of the plane beneath your feet, steady and unrelenting, seemed to mirror the pulse racing through her body, each tremor adding fuel to the fire already burning between you.

As you lifted her onto the counter, her body trembled beneath your touch. Her thighs pressed against your hips, her wet heat already evident even through the thin layers of clothing. The way her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist made your heart pound harder. Her hands gripped your shoulders for support, her fingertips digging into your skin as though anchoring herself to you. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, her breath catching with every soft, involuntary sound that escaped her lips.

Her arousal was undeniable in every movement, every soft gasp and whimper filling the small space. Her hips shifted forward to meet yours, the friction building with every press of her body against yours. The scent of her, faintly sweet and musky, mingled with the sterile air of the lavatory, creating a heady atmosphere that heightened your senses.

When your hand slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the damp heat of her panties, her body jolted at the contact. She let out a shaky moan, her hips arching instinctively to press herself closer to your touch. Her wetness had already soaked through the fabric, clinging to her folds, and as you slid the thin material aside, your fingers were met with slick, yielding warmth. “Please,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her thighs quivering around you as you teased her.

You lined yourself up, the heat of her body radiating against you as you pressed the tip of your length against her entrance. Her breath hitched sharply, her nails digging into your shoulders as she gazed into your eyes. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her expression, one that gave you pause, but when she nodded, her lips parting to whisper, “I want this,” it was all the reassurance you needed. Slowly, carefully, you began to press into her.

Her body was tight—almost unbearably so—and the resistance you felt made you move even slower, your hips advancing inch by inch. Haewon’s lips trembled as her hands clutched at your back, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “You’re so tight,” you murmured, your voice soft as you paused, letting her adjust to the intrusion. She nodded faintly, her eyes fluttering closed as you sank a little deeper, her slick heat enveloping you inch by inch.

Just as you were making progress sheathing yourself inside her, the plane lurched violently, a sudden jolt of turbulence rocking the small room. The unexpected motion drove you completely into her, the force of it pushing past the last barrier. Haewon cried out sharply, her back arching as her hands flew to your shoulders, gripping you tightly. Her cry wasn’t just from pleasure but something deeper, more visceral. You froze immediately, your heart pounding as you registered the slight quiver in her body.

Something felt different—there was a heat, a tightness, an overwhelming sense of newness that struck you all at once. When you pulled back slightly, you caught a glimpse of a faint sheen of blood on yourself. Your eyes widened in shock, and you instinctively met her gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes, from pain and something softer, more emotional. “Haewon…” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you… were you a virgin?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed as she nodded, her thighs still trembling against you. “Yes,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… It's okay. I wanted this. I wanted you.” Her words were firm despite the tears in her eyes, her expression filled with trust and desire. “I knew it would hurt a little, but I didn’t care. I wanted you to be my first.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, a mix of emotions flooding through you—pride, awe, and a deep, possessive protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked, brushing a hand along her cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray tear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled faintly, her hands reaching up to cradle your face. “You’re not hurting me,” she said softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Please… don’t stop.”

Her reassurance steadied you, her soft, trusting smile anchoring you in the moment. You leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow but deeply charged, your tongue brushing against hers in a rhythm that matched the gentle rocking of her hips. Her breath hitched as you trailed kisses down her jawline, your lips mapping the contours of her skin with deliberate precision. When you reached her neck, you paused, your breath warm against her pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter beneath her skin.

Your teeth grazed the delicate flesh there, and she let out a soft, startled gasp, her hips pressing forward as though urging you on. You closed your lips around the spot, sucking gently, your tongue soothing the faint sting as your teeth pressed into her again, deeper this time. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her quiet whimper sending a jolt of heat straight through you. The small bruise that bloomed against her skin was a mark meant only for the two of you, a memory hidden in plain sight.

She shifted against you as your lips moved lower, trailing across the sensitive curve of her neck. Each press of your mouth drew a soft moan from her lips, her body responding instinctively to your touch. The marks you left were subtle but unmistakable, scattered along the line of her neck with care, the kind of marks that would be easy to conceal yet impossible to forget. She shivered beneath your touch, her skin warm and slightly damp, her arousal palpable in every movement.

“Hold me,” she gasped suddenly, her voice raw and trembling with need. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, pulling you closer as her fingers tangled in your hair, gripping you as though she couldn’t bear to let go. The way she clung to you, her nails digging gently into your scalp, sent a wave of possessive desire surging through you.

Her hips began to move with more urgency, grinding against you with an unrestrained eagerness that left you teetering on the edge of control. Each thrust drew her closer, her moans growing louder as the rhythm between you became chaotic, driven by both the unpredictable sway of the plane and the unrelenting heat building between you. Her breath mingled with yours, her cries becoming softer, more desperate, her body melting into yours as she surrendered to the moment completely.

The sensation of her trembling against you, the heat radiating from her skin, and the intimacy of the marks left on her neck—all of it combined to push the tension higher, until every movement felt like a tidal wave, crashing through both of you.

Just as her moans reached a fever pitch, a loud knock on the lavatory door broke through the haze. “Is everything alright in there?” came a muffled voice from outside.

The sudden interruption sent a shock through both of you, and Haewon’s eyes snapped open, wide with surprise. The tension in her body, already at its peak, pushed her over the edge. Her inner walls clenched around you violently, her body trembling as the rush of adrenaline mingled with the overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a strangled cry.

Her release was sudden and explosive, her moans rising uncontrollably as her entire body shook. “I can’t… it’s too much,” she gasped, her nails raking down your back as her hips bucked against yours. The act of nearly being caught seemed to strip away the last of her restraint, her climax crashing over her with unrelenting intensity. Her wetness flooded over you, her thighs tightening around your waist as she rode out the waves of her release.

“Occupied!” you barked, your voice rough and commanding, echoing in the small space. The sound of it seemed to ripple through Haewon, her body jolting at the force of your tone. Her legs locked tighter around you, her inner walls fluttering as the vibrations of the plane and the moment’s urgency drove her deeper into ecstasy.

Her eyes met yours, glazed with pleasure and slightly dazed, her lips trembling as she tried to catch her breath. “I… I can’t,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. The sight of her—flushed, trembling, her neck marked with faint hickeys, her body still quaking with aftershocks—was enough to push you past the brink. Your thrusts became erratic, each movement driven by instinct as you chased your release. A guttural groan tore from your chest as you buried yourself deeply inside her, your climax hitting with a force that left you shaking.

