#daddy is not said in reference to price even once in this but honestly it should have been

[yeyinde]

hands like barbed wire

John Price x Reader

18+ | dubcon that flirts heavily with noncon. fingering (in public). manipulation. slight corruption kink. sheltered reader forced into a wife-grooming speed run. lotsssssa good girl/sweet girl/baby abound. implied kidnapping.

You meet him in a bar.

He's sitting alone in the corner, body angled towards all the exits. There's a glass of scotch on the table that drip, drip, drips these big, teardrop-sized droplets of condensation down the glass, kept cradled between a thick, grizzled hand. The scabs on his knuckles remind you of ripe, sour cherries when they flex under the coarse dusting of hair.

There's something about his hands that catches your attention first. Keeps it.

Your daddy used to say there was a lot to learn about a man by the shape of his hands. And his, this magnetic stranger's, are rough. Worn. Dangerous. Blistered and torn up. Caution tape in pale peach. Dirt under his nails. Ash on his forefinger. Stay away, it says. Run.

But the flicker of orange sparking up in the gloom draws you in like a moth to a flame. Stupid girl—

(just like daddy always said)

He doesn’t look up when you step closer. Little moth drawn to that orange light, the shift of those fingers wet with condensation. But you catch the slightest shift of his chin from your periphery. A silent acknowledgement, but it’s all you get. He keeps his eyes glued to the newspaper he has spread out on the table. Disregarding you entirely. Ignoring you. 

(and you keep yours fixed on the clench of his hands—)

"Not supposed to smoke in here," you murmur, voice a little slip of a thing when it shudders out of your throat. 

You don’t mean to say it. You’re not sure why you do. The words roll to the tip of your tongue and drip down your chin when your mouth shifts on a small, soundless gasp. Beneath the scabs on his fingers, his skin is all scar tissue—

In an almost laughable contrast, he growls, purring like a tiger, a diesel engine, when he speaks. 

"m'not supposed to do a lot of things—" When you finally, finally, drag your eyes away from his hands (the flex of his fingers, wondering how they'd even fit inside—), you catch a flat, uneven line buried under untameable brown. But he still doesn’t look at you. "But who is gonna tell me that?"

You don't get it. Sheltered girl—little girl, he adds, all ugly and cruel; cold in his mockery because that's what you are to him: little—growing up buried in the mountains, left to rot on the fecund plains where your daddy sowed seeds and mama pickled the wares for the market. Barely scraping by on a farm doomed to fail. Some poor man's burial ground, the locals say. Cursed. But hindsight—the gold band on his ring finger, one half of a matching set belonging to a woman who isn't you; and the patch on his leather jacket, faded yellow and bold, 141 with a twisted skull—bring you to a neat conclusion:

he's a bad man. Stupid girl, daddy would bark. Ain't you know nothin'? Stay away from them folk. Bad news. Nothin' but trouble.

(Mama would laugh. And oh, honey, did trouble find you—)

Between the heavy thud of your heart, the words slip out. “Well, I just did.”

More gall. Cheek. You don't know where it comes from.

Mama would have washed your mouth with soap. Dragged you to the washroom, spitting about respect as she twisted her gnarled fingers into your lips, and tugged. 

You expect the same from him. Maybe worse. Much worse. But he just looks—

His eyes peel away from the article (train robbery down south, it says in bold, ugly letters), finally darting to take you in. There's shock, you think. Stupefied by your audacity. The disrespect. But when he rests his eyes on you—cold blue, like a glinting gem, a lagoon—the slow climb of his brows, drawn up high until three deep lines stretch across his skin, comes to a stop. 

He seems to pause for a beat. Just long enough for an exhale of smoke, twin funnels of dragon's breath, to pour out of his nose. They draw together, but it's not in anger. Scorn. It's a rough sort of contemplation. Eyes narrowing into slits as he stares at you. 

And the weight of his gaze is a palpable thing. Heavy. You try to fight the urge to fidget as he sizes you up, rolling your eyes down the length of his body above the table to skirt around intense, dizzying blue. 

But your avoidance makes him huff, and he leans back, sucking in another breath. 

"C'mere," he demands. Doesn't say, doesn't ask. Just growls the words out between the clench of his teeth buried in that cigar you tried to nitpick him about. "Come sit."

And you do. of course, you do (stupid girl).

But when you reach for the chair next to his, he scoffs. "Didn't tell you to sit beside me."

"Then where—"

He's pushing back in his seat before the words are out, thick thighs open wide (impolite mama would say), stretched tight over a pair of jeans. But even with the wide spread, you can't even see the cheap red plastic in the open v of his legs. When you don't move quick enough—head all thick, syrupy—he grunts. Reaches down mockingly and pats his thigh.

"Come sit, little girl—"

It's demeaning. Embarrassing. But there's something about him that seems to negate choice the closer he gets. Renders it into dust between his fingers. Head syrupy. Empty. No thoughts needed when he'll just think for you—

And oh. 

Oh. That thought does something to you. Static in your veins. An electric shock. Mind reeling, spinning around that single, wayward idea.

Your head is hot. Feverish. Everything inside is melted, liquified, and drips out of your ears to pool between your thighs. 

(Under the white cotton of your modest summer dress, they squeeze together, sliding in the gathering slick—)

When you don't move fast enough for his liking, he grunts. "Ain't gonna tell you again—"

And you listen. Obey. Because that's what you are: a good girl. You do what you're told, don't you?

So you slip onto his lap, letting those big, gnarled hands wrap around your waist. Holding you steady (keeping you trapped) as his thick, warm thigh splits yours apart. Wrenching you open for one of his rough, dirty hands to slide between.

His forearm anchors you to the broad, dizzying spill of his chest, head dipping to nuzzle against the shell of your ear. Shushing you softly as you squirm around the hard, thick press of his thigh against your core—cunt, he bites out, teeth nipping along the skin of your ear; can feel your hot little cunt, sweetheart—and grapple with the strange, dirty-wrong, sensation of sitting in a stranger's lap as he slowly pulls up the dress you wore to church this morning, fingers hot on your inner thigh. Chasing that sticky-slick dampness that makes him groan low in his throat when he first touches it. Softly still, a hoarse good girl—

But this isn't what good girls do.

Mama says no man is allowed to touch this hot, slick little place between your thighs until you're married. A sin, she called it. Wrong. The pastor, too. Only when you're married. Only as a wife.

You don't think he has any intention of marrying you, but he touches you like a man would a wife. Knuckle hard, firm against the thin, worn cotton of your panties. Grazing. Rubbing. All soft and slow. Not even much of a touch—just the whisper, the idea, of one.

The rasp of his smoke-scorched, whiskey-scented voice in your ear, peppering filth, sin, out as he tells you he can feel how wet your little pussy is. Feels it against his finger. And can you feel that, sweetheart? when he pushes a little harder, digging the peak of a bent knuckle into the seam of you. Can you feel him through your pretty little panties?

"Mm," he grunts, pushing harder. Arm tightening around your waist when you squirm, and squirm. "Can you?"

Yes, you think around a long breath. A little stretch. Your legs kick out under the table when he grazes over a spot that blooms a vicious, intense pleasure through your belly. Something that feels so good, that it makes you a little sick. Makes you want to run. Maybe that's why your legs kick and kick, and—

"Be good." It's a snarl. A warning. "Or I'll take you over my knee—"

Be good, he adds again when you whimper, softening the grit in his voice from granite to soot. The same tone Daddy uses when they bring him a broken horse. "Jus' wanna make you feel good, sweet girl, mm. Want that, don't you?"

"We're n-not supposed to do this if we're not—not married."

Shivering it out into the balmy, smoke-dense air of the bar feels almost like a release. Baptismal. Like maybe now you've said it, whatever spell has fallen over the two of you will be broken. He'll blink awake and right the wrong you've committed with a quick, decisive shake of his head. You'll go back to being a good girl, a simple girl from a simple family, and he'll be the stranger in a bar you think about sometimes, like the real man mama loved but her daddy wouldn't let her marry.

(A sweet little fever dream, she'd said fondly. Sadly. And then, scared, tense: don't tell daddy, though, okay?)

He hums around it, but it sounds accommodating. Placid. Like an adult entertaining the whims of a child.

"Want that, mm?" He digs the question in with a slip of his finger over the cheap lace lining the hem of your panties. "Want me to marry you?"

You're not sure. You don't know him, but he's touching you in public. Has you sat—spread—on his lap with his hand under your dress, touching you the way a husband would. There's a ring on his finger already. The suggestion of a wife. A life outside of this hovel where nothing grows, and you're just expected to roll over and grow old with whatever man daddy approves of.

"No," you stammer out because he's married already, and that's what daddy will say. "No—"

"Shame," he grunts, and his nail catches on the edge of coifed lace. Scraping it over slick, damp skin. "Jus' lost mine, you know. Been thinkin' 'bout takin' another."

A good little girl to warm my bed is said as his nail drags your panties over your swollen, slick folds.

It's instinctual to want to snap them shut. Keep him out. But his knee lifts like he's expecting that, keeping you spread. Open. His hand is hot on your skin. Burning. His thumb wedges into the hem of your panties, stretching the fabric to tuck the edges together, exposing your cunt to his wandering, blistering fingers.

There's no quarter. No choice. He doesn't let you think. Doesn't give you a minute to breathe. It's just—

Skin on skin.

His knuckle slides between the seam of your swollen folds, parting them as he touches that slick, hot space cradled inside. Groaning, too, when he does; like he touched fire. Like you burned him. Hurt him even though you know you never could.

The noise balms the panic and clots thick tufts of cotton inside your ears. The low, rolling brass trembles in your belly. A small quake. You feel it in your cunt; a strange, throbbing little hum that makes you clench down twice on nothing but the idea of that sound. The echo.

He tells you he feels it. Feels how desperate you are for him.

Needy little thing, he rasps, and it isn't kind. It isn't nice. There's a reprimand needling in against the grain of his praise. An unspoken good girl said in the tone of a man who thinks you're anything but.

"Been thinkin' about takin' a wife," he says again, dragging the rough, scabbed tip of his knuckle across the powder-soft flesh of your folds. It's ticklish. Weird. Something that makes you want to giggle and cry. Pull your blankets over your head. Lean into it more. Spread your legs wider until he touches that spot that made you shake. "But the mistake I made the last time was not testin' 'er out before I married 'er. Turns out—" the tip digs in between your swollen folds, touching where you're hot and sticky and far too sensitive for such rough hands. "She wasn't as sweet as I thought she was."

And it's electric. The rough, calloused scrape of his finger stroking up and down your split seam (your clit, he mumbles into the hollow space behind your ear, giving it a little swirl that makes your toes curl; to your hole, nice and tight and so fuckin' wet f'him, mm?) is a jolt of that dizzying, too much-not enough pleasure. A shock. Mouth open, toes clenched tight. Legs kicking. Muscles seizing as he works you over with just the tip of a finger. Barely even a touch.

"But you're sweet, aren't you?"

It sounds like he's chiding you all over again, but the cotton puffing up against your eardrums, the pleasure buzzing in your belly, between your thighs, makes everything sound so sweet. Enticing. So you agree. Nod feverishly on a gasp when his finger trails down to where you clench tight around nothing, circling your opening with the tip of his finger, nail skimming over swollen, slick flesh.

You're not sure what this is. Don't even know where to begin to articulate what you want, need, but each pass makes you feel every bit of the needy little thing he called you earlier. An admonishment drenched in fondness. Wrapped up so tight in a soft, velvet cloth of amusement that you could barely feel the pricks of barbed wire nestled inside when it rubbed against your skin.

Sweet enough that it makes you turn your head into his bicep, nuzzling against the fabric of his jacket as he works his fingers between your wet, slick thighs. Thumb against your clit. A brand. Pressing down, down, and then softening when your legs kick out, too much. That dirty, awful kind of pleasure that makes you feel like a balloon being pumped too full, ready to burst. His finger slips inside. Just a tease. As gentle as a kiss. Only up to his cuticle. Barely even a knuckle.

He tells you all of his with his beard scraping against the flushed, damp skin of your cheek. Murmuring the words into the pool of blood throbbing against your cheekbones. Reinforces them with a sharp nip of his teeth when the shame trickles in—when the easy pump of his finger, not even a knuckle, makes a wet, sticky noise as it pushes into that pool of heat inside of you.

And it's all good girl, sweet girl against the sticky-slick shine of your raw cheek when your needy little cunt sucks him in deeper. Beggin' for it, and sweet little pussy wants it so bad, mm, needy girl? and don't worry, baby, m'gonna make you feel so good.

Baby. It catches, loops. Makes it easier to ignore the noise spilling out under the thick spread of his palm, finger digging in deeper (the first knuckle is a soft good girl, the second is a rough a doin' so good, sweetheart; and the third, slipped right up to last is a low, rumbling that's it, baby, takin' it so well, ain't you?), and the clatter around you. A semi-crowded bar.

You forgot, you think, squirming suddenly. Stiffening around him, on him, as the world sharpens into a whistle. Glass on worn wood. Thud, thud. Legs squealing against herringbone as a heavy chair is dragged back. Low murmurs. Laughter. Noise spilling out from the front of the room, calls for more beer. Another shot. Hey, bartender, gimme another Jack on the rocks—

"Shush-shush, baby," he coos, finger dragging out a lewd squelch when slides back inside of you, as deep as it'll go. The slap of his bent index and ring finger hitting your puffy, drenched folds when he thrusts. "They can't see you. Can't hear you. Jus' be good for me, mm? My sweet girl."

Nothin' matters except me, he adds, curling that finger inside of you until it hooks on a spot that makes you whimper into his arm, teeth sinking into leather. I own this bar, he promises, lifting his arm up as you cling to him with your teeth. A block against the world. Nothing but faded, aged leather and stale smoke. Gunpowder. The slick glide of his finger inside of you, the sting of the stretch dissolving into a wet, sticky pleasure.

His own teeth dig into the curve of your neck. A pinch. Sucking in a mouthful of skin as his ring finger extends, drags over your messy cunt until it's pushed up against your stuffed hole, nudging inside. A shallow dip. Lemme in, it says as he bites through blood vessels with the hard suck of his mouth. Lemme in because—

"I own this town. This bar. Jus' like I own this sweet little cunt."

A shove and he's in. All the way. To the last knuckle. Quick and sudden, the sting is an afterthought; the burn is a hazy, ephemeral throb in the back of your head. Balmed by the drag of his thumb over your pebbled clit.

It feels like a seesaw. Up and down. Bending your knees, feet planted into the ground, and then kicking up, up. Weightless. Over and over again. An ebb and flow. Higher and higher until you slowly fall down—

(—into his lap. the cup of his palm.)

You tell him as much. Mewled out into spit-drenched leather as he rumbles against your spine, his voice so deep, so full, you can feel it humming in your chest when he speaks.

(feel it drip down your spine like hot wax where it pools between your thighs—)

"Good girl," he says, and you feel like anything but. Less like the girl who sat in the pew this morning, humming along to hymns in a modest, cotton dress and more like gum spat out onto the pavement. Squished down under his heel. Dragged along beneath his boot. Pretty, dizzy pinked up remora. "Bein' so good, mm? Maybe you deserve a reward."

It comes on the crook of his fingers twisting inside your slicked up cunt; blunt nails pressing against soft walls until it stings like the nip of his teeth over your cheek. You're not even sure if it feels good. It's just—

Pressure. A burning stretch. The foreign sensation of something detached from your body squirming inside of you, touching places you've never been able to reach before. Too deep and too full. His index finger is nearly double the width of your own.

It makes you mewl like a child. Twisting on his lap, trying to pull away from the place that parts for him so easily, opens up with just the crook of his finger. Leaks slick down his palm, drenching his pants. Makin' a mess, he growls, and pulls you back down on his lap. Feel it, sweet girl? Mm? Feel the mess you're makin'.

And you hate that you can. That each thrust of his hand between your thighs sounds wetter and wetter than it did before. That it pulls it out of you until it drips down your inner thighs and pools against the back of your dress. Stains his thighs. The hard thing—his cock, he tells you, dragging your ass over it with a grunt—under you that jerks and throbs and flattens up to a size that makes you want to curl into a ball and weep.

(that makes your knees twitch, wanting to spread wider—)

It's a lot. It's too much. You're not even sure you like it ("ain't nice to tell lies, little girl;") but he doesn't stop. Won't. Not even when tears drip down from the corners of your eyes, and you hide whimpers into the damp, sticky leather of his sleeve. It doesn't really matter because—

"mm, you look so pretty when you cry."

You feel drenched. Liquid. No longer a person but a puddle. Melted, leaking. Dripping down his lap and pooling onto the dirty barroom floor. A slippery little thing held together by the cup of his palm, the hook of his fingers sinking into you over and over again.

"Are you watchin'?" The arm wrapped around your waist shifts until his dry, rough hand is cupped under your wet, sticky chin, curling over your throat. "Look at us."

Between the spread of your thighs, white cotton dress rumpled and rucked up around your hips, the sight of his hand—masculine: dangerous; knuckles bruised and scarred, cherry red; big and rough and hairy—is obscene. Ugly. Wrong.

(a grunt: too tight. his fingers flex, spreading open inside of you, scissoring apart. loosen up, love, before you break 'em, mm.)

So, so wrong.

You feel small with that big, grizzled hand between your legs. Insignificant. A toy to play with. A thing to be used. And that's just what he does.

Shows you how he can play with your body when he peels his fingers out of you nice and slow until just the tips keep you open, skin shiny and wet. Glistening in the flushed, low light of the bar. And then slides them back inside, just as slow. The first knuckle. The second. The third. Wiggles them around. Scissors them apart.

Pulls them out faster now, and thrusts them back inside hard.

This cunt belongs to him, he grunts, words nestled beneath the slick, sticky-wet sound of him taking what he owns. Over and over again. That big, bearish hand works at your messy cunt until your thighs tremble, and your head throbs.

The hand on your throat is firm. Tight. And when it pulls away to slip inside your cotton dress, you realise you've forgotten how to breathe without him controlling every breath.

"Come on," he rasps, fingers working harder. Faster. His thumb catches your clit, rubbing small, tight circles; each pass brings a new, terrible pleasure rippling through you. A crescendo that builds and builds. Higher on the seesaw—up, up—

His hand is scorching as it cups your breast, index and middle finger scissoring over your nipple until it's caught between the two. A pluck. A pinch. It buzzes down your chest, sinks like a stone into the wet, muddled mess between your hips.

And that's all you are. Nothing but a soaked, hot mess of a thing in his lap. Putty. Messy girl. Silly girl. Sweet. Stupid. His.

(his low, growling voice in your ear: mine, mine, mine;) "aren't you, little girl?"

The leather between your teeth tastes like ash. Smells of gunpowder. Fresh hide in the summer's sun. Smoke. Tobacco. Potent. Masculine. Grizzled, like his hand between your thighs. The other cupped around your breast, pinching and pulling and kneading flesh you hadn't realised could feel so good when it was touched like this—

By his hands, palms hot enough to scorch, to brand. To melt you from the outside in until you leak all over his lap where you're cradled like a child. Obedient and docile.

Especially when he makes you come on his fingers. Tells you that's what you'll do before it happens—a grunt, a command, in your ear. Do it, sweetheart. I ain't askin' again—

And you do. Pulsing like a heartbeat around the thick stretch of two fingers digging deep inside of you, stabbing into that spot that makes you pant like an animal. Blooms more heat, more pleasure, that thickens inside your navel—molten. Spilling out from between your hips. Up, up, up on the seesaw—

"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl—"

He doesn't even sound like a man anymore. The rough, feverish grit of his voice pitches low into his throat, hums in his chest. Rattles like bones in the wind. Howls. Sharpens in the pit of your belly, another liquid pulse around his fingers. It sounds animal. Primal. Bearish as he claims you as his, as he curls his fingers around the heart of you, and tugs. Leaving you spun around those thick, grizzled fingers like fresh cotton candy, sticky and sweet. His to keep.

And that's what you are,

"aren't you?"

Good girl, he coos when you nod, sniffling into creased leather that smells of cade and motor oil. Too dizzy to make sense of what he's asking for, too incomplete.

Your neck feels cold without his touch, but you don't know how to ask for something you don't even think you really want. Shouldn't want.

You feel feverish, too, and it's an all-over thing. From the space between each toe, to the backs of your ears—everything is too hot, too cold. You're shivering, but you want to sink down into a pool of ice, a blanket of heat and warmth. Wrap yourself around the hot, oozing insides of a chest—like the hunter who slept inside his beloved horse—and bathe in the waters around the polynya. Icy and dark.

Mostly, though, you just feel raw. Wrong. Scraped out and hollowed. Broken into pieces and put back together with mismatched parts.

And it's worse, you think, when he pulls his fingers out of you, and you're reminded of what it feels like to be empty all over again.

"Shush, baby," he's cooing when you whimper. Chiding. "Let's have a taste, mm? Find out if you're really sweet."

His hand is drenched when he pulls it from between your thighs. Thick, clear strands make a bridge between his fingers when he splits them apart, rumbling low and brassy in his chest at the sight. Spits like a burning log, crackling sap in a dry fire, when he says, look, baby, got me all fuckin' wet—

But you can't. Not when he drags his hand up, up, over your shoulder, above your head, and sinks his fingers into his mouth with a groan that raffles through you, all the way down to your toes. Slurps on his hand, on the slick you left behind, like a man half-starved. Grunting at the taste. Cock throbbing beneath you like a heartbeat. Pulsing and angry. Enough that you cower a bit, flinching back into the broad expanse of his chest as his thick, fat cock twitches under you, eager for something you only really know about as an abstract concept. Knowledge gleaned through rummaging around in cupboards when no one was looking. Playground tales; cupped palms against the side of an ear. Stage whispers.

Husband and wife.

And oh, baby—

"you're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted," he rasps into your cheek, lips shiny and wet. Smearing spit and slick across your raw skin. "Looks like I found my new wife."

It doesn't make sense. Another abstract concept. Fragmented pieces. You want to say we can't get married, but all that comes out is a squeak. A whimper. Some shallow warble in the back of your throat that sounds like daddy, please.

But he's pulling his hand away from your breast, and clasping it tight around your neck before the words can make it through the panic clogging your throat. A firm squeeze snuffs those flames as quickly as they formed, and you swallow down the ash in the back of your throat before it can choke you.

Good girl, he says with a paper soft kiss to the bruised, burning apple of your cheek. Sweet girl, baby girl, and when he smoothes his damp hand across the rumpled fabric of your cotton dress, pulling it back over your thighs, you realise you forgot your own name.

(It doesn't matter, you suppose. You'll have his soon enough.)

When it's back in its proper spot, unblemished and pristine despite the ache between your thighs and the way your panties stick, uncomfortably, to swollen skin, he drags his hand back up your leg until his palm swallows your thigh. The warmth of his skin bleeds through the cotton, and his rough, calloused fingers catch on loose threads when he splays them wide, touch firm, possessive—as if he has the right to hold you like you're his.

But his skin is still wet, and when it catches in the light, you feel a sinking weight in your belly. An echo in the back of your head that says you already are.

His thumb strokes over cotton, and it's almost obscene, really: soft, virginal white against marled, cherry red and scarred peach; from his knuckles to the hem of his leather jacket, he's covered in a dense swath of hair. Veins bulge when he flexes, thick lines running down the back of his hand like little rivers of blue beneath raw peach flesh. He's just so—

Different.

Masculine. Big. Dangerous, you think again, and hear that muffled echo in the back of your head that said run, stay away.

(except now it sounds like stupid girl, you're much too late—)

Trapped like a fawn under his paw. One on your thigh, the other on your throat. The phantom burn, the hollow echo, of his fingers tearing through the too-tight space inside of you, making room for the heavy, fat length under you.

Soon, it seems to say, still as angry as it was when he feasted on your sweet taste.

His hand leaves your thigh, reaching up towards the half-drunk glass on the table beneath a puddle of condensation. It, too, is swallowed up under his bearish hand when he curls his fingers around it, tugging it closer, over your shoulder.

You smell whiskey as he takes the last swig, grunting at the burn, the sting. When he's finished, he leans forward, warm chest glueing to your spine, and places the empty glass back in the puddle.

The hollow thud of glass on wood seems to shake loose the cobwebs that spooled around your head. It feels like blinking to life. Waking up from a deep sleep.

The bar is still buzzing with noise, but you can hear it clearly now. A constant, endless press of voices and low hums, words you can't make sense of. You're too far back in the bar for anyone to have seen you—the bulk of his arm is a wall between you and the world—but you wonder just how much your whimpers carried under the static chatter. The wet, messy squelch—

"You're fine, sweetheart." A squeeze and the panic welling in your throat is choked under his palm. Snuffed out. "No one heard a thing."

You're not sure you believe him, but it keeps the embarrassment from eating you alive, and so you let it go with a slow, sleepy nod. A sniffle. Wet, weepy: I want to go home.

"S'right, sweetheart," he soothes, pressing another brittle kiss to your temple, one that feels the sting of a scraped knee. "We'll get you home."

(Chiding. Look at what you've done to yourself. Pitying. Patronising. Poor thing.)

His home isn't the same as the one cradled in the maw of a mountain, where the land is always barren, and your mother weeps when your father isn't around, but you relent when he tugs, pulling you into his arms. Holding you like a small child as he bites down on his cigar, and moves through the blanket of silence in the once rowdy bar. Hands firm, tight like shackles when they close around you.

Your father used to say you could tell a lot about a man by the look of his hands, and when he slips his fingers between the soft brackets of yours, filling the spaces you hadn't realised were empty, you know one thing:

these are not the sort to ever let go.

(bassbround. apodictic.)

and when he slips his ring on your finger and tells you to wear that little white cotton dress for him, you suppose you have no one else to blame but yourself.

[jeongvision]

nct’s jaehyun’s perfume collection review!!

for part two, please refer to here!

hello, all! so some of you may have already known that in the past month, i have impulsively purchased various of perfumes, some of which are based on jaehyun’s personal perfume collection that he uses as mentioned on various platforms. some of the scents he uses are:

tom ford white suede

tom ford fucking fabulous

le labo neroli 36

jo malone myrrh & tonka

jo malone wood sage & sea salt

byredo bal d’afrique

as someone who loves collecting perfumes myself, this was a perfect excuse for me to buy some to get an idea on how he would ‘smell’ like!

some of you have asked for me to post a review of his perfumes! i will be primarily listing my reactions, experiences, and ratings for each scent, along with pictures of jaehyun associated with each scent and if the scent is masculine, feminine, or neutral. i have purchased all of them except for tom ford fucking fabulous. the byredo bal d’afrique will be reviewed at a later date after it arrives in the mail, so for now only 4/6 scents will be discussed.

disclaimer: this is NOT an advertisement but simply a fun and personal review of his perfume collection! but i wouldn’t be opposed with possible brand deals with any of them

before you buy!! some of the fragrances will react differently on your skin as the scents are based on your body chemistry with certain chemicals listed on their ingredients. thus, you may smell a different scent when sprayed on your body than on mine. not only that, some of the perfumes utilizes synthetic ingredients, which can be a deterrent for those with a sensitive nose. i strongly recommend sampling them out at local stores before purchasing as these brands are expensive.

without further ado, happy reading! please do tell me your personal experiences if you have also tried some of them (or perfumes from other members!) <3

warnings: heavy cursing, some vulgar language lmao (they will be listed as [**] if you would like to skip those parts, especially for minors)

TOM FORD WHITE SUEDE

“The addictive pull of leather and suede is channeled through an elegant musk-derived composition. Musk’s primal intensity is harmonized with saffron and thyme, heightened with velvety rose and warm amber. Warm, supple and sensual, a perfume with an irresistible expression of raw desire.” —Tom Ford

first and foremost, i just want to say holy fucking SHIT HE SMELLS SO FUCKING GOOD WTF ASKJFKLSJ

[**] HE SMELLS SO FUCKING SEXYAJJF IT’S HARD HOURS FOR HIM EVERY TIME I SMELL IT

like?? oh my god?????

i literally CRIED in my car after smelling it bc oh my gOD HE SMELLS LIKE THAT??!?!??