The warmth of your release filled her, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the chaotic rhythm that had brought you both to this point. Your breaths mingled, the two of you clinging to each other in the aftermath, your bodies still pressed together as the world outside seemed to fade away.

The plane seemed to hum in harmony with the beating of your hearts as you held her close, your forehead resting against hers. The world outside the door ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of your passion. Haewon’s breathing was still uneven, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from the force of your kiss. Her hands slid up to cup your face, her eyes searching yours as a lazy, satisfied smile played on her lips.

You stayed like that for a moment, savoring the closeness, the intimacy of being completely wrapped up in each other. Outside, the distant murmur of passengers and the steady hum of the engines reminded you that the world hadn’t stopped for your moment, but inside the small lavatory, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies pressed tightly together as you caught your breath. The confined lavatory felt even smaller in the aftermath, the walls seeming to hum with the warmth of your shared passion. Slowly, you pulled back, your hands still resting on her waist as she leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Your eyes softened as you took her in—her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her lips swollen and glistening, and her hair slightly tousled. She looked utterly radiant, the glow of satisfaction mingling with a soft vulnerability in her expression.

“You okay?” you asked gently, your voice low and filled with concern, though the satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth betrayed your lingering exhilaration.

Haewon nodded, her lips curling into a lazy, blissful smile. “More than okay,” she whispered, her voice still breathless and soft, tinged with the lingering traces of pleasure. Her legs trembled slightly as she shifted, her body still adjusting to the aftermath of what had just transpired.

As her gaze dropped briefly, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face. The gesture was soft and unhurried, your touch lingering as you tucked the wayward strands neatly behind her ear. Haewon’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with something deeper—an affectionate warmth that made her cheeks flush anew.

A small, shy smile tugged at her lips, and she couldn’t help but whisper, “You’re so gentle.” Her voice was soft, barely audible over the low hum of the plane’s engines.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as if to seal the quiet moment between you. “Only with you,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with meaning.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, her hands resting lightly against your chest as she savored the intimacy of your touch. But as the seconds ticked by, her gaze flicked to the small mirror on the wall, and her expression shifted. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand flying to her neck as she caught sight of the faint bruises left by your lips. “Are those…?”

You followed her gaze, your eyes catching the small, dark marks scattered along the curve of her neck. Her cheeks turned crimson, and her hand trembled as she traced the marks. “People will see,” she muttered, her voice rising in a soft panic. “What am I going to do? I can’t—”

“Haewon,” you interrupted softly, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Look at me.” She hesitated, her breathing uneven, but when her eyes met yours, the panic began to ebb. “I’ll fix it. Trust me.”

You glanced toward her flight attendant scarf, folded neatly on the small counter. Picking it up, you unfolded it carefully and turned back to her. “Here,” you said gently, moving to drape it around her neck. Her eyes widened slightly as your hands brushed against her skin, adjusting the fabric with deliberate care. You knotted it carefully, the silk falling into place perfectly.

“There,” you murmured, stepping back slightly. “No one will know.”

She turned toward the mirror, her fingers brushing against the scarf as she inspected it. The marks were completely hidden, and she let out a soft, relieved breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly, turning back to face you. Her voice was filled with gratitude, but there was still a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

You reached out, brushing your fingers along her jaw, your touch light and reassuring. “You don’t have to thank me,” you said softly, your voice warm but tinged with something more serious. “But, Haewon… earlier…” You hesitated for a moment, searching her gaze. “I didn’t know it was your first time.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing deeper as her eyes dropped briefly before meeting yours again. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t want it to change anything.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she steadied herself, her gaze unwavering. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”

Her words hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest—pride, awe, and an overwhelming protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked gently, your thumb brushing against the side of her face. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this. Not here, not like this.”

Her lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile as she shook her head. “I won’t,” she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. “I knew what I was doing. I wanted this moment with you. And I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

Her sincerity left you momentarily speechless, the weight of her words settling deep in your chest. You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender and deliberate, lacking the earlier urgency but brimming with something far deeper. Her lips parted softly beneath yours, and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, your hands steadying her trembling frame.

Her brows furrowed suddenly, and she crouched slightly, glancing around the cramped lavatory. “Wait…” she muttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment as her hands brushed over the floor and edges of the counter. “Where are my panties?”

You leaned back against the door, crossing your arms with a teasing smirk. “How could you lose that?” you asked, your voice playful but low, watching her as she searched.

Haewon shot you a quick glare, her cheeks burning brighter. “They were here! They couldn’t have just disappeared!” Her tone was exasperated but softened by the lingering flush of earlier.

Her hands continued to skim over the limited space, but after another minute, it was clear they were gone—lost somewhere in the heat of your earlier passion. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her as she stood, smoothing her skirt down again. Her hands paused against the fabric as she realized there was no time to keep searching.

“I guess I’m going without them,” she admitted in a quiet voice, her cheeks glowing as she avoided your gaze. The mix of embarrassment and exhilaration in her expression made you grin.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured her, your tone warm but teasing as you placed your hands on her arms. “Besides,” you added with a smirk, “it’ll be our little secret.”

Haewon rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. She adjusted her hair again with a shaky hand, though your earlier touch had already smoothed it into place. Her eyes flicked toward the door, her nervous energy returning as she cracked it open.

Just as she was about to step out, she hesitated, turning back toward you. Her cheeks flushed deeper, her lips curving into a shy, almost hesitant smile. You reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaning in to press a quick but tender kiss to her lips. It was brief, yet filled with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that lingered as her lips parted slightly beneath yours.

When you pulled back, her eyes softened, the nervous energy in her frame easing slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice quiet and filled with meaning.

“Always,” you replied just as softly, your hand brushing against her arm before she turned back toward the door.

She peeked out, glancing left and right to ensure the coast was clear, before stepping out into the aisle. Her stride was careful and measured, though her legs still trembled slightly beneath the polished professionalism of her steps. Her face was flushed, her hair still slightly a mess despite your attempts to fix it, and her lips retained the faint swelling of your kisses. Beneath her composed demeanor, the absence of her panties and the slickness between her thighs teased her with every step, a constant reminder of the intimacy you’d just shared.

You lingered for a moment, adjusting your cuffs and belt before stepping into the aisle yourself. Your gaze immediately sought Haewon, who was already walking ahead with a subtle confidence that belied the faint tremor in her legs. Her eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, a knowing spark passing between you that only deepened the warmth lingering in your chest.