HE SMELLS LIKE A FUCKING BOYFRIEND OH MY GODJSJFJKS

i can never look at him the same way ever again holy crap

“raw desire” sOMEBODY PLEASE SAVE ME I CAN’T—

[**] like honestly it makes me want to eat his neck and choke on his dick whAt

anyways

it has a leathery and musky scent to it with a mix of powdery!!

slightly sharp when you first spray it but once it settles and marinates on your skin and clothing, it’s PERFECT

listen i’m still shooked that he smells like THAT

my friend told me one day to spray it on a big sweater and wear it to mimic wearing one of ‘his’ sweaters and—

:(

i wanted to kith him

and hug him

and cuddle with him

and never let him go aaAAAHHH

[**] oh daddy

masculine or feminine? androgynous

recommend? YES ARE YOU KIDDING ME

rating? “i’m going to name my future kid eleven because he is going to be better than you.” —liu yangyang to ten

LE LABO NEROLI 36

“Neroli is another name for the essence of Orange Blossom. The unique quality of our Neroli is its sunny floral character with an extraordinarily warm, sensual base. Rose, musk, mandarin orange (slightly aldehydic), jasmine and vanilla, among other essences, complete the portrait, bringing Neroli 36 spikiness, ease, zest and heat... Well-being, elegance and charm all in a bottle!” —Le Labo

okay so i purchased this (and many other scents) as a sample (1.5 ml) bc this shit is hella expensive

like bro the price of it as 15 ml costs more than jo malone’s 30 ml

maybe it’s bc they said lab techs compound it on-demand??

not sure

but anyways

this gives me straight flower boy vibes

like i’m in a flower shop and there’s a cute florist behind the counter trimming and tending plants with such careful hands

but the white floral kinds

OHOHOHOHO

WE LOVE IT

if you like those kinds of scents, then this is definitely the scent for you!

seriously it smells like lilies and all the white florals alike

personally i like the sweet floral scents so this one is okay to me

still smells really good!

reminds me of glade’s fresh linen carpet powder so it unlocked a repressed memory of my childhood LMFOAODA

what a gentleman he smells like uwuuu

honestly if i was getting married to someone and he showed up to my wedding as a guest wearing this perfume i’d leave my fiancé on the spot

this man has quality tastes wtf

masculine or feminine? gender neutral (ish)? more feminine if i have to say

recommend? if you like white floral scents then you would go BONKERS over this!

rating? 7/10 only bc i prefer sweet floral over white floral scents but if i didn’t then i’d rate it 10/10

JO MALONE MYRRH & TONKA

“Rich, hand-harvested sap of the Namibian myrrh tree, mingling with the warm almond and lush vanilla notes of the tonka bean. Noble and intoxicating.” —Jo Malone

oh bitch

BITCH

THIS MOTHERFUCKER SMELLS SO FUCKING GOOD OH MY FUCKING GODDDDDDD

“noble and intoxicating” DAMN FUCKING RIGHT IT IS

[**] I WILL GET ON MY KNEES FOR THIS MAN IF I EVER SMELL THIS ON HIM

my royal liege, jung jaehyun, i am at your SERVICE HELLO SIR WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY

he could step on my face and i’d thank him for allowing me to breathe the same air as him oh my god—

ahem

moving along now

it has a vanilla and amber scent to it! a very nice and sweet scent to it that’s not too overbearing

usually i’m not a big fan of vanilla or cake fragrances bc they tend to nauseate me

but this one?

ohohoho

this is the good stuff

i didn’t exactly purchase this one; i bought other fragrances from jo malone and they gave me free samples to choose from, and myrrh & tonka was one of them sO MIGHT AS WELL TRY IT OUT

so glad i did omg i don’t regret it

i might just buy a bottle of it

[**] another one bites the dust just RAIL ME ALREADY JUNG JAEHYUN I’M BEGGING YOU—

[**] daddy pls

masculine or feminine? androgynous, but leaning slightly towards feminine

recommend? YES OH MY GOD

rating? CHITTAPHON OUT OF TEN

JO MALONE WOOD SAGE & SEA SALT

“Escape the everyday along the windswept shore. Waves breaking white, the air fresh with sea salt and spray. The mineral scent of rugged cliffs, mingling with earthy sage.” —Jo Malone

yo this shit smells good

like REALLY good

he smells like beaches and lemons hELLO THERE

no wonder this is one of their best sellers wtf this man has IMMACULATE TASTE EYE—

AND THERE’S ONLY ONE (1) OF HIM IN THIS ENTIRE WORLD???!?

HUH!?!!?

life truly isn’t fair, huh

okay god i see you with favorites

now

let’s see here

very citrusy!!

also has that marine type of scent to it making it exceptionally aromatic!

not too much of a boujee scent like m&t where you would use on special events

this is more like a scent you would use on a daily basis going out

but upgraded

like you would smell fresh and expensive

kind of like a lowkey rich kid type of scent but you’re humble about it but lowkey kinda flexing yk?

this smell is BEAUT i love it omg i cant stop sniffing it

i’m a sucker for citrus scents :(

i’d wear this shit to school everyday if i could and have all my friends smell me

damn i bet his sweaters smell hella nice with this perfume :(

masculine or feminine? gender neutral

recommend? yes, yes, and yes.

rating? 10/10

tl;dr— jaehyun has expensive tastes and smells so fucking sexy how is he even real what the fUCk

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The End of Year Awards Are Back... and This Time, It’s Personal!

And so we approach the end of 2020, the year that never really began. On paper, at least, it looked incredibly promising. There were lots of great movies slated to come out; culture seemed slightly less paucity-riddled and pointless than usual; good things were in the air. Then COVID happened, and basically fucked everything. Actually, that’s not quite true: my personal year has been fucking spectacular. I’m in a long-term relationship with a gorgeous woman for the first time in forever- no more abrupt trysts and stolen moments for yer humble narrator: I’ve got a sumptuously plus-size lady-friend who actually wants to spend substantial amounts of time me (and has knockers you could sled down, were you so inclined). I also started a Youtube channel where I upload performances of magic tricks I’ve designed and a few people seem to quite like it. Oh, and I’ve written four novels, with a fifth well on its way to completion. Unfortunately, that’s my life, not the life of our civilisation and culture as a whole. The fact that bugger all happened in that makes this end-of-year round-up a little hard to write. With that in mind, I’m going to hand out the gongs for 2020, but I’m also going to do my usual dodge of giving end-of-year awards to things that I discovered in 2020, even if they came out the year, decade or century before. It’s not like any right-minded person gives a hoot about my opinion anyway. Right then, everyone clear on the rules? Then let’s roll up our sleeves and plunge elbow deep into the fetid trough of our decaying society to ferret out the best and worst of the Things That Humans Have Done Recently.

The ‘I Like It Because It Confused Thick People’ Award for Best High-Concept Sci-Fi Movie... … Goes to the sterling Tenet, a spy film that used entropy inversion and symmetric, opposite-direction timelines within the same physical space the way most spy films use hacking and guns. Christopher Nolan films are always intricately constructed and meticulously-executed, but this one must have had Japanese Master Puzzle-Box Makers crying into their breakfast cereal. Is breakfast cereal a thing in Japan? I honestly I have no idea. For some reason, all I can imagine is a sort of dry kedgeree where all the ingredients that aren’t rice have been removed. But I digress. For all its intricacy, Tenet is actually really easy to follow once you’ve grasped the basic premise that there’s a machine that lets people move backwards through time, and that this makes them appear to move in reverse to the rest of the world while they perceive the rest of the world as moving in reverse. Nolan maintains a mastery of cinematic visual language that makes even the most abstruse concept easy to wrap your head around. Nonetheless, following Tenet’s release, dumb people took to the Internet on mass to complain that the film was confusing and stupid, never once realising that their inability to conceptualise time in non-linear ways was their own failing, not Nolan’s. I find that refreshing. It’s nice to see a sci-fi film that’s actually made for smart-cookie sci-fi fans and doesn’t give a hoot if it alienate thickos.

The Award for Most Inexplicably Compelling Web Comic… … Goes to Questionable Content. I originally started reading Questionable Content because I’d heard that the female lead and love interest was a plus size lassie and that shit’s my jam. However, the art style makes everyone look like a skinny indie-type, regardless of their actual, in-universe size, so it doesn’t do much to titillate my Fat Admiring Titillation Centres. And yet, I’m over five hundred ‘episodes’ in and still reading. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you why for the life of me. Maybe it’s the hope that the art style will evolve to the point where the people look like actual human beings with different body types (but then, why would I care unless I was invested for some other reason). Maybe it’s the fact that when I get one of the many, many obscure band or pop culture references, I feel a little buzz of kinship with the writer. Maybe it’s the fact that it takes place in a universe where robots and superheroes are things that regularly happen, yet most of the strips are just normal people chatting shit in a coffee shop and the slice-of-life narrative/sci-fi setting appeals to my sense of juxtaposition. I don’t know, but I find it really compelling to the extent that I’ve pissed away entire days reading it. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a short step from this to really angsty hentai. If I start singing the praises of that, somebody please shoot me in the crotch.

The ‘Forest Gump Debating Peter Andre’ Award For Most Sustained or Elongated Instance of Stupidity… … Goes to Donald Trump. I was tempted just to award this gong to his entire presidency, but that wasn’t just stupid: it was also venal, corrupt, horrifying and punctuated by terrible moments of low cunning. So, instead, this award goes to his ‘soup’ rant. For those of you who missed it, the former President of the United States spent a really, really long time (in the run-up to the election) wittering on about protestors throwing cans of soup at police. What was dumb and weird about it was that he appeared to be extolling the virtues of soup as a siege weapon, going into really specific detail about how it was better than a brick because it could be thrown with more force, finishing with the utterance that protestors would just argue that “this is just soup for my family” if they were caught with the cans… which is phrased wrong in such a subtle and inhuman way it’s hard to imagine that anyone actually ever said it, at least in those words. I have no idea if protestors in America were throwing soup cans at police (which would be entirely justified considering how many innocent people American police have murdered in cold blood quite recently) or if this was a fantasy dreamed up by the former president in the cloudcuckooland that is his diseased little brain. Either way, the connected rant was balls deep in dumb.

The Most Disturbing Unintentional Impression of Vincent Price Award… … Goes to the narrator from One Step Beyond, a Twilight Zone-esque anthology of weirdness that purports to be based on true events and has to be seen to be believed. The stories are oft-disturbing instances of spooky-inflected human drama and can occasionally be quite disconcerting… until they’re book-ended by a dude who sounds like Vincent Price reading a children’s book in a really earnest voice. It’s weird and no, it didn’t hit our screens in Space Year 2020, it dates back to Ye Olden Times of the 1950s or 60s, when men were men, women were women and technincolour was a distant dream that could get you strung up for witchcraft. Nonetheless, I only encountered it this year, so it’s getting its prize. I warned you I was going to pull this shit, but you foolish fools didn’t listen.

The ‘It’s Not Gay If I Don’t Clench’ Award for Cognitive Dissonance… … Goes to Amazon Prime, the content-making branch of evil, tax-dodging, anti-monopoly-law-breaking megalith Amazon. You see, while Big Daddy Amazon is off being incredibly sinister and worrying, like a shifty vampire hanging off the economy’s throat, the creative people at Amazon Prime are busy making or acquiring some of the flat-out best TV ever committed to a streaming-service, from the extra-weird slice of fun-pie that is The Tick, to the entertainingly horrifying cultural dissection of The Boys to the utterly unique Carnival Row, to the superbly adapted American Gods. It’s a bit like discovering that Geoffrey Dahlmer single-handedly created a body of artistic work to rival Vincent Van Gogh’s when he wasn’t pouring acid onto the brains of emotionally vulnerable young adults. It gives me a headache.

The Clint Eastwood Award for Most Effective Older Gentlemen… … Goes to Joe Biden, for unseating dipshit in chief Donald Trump with the casual badassery of a Wild West gunslinger shooting a baddy (probably played by Leonardo Di Caprio) in the balls. I mean, he’s not the best Prez America could ask for but a) as a Brit I don’t have to care and b) anyone who ousts Trump gets mad props from me.

The ‘It’s a Pity Everything Else is Shit Now’ Award for Best New Ongoing Series… … Goes to my own Youtube series, Victor The Magician, in which I claim to be a reality-hopping, interdimensional wizard on an endless quest to… perform magic, basically. I’ll admit that the quality is super-variable (Youtube algorithms and their constant demand for fresh content be a harsh mistress, etc., etc.). However, when I’m good, I’m really good. If you’re looking for a punch-line other than the fact that this whole bit is a self-promoting plug, it’s this: my Youtube series really was the best thing to come out this year. Not because I’m great or anything, just by default. A promising year really did turn into a cultural wasteland the moment COVIDius Rex reared its scaly head.

The Zombie Ian Curtis Award for Most Crushing Disappointment… … Goes to Rick and Morty Series 4. As I think I’ve said before, it was still good, but it just didn’t reach the dizzy heights of nihilistic lunacy achieved in series 1-3. I think the problem is that the audience is meant to learn something from Rick’s poor choices, even if he doesn’t, because the creators saw the amazing success of Bojack Horseman and decided they wanted a slice of that sweet, tangy deconstructionist pie. It worked up to a point in the climax of Series 3, but having made their point, the showrunners probably should have moved onto a different point. They forgot that the appeal of Rick Sanchez is his combination of ‘entertaining car-crash of a human being’ and ‘unstoppable superbeing’. Push him through an arc and you risk breaking the thing that makes him and the show so endlessly watchable. Rick, unlike Bojack, just wasn’t built for heavy introspection. Also, the team hired on new writers who were less than familiar with the characters, setting and subtext, and that’s always an invitation to disaster.

The Special Sir Mixalot Award for Posteriority… ...Goes to… my girlfriend and glamorous assistant, Mystic Miss Terri, who’s arse is gorgeous and majestic.

The ‘Are They STILL Making That?’ Award for a Show You Forgot Existed And is Now Back… … Goes to Supernatural, which never technically went away and whose final series is apparently being broadcast on one of the 4 channels (though who knows which one, any more), It’s kind of nice to realise it’s still out there and be reminded that there are still people who care deeply about what happens to it. It’s like when you remember ‘oh yeah, [insert cute animal here] actually exists and isn’t just an internet meme. That’s nice’. Also, it’s good to see Jared Padelacki working steadily. It can’t be easy to find acting gigs when most producers just want to shoot you and mount your antlers over a fireplace.

The Irritating Magician Award for Something That Just Won’t Fuck Off… ...Goes to this blog entry, which is three pages long in Word. Good grief. Bye y’all! See you next year, assuming that the last few days of 2020 don’t culminate in a civilisation-destroying attack by giant space-ants. If that seems worryingly specific, let’s just say that- as Leonard Cohen would say “I’ve seen the future and, brother, it is murder”… by giant space-ants.

[adonis-koo]

Three’s a crowd

| 4 |

Plot: (CEO AU) When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was suppose to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation...

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Jimin, Hoseok/Reader, Taehyung/Reader,

Genre: Smut, angst, drama, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 10k

Previous | Next

Tags: Rough sex, body worship, spanking, hair pulling, degradation kink, daddy kink, thigh riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creamiepies, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving),  dom!jungkook,

Warning ⚠️ This fic touches on drug use, alcoholism and abuse. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggers for you 🖤

Jimin had that look on his face and the way he bit his lip, you could immediately tell he was not expecting you to reject him again for dinner. It was only 6 o’clock but you didn’t want to ruin your appetite for your date. You admittedly felt excited for it. You hadn’t been on a date in over a year, having resorted to one night stands made it easier since you never had time for a relationship. Any guy who had attempted often left upset at being put on the waitlist in priorities sense you worked two jobs.

To be honest you didn’t know what to tell any of them. It’s not that you were never interested or you had side pieces. You just worked the 3rd shift at a psych ward and 1st and 2nd at a bakery leaving you with four hours of sleep on a good day. Which you didn’t want to spend awake for a movie, or a walk in the park. Especially at some god awful fancy restaurant.

You supposed it was ironic sense that was exactly where you were being took but the difference was it was an actual upper class restaurant with food that was the price of your monthly rent. Jimin didn’t know any of this though. And quite frankly you figured it was for the best, he had been persistent about getting you to atleast eat with him. 

You’d admire his effort but regardless he was going to be your step brother. You couldn’t live knowing you slept with him even if it was before your parents got married. You were warming up to the idea but not enough to ever fall through with it. He sighed not looking pleased at all, eyes flashing with irritation and his smile gritty,  “You really like testing my patience, don’t you sweetheart?”

You couldn’t stop the scoff from escaping your lips, was he really going to act offended you were rejecting him? “No I’d like to remind you our parents are going to get married. That’s weird, I don’t know about you but that’s really weird for me.” You replied as you crossed your arms, leaning on your door frame.

Even if he was a good lay, and you’d imagine he definitely was- it didn’t matter. Sure your integrity wasn’t high but it was still there like damn, you weren’t just gonna let this happen. Not only was it weird but it wasn’t right either, you weren’t going to potentially compromise your mom’s happiness for an orgasm you could easily get else where. 

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose looking annoyed before regaining his cool demeanor though his stiff posture didn’t surpass you as he answered, “Yes but that doesn’t make us siblings. We’re adults Y/n. Legality doesn’t mean anything except in the states eyes.”

True as that was you still didn’t quite believe it, even if your mom never found out that didn’t change that fact that once wasn’t guaranteed. You weren’t an idiot, in situations like these it was a slippery slope, first it was just one time, then a second and third. Even if it wasn’t likely your mom would find out, if she did...You’d never be able to face her again, sighing you shook your head, “Well then if that’s the case you won’t have a problem waiting sense it doesn’t matter. Goodnight Jimin.” You shut the door promptly not wanting to carry on the weird feeling conversation any longer.

Laying back down in bed you rested with what time you could. Physically you could’ve kept going but while on vacation you had the luxury of being able to rest mentally. Something you just had to muddle your way through on a regular day at work. You were able to just rejuvenate after an hour before you heard a knock on the door. 

Confused as to who it was you opened it unexpectedly. A maid was holding a large box, it was black and white with a long string of ribbon tied into a bow, “For you ma’am!” She said chipperly, handing the box over as you furrowed your brows. Watching her dash off to whatever duty she had next before shutting the door.

Setting the heavy box on the bed you untied the ribbon to open it. Gaping as you saw the wine red dress you had tried on earlier that day. Who could foot that kind of bill? Remembering the 4 million dollar mark flash in your eyes as you took it out of the box accompanied by a pair of matching heels. The bottom of the box though made you huff as you looked away. Picking up the small card message: Wear it for me babygirl - JJK

Except he wasn’t referring to the dress, no he was talking about the lingerie you’d imagine he must’ve picked out for you on his own time neatly folded at the bottom. He was thoughtful you’d give him that much.

It was nearing seven and you figured you’d might as well begin getting dressed. Peeling off your lounge wear before putting on the lingerie he had requested you wear first. The satin and lace was silky and just felt expensive, briefly you wondered how much it cost. It couldn’t be that expensive could it? Holding the lacy material in question you finally shook your head in disdain. It was just as soft as it felt in your hands. The fabric didn’t dig into your skin nor did it chafe. It was a bustier styled bra, cupping your breasts sitting them up high but it suited the cheeky panties well.

Considering Jungkook’s words from earlier he seemed to take on more classic designs. His taste in lingerie however was borderline raunchy, you supposed he had to make up for it somewhere along the line. Pulling the garner belt up before attaching your black sheer stockings to them. Resting for a minute before resuming your journey to finish getting dressed. Eventually you finished up your apparel, you had kept your makeup simple, knowing you’d most likely have a long night ahead if everything went well during your date. 

No less then five minutes after 8 you heard a knock. Opening the door as you clipped on your left earring. Jungkook had a hand against the door frame, looking almost predatory before smirking down at you, “Glad to see you got my gift.”

You couldn’t stop the snort from escaping your lips as you curved an eyebrow before replying, “Mhm you didn’t miss a single detail in my outfit, huh?” Knowing exactly what you meant as he grabbed ahold of your waist. Gentle but firm enough to lead you as he let his lips brush against your ear, “And you were a good girl and wore everything, right?”

Finally smirking you looked up at him, two could play this game if he really wanted to be like that. Shrugging you put on a falsely innocent expression, “Well I’m dressed, aren’t I?”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened slightly at your bratty response as his grip on your waist tightly slightly, “You wanna force me to check?” His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, you could feel heat dripping between your thighs as a couple walked past you both as he continued, “I won’t hesitate to put you against the wall baby, they can all stare if they want, I don’t care.”

His words made your face flush and your body warm as you glanced away, unable to trust your mouth to speak as he lifted his neck back up. Gauging your reaction before snickering, “Oh that turns you on doesn’t it? The idea of people watching huh?”

You had begun to squeeze your thighs together as you took a deep breath, he was right, you did like the idea of him forcing your legs open and letting your wet cunt be on display for anyone to see, clearing your throat you decided to keep your dirty thoughts in your head as you spoke up, “Not even gonna ask how my day was? Not very gentleman like.” Trying to deflect his dirty talk as a new crowd of people had gotten off the elevator headed your way.

Jungkook looked down at you curving an eyebrow before scoffing, leaning back down against your ear as he replied lowly, “Sorry baby, but you didn’t seem like you wanted a gentleman back in that dressing room. Did you?”

Crossing your arms you look up at him sharply, not realizing the glaring pout on your lips that made him chuckle. Making you all the more huffy as you looked away. He was right, of course he was. Jungkook seemed like someone who read body language well and you must have been an open book. Getting in the empty elevator as Jungkook hit the 13th floor button.

“Did you behave like I asked?” You honestly didn’t expect him to be so blunt. He wasn’t gonna talk like this the entire night was he? You weren’t sure you were gonna last long enough for it.

Swallowing thickly you nodded, the stickiness in your panties making you shift a tad uncomfortable as you forced an answer, “Almost killed me but yeah.”

Jungkook paused for a moment judging your body language for any lies, knowing you were telling the truth he let his lips tug into a loose smile, “Good, if it makes you feel any better I’ve been suffering too. I wanted to wait for you.” It was the odd intimacy in his words that made your cheeks flair again rather then the words themselves. He had really suffered the boner just out of anticipation for tonight? “Oh out of curiosity...” you glanced up at Jungkook, watching him lick his lips as he asked, “Have you told Jimin about tonight?”

“No...?” You extended the word as you curved an eyebrow, suddenly turning to face him as you crossed your arms. Why would he ask that? And furthermore why would you tell Jimin out of anyone any of your business that went on in your bed. Watching his expression become passively sheepish at your suddenly suspicion, “Why would I tell him?”

Jungkook glanced away from you, unsure of what to say for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Finally looking at you carefully as he shrugged, attempting to portray a casual response, “No reason. Just...be careful with him.” His eyes had such clear warning it was your turn to blink as your mouth became dry, “Not everyone is as upfront with their intentions as I am.”

What was that suppose to mean? Why did everyone speak in so cryptically? Sighing you shook your head deciding to just be blunt about this situation, “Look I’m not gonna sleep with him. Our parents are together and it’s just weird. Really weird. He can try all he wants but he isn’t gonna get anywhere.”

Jungkook only store at you for a minute, his eyes clouded with a strange sense of pity, before looking away altogether, opening his mouth as if wanting to say something but quickly closing it. As if thinking it would be better to be quiet, clearing his throat he gave a dry chuckle, resuming his charming expression as he looked back towards you, “Sorry about that, Jimin’s not really a fun topic. In my opinion atleast.”

“Well it definitely wouldn’t kill him to not always be so honest that’s for sure,” You hadn’t originally meant to voice it out loud, but you got the vague sense Jungkook and him were close friends. Or atleast that’s what it seemed like. Maybe he could shed some light on why Jimin had such duality in personality.

Chuckling Jungkook lead you out of the elevator towards the ritzy floor that appeared to be entirely there just for fine dining, “Money makes people entitled. He’s not an exception.”

Curiously you glanced at him, the air about Jungkook was difficult to read. Something you weren’t use too, most people were like an open book involuntarily. The way they held themselves, what they wore, the brands they sported. It made it almost too easy to get an idea of people’s outlook on life. Like Jimin for instance, he was like a prowling linx. He paraded around like he genuinely cared and was concerned for whoever he talked too, but those half smirks and empty eyes never slipped past you even if they only showed for a split second. His intentions were just as pathetic as his attempt to pretend he really cared.

But Jungkook? Watching him smile coolly as he addressed the waiter who had nodded, weaving you towards your table in the lowlit dining area. Every expression on his face, every move he made, it was all intentional. He said he was just blunt, but was he really? Everyone in life had an ulterior motive, that’s just how it worked. Whatever his was, he had mastered never letting it seep through his intricately placed mask.

Jungkook pulled your chair out, gesturing you lightly to sit down. Often times you’d roll your eyes at any guy who’d attempt this. You lived such an informal life it hardly seemed fitting to be treated like this. But seeing this gesture on Jungkook, it fit almost alarmingly well. Like it had just come second nature to him, regardless of social class, this was just how women should be treated. It came off surprisingly natural compared to most guys who’d fumble as if forgetting until the last second about doing gentleman gestures which often came off more cringeworthy than chivalrous.

Sitting down as he seated you, before taking his own seat across from you as you tilted your chin, raising an eyebrow as you finally spoke up, “And what about you Jungkook? If money makes people entitled, what does that make you? You can have anything you want,” pressing your lips together you gave a hum in thought, “You can have any girl you want, why bother with someone like me?”

You’d be lying if the question hadn’t nagged at the back of your mind. Not out of some sort of desperation or need for reassurance. Pragmatically speaking, you had been genuinely curious. Someone like Jungkook, he shouldn’t even be in the same room as you. Suddenly realizing how blunt you were, you puckered your lips hoping it hadn’t come across offensive as you glanced at him.

Jungkook only laughed, soft and oddly sweet as he relaxed in his chair, glancing at you with soft eyes. Not necessarily affectionate, but an odd admiration as he shrugged, “It doesn’t make me anything. In my family money was never discussed while I was growing up,” he pressed his lips together, glancing away from you for a second as his gaze faltered, “Anything we bought, anywhere we went. That was just life for me. For a long time growing up I assumed everyone lived like I did.”

You found yourself curiously tilting your head. Having not expected at him giving such a detailed response. More so at the reality of his life, “Both of your questions lead to the same answer. My father...” his eyes suddenly filled with disdain, his nose wrinkling in irritation at just the thought before closing his eyes, sighing altogether, “He’s extremely controlling. He’s always been that way. Growing up he controlled every aspect of my life. Not in the way people would assume he would.”

Pausing for a second he seemed to be gathering his thoughts in figuring out how to properly explain as the waiter appeared. Two glasses of wine in tray as he handed them out. Explaining if you had another request for a different flavor he’d be happy to serve, handing out two menus as well he disappeared.

“I’m aware, socially speaking there’s a lot of differences between us,” Jungkook continued slowly as he delicately gripped the stem of his glass as if it was a rose, glancing at the dark inky liquid as he continued, “In your world, parents are usually more forceful yeah?”