As you resume your duties, the hum of the cabin returns to fill the air, but the quiet connection between you remains, a secret woven into the fabric of your stolen moment in the skies.

-----

After the plane had landed, Haewon moved to her place by the exit, ready to thank the passengers as they deplaned. It was a routine she had done countless times before—bowing, offering polite words, and smiling—but today, every movement carried an undercurrent of thrill. With each graceful bow, she became acutely aware of the warmth between her thighs, the undeniable sensation of your essence still inside her. Each slight pull of gravity as she bent forward sent a slick, teasing reminder of your earlier passion, and she fought to keep her expression neutral.

The sensation was impossible to ignore. As she straightened each time, she could feel it shift within her, threatening to escape, a subtle but constant tease that made her cheeks flush and her steps slightly more measured. The absence of her panties only heightened the awareness, the cool air beneath her skirt brushing against her skin, amplifying the delicious sense of exposure.

Each “thank you” and polite smile was laced with the secret she carried—the memory of your hands gripping her waist, your lips trailing over her neck, the way her body had clung to yours in the cramped lavatory. Her heart raced as the passengers filed past, oblivious to the intimate connection she now carried. The sensation of your lingering presence made her hyper-aware of every subtle shift in her body, each movement a vivid reminder of what had transpired.

Finally, the last passenger stepped off the plane, leaving the cabin quiet save for the soft shuffle of the crew tidying up. Haewon exhaled deeply, a faint sheen of sweat glistening at her brow as she leaned briefly against the wall to steady herself. Her knees still felt weak, her legs trembling slightly beneath her polished composure. She pressed her thighs together, trying in vain to quell the sensation that only seemed to grow stronger in the silence.

You approached her then, your expression calm and professional as always, though the teasing glint in your eyes spoke volumes. As you drew nearer, Haewon’s breath hitched slightly, her body betraying her despite her best efforts to appear composed. The memory of your touch, of the closeness you had shared, was written in every glance, every subtle tilt of your head.

“You did great,” you murmured, your voice pitched low, meant only for her. The rich timbre of it sent a fresh shiver coursing through her. “Though I couldn’t help but notice that extra sway in your step.”

She turned to you with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief despite the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “It’s a bit hard to focus,” she replied, her tone laced with sultry teasing, “when I’m walking around with a little… souvenir from my favorite instructor.”

Your grin deepened, the heat behind your gaze barely masked by your composure. Leaning in slightly, your breath ghosted over her ear, warm and intoxicating. “You’ll have to come back for more lessons sometime,” you whispered, your words curling through her like a spark igniting.

“Oh, I plan to,” she said smoothly, her voice steady despite the fluttering excitement in her chest. Turning away, her hips swayed ever so slightly, a calculated movement that let you know she was fully aware of your lingering gaze.

The conclusion of the episode approached, and Haewon effortlessly shifted back into her on-camera persona. Her radiant smile lit up the space as the crew positioned the camera for her signature closing moment. It was time for her to receive her payment for completing the challenge.

You stepped into frame, handing her a sleek black envelope. The thick paper was cool against her fingers, and as they brushed yours in a fleeting but electric touch, her pulse quickened. Your eyes locked with hers briefly, and the subtle curve of your lips—a barely-there smile—made her heart skip a beat. It was a silent reminder of the secret only the two of you shared.

Turning to the camera with her usual playful grin, Haewon slipped her fingers into the envelope, preparing to retrieve her reward. But as her hand delved inside, her breath caught for just a fraction of a second. Alongside the crisp weight of folded bills was something soft and unmistakable: her panties. Still damp, intimate, and undeniably deliberate.

As she pulled the panties slightly closer, the faint but unmistakable scent of the money mingled with hers, wafting subtly into her senses. The blend of clean linen bills and the warm, musky reminder of her own arousal sent a fresh wave of heat racing through her. Her eyes flicked briefly toward you, catching the faintest curve of your lips, the smallest glint of mischief in your gaze.

She noticed, stuck to the crotch of the fabric, a small sticky note that had absorbed some of her arousal. The faint ink of your handwriting was still visible, the note bearing nothing more than your phone number. Her cheeks flushed deeper, the intimate touch making her heart race, though her composure didn’t falter. With a practiced ease, she slipped the envelope—and its contents—into her pocket, her movements fluid and confident.

“Well, this was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had earning my paycheck,” she quipped to the camera, her voice steady even as her pulse raced.

The crew chuckled at her lighthearted remark, none the wiser to the true weight of her words. She turned back to the camera for her final moment, flashing a grin that was equal parts charm and mischief. “Looks like I’ve learned more than just safety procedures on this flight,” she said with a laugh, her delivery flawless, leaving the audience to wonder what secrets lay behind her words.

As the crew called a wrap, Haewon turned, stepping gracefully down the aisle and off the plane. Her pace was poised, her smile intact, but inside, her mind was a whirlwind. Every subtle movement reminded her of your hands, your breath, and the fire that had burned between you in the cramped lavatory.

Each step was a vivid reminder, the absence of her panties adding to the thrill as the sensation of your essence still inside her teased her with every bow and motion. She could feel it shift subtly, a lingering heat that made her cheeks burn and her chest tighten with the memory of your closeness.

As she descended the jet bridge, she slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric tucked alongside the envelope. Her fingertips grazed the sticky note, the faint smudges of her arousal making it more intimate than you likely intended. A rush of heat coursed through her at the tangible proof of your connection. She withdrew her hand, carefully adjusting her uniform as she glanced around to ensure no one was watching.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted you off-camera, leaning casually against the cabin doorway. Your calm demeanor belied the glint of mischief in your gaze. When her eyes met yours, you gave her a subtle wink—a fleeting gesture that sent her heart racing all over again.

Once she was alone in a quiet corner of the terminal, Haewon exhaled deeply, her thoughts still spinning from everything that had happened. She glanced around to ensure she had privacy before stepping into a staff lounge to change out of her uniform.

Peeling off the polished exterior of her flight attendant persona, she let the neatly pressed pieces fall away, leaving her bare under the soft light of the room. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, her cheeks still flushed, her hair slightly tousled. As she stared at herself, a glimmer of boldness sparked in her mind, her heart pounding at the thought that took hold.

Her fingers brushed over the scarf that still hung around her neck, the same one you had adjusted for her earlier. Loosening it slightly, she let the ends drape down over her chest, framing her bare skin in a way that felt both daring and intimate. The soft fabric teased the curves of her breasts and the line of her hips. The undone scarf added an air of playful confidence, the perfect balance of teasing and boldness.

Reaching for her phone, she pulled out the sticky note with your number, her lips curving into a small smile. Entering the digits carefully, she paused for a moment, considering what to name the contact. After a brief flicker of thought, she added: ✈️🥵.

Lifting her phone, she angled herself in the mirror, capturing every detail. The undone scarf hung loosely on both sides of her neck, framing the faint marks you’d left on her delicate skin. Her bare shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the contours of her breasts and lower section were bathed in the soft light of the room. Her expression tied it all together—a sultry, mischievous smile, her gaze filled with an undeniable spark of boldness.

Her heart raced as she typed out a message.

See you soon

She hit send and let the thrill of what she’d done wash over her. With a deep breath, she reached for a soft hoodie from her bag. Pulling it over her head, she felt the fabric settle against her skin. Tugging the hood up, she let it fall around her face, a subtle shield for the marks on her neck.

Satisfied that her secret was safely hidden, she took one last look in the mirror. Her reflection, now casual and relaxed, masked the fire still smoldering beneath the surface.

As she stepped out of the lounge, her strides were steady, every step carrying a sense of empowerment. When she exited into the warm afternoon air, she smiled to herself. The message had been sent, the connection made. Whatever came next, she was ready.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #male reader #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #nmixx #nmixx smut #nmixx oh haewon #nmixx haewon #oh haewon #haewon #oh haewon smut #haewon smut #nmixx haewon smut

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bekolxeram · 3 months ago

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More observations from the trailer (I'm eating for daaaayysss y'all.)

The mirrored Air France 747 is definitely a placeholder, probably from stock footage. There is only one 747 left still in the Air France livery:

This one, and it's in a museum in Paris.

This is a Beechcraft Baron, just like the one in Airport 1975, but this one is the newer version with a glass cockpit, introduced in 2005.

The is the traffic alert system I was talking about. Sure, it doesn't look like that in real life, but it's pretty close, and the TV one is easier to understand.

The real one looks like this. CA stands for conflict alert.

Look in the middle, so Athena's plane is flying to/out of LAX.

We don't get to see the whole cabin yet, but I think it looks like a 7 abreast 2-3-2 configuration? There's only one plane that usually uses this configuration in economy (unless Athena is escorting a prisoner in premium economy lol), Boeing 767, which again, seems to be the one next to the 119 truck at SBD. (Beware, I'm just making an educated guess here, I can't be for sure until I see the landing gear and/or the tail cone.)

I've been wondering why Athena is on a wide body, where's she going? Across the ocean? Turns out, according to this screen, the plane is flying the PHX - LAX - HNL route, so LAX is just a stopover. I can totally see why you need a wide body to fly from Arizona to Hawaii. So is she going to Arizona? Is it related to the cartel after all? Oh, and the silhouette of a plane is definitely not a 747, no bump in front. (Also there are like 4 airlines left in the world still operating the 747 for passenger service, and I doubt Athena is going to China, South Korea, Germany or Saudi Arabia.)

Absolutely an Airbus cockpit, A320 in this case, you can check it out yourself. The thing is, all Airbus flight decks look alike, the wide bodies have an extra jump seat in the back, also the circuit breakers are located in a slightly different location, but that's it. A total layman probably can't tell the difference, but I think enough of them know about the Airbus sidestick vs the Boeing yoke.

That is a cockpit door, with the little fish eye lens on it. No one can open it except for the flight crew and the cabin crew. The flight attendant seems to be running into the cabin frantically but nothing seems wrong with the plane so far, why?

So the cockpit door blows open by the explosive decompression. (It doesn't quite work that way in real life, but tbh many pilots had no idea about it either before the Alaska door plug incident.) You can see a giant hole in the cockpit. Athena is thrown up then back down very quickly, probably by the erratic and sudden pitch down then back up, could be a course correction effort by the autopilot.

#I probably should go to sleep #911 speculation #athena grant #aviation realism

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kuoddo · 10 months ago

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With the resurface of hfjONE stuff popping up because of the miniseries, I remembered that one unfinished AU I made up in 2022, but never really shown off to the public, about the characters in each three batches being respectively swapped (e.g. orig. Batch Two characters had the lives of Batch One characters, orig. Batch Three characters had the lives of Batch Two characters, etc).

I really liked the concept and how I drew some of the character designs, and if given the chance I would like to get back into the AU and expand it more! I just need to figure out concepting Batch Three </3.

Character close ups and AU notes/ideas below.

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

AU character notes/ideas (iirc from my memory):

Airy's role is the exact same as the original series.

Whippy Creamy and Subway Seat are the protagonists of this AU, following Liam's and Bryce's roles respectively.

Airline Food is a very young cautious child from Italy with limited English knowledge. He always has his fish plushie on him, and feels safest around Tray.

Tray is a psychologist specialized in helping children. During her time on The Plane, she priorities in looking after Airline Food. Because of her job role, other members from Batch One seek her out to talk about their problems. In terms of character role and plot, she's similar to Amelia.

Contact Lens, similar to Taylor, is eager to participate in the challenges unlike other Batch One members. He worked as a businessman and hated it.

Bassy is a high-school student. Not much to say about her yet, but her real name were taken from the human character.

Dusty (based on Atom) is the smallest character out of the cast (not including Batch Three?), though not much smaller than Airline Food.

Texty is an old laptop who has only one arm. She uses that arm to type on her keyboard.

Folder is an empty folder, not much to say about him.

Abstracty is an abstract painting portrait who was held in a museum.

Stone is a stone... with a mouth!

"Circle" is a white circular checker piece, and is very much disappointed on Airy's name choice.

This list wasn't supposed to be this big ummm.

If you guys like you can suggest some ideas for the Batch Three characters ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

#I've been thinking maybe the au could be called “hfjTWO”?#onehfj #hfjone #onehfj au #hfjone au #hfjone fanart #object shows #alternate universe #kuoddo_art

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Thankful for class consciousness

On November 27, I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Before the term "ecology" came along, people didn't know they were on the same side. You care about owls, I care about the ozone layer – what does the destiny of charismatic nocturnal avians have to do with the gaseous composition of the upper atmosphere?