Not expecting him to glance up to meet your eyes in hope for a response, a cloud of doubt in his gaze as if he didn’t want to wrongfully assume about you. You gave a dry laugh that came out more like a scoff, “Well there’s varying degrees...” You suddenly gripped the cup of your glass tightly, your expression darkening as memories of your childhood surfaced, forcing yourself to relax as you continued, “But aren’t most parents like that? How could that be different for you?”

“Well when you’re parents are as rich as mine they have different tactics in getting what they want,” Jungkook shrugged, glancing at you again as he rested his elbow against the armrest, twirling the stem in his hand as he continued, “They controlled me, just a lot more subtly. When you have money, you can choose what school your child goes too, which families they associate with, who they’re friends are. He molded my entire childhood to fit his ideal. I didn’t even realize it until my senior year when I had met a freshman who I really got along with. My dad about blew a fuse when he found out.” 

His voice betrayed a bitter tone his expression had managed to steer clear of, “That was when I realized it wasn’t about who I was talking too, it was about it being someone who was in a lower class then us. Someone who my dad looked at as just a worker bee, someone who didn’t matter. He’s a very big elitist, people who don’t level our wealth aren’t worth our time in his opinion.”

Finally managing a drink from your glass as you set it down, letting his words soak in as you finally rose your eyebrows, “And you don’t agree with that?”

Jungkook licked his lips, running a hand through his dark silk like locks as he thought for a minute, “Well I was conflicted at first. Because I didn’t understand, I grew up my entire life just assuming I was normal, sure I had noticed subtle differences with my friends. But with my dad puppeteering my entire life it was never enough for me to question it until my senior year. I disregarded his word and hung out with who I wanted too. I branched out and found people I actually got along with. That’s when I began to realize I wasn’t so normal. I’m not even close to normal. The more I hung out with my friends, let them take me to public standardized areas, their homes, everywhere the more I understood that money? Material goods, financial security, that meant a lot more to people then I ever thought it did. Some people are just greedy for it, some people genuinely struggle with it...” he licked his lips as he rambled away, his eyes in a far away place, “It was weird seeing that, it still is weird. It feels like a foreign concept to me. Maybe that does make me entitled inherently. I’ve never known a day in my life where I’ve had to struggle with security in that sense.”

Straightening his posturing he cleared his throat, as if realizing how much he rambled as he finally glanced at you, “You’re right, I can have anything I want, and any girl I want. But I want you because I’m curious,” Jungkook finally set his wine glass down as he shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, “You’re forbidden, something I’ve never been allowed to indulge in. When you have parents like mine I was only allowed to associate with my friends in highschool for so long before they cut it off. You’re everything I’m curious about, your way of life, your mentality, your culture. I’m curious, I’ve always been. And there’s so much of your world to experience it honestly overwhelms me at times. I don’t really know where to begin on my own.” He ended his sentence somewhat sheepishly, which let you know he was being honest.

Jungkook’s eyes looked boyish in that moment and you could tell every word he spoke he meant. You looked thoughtful as you tilted your head. You could never imagine being as sheltered as he was, but it made you wonder. What was classified as ‘your’ world? On any other occasion you would’ve scoffed, the idea it’s self almost made you feel like a science project for him to tinker with and study for the sake of his own weird sense of curiosity about the average mass of commonwealth. 

But his overwhelming amount of genuineness put in his words made it difficult to feel indignant. Because his eyes, his whole demeanor while explaining was just so innocent. It was an endearing, genuine curiosity that made it so difficult to scoff at him. He really genuinely wanted to understand your way of life, it was such a foreign concept to you though. Could you even help him? How could anyone not experience life the way you had?

Well technically lots of people hadn’t, most people didn’t live the way you did, or suffer the background you had. But still your way of life, surely it couldn’t have been all that different, right? Jungkook left you alone for minute as if knowing you’d need a moment to muse his words. The silence was comforting and filled with the soft jazz that had been playing live towards the front of the room.

The waiter had come by after another few passing seconds to take your order, it wasn’t until after he left that Jungkook spoke up, “What about you though? I didn’t ask you out just to talk about myself the entire time.” He laughed causally though you could detect he seemed a bit worried he had rambled too much.

Shaking your head you grabbed the stem of your glass, twirling it as you hummed, “I don’t mind. It’s actually pretty fascinating to hear...” hearing your words you watched his eyes light up in relief, “It’s interesting to know that people can be raised so different...I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it...” licking your lips you glanced at him briefly before looking away hesitantly, “My life feels pretty boring compared to yours...if not rather disheartening.”

It was true, you didn’t have a manipulated and repressed childhood, nor were you drown in riches and ignorance until you one day grew up and had an epiphany there was more to life than your parents had lead on. Jungkook frowned as he spoke up, “You should never compare, just because your life wasn’t as eventful as mine doesn’t make it any lesser in value.”

Your heart for a moment felt touched by his words. But it made you curious, how could he be so open minded and soft if he had been conditioned by his father his entire life? “W-well...” you fumbled slightly as you set your wine glass down, fumbling with your fingers as you awkwardly continued, “My life isn’t glamorous and honestly, if you’re looking for a more accurate depiction of working class I’m not a very good example...” 

But your words only made Jungkook look more curious as he patiently waited for you to continue. Sighing you looked around from him as you crossed your legs, resting your chin against your hand as you glanced into the crowd of people, all wearing finewear with elegant soft spoken voices. Leaving an echo of a soft murmur to fill the air that mingled with music, “Growing up was...not fun.” 

You frowned prominently as you furrowed your brows, digging into your memories as you continued, “I’ve never lived a fancy or...” you frowned as if looking for the right word, “Stable life...My parents worked very hard to ensure we had a place to live even if it wasn’t much. When I was a kid I could’ve cared less. But I hadn’t realized how much of strain it had put on their relationship. Eventually my dad would get so mad he’d run off to one of the local bars and wouldn’t come back until late in the morning.”

Sighing you didn’t have the nerve to look at him as you expression finally softened, “Of course that made the strain even worse. Looking back it was pretty counter productive, they’d argue, he’d drink, they’d argue about his drinking, making him go drink more. Eventually he became unemployed and it was just my mom barely scrapping us by while he drowned his at the bottom of a bottle.” Glancing down at your lap your softened expression still glowered slightly, a bitter note in your eyes that Jungkook took attentive care to notice though you had refused to look at him, “I was forced to grown up fast, so I didn’t have much of a childhood, by the time I was fifteen I ended up dropping out of highschool to work as many hours as my job would let me to help pay for rent while saving up to move out with my mom. By the time I was nineteen one of my friends had been looking for hospital work to get experience in the field. Sense they had two openings and he wanted the company I didn’t see the harm. Working two jobs, one during the day and one at night...” 

Your eyes seemed distance as you mused, looking a bit lighter then before as you glanced up at Jungkook while shrugging, “Well it’s taxing, I’m not gonna sit and lie to you about it. I rarely have time to do anything besides sleep the few hours I can manage. But I was also able to get us moved out that same year. And after years like this I’ve gotten use to it, the lack of sleep, the minimal way of life...Jimin constantly says it doesn’t take a lot to make me impressed but...” 

Sighing through your nose your expression hardened, curling an eyebrow looking vaguely annoyed, “No one here seems to get it y’know? I come from nothing, I am nothing, compared to anyone in this place. I’ve work my ass off my entire life just to survive. I don’t know what the word luxury even means, and don’t get the wrong impression,” Your voice suddenly fumbled, faltering in your ranting, looking at Jungkook for a second before looking away almost worried, “I don’t want you to think I’m bitter, or jealous of anyone here. It’s just, everyone takes what they have for granted because they think it isn’t enough. It’s hard to swallow that when you live the life I do, when I know at the end of the week, I’ll just go back to my life, back to work and I’ll never see any of this again. But everyone here? They act like this is some sort of average business week. And I guess, it is for them.”

Licking your lips you sighed, closing your eyes briefly for a moment as you shifted in your seat, “Being here, feels weird. Everyone looks at me like circus show. Like it’s cute how I get so flustered by how much luxury there is here. But in reality, you’re right. The majority of the world will and never will be use to this.”

Jungkook had stayed relatively quiet as you found yourself unable to speak anymore. Suddenly feeling rather self conscious, this must’ve been how he felt after exposing so much of the personal turmoil he had suffered through with you. But in another way, it felt rather liberating, just simply telling someone about your hardship, it was easier confiding in a stranger than a friend. 

Because a stranger won’t be disappointed in you, or tell you what you should have done. They will earnestly listen to your story without judgement that your friends and family would carry. Maybe that’s why he had told you so much as well.

“But it isn’t really temporary, you do know that, right Y/n?” Your head shot up at Jungkook’s soft voice, an odd amount of empathy on his face for someone so different than you. A delicious fragrance filled the air as the waiter had finally stopped by your table, setting your food out for you.

“I don’t know how you feel about it,” Jungkook looked as though he was treading on sensitive ground as he continued, “But Park is going to marry your mom. Even if you don’t actively see them it’s still going to impact your life, a lot of the strain you feel right now won’t be so heavy.”

Sighing you looked away from him, “I’m a grown women...I don’t need help. Or want it...okay maybe I do but I’m also not a slacker. Of course I’d appreciate their help but they don’t need to worry about me,” you shrugged loosely, beginning your meal as you continued, “Maybe I’m just being stubborn, my mom always said I take on too much. But I’ve lived like this my entire life, how can I just drop the only way I know how to live? I know I’ve complained a lot about my life but, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.” 

Your words were earnest as you glanced up at Jungkook, your eyes and expression both had softened significantly as you finally let out a small laugh, a genuine smile on your lips, “Sure my life sucks and I have a dysfunctional family, but isn’t that what life’s about? No matter who you are, or where you come from, we all seem to have those problems. I might not be drowning in gucci. But I do have an apartment. And I have a bomb ass cat...” Y

our nose wrinkled as you smiled, remembering the little shit stain that curled against your neck anytime you were home to sleep, “And I have two friends who are just as dysfunctional as me. Sometimes, it’s not all about the big things in life. Sometimes,” you glanced down at the extravagant meal in front of you, smelling worthy enough to make your mouth water as you mused, “It’s the little things in life, that make life worth living, y’know?”

You had been initially a little on edge for the first date you’d be attempting in months, especially when it was with someone so different from you by nature. But you had found yourself, for the first time, in a long time, genuinely relaxed and enjoying yourself. The pitfall most guys fell into with you, was in search for a romantic partner. It wasn’t their fault, there was nothing wrong for wanting that. You just weren’t the right person they needed, you didn’t want to be settled down with commitment and shifted priority that came with a relationship. Or maybe you just hadn’t met someone you liked enough to change your mind.

Regardless more times than less they’d want to take it slow, get to know you, your life, your story and family. And finally after so much pining and unnecessary waiting they’d sleep with you. They actually didn’t, because you’d never make it past the third date before inevitably getting impatient and leaving. You liked it fast, without reason or questions. It just made life easier. And if it worked out, great and if it didn’t? No harm done. 

Most guys you attracted never seemed to share the same mindset. Even going as far as horrified at the prospect of going home together on the first date. But one of your biggest ideals in a relationship was simple, he had to be good in bed. You weren’t opposed to teaching someone, but often times men had a very large and a very sensitive ego. Again you had never gotten that far to begin with. Which was why you had never had any luck from a relationship. If he was bad in bed and too prideful to learn then there was zero point in wasting your time with someone, but since most of the guys you had went out with refused to sleep with you...well you can see the problem, right?

There was something about Jungkook though, you rather liked. He was easy going but eager, just like yourself in that aspect. As if ready to jump you at any moment if you gave the word. He didn’t want to wait around and ‘get’ to know you. He was blunt in his intentions of wanting to sleep with you, admitting later to simply wanting to get to know you’re side of the coin in life. And you had no problems with that, because inherently it was all just fun and games.

An easy win win, you’d finally break your dry spell with someone you got along with, he’d be able to sate some of his curiosity about the outside world.

You could respect that. You and Jungkook had been closing that evening, laughing together at one of the stories you had been enthralled at telling, having so few friends you often only experienced anything thrilling with them, leaving you with little to no audience to ever tell it to outside your mom. And that was when it was legal atleast. Jungkook seemed rather shocked and oddly absorbed in your rather crazy stories, obviously enjoying them as he had never experienced anything close to the oddities you and you had friends had experienced.

Getting out of your seats you both had smiled with a lingering silence but he spoke up, “So about making it up to you after this morning....”

“Gonna bail on me again?” You rose your eyebrows with a teasing smile, half expecting him too. It was almost eleven and you’d imagine he was going to have a busy day tomorrow, wouldn’t anyone who lived a life like this? Something you weren’t jealous of, you were busy yes, but nowhere near on the extravaganza that was the Fifteenth Dark Ace hotel. And for that, you wouldn’t blame him, if you were that busy you’d probably bail on a date too.

“After how much of a good girl you’ve been?” Jungkook let that infamous smirk pull on his lips as he stepped closer to you closing the gap of space, forcing you to crane your neck to glanced up at him, “I’m not that mean babygirl. Wanna head up to my room?”

You licked your lips, knowing his tone of voice had come off in a way not to pressure you. After all you could have changed your mind in the few hours you had spent together, but it hadn’t. In fact it only reinforced how much you wanted this guy to pound into you, “Lead the way.” You gestured, curving an eyebrow with one of the worlds most cutest smile, not at all fitting given the scenario you were headed into.

Obviously glad to hear you wanted this just as much as him, he wasted no time to wrap an arm around your waist, leading you down the lowlit path as you glanced one last time at the stunning dining area. The crystal chandeliers that held thousands of candles in them creating such a glowing ambiance. The skilled saxophonist who played softly intertwined with the piano, and the utter divine smell of fresh baked bread that had passed by from a waiter. And- Wait was that who you thought it was? Blinking you had to do a double take back at the sea of people before your gaze had landed on a black head of hair, Jimin?