But as James Boyle has written, the term "ecology" welded together a thousand issues into a single movement. When we talk about "looking at our world through a lens," this is what we mean – apply the right analytical lens and a motley assortment of disparate causes becomes a unified, coherent project:

https://scholarship.law.duke.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1013&context=dlj

Unfettered, planet-destroying, worker immiserating corporate power is only possible in the absence of such a lens. Before neoliberalism can destroy our lives, it must first convince us that we are all disconnected. "There is no such thing as society," isn't just an empty slogan: it's a weapon for dismantling the democratically accountable structures that can stand against industrial tyrants.

That's why neoliberalism is so viciously opposed to all kinds of solidarity, why corporate apologists insist that the only elections that matter are the ones where you "vote with your wallet." It's no surprise that the side with the thickest wallets wants to replace ballots with dollars!

Today, at long last, after generations of deadly corporate power-grabs, we are living through an ecology moment where all kind of fights are coalescing into one big fight: the fight to save democracy from oligarchy.

There are many tributaries flowing into this mighty river, but two of the largest are antitrust and labor. Antitrust seeks to ensure that our world is regulated by democratically accountable lawmakers who deliberate in public, rather than shareholder-accountable monopolists who deliberate in smoke-filled rooms. Labor seeks to ensure that contests between profit for the few and prosperity for the many are decided in favor of people, not profit.

This coalition is so powerful that the ruling class has never stopped attacking it. Indeed, the history of US antitrust law can be viewed as a succession of ever-more-insistent laws enacted solely to make it clear to deliberately obtuse judges that competition law is aimed at corporations, not unions:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Rising corporate power and declining worker power is bad for all of us. The failure of successive US administrations to block airline mergers led to sky-high prices and a proliferation of "junk fees" that can double the price of a ticket. The monopoly carriers stand to make $118b this year from these fees:

https://www.fastcompany.com/90981005/airlines-fees-118-billion-dark-patterns

The consolidation of the agricultural sector led to cartels that conspired to rig the prices of our food. These Les Mis LARPers rigged the price of bread!

https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/canada-bread-price-fixing-1.6883783

Remember eggflation? Nearly all the eggs in US grocery stores come from a single company, Cal-Maine, which owns dozens of brands, including "Farmhouse Eggs, Sunups, Sunny Meadow, Egg-Land’s Best and Land O’ Lakes eggs":

https://www.cnn.com/2023/01/13/business/egg-prices-cal-maine-foods/index.html

With all our eggs in one basket, it was easy for a single company to rig the egg market, blaming everything from bird flu to Russian invasion of Ukraine for doubling egg prices while their profits shot up by 65%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/23/cant-make-an-omelet/#keep-calm-and-crack-on

Antitrust isn't just about monopoly – it's also about oligopoly. The American meat cartel pretends that it's not rigging markets by outsourcing its price-fixing to a "clearinghouse" called Agri Stats:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

Agri-Stats gets data from all the Big Meat companies, "anonymizes" it, and publishes it back to its subscribers, who use the service to coordinate across-the-board price-hikes that have cost the public billions in price gouging (meanwhile, Big Meat was able to secure $50b in public subsidies).

For forty years, governments have ceded power to "autocrats of trade" who usurped control "over the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

But that era is coming to an end. In the past year, American regulators have blocked airline mergers and promulgated rules banning junk fees. They've dragged price-fixing clearinghouses into court:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-turkey-eggs-and-air-travel-just

They're getting results, too: for the second year in a row, turkey prices are down. Cranberries, too (18%). Same for whipping cream (25%). Pie crusts are down. So are russet potatoes. Airfares are down 13.2%.

The egg cartel just lost a long-running court case over the last egg price-fixing campaign, which gouged Americans from 1990-2008:

https://www.pymnts.com/cpi_posts/kellogg-kraft-secure-victory-in-price-fixing-lawsuit-against-egg-producers

The same fact-pattern that was revealed in that court case is repeated in this year's eggflation scandal:

https://farmaction.us/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Farm-Action-Letter-to-FTC-Chair-Lina-Khan.pdf

That's terrific ammo for the FTC, and will doubtless benefit the Democrats running against would-be Indiana senator John Rust, whose family owns convicted egg cartel member Rose Acre Farms and whose wife just stepped down as chair of the board.

One underappreciated aspect of the global war on corporate power is that the same corporations commit the same crimes in countries all over the world, which means that whenever any government establishes evidence of those crimes, they are of use to all the other governments. Competition enforcers from the UK, EU, USA, Singapore, South Korea and elsewhere are coordinating to target the Big Tech cartel. Maybe Google and Facebook and Apple are bigger enough to resist any one of those governments – but all of them?

https://cmadataconference.co.uk/

One notable absence from the anti-monopoly coalition is Canada. While other countries merely stopped enforcing their competition laws in the neoliberal era, Canada never had a good competition law to enforce. Canada's official tolerance for monopolies has allowed a handful of companies to seize control over the economy of Canada and the lives of Canadians:

https://www.canadaland.com/shows/commons-monopoly/

These monopolies are largely controlled by powerful families, Canada's de facto aristocracy, whose wealth and power make them above the law and subordinate the country's democratic institutions to billionaires' whims:

https://www.canadaland.com/tag/dynasties/

At long last, Canada has called time on oligarchy. Last week's Fall Economic Statement included an announcement of a muscular new competition law, including new merger guidelines, a new "abuse of dominance" standard, and Right to Repair rules:

https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7132855021548769282/

The law also includes interoperability mandates for Canada's highly concentrated – and deeply corrupt – banking sector. These measures are strikingly similar to new measures just introduced in the US by the CFPB:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

The arrival of Canada's first fit-for-purpose competition rule coincides with all kinds of solidaristic movements in Canada that are fighting corporate power from the bottom up. Even Ontario, led by one of the most corrupt premiers in provincial history, can't break its teachers' union:

https://globalnews.ca/news/10105600/ontario-elementary-teachers-reach-contract-deal/

It's not just workers who benefit from solidarity: Tenants' unions have formed across the province in response to corporate takeovers of scarce rental stock. These finance-sector landlords have armies of lawyers who've figured out how to bypass rent-control rules and evict tenants who balk. Rather than rolling over, tenants' unions are organizing waves of rent-strikes:

https://macleans.ca/longforms/rent-strikes-canada/

As with Big Tech, the illegal tactics of the rental sector aren't confined to a single nation. In America, Wall Street landlords have dramatically increased the price of housing and kicked off an eviction epidemic the likes of which the country has never seen:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

And as with Big Meat, landlords use arm's-length clearing houses to rig rental markets, coordinating across-the-board rent hikes:

https://www.propublica.org/article/yieldstar-rent-increase-realpage-rent

In other words: to fix the housing market, tenants all over the world need to learn the tactics of labor unions. Housing regulators have to learn from agricultural regulators. Americans tenants have to learn from Canadians. These aren't 1,000 different fights – they're one big fight, and the coalition for dismantling corporate power is vast and powerful.

The most powerful weapons our bosses have is convincing us that we are weak and they are strong – so strong that we shouldn't even try to fight them. But solidarity is absurdly powerful, which is why they go to such great lengths to discredit it. In Sweden, the solidarity strikes against Tesla – who refuses to recognize its maintenance workers' union – have spread to nine unions.

Tesla can't get its cars offloaded at the ports. It can't get its showrooms cleaned. No one will deliver its mail. No one will fix its chargers. The strike is spreading to Germany, and workers at its giant Berlin factory is set to walk out:

https://www.metafilter.com/201514/Swedish-Tesla-workers-go-on-strike

There's something delicious about how palpably frustrated Elon Musk is by all this, as he realizes that neither his billions nor his bully pulpit are a match for workers in solidarity:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-11-23/elon-musk-calls-swedish-tesla-strikes-insane-as-impact-spreads

It's a reminder of just how fragile and weak billionaires are, when we stop believing in them and deferring to them. Rebecca Solnit's latest Guardian column adds up the ways that allowing billionaires to run the show puts us all in danger:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/nov/20/billionaires-great-carbon-divide-planet-climate-crisis

They are the unelected "autocrats of trade" who control "the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life." They are the force that this new ecology movement is coalescing to fight: across borders, across sectors, across identities. No matter whether you are a worker, a tenant, a voter, a shopper or a citizen, your enemy is the billionaire class.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/24/coalescence/#solidarnosc

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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Hey there! A good friend of mine gets recently a wrong suitcase from the airport and suddenly disappeared. I never got a text from him anymore. It seems like he has forgotten his real life - I hope he's alive! My problem is that I get a strange suitcase too now. It's from SBH. Maybe I should bring it back?

Really a strange suitcase. You could have done more with a decent hard case from Samsonite. You've been wanting one of these for 30 years. But this? A pretty ugly bag for your taste…. Seems to be from France, the name has an accent on the second e in any case. No idea how to pronounce it now. You take a picture of the bag and let Google Lens see if you can get something for it on ebay….

WHAT THE HELL! 8.500 EURO! For a bag. You get out your reading glasses. You need to take a closer look. Okay. You've made a mistake. It's 85,000 euros. You're getting dizzy. Are the zippers and the lock made of white gold? What justifies this absolutely absurd price? For a company that nobody knows. At least you've never heard of it… Now you are curious about the contents. The lock hangs only decoratively on the bag. It is not locked. It would be better if it was. The contents are two sets of underwear, two pairs of silk boxer shorts, a couple of T-shirts, a toilet bag, which you assume costs a fortune�� Everything is incidental… Most of the space is taken up by bundles of hot-off-the-press 200-euro bills. There must be several 100,000 euros in there. What the hell!

Take the bag and run? Seems like a shitty idea to you. The shipment went to your address. Whoever owns it (and it's not you) knows who you are and where you live. None of this makes any sense! You search the side pockets. An airline ticket. First class. From Paris back to Saint Barth via Saint Martin. And a booking confirmation for an overnight stay in a suite at the Pullman Paris Roissy CDG Airport. Tonight. All in your name. Fuck, you can't just fly to the Caribbean with some underwear and two swim shorts and an incredible amount of money. But if you do, you have to hurry. Shit, you'll regret it. But you buy a train ticket to Paris, put on your best suit. And you're on your way.

On the train, everything was still okay. But in the lobby of the airport hotel you get a lot of looks. Yes, first of all you don't fit into the elegant frame. Your suit is enough for a customer appointment as a representative of construction machinery. But here all the people are slimmer, more elegant, prettier…. You look like a slightly overweight piece of dirt. With a 15-carat diamond in your hand. At the reception, the lady smiles at you briefly. Then her eyes fall on the weekender. And just breathes a "How beautiful!" Then she apologizes that they can't offer you anything better than the Superior Suite. There were other VIPs here besides you who had received the very large suites. As an apology you would receive a bottle of champagne in your room. And they would be very grateful if they could invite you to dinner. Your luggage has already arrived, they were so kind to bring it to your room. If you need help unpacking, you can reach the butler service at extension 940.

You thank her and ask for a discreetly placed table at 8:30 pm. The champagne gladly with your meal. In fluent French. You beam at the young lady, she blushes and smiles back.

It's a good thing your suitcase wasn't checked in directly by the Air France service. You would like to change again for dinner. The suite is okay for one night. In the bathroom, you look in the mirror. Why did you put on that cheap suit? You must have been really mentally deranged. Were you trying to disguise yourself? Silly! You jump into the shower. While drying off, you think to yourself that you are actually quite firm for a man in his late 40s. Yes, a little more exercise would be okay. But otherwise… You open the Hermès suitcase, take out a black suit and a black shirt. And you change your clothes. You find the Royal Oak to match. And as a statement, the crocodile sandals. Let everyone see your freshly pedicured feet.

There's hardly a pair of eyes that don't turn to you when you enter the restaurant. If your ego wasn't bigger than the Eiffel Tower, you might be embarrassed that the entire staff looks after you first and then the other guests. You see people whispering. Everyone wonders who you are. The problem is: you don't know yourself… For a moment, you look at your manicured fingernails and wonder what's going on. Then you take a sip of champagne. Veuve Clicquot. Well… It's a gift… It's okay for that…

After dessert, the waiter asks if you would like to have coffee and digestif with a cigar at the bar. Normally you think this is a good idea. But not today. The flight to Martinique leaves quite early. Before that, you would like to get some sleep. So you decline with thanks and put a 100-euro bill on the table as a tip.