Jungkook seemed to notice your surprise as he raised a brow, looking out to where your gaze had landed before spotting Jimin as well, letting out a tiny amused chuckle before speaking, “Oh he never sleeps alone at night, don’t look so surprised Y/n. It’s just how he is.”

Watching Jimin as he smirk deviously as he gripped the girls chin, her bare back facing you with the revealing gown on but you could tell by her body language she was flustered. Still though a small indignant pang sent through your stomach, of course he only wanted to sleep with you. 

Sighing you rolled your eyes as you shrugged, deciding not to care further, you weren’t that interested anyways and it’s clear Jimin was only interested in your body. Why focus on that though when someone like Jungkook was leading you to his room, “Why is he like that anyways? I mean he’s just so…”

“Dualistic? Dunno to be honest,” Jungkook shrugged, thinking for a moment before shrugging again, “I have a few theories but none seem to really peg his problem whatever it is. Money makes up his ego sure but he just has a mentality that whatever he wants he gets. Unlike me his family is considerably lower class then us. The only reason we’re childhood friends is because our dads were as well.” Jungkook rambled on as you curiously glanced at him, so the Parks really weren’t that loaded? A flash of the private jet you had not been in two days ago flashed in your mind as you felt like you had been sucker punched. If that wasn’t fucking loaded then what did that make Jungkook!?

Getting in the elevator he finally concluded as he shrugged, “Honestly, I know you said you weren’t interested in him but I’m being serious Y/n. He’s like a predator, when he wants someone, he won’t give up. Be careful.” And there it was again, that crypticness from earlier.

Confused you tilted your head before shaking it. He kept warning you but nothing had really warranted anything for it, sure Jimin was an attractive man but that’s all he really had going for him in your opinion, it wasn’t like you naturally got along with him, “Okay, if he really is into me as much as you say…Why are you doing this?” You gestured your hand between you both, “With me?”

Jungkook took a moment to contemplate your words looking rather sheepish, as if being caught in the act before his brows furrowed in thought. Finally he shrugged loosely, that smirk curling back on his lips as he replied, “Because I think it’s fun taking what Jimin can’t get. He’s such a sore loser it’s honestly hilarious…which is why you should probably keep this between us.” He pressed his lips together, whatever pride he had on his face loosened as he glanced at you almost worried briefly.

“Well the good news is I wasn’t intending on telling him about who I’ve slept with,” You laughed lightly, not wanting whatever seemed to be disturbing Jungkook to get him too worried, “Besides you have nothing to worry about, I’ve survived campus fuckboys of all different sorts. This isn’t any different I can promise you.”

“What about me?” Your mouth gaped at the unexpected coil of smug in his tone as he pulled you closer to him, dragging his lips against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “I’m not a fuckboy to you, am I?”

Your breath had hitched slightly at the warmth of his lips and the grip of his hands against your waist, you could’ve sworn you had heard his heartbeat with his hot breath so close to you, “No,” Suddenly feeling the overwhelming desire to be a brat even though you knew the consequences, “I couldn’t even think you’re a fuckboy. You’re like a cute little bunny!” You suddenly spun around, booping that cute little curved tip of his nose as you grinned playfully. 

Suddenly giggling loudly at his drop in expression looking dumbfounded at what you had just done, “See! Maximum cuteness! You’re too adorable to be a fuckboy I don’t make the rules Kooky.” You pinched his cheeks as your grin widened, finally provoking him to grab your wrists as his brows furrowed.

Licking his lips and despite trying to look sexy it had the opposite effect, maybe it was the wine but he just looked so damn adorable trying to be alpha like, “You must really liked that punishment huh?” He curved an eyebrow, his eyes had darkened considerably and his tone of voice had deepened, finally achieving the aura he had been looking for, “We haven’t even got to my room yet and you already wanna test me baby?”

Pressing your tongue against your cheek you backed off slightly, while punishment was enjoyable you had been promised reward tonight and you weren’t gonna throw that away, “No,” you shook your head with false innocence as you contained yourself, “I’m daddy’s good girl- No I’m daddy’s best girl.” You corrected yourself patronizingly and you were surprised he hadn’t pushed you against the wall to spank you in that moment as he crossed his arms looking less than impressed, making you snicker nervously. Fumbling with your fingers as you cleared your throat, “I’ll behave.”

Sighing Jungkook shook his head, letting his disapproving gaze softened slightly, “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight, you really enjoy teasing me don’t you?”

He stepped closer again, as if daring you to continue as you impishly smiled, glancing away as you fiddled with your hair, knowing if you ignored the question you’d be punished, and if you answered the wrong way you’d still be punished, “Is it really a good time in bed if there isn’t a little bit of banter? There’s nothing more fun than making a dom feel the need to prove himself even when he knows he doesn’t have too.”

“Is that what this is about?” Jungkook almost looked amused as he grabbed your chin delicately, making you look at him as he leaned down wolfishly, “You want me to prove my dominance babygirl? Careful what you wish for.”

The door had dinged open, having finished its journey as Jungkook turned to face the entrance, briefly smirking while he wasn’t looking, gotcha. No punishment tonight, you were what the kids called a crafty sub, you knew just the right thing to say to get what you wanted. On the rare occasion you could watch your mouth.

Leading you back to his room the door clicked shut with a finality, knowing you could go back on this at anytime but seeing the city lights reflect off his body outlining made you swallow. Your mind flickered to his bare torso when you had first met as he took off his jacket. Turning around as he raised his eyebrows, “You just gonna stand there?”

“Shouldn’t you be telling me to strip?” You took a slow step further into the room, your eyes adjusting to the dark room as you questioned his motives. Unsure if he had this whole night planned out the moment he saw you or was simply going off of instinct.

Chuckling Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed kicking off his shoes while giving them a small kick to the side, shrugging as he relaxed back against his hand, “You dictate the night sweetheart, not me. You want to be a brat and get under my skin right? Make me feel the need to prove myself? Sad to say but I’m a patient man baby, it’s gonna take more then teasing to get me to do that.”

“So let me get this straight,” You had stepped out of your heels, glad to have them off as your feet thanked you, turning to face him as if this was a salesman gimmick that you were positive seemed too good to be true, “You’re gonna let me boss you around?”

“Mhm.” He nodded looking genuine but you were suspect as you squinted your eyes making him laugh, was this some trap? “I’m not gonna bite- too hard, do we need protection?” He licked his lips feverishly as he waited for your next move, relaxed and clearly not looking the least intimidated as he casually asked the question, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had kept condoms on him twenty four seven.

Pressing your lips together as the pout began to quiver on your lips, “No I’m on pill…” you lingered warily in your spot, looking as if you were in the room with a rabid animal, cautious of his every flickered gaze. He was relaxed, not looking the least concerned about anything, of course he wasn’t, not when he was the one who could unfairly flip the roles here, “Boss me around sweetheart, that’s what you wanna do right?” The wicked smirk curled on his lips as he raised his brows expectantly

“Well-“ You fumbled tugging your hair as you cautiously padded closer to him, still unsure if this was a trick or not, “Yes…but I don’t wanna get punished…” you finally admitted your reason of reluctance as you trudged towards him, lips still pouting with a quiver as you glanced away from him.

Jungkook nodded exasperatedly with a patronizing tone, “Mhm and I promise you won’t, as long as you behave when I tell you too. And right now I’m giving you permission to boss me around. Make me do what you want baby, anything’s for grabs.” he leaned back against his hands as he encouraged you to come closer.

“Anything?” You tilted your head, quirking a brow in disbelief as you finally took the final step towards him, looking down at him, he looked so smug in that moment as he nodded again, “Anything.”

Licking your lips it was your turn to cheekily grin as you raised your eyebrows, having his permission before pressing your mouth closed, unable to keep that adorable little smirk off your lips as you lifted your leg up, placing your foot beside his seated position. The high slit of your dress parting all the way up to the height of your thigh, “Kiss.” 

It was a one worded command but he had got the message. Not breaking eye contact with you as if to remind you he was ultimately in charge as he gripped the soft skin against the sheer black material of your stocking, kissing your inner thigh as his eyes lidded slightly but refused to break from your contact.

Letting his lips part as he dragged his tongue against the soft surface, humming approvingly as you let your hand find his hair. Having been curious since you met him to touch it, his hair looked so silky and soft and your assumption was right as you massaged your fingers against his scalp making him shift positions of your thigh as he let his lips press up further while his tongue dragged in its path.

Finally allowing your eyes to close in contentment as his soft lips began to pepper your thigh in kisses, “Feel good baby?” His hand ran across your thigh gently squeezing as you nodded with a hum. Letting him open your leg more to get a better angle on your thigh as you felt the tulle part further. His lips pressed deeper against your skin before opening again, biting down with a nip, taking the skin in his mouth sucking delicately. Undoubtedly marking you as you continued to enjoy the pampering before pausing for a moment, pulling away slightly making him come up for air on his handy work.

Two hickies had already started to form in a shade of purple that was difficult to see in the low lights. Jungkook said nothing as he watching you place your foot back on the ground, almost anticipating your every move as you reached for the zipper of your dress. Unzipping it all the way down before letting the material drop from your body, grabbing the pin in your hair as you pulled it out, feeling your hair stumble down as you smirked again.

Watching his eyes light up in amusement, almost like a kid unwrapping a present as he licked his lips humming out, “You look even better then I had hoped.”

Stepping between his parted legs you snorted definitely an unattractive laugh as you curved an eyebrow, “How come I didn’t get that reaction when you came to pick me up?” It was a playful question as you tsked, “Come on keep kissing gentleman, I love to be bathed in worship.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist he pulled you to him as he pressed his lips against your stomach, glancing up at you wolfishly as Jungkook rose a brow, “Do you really want a gentleman?”

“Not when you look at me like that.” You replied amused though answering honestly as he continued to pepper your body in kisses, focusing more on your lower body within his reach as he began to nip at your hips. Between your lacy black cheeky panties and the garter belt it had left a snippet of your skin for the taking as he continued to nip his way to the other side.

Letting his hands squeeze against the sides as he made his way back up to your pelvis where the belt sat, kissing over the material as he tugged you to straddle him.

Inherently wanting to be obedient you did as asked making yourself comfortable on his lap as his hands ran down to your ass, holding you firmly as he dipped down into your neck continuing his trail of kisses, parting his lips to mark again as he began to suck against the skin. His hands began to delicately trace back up your sides almost making you wiggle at how feathery his touch was.

A quick nip against the spot he had been working on emitted a breathy little gasp from you that unfortunately didn’t escape his auditory, “Keep making those sounds babygirl.” He practically petted you as he stroked his hands down your back, showering you with affection and his undivided attention as he began to work his way down to your breasts that sat prominently up in the matching lacy black bustier bra.

Jungkook pressed kisses on top of them before biting down against the soft tissue, obviously finding the next spot he wanted to mark as his mouth continued to work. His hands continually stroking against your sides as he let his tongue press and prod against the spot as he finally glanced up at you, “Feeling pampered enough to help me out sweetheart?”

Eyes still closed you nodded as you heard him quietly laugh before pausing and continuing, “Lap dance me in that pretty lingerie baby, give me a good show.”

Your forearms had found there way against his broad shoulders as he finished up marking his spot against your breast as you began to press down against him. Letting your hips drag and wiggle in search for his length that you had found quickly hardening.

Your arousal began to spike between your legs as you pressed your cunt back against him almost too eager as you began to rub and drag down against his lap, feeling his grip on your hips tighten slightly, letting you know you were doing a good job as he finished his last mark, a whine escaping your lips as you felt your clit catch against the material of his slacks.

Smirking he leaned back against his hands as he let you get to work, pressing down on him from different angles, your panties were completely soaked and the embarrassing wet patch was prominent as you eagerly worked his clothed bulge as he spoke up, “Careful babygirl, you’ll get my slacks wet at the rate you’re going.” 

Your cheeks began to flare because he was right. Your panties were beyond ruined by your own wetness from how turned on you had become in such a short amount of time, “Never said that was a bad thing,” Jungkook snickered at your reaction, grabbing your chin to make you look at him, “Look at you, all red faced while bouncing on my lap. What do you want baby? Wanna be my princess right? Tell me what you want.”

Your face was getting redder as you attempted to look down towards his lap, feeling his finger keep you in place as you murmured shyly, “I want to ride your thigh daddy.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise, as if expecting a more common request before suddenly looking smug while squeezing your sides as he nodded, “Of course you would, go on, ride daddy’s thighs princess.”

Eagerly you slipped from his lap and over to his left thigh sitting with legs on either side as you began to press down against the cotton material before eagerly rubbing yourself against him, feeling your clit flatten enough to send a jolt into your stomach as you suddenly whimpered. Holding onto his thigh as you continued to ride it, letting your clit catch against the material of your panties as you continued to drag your hips against his thigh pleasuring yourself as you whimpered again, feeling the pressure slowly building in your core.

Jungkook observed cockily, admittedly not once in his life had a girl wanted to thigh ride him until now but he was more than happy to experience. Feeling your arousal messily slip through your panties and soak through his pants, it was an oddly satisfying feeling as you pressed against him harshly, feeling your pussy part and wet further as you continued to ride him quicker, “Look at you princess, you’re making such a big mess on daddy’s thigh, come on baby keep riding.” Whimpering at his words you continued to use his thigh in desperation, “You look good desperate, it’s almost pathetic how much you want your little clit rubbed, do you need help?” Whining you nodded defeatedly as he chuckled. Bouncing his thigh in compliance as you suddenly bucked your hips your clit flattening continually at the movement stimulating as you let out little gasps, “Come on princess cum on daddy’s thigh like a good girl.”

Feeling the pressure build in your core you continually whimpered as you rubbed yourself against his bouncing thigh, feeling your legs begin to shake as he almost demanded, “Cum for daddy babygirl.”

Moaning loudly you felt the pressure snap as you obediently let the orgasm wash over you, moans almost embarrassingly slipping out from your lips as you continued to whimper and whine while wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook as he stroked you praisingly, “Mmm that’s a good girl, good girl baby.”

Your legs were shaky and you weren’t sure if you could stand as he grabbed you by the ass, picking you up so he could properly set you down on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he tsked, “Such a messy baby, you couldn’t help yourself could you? Do my thighs feel that good?”

Blushing you looked away red cheeked and pouting but nodding regardless. Letting his shirt fall off his well chiseled arms as you felt your face grow hotter at his well built body display, suddenly feeling self conscious as you looked away, did you even deserve to sleep with someone as good looking as Jungkook? 

By the time he had let his slacks hit the floor he tsked again, kneeling down as he grabbed your wrists, “Don’t cover yourself, I want to see you in your pretty lingerie princess. Unless you want me to take it off for you…” he licked his lips, his fingers already finding their way to the back of your bra as you said nothing in return, feeling your face hot red as he unhooked it.

Taking it off you had instantly went to cover yourself once more, Jungkook’s hands caught your wrists in time as he huffed, “I said don’t cover yourself baby, look at how pretty you are.” He could barely murmur the words out as he let his mouth suck against your nipple, making you whimper at the suddenly sensation as his hand went to the other. 

Massaging nice and slowly while giving gentle pinches to it, sighing through his nose as he paused for a moment before sitting up to take you in, running a hand through his hair as he sighed again, “Fuck you look hot. Want me to eat that pretty pussy baby? I’m hungry again but for a whole new meal.” He hadn’t even left you an option as if he had decided on his own. Feeling his fingers pull against the garter belt first pulling it down with your stockings as he pressed kisses against your leg all the way back up to your thigh.

You jolted at the feeling of his lips kissing your well soaked panties as he hummed, “We should get rid of these hm? You did a good job of ruining them baby.” He coyly smirked from between your thighs as his fingers curled around the band of your panties, pulling them down in one fluid motion before diving in between your legs. 

Wasting no time as he let his tongue lick up from your slit making you gasp at the unexpected sensation. When was the last time you had even been ate out? Most guys found it too gross to wanna try it or simply didn’t like doing it. It was a foreign feeling having Jungkook jump between your legs on his own accord as he devoured you, sucking your clit like a tasty treat as you wiggled and whimpered beneath him, letting his tongue continuously drag against your clit until he found its sweet spot. 

Your voice was already becoming ragged and your already over sensitive body was reacting sharply at the harsh sensation as you whined, collapsing back against the soft surface. Jungkook pulled your legs over his shoulders as he straightened up, hiking your lower body up with him as he glanced down at you like a predator while eating you alive.

Feeling his tongue prick and prod at the oversensitive bundle of nerves making the orgasm build faster and faster as you squeezed your thighs against him moaning, “Daddy please! I’m so close!” You finally strangled out.

His grip on you tightened at your whimpered words while feeling a long slim finger slip inside you as you attempted to twist and turn while he kept you in place. Pumping a second finger inside you as he quickened his pace, not letting his tongue stop for a second as he took your clit in his mouth sucking against it as he let it swirl in his mouth, using his tongue to stroke it.

Clenching around his fingers that roughly pumped in and out of you when he found your g-spot you had snapped, almost screaming at the pain of your orgasm but it obviously wasn’t enough for him, “Keep going baby.” He suddenly added a third finger pumping you roughly as he vigorously hit your g-spot each time, sending you into orbit as you continuously bucked in his hand whimpering not evening finishing your second orgasm before he sent you into your third while attaching his tongue back to your clit humming.

Tears had begun to slip from your eyes at so much overstimulation but he refused to stop continuing as he ruthlessly hit your g spot, letting you practically ride his face as he nipped your clit. Still riding your third orgasm as he finally achieved what he was looking for. Forcing your fourth one as you roughly clenched around his fingers, body shaking and crying with whimpers as the liquid squirted out, coating his fingers as he slipped out of you, setting you back down on the bed as you continued sobbing from so much overstimulation, fuck had you ever even squirted before? You didn’t even think you could.

Jungkook began to wash your thighs in kisses as he softly praised you, “Such a good girl, my best babygirl. Can you still take daddy’s cock? You don’t have to say yes baby.” He murmured against your thighs as he gently massaged them, practically bathing you in affection as you swallowed back those big crocodile tears, your eyes were mascara stained and red cheeked looking incredibly tired but you were a trooper as you struggled to sit up, “I-I can do it, I want you balls deep inside me daddy.” Your needy eyes looking directly at him as you murmured, not shy but horse from so much whining.

“Mmm you sound so cute when you talk filthy princess, keep going for daddy.” Jungkook asked as he let his cock spring free from his boxers. It looked incredibly irritated and red tipped, precum covering it as you licked your lips nervously, “…I-I don’t know…you’re really big daddy.” Glancing away as he gently pushed you back down against the bed.

Smirking though he pressed his lips against you forehead, “You let daddy worry about that, you just relax baby, okay?”

Biting your lip you obediently nodded, “Okay.”

You certainly weren’t lying, he was huge, in both length and girth, it didn’t help that you hadn’t been laid in forever and it’s not like you had gotten a lot of action before that. Feeling spoiled at all of this as you felt him open your thighs again, sore from already being opened so much they sent a dull ache to your hips.

You suddenly moaned as you whined feeling his massive length slip against your pussy, coating in your arousal as it brushed over your hypersensitive clit.

Stroking your pussy with his cock before grabbing the tip he began to press it in, making you grit your teeth as you hissed sucking a breath of air in.

“Mmm fuck baby you’re tight, you weren’t joking about not getting a lot before huh?” He chuckled though it sounded strain as he pushed himself further in, “Good, because this is my pretty little pussy to fuck isn’t it? You want me to prove my dominance right? Well guess what baby? I’d fucking demolish anyone who even tries getting close to this.” 

You whimpered as he suddenly began thrusting. His length throbbing painfully inside you at such a small space, his hand slapped your thigh making you whimper out as he continued, “This is mine, all mine babygirl.” His hips continued to rock faster against you as you wrapped your legs around him letting him pound ruthlessly inside you as he let out a gravelly moan. His voice deep and almost guttural before quickly letting his hips begin to slam into you making you moan loudly as you began to wiggle and try to buck in sync with his hips. Being too fast though Jungkook laughed, “Look at you baby, even when you’re all fucked out you’re still greedy for another orgasm aren’t you?” He opened one of your legs up further to penetrate you deeper but you could already feel him hitting your cervix, fuck! He was so big, “Go on baby cum all over my cock, be a greedy little girl.”

Whimpering as he continually filled you, roughly hammering into you making the bed begin to knock against the wall as his fingers found their way against your sensitive clit almost making you scream as your voice whined out loudly, “D-daddy please- it hurts!”

Hearing your whimpering only made his cock twitch and pulse as he picked up his pace, thrusting rougher as he continued to rub your clit harshly, “Be a good girl and orgasm for me baby, do I need to repeat myself? I want your cum all over my cock baby come on start riding.” He suddenly picked you up sitting down while setting you on top of him, your orgasm already building enough to make you eagerly bounce his cock as he grabbed your ass.

Quickly helping you as you felt it eagerly twitch inside you again, “Come on baby come for me.” His hand smacked against your ass echoing against the room as you whimpered, burying your face in his neck only for him to grabbing a fistful of hair, yanking you to look back at him, “No baby you’re gonna cum all of this cock while looking right at me.”

Feeling his fingers roughly pressing against your clit against as he let go of your hair in trade to spank you harsher,  your walls clenching harshly around his cock that was painfully throbbing and rubbing against your g-spot as he growled, “Cum baby.”

Whimpering you bounced him as fast your hips would let you taking down his full length despite it painfully throbbing inside you, quickly riding his thick base as you whimpered continually, feeling yourself clench against him as your orgasm arrived quickly. 

Roughly rubbing your sweet spot as you cried out, tears close to falling down your face as he spanked you again, “Go on, cum you slut, don’t make me repeat myself.” His hand slapped your bare red ass one last time before the overstimulation overwhelmed you, crying as it washed over you, sending you to cloud nine as he suddenly flipped you both other. Now on top of you as he ruthlessly thrusted into you, slamming his cock into you as he continually moaned though it barely reached your ear. 

Pushing himself until the base of his cock was all the way inside you before he released, feeling the hot ropes of his cum fill you until you dripped his seed, his hips didn’t stop though as he drilled into you, obviously forcing himself into overstimulation as he moaned loudly cumming again from the overstimulation, his seed spilling from you even further as he filled you a second time.

Finally relaxing as he let himself slip out from you. Sweat beading down his neck as he gasped for air, obviously out of breath as he rested his forearms on either side of you, kissing your neck as he murmured, “What a good girl, you did so well baby.”

Originally you had intended on making your way back to your own room once this was finished, but there was not a single bone left in you body that could properly function as exhaustion began to set in. Picking you up to properly set you in bed, pulling the nice fluffy blankets over you both as he got back on top of you, showering you in kisses and soft praise again, “Go on babygirl, sleep you earned it.” He urged you as he continued to smother your stomach in kisses while gently stroking your waist.

Just as you had done everything else this night, you listened without being told twice. Letting your eyes fall shut as sleep gladly took you.

Note: hey babes! I’ve been meaning to update this all day but honestly? I’ve been feeling a bit down lately, I keep getting dms saying I need to add a read more tab but like as a mobile writer I’m unable too. I’ve kinda been at a loss for what to do because I don’t want to clog tags and annoy people :( that being said I still wanted to update for you guys so until I’m able to get my hands on a pc I’m just gonna keep chapter pushing 5K out of the tags. Sorry for the long note! 🖤

Tag list: @sapphireprinces5 @jazzytfw @theslumberingcat (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[madison-the-geek]

Supernatural: Heroes Versus Villains

The following is an analysis of heroes versus villains in the television series Supernatural. It is based upon my own opinions and thoughts and is not meant to go against any one else’s ideas.

We are defined by the battles we fight. Whether we win or lose, the battles that we fight are what mold us into who we are. Fictional characters are no different; in order for our characters to complete their stories, they must fight against their biggest villains and, win or lose, that must lead to some outcome that solidifies the plot, themes, and characters of the story.  Therefore, since the battles define our characters, then the people they are fighting define them even more. Our villains define our heroes. As our heroes fight against their greatest villains they become more defined as they learn more about themselves, and the audience learns more about who the character is. Therefore, a good villain reflects our hero. Often times these villains are the version of our hero who made different or “wrong” choices, which helps establish who our hero is, while also giving a wonderful sense of duality and balance to both the characters and story.

How does this relate to Supernatural? Sam and Dean may fight different villains almost every season, and occasionally every episode, but their main villains are the ones who define them the most as well as represent them the most. For example, consider Lucifer as Sam’s main villain. Yes, other villains can represent and define Sam Winchester, but no one embodies Sam to the extent that Lucifer does. Lucifer, who did not make an appearance in the series until season five, was originally drawn as a parallel of Sam; both displayed anger, a want for revenge, disapproval of their fathers’ actions, and an overall connection that is distinctly pointed out throughout the fifth season.  In the last episode of the season, “Swan Song”, Sam defeats his greatest villain. His arc of fighting against his own anger and the violence that surrounds him comes to an end when he calmly stops Lucifer from killing his brother by jumping into The Cage. He wins, albeit in a horrible and traumatic way, but he still wins. Perhaps this is why so many fans of the television series refer to “Swan Song” as the greatest episode; it does a masterful job of ending the storylines connecting the first five seasons, especially for Sam. However, this was not the end of the story. Sam was then freed from his prison in Hell and got to carry on with his story. Thus allowing his character to be even more fleshed out, and allowing us to learn and see Sam's trauma that Lucifer induced after his time in The Cage, if not from birth. The audience got to understand Sam’s relationship with Lucifer in more depth, which is honestly a blessing. 

Seasons six and seven highlighted the trauma Sam received and the price of bringing him back, while season eight had Sam believing that the trials would purify him from Lucifer and the demon blood. Later, in season eleven, Sam came face to face with his enemy again. As Sam is brought back to The Cage in a desperate attempt to find a way to stop The Darkness, we learn that, for the first part of that season, Lucifer had just been manipulating Sam and his want to be “good”. Sam has to face what could have become of him, as Lucifer represents what happens when you never let go of your anger and let it turn you into a monster, something that was a threat to Sam in the first few seasons. As the next few seasons unfold we see time and time again, that Sam is bothered by Lucifer’s presence, wanting to use him, end him, and stop him. In season fourteen, Sam talks to Dean about Nick’s fragile state of mind and how close Sam could have been to that. In general, Lucifer is Sam’s greatest villain, the one who has defined him the most, the one who represents him the most. Therefore, in all reality, Sam should have been the one to kill Lucifer, symbolizing his freedom from him. On the other hand, perhaps having Dean kill Lucifer symbolized a lot more than Sam simply killing him, especially since Lucifer’s death did not occur at the end of the series. For one thing, it shows the running family theme in Supernatural that your true family will always be there to help and support you. Perhaps it also shows that Sam will never be free from the things that Lucifer did to him and he will always carry that. No matter who killed Lucifer, it will never change what Sam went through. It is easy to say who Sam’s greatest villain is; we have hours and hours of television that can prove it. But Sam is not the only main character. Who is Dean’s greatest villain? Who has stood in Dean’s way more than anyone else? Who has defined him the most? Who has similar aspects to Dean but in a higher negative connotation? These questions are much harder to answer for Dean than for Sam. 