A message on your cell phone wakes you up at 4:00 in the morning. You are supposed to take some courier goods with you. You can get it at the hotel reception. Fuck! What is this again? Anyway, you are awake now. Then use the time at least. 100 situps, 100 pushups. You like the picture in the bathroom mirror afterwards. The hair on your chest is jet black. Just like your beard, there's not a gray hair to be seen. And sweat drips in the grooves between your six-pack. You get a hard-on like you haven't had in years. You can't help it. You have to jerk off. And boy, there was real pressure on your balls. Your cum runs off the mirror like someone threw a cup of yogurt at it. It's just before 6:00 now. You call 940 and ask Yves to pick up a package at the reception desk, which would be deposited there. Until he arrives, you do another 100 push-ups. When the knock comes and you open the door, your eyes fall on a turquoise package in Yves' hands. Yves' gaze falls on the package between your legs. Shit, you are naked. Yves asks if he can help you in any way. He still does not look into your eyes. You pull him into the room and throw him on your bed.

Two hours later Yves serves you breakfast in your room. You are ready for departure. Airfrance has already picked up your luggage with the package, which is probably not from Tiffany's, and your boarding pass is in an envelope on a silver tray on the breakfast table. In half an hour, someone will pick you up and take you directly to the plane. Security checks are something for people who have to travel in business class.

Flights with Air France are orgies of champagne and foie gras. The nine hours fly by. The fuck with the purser in the bathroom certainly played its part. The guy thought you were in your late 30s and asked if you were flying on your dad's credit card or your own. For the impudence he had to blow you unfortunately. Whereby he was not so wrong. Somehow you fly with daddy's credit card. But you still don't know who Daddy is. The pilot of the private plane who meets you in Saint Martin directly on the tarmac and flies with you to Saint Barth doesn't tell you that either. You have never been here before. But you feel right at home. This is how you always imagined the Caribbean. There is a Maybach on the tarmac. When you get off the plane, the driver comes to meet you, takes your suitcase and weekender and puts both in the trunk. Wordlessly. And just as wordlessly, he gets into the car and speeds away.

Shit! Now you're standing at the airport. You don't even have an ID card. You have the clothes you wear on your body. Okay, the watch you're wearing on your wrist could get you back home if need be and feed you for a year. That's where the Maybach comes back. The chauffeur gets out and asks you for the watch. Fuck!

At that moment, an open jeep rolls up to you. At the wheel is a young guy, maybe in his mid-20s, waving at you. Damn, you know that face… He reminds you of your lost buddy. Did he have a son who is a personal trainer in the Caribbean? That's definitely what the man looks like. The guy jumps out of the car, hugs you and welcomes you to Saint Barth. "Come on, get in! The boss wants to meet you!" You drive around the island for half an hour. Everything is incredibly beautiful! A gate opens in front of you at the end of a dead-end street. And your buddy steers the car through a tropical park. He parks the car in front of a palace, grins at you, says "Not bad, huh" and tells you to follow him. You walk through the house for what feels like a kilometer. There is a pleasant coolness here. Your buddy knocks on a door, waits a moment and opens it. A wave of autotity hits you. The whole room literally reeks with authority. You almost feel like falling to your knees and kissing the man's hand. "This is the boy from Paris?" Your buddy nods mutely. "Good job," says your boss. And extends his hand to you. With a dry mouth you say that you would do anything for him. He laughs and says that for now you should enjoy the island for a few days. And with a twitch of the corner of his mouth, he tells you that you can say goodbye.

You had hoped a little that you would be allowed to stay in the palace. But your buddy runs back to the jeep. And drives with you to a far less pompous house. But the beach is close. Your room is spacious. Your closet is well sorted. And you have a few days off on the island of the rich and beautiful.

03:30 the next morning. Message from the boss. Have you ever been to Abu Dhabi? Be at the airport in an hour!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #age reduction

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mariacallous · 5 months ago

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Ten years ago today, news of the crash of Malaysian Airlines flight MH-17 in eastern Ukraine shocked the world. All 298 passengers on board the Boeing 777, including 80 children, perished. This tragic event was just one of the many shocks coming out of Ukraine that year, as the largest European war after 1945 unfolded in southern and eastern Ukraine.

The war began in February 2014 with the occupation of Crimea by regular Russian troops, followed by Moscow’s illegal annexation of the peninsula in March. Russian irregular troops then entered Donbas in April 2014—ostensibly to “protect” Russian-speaking Ukrainians. Later on, more Russian armed groups, including Wagner mercenaries and small regular army units, poured into Ukraine. They brought with them heavy equipment, including anti-aircraft missile launchers used to shoot down MH-17, a commercial flight on its way from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur, as well as Ukrainian fighter planes and transport aircraft bringing troops and supplies. After Ukrainian defenders began to push back the Russians—at that time still mostly irregulars—large numbers of regular Russian troops started invading eastern Ukraine in mid-August.

Over the course of six months in 2014, there was a manifest, expanding Russian military aggression in the heart of Europe. Yet the West reacted barely at all—with meek diplomatic statements and a few minor sanctions. Besides their limited scope, the sanctions were initially focused narrowly on the annexation of Crimea. The first larger sectoral sanctions followed the shooting of MH-17, which killed dozens of EU citizens. Never were the sanctions a coherent response to the most significant attack on a European country since 1945. During the years that followed, even as fighting continued, little additional action was taken. The West continued business as usual with Russia or even upgraded relations, like Germany’s push to build the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline.

How could it be that it took the West until Feb. 24, 2022—when Moscow expanded the war it launched in 2014 to a full-scale invasion—to wake up to the reality that Russia is a revisionist state seeking to impose, by any means necessary, its own version of European security order?

Between 2014 and 2022, Western politicians, commentators, and journalists, with few exceptions, continued to believe that Russia’s aims were limited—and that the war simmering in eastern Ukraine was a Ukrainian civil conflict taking place in isolation from Russia’s much larger revisionist aims. Not only did Western efforts to resolve the conflict fail. Since the West continued with business as usual, it also inspired Moscow to press on and paved the way for the 2022 invasion.

Why did the West fail to properly diagnose Russia’s war in Ukraine for eight long years? What lessons from this failure are important today?

One reason was the lack of Western expertise on Ukraine and Russia’s tactics there. Moscow’s interference in Ukrainian affairs since the country’s independence in 1991 had largely escaped Western journalists, political analysts, and international relations scholars. When some Western journalists arrived to cover the events, the situation on the ground was chaotic and its interpretation a challenge for newly minted Ukraine experts. Russian narratives of intra-Ukrainian conflict and regional escalation were simple, understandable, and made sense to many observers—not the least those who had previously worked in Moscow. Many media also relied on their Moscow correspondents, with their skewed, Russia-centric lens, to report on events in Ukraine.

There was also a glaring lack of awareness of Russian hybrid methods. Ten years ago, few Western observers understood the Russian way of war, for which Ukraine was a testing ground. Attempts by Ukrainians, other East Europeans, and Western area experts to explain Russia’s strategy were usually met with skepticism. To outside observers, these descriptions of the Kremlin’s methods, where the intelligence services play a central role, often sounded like speculative assessments or outright conspiracy theories.

The parachute reporters arriving in eastern Ukraine in 2014 witnessed pro-Russian protests and listened to pro-Russian Ukrainian citizens. Some foreign observers could not even tell the difference between Ukrainian residents of Donbas and people from neighboring Russian oblasts who crossed as adventurers or were bussed into Ukraine to participate in the supposedly indigenous separatist movement.

Pro-Ukrainian journalists and other anti-separatist local voices in Donbas, in contrast, faced threats, physical violence, and worse. These Ukrainians feared the consequences of expressing themselves publicly and often remained invisible to visiting reporters. A number of eastern Ukrainians resisting the Russian takeover were threatened, attacked, abducted, severely injured, or secretly killed by Russian irregulars or their local collaborators. Most of these collaborators were encouraged, financed, delegated, or otherwise coordinated by Moscow. This suppression of local opposition laid the groundwork for Russia’s eventual annexation of the Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts.

Western media only started to have a substantial presence in Ukraine in December 2021, on the eve of the full-scale invasion. Before that, much of the reporting was done by correspondents based in Moscow, who usually spoke only Russian and were heavily exposed to Russian narratives.

The Washington Post did not open a Kyiv bureau until May 2022—and sent its former Moscow correspondent to report on Ukraine. Similarly, the New York Times only opened an office in Ukraine in July 2022, headed by the paper’s veteran Moscow correspondent, Andrew Kramer, whose coverage of the war since 2014 had outraged Ukrainians. The newspaper’s reference to Russia’s hybrid attack as a “civil war” (later corrected) and Kramer referring to Russian-occupied territories as “separatist zones” echoed Kremlin language, reminding some Ukrainians of the Times’ sordid history of misreporting genocides and Soviet atrocities. Another widespread adoption of Kremlin talking points on Ukraine was the Western media’s myopic fixation on right-wing extremism that was supposedly out of control in Ukraine—a claim that has been solidly debunked but that would be used by Russian President Vladimir Putin to justify his full-scale attack in 2022.

Many journalists eventually learned to be more critical of Russian narratives. But there remains what behavioral psychologists call an anchoring bias: When people learn about something for the first time, they remember their initial interpretations. These take concerted effort to unlearn and can still be exploited by Russian propaganda.

There were multiple signs of direct Russian involvement in the events in the Donbas in 2014. Most Ukrainians understood intuitively, from the early days of the alleged rebellion, that the unrest and unfolding war were initiated, directed, and funded by Russia. In contrast, it took Western observers time to establish, specify, and verify the facts—and to distinguish them from the many lies.

A circumspect approach to information and conflicting claims from war zones is, in principle, good practice to avoid misinformation. In 2014, however, this overabundance of caution often turned into laziness—a cover not to do the hard work of digging deeper to establish the facts on the ground. With many Western governments and media commentators invested in the idea of a “thaw” with Moscow at the time, there was also an incentive not to look too closely at Russia’s involvement.

The inability, for many years, to define 2014 as a first Russian invasion also underlines the inability of Western observers, including the media, to cope with the sophisticated tactics of hybrid, grey-zone war. As long as the Russian irregulars and mercenaries did not wear official Russian army insignia—and as long as the Kremlin issued a stream of denials that the Russians in eastern Ukraine were anything more than “tourists”—media editors and fact checkers could take refuge behind a false equivalence of opposing claims and perpetuate the notion that the war was an intra-Ukrainian conflict. The media’s difficulties in properly framing a war if it’s waged beneath the threshold of an openly declared one continues to be an issue today.

Western willful ignorance was particularly evident concerning the so-called Donetsk People’s Republic and Lugansk People’s Republic. From their creation in 2014 to their end in September 2022, these were Russian proxy regimes. Yet many in the West—including governments, diplomats, academics, and journalists—treated them as statelets set up by supposed eastern Ukrainian “insurgents.” Only in January 2023 did the European Court on Human Rights put an official end to this pretense, establishing that Russia had effective control over these fake republics since the day they were created.

Regardless of motivation, the West’s slow public reaction to the unfolding events in 2014 left space for Moscow to fill with disinformation, half-truths, and propaganda narratives. Many of them, even after having long been debunked, still circulate today.

The West’s widespread cognition problem between 2014 and 2022 was also a result of a fundamental gap between Western strategic culture and Moscow’s sophisticated hybrid and grey-zone tactics. Initially, foreign observers were often reluctant to acknowledge that the war in the Donbas was part of the same operation as Russia’s more straightforward occupation of Crimea. There remained a naïve belief that the Donbas war was a separate case—an unfortunate conflict between equally legitimate interests to be resolved through joint negotiation, deliberation, and mediation.

Pursuing tactics known as “reflexive control” or “escalation control” that were first developed by the Soviet Union, the Kremlin used aggression via proxies to impose its will on Ukraine and its Western partners. From 2014 to 2022, aggressive behavior alternated with feigned concessions and apparent de-escalation to deceive Western politicians and negotiators into thinking that a peaceful resolution remained possible even as Moscow tightened its grip and prepared for an eventual full-scale conquest.

Throughout the talks that eventually produced the Minsk accords, Moscow used purposeful escalation by its proxy and regular forces to exert maximum pressure on Western and Ukrainian negotiators—but stayed short of an open and massive Russian military attack that could trigger a Western response. Moscow’s zigzag between escalation, apparently conciliatory moves, and stalling tactics managed to deceive many Western observers, who continued to believe that the West was in control of escalation, mistaking Russia staying below the threshold of full-scale war for a sign of moderation. This mistake proved deadly for Ukrainians, allowing the conflict to fester and grew.

On Feb. 24, 2022, the West finally woke up to reality, imposed substantial sanctions on Russia, rushed defensive weapons to Ukraine, and later followed up by delivering heavy weapons. Had there not been so many Western misconceptions about Russia’s first invasion in 2014, those weapons might already have been delivered then. And today’s much larger, much more brutal war might have been avoided.

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