Although Sam was paralleled to Lucifer the same way Dean was paralleled to Michael in season five, Michael is not Dean’s greatest villain. First of all, Michael is hardly seen in season five and his character was not explored. Furthermore, the only true parallel between Dean and Michael was their obedience to their fathers. When Dean is finally possessed by Michael in season fourteen, it is clear that he and Michael are not that much alike. In fact, season fourteen spends more time paralleling Dean to Nick, than it does paralleling Dean to Michael. The parallel that was drawn between Michael and Dean in season five becomes nonexistent with the alternate version of Michael, as Alternate Michael was not obedient to his father. Michael, either version, has not stood in Dean’s way over and over again, ergo he is not his greatest villain. So, who is? Well, in all truth, it seems to be himself. Dean ends up fighting himself, either mentally or physically, at least once every season. Often times when Dean messes up the most it is because of himself. It is extremely tragic and sad, but very true. In seasons two and three, Dean hurt himself the most when he decided to sell his soul for Sam. In season four he struggled the most with memories of what he did in Hell. Dean’s single biggest storyline, The Mark of Cain, was all about him having to fight the darkness inside of himself. I could go on and on.

In the season three episode, “Dream a Little Dream of Me”, Dean literally faces off against himself and all of his insecurities, eventually killing the false version of him. In the Scene Specifics from the season three DVD Eric Kripke, the creator of the show, talks about how the scene represents Dean gaining some self-worth. Kripke also revealed that the original scene had Dean face off against his father, but when they could not get Jeffery Dean Morgan, they decided that having Dean talking to himself about the views his father gave him worked just the same. This also supports the idea that Dean might actually be his own worst enemy, but it is his father who initiated these horrible practices. That is, John Winchester is actually Dean’s worst enemy materialized.

John is the person who has created Dean’s sense of low self-worth, made him question himself, made him believe he was nothing more than a tool, and created lifelong problems with trauma, abuse, depression, and alcoholism. I am not saying this simply abolishes every problem that Dean has because they are created by his father’s problems, we all have to take some ownership for our problems, but I am saying that John is the person who began Dean’s negative treatment of himself. This is actually brought up several times in the series, not just in the “Dream a Little Dream of Me”. For example, in the season nine episode, “Bad Boys”, John exhibits similar behavior when he leaves a teenage Dean to be arrested after he attempted to steal food for Sam. In a lot of ways, this episode shows how much John manipulated Dean into believing he could not leave his family and he could not have anything outside of it, a belief that Dean carries throughout the show. This is further explored with Dean’s loyalty to his father in the first season and Sam constantly questioning it.

John's mistreatment of Dean is why I have a problem with the episode "Lebanon". This episode gave Sam closure with their father, but Dean never got that kind of closure. In fact, the big scene between Dean and John basically saw Dean revert to behavior he would have displayed around his father when he was younger, i.e. calling Sam a funny name. Dean obviously loves to tease his brother, but I found the scene a little strange, as though Dean was simply making fun of him because he was talking to his father. Yes, it was sweet when Dean told his father that he had a family, but we never got to see them talk about how much John messed Dean up, especially with his death. I am still upset that it happened like that, although I also understand that this was probably due to the limited time with Jeffery Dean Morgan, I still felt it was a big part that needed to be included in the episode. 

Anyway, establishing John as the materialization of Dean’s main villain leads to some interesting theories about the end of the show. Chuck has been paralleled to John more than once. And Andrew Dabb, the current showrunner, said that season fifteen would somehow relate back to Dean’s daddy issues, whether this means in a bigger capacity than it already has is unclear. In general terms of storytelling if a character is going to get closure at the end of their story then they must fight against their villain. If Dean must overcome his father’s programming in order to finish his story, and John and Chuck are supposed to be paralleled, then fighting Chuck must be shown as a very important part of Dean’s story and Dean must have a big part in defeating him. Is it possible that Dean will be the one to give the final blow? This seems like a pretty long way to go for Dean to get the closure on his issues with his father, however, no matter what; I will not be truly satisfied with the end of the story unless his problems created by John are somehow dealt with by the end of the show. In all reality, we have already begun to see Dean stick up for himself and find himself more than previous seasons. That was what “Last Call” was all about, Dean pulling himself up and realizing he does have purpose no matter what Chuck does, and no matter what his father did to him.

Still, we cannot forget Sam’s God wound. Sam’s wound literally connects him to Chuck; however, there have been no other parallels between the characters. Sam definitely has not shown as much fear and emotions as Dean in realizing their lives have been a hoax. Then again, Dean has always been the more emotional one; nevertheless, Sam seems more upset about personal loss, i.e. Rowena, then the bigger realization that none of it is real. This is a little odd because, usually, we get Sam looking at the bigger picture, and Dean at the more personal one, but this year it is reversed. This does make sense when thinking about how Dean has always had more control issues than Sam. In fact, I would say that one of Dean’s biggest fears is not being in control of a situation, something that probably stems from his early trauma and having to protect Sam from a very young age. Therefore, I would guess that Sam’s wound will be used more as a tool, and possibly a bigger motivator for why they need to defeat Chuck. For example, the wound is threatening Sam’s life so the team must defeat Chuck to save Sam. In the end, I think all of the characters will be a big part of taking Chuck down, but that taking Him down will be the most important and impactful for Dean.

[ourlittlebitofnothinguniverse]

Hey for the ask thing, all the questions you're comfortable with answering

oh boy!!! heck yeah fun shit thanks my dude! little did u Kno…… I LOVE oversharing !!! lmao muahahahahaha i’m probably gonna answer all of them thank u for enabling it lmfao

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

yah on Rly Bad days

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

like… 3.5? i like the dark but,,, ‘m Scare,,,,,

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Orange Turnip

4. What is your favorite word?

it changes tbh,, hm but i can’t think of any rn!

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

i’d be….. a nice oak! thicc and full of secrets

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

i didn’t lmao reflection what’s that

7. What shirt are you wearing?

i’m wearing the dress i wore to work

8. What do you label yourself as?

annoying or boring lmao but also the Goblin King and that is Good

9. Bright room or dark room?

i still don’t know if this is referring to like paint shade or like the amount of light it gets or like if i sleep in a bright room or dark room so like??? *shrug emoji*

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

i was?? drawing i think

12. Who told you they loved you last?

i think it was @wrenn-frug​ 💕💖 lov u fren!

13. Your worst enemy?

dunno man probably myself but that sounds cliche so like??? the sun bc it always burns me

14. What is your current desktop picture?

a screenshot from song of the sea!!! lOVE that movie!!!! i’d post it but like?? i don’t think i have it saved anymore or if i do i don’t feel like looking but it’s that one scene where they’re walking thru the pretty field towards the trees and there’s foxes in the corner and she’s playing the shell it’s so pretty,,,,,

15. Do you like someone?

uh yah my cat

16. The last song you listened to?

Young God - Halseygood song lov it,,,,

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

oraNGE TURNIP

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

orange turnip my dude i Hate

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

uh nobody ????

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

my squishy thighs and my fantastic stretch marks (which have taken me YEARS to accept)

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

No

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

????????????? secret???? talent?????? lemme check, ,, , , *reaches into a bag* nope bitch empt y aint got No Talent lmao

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

okay so like this is really dumb and i partially answered this in this ask abt the flushing toilets @ night thing but like to elaborate and make it even more dumb not only am i afraid to flush toilets @ night bc it’s just rly creepy and loud to me (esp if i’ve been asleep) but like,, , sort of in the same vein of fear is that when i was little my older sister told me that there was a ghost in the toilet and if i don’t flush it’ll get me and like i kno it’s not tru but like,,,,,, Sometimes,,,,,, (i must clarify i’m not scared of toilets themselves but like flushing freaks me out sometimes like @ night or if i don’t flush fast enough lmao don’t look @ me i’m a mess)

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Excuse? is this like that i can ONLY eat this sandwich or is it that this is the only sandwich i can ever eat or like i can only ever have one last sandwich bc honestly i’m Not Okay with any of those scenarios no matter how many ingredients i get for the initial creation

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Dream daddy dating simulator lmao uh?? also probably more food for archie bc he is Expensive

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

Ireland probably. always wanted to see ireland

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

“Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out” like???? no???? if u don’t drink alcohol why would u want a lifetime supply??? unless i could like…. sell it??? whats the Most Expensive kind i’ll just get an unending supply of heavenly Expensive Alcohol to sell for incredibly inflated prices to the rich bc it’s From Heaven and give the money to the poor bc like,,, why not

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

bitches gotta keep they damn opinions to themselves if they can’t respect somebody’s life based on factors they can’t help (race, religion, orientation, gender etc) also no money like We Don’t Need It i’m so tired of Needing money

29. What is your favorite expletive?

Fuck bc u can use it in So Many situations

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

o shit probably the twenty dollar metallic watercolors i got bc shit son??? actually probably like my laptop or smth idk

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

my childhood thx

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

this is.. not a questionalthough it is a wonderful scenario

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

none of them bc if the celestial gates of the beyond is real then all the people i’d want to bring back are probably in a Better Place or something and why would i want to drag them to Hell?

34. What was your last dream about?

Cannot remember to save my life altho i kno it was rly weird and convoluted

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

u did not put anything Here so i will Ignore

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Nope

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

yAH it’s fun!

38. What is the color of your socks?

not wearing any

39. What type of music do you like?

A Lot

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Sunsets,,, evening is so nice mm m

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

chocolate ayyyy

43. Do you have any scars?

a couple but like for Dumb Reasons

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I’ve graduated hs but i wanna be an animator when i decide which college to go to

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

my brain pls bartender can i have a Healthy One (correction to favorite word #4: fav word currently is deign)

46. Are you reliable?

i would like to think so

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

are you happy?

48. Do you hold grudges?

YAH but only if i’ve been Pushed Too Far which is Pretty Damn Far by most ppls standards

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

none I am Not a God

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

i have had So Many???? the most recent one was two times in a row random ppl i barely knew asked me for my netflix account bc they didnt have one and like…. bro what who R U,,,,, (i had literally only talked to the first guy once for ten minutes on fb)

51. Are you a good liar?

is the sky green? don’t think so

52. How long could you go without talking?

Very Long but like Only on Bad Weeks

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

None my hair is Magnificent (idk)

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

like birthday cake? never but i lov to bake cakes so like i bake myself cakes all the time

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

i am so bad @ accents i can’t even Read in my Head in accents even though i know what the accent Should Sound Like

56. What do you like on your toast?

peanut butter and banan slices

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

working on a picture of a tiger redraw

58. What would be you dream car?

a Bike bc i Do Not Like cars

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

i only sing in the shower when nobody is home (which is infrequent bc my mom is Always here) bc i am self conscious around most ppl but like Music,,,,, also when i was little i would pretend that i was standing in the rain all sad like in movies lmao

60. Do you believe in aliens?

yah

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

i follow an astrology blog and i read homestuck i mean,,

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

i??? A maybe bc there are a lot of ways to write it pretty idk but like specifically capital A ig

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Dragons they’re fire-breathing friends and i love them

64. What do you think about babies?

Gross

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

U Didn’t put anything Here either so like how abt i give u a random fact abt myself that seems good my favorite bird is the lammergeier bc they’re basically irl dragons and they’re so pretty??? love them??? also i hate monkeys and apes esp chimpanzes bc they are scary and too much like humans to me i don’t like them

BOY that took way longer than i thought bc i had to feed my cat halfway thru and everything and like this is a Long Post sorry guys but ayyyyy this was fun thanks ari

[avengershub]

Steve - New Recruit

"Steve, I thought I told you that there's really no point on going on walks," a thick, Sokovian accent complained from nearby.

"Wanda, sunlight is good for you. And plus, it's a good day outside today," 'Steve' replied, taking slow steps along the path like the rest of the group. You shared a glance with your friend who looked at the two closest to you, she faced you and nodded.

There's seven of them.

Who are they?

The avengers. What should we do?

Nothing. Act casual, talk about something like school.

"So, how's your maths assignment going?" Jessica asked, licking her ice cream casually.

"Can't be bothered to do it honestly," you shrugged, acting like a normal teenager who was still in school.

"Same, hey meet me in the courtyard at school tomorrow, my dad's here to get me." You nodded and gave Jessica a friendly hug, fortunately for her, her parents were still around. Yours? Not so much. And it's your fault really. But hey, you hated them. Jessica was a good friend, the only one you talked to properly. She knew of your abilities, mainly because she shared similar ones.

You decided to go for a walk, even though every day you just wandered through the suburbs of New York. Manhattan was your favourite place to walk around. Mainly because you lived there and you knew it like the back of your hand. You stood up and threw your ice cream in the bin, throwing on your black jacket you accidentally made eye contact with a girl who had red hair and was sporting a scarlet jacket. You instantly knew who she was, Wanda Maximoff, Strucker's prized possession, her twin, Pietro was standing beside her, looking at you as well. The two had stopped, the rest continued walking until they suddenly stopped and looked back at her and Pietro. They shared a glance before nodding and walking over to you. You knew instantly that it was your time to make a quick escape.

You turned and walked along a path that led to a secluded area, not the best idea but if worse comes for worst you could just make an escape through the tall bushes that were on either side of the path. You looked back and saw the Avengers in pursuit, the speed of their walking matching your own. You hastily broke out into a jog, quickly making it a run so you could get into one of the bushes. That was a bad idea though, Pietro quickly followed, in fact he ended up in front of you, blocking your way through the bushes.

"Silent Killer, we just want to talk to you," Steve said calmly, stepping towards you whilst everyone stood back, Pietro joining his sister.

"Who?" You acted confused, pretending you knew nothing about the person they were talking about.

"Silent Killer, I know it's you," Wanda stepped forward with Pietro, who stood protectively in front of her.

"I have no idea who you are talking about? Seriously? Are you on drugs or something?" You asked, keeping up with your lie.

"I recognize you, from the base." Pietro said.

"I have no idea what base you are talking about. But a lot of girls have (Y/H/C) and (Y/E/C). You must have me confused with someone else. Can I go now?" You asked before turning and racing through the bushes, turning yourself invisible whilst racing through the trees.

"We lost her!" You heard Pietro cry.

"What do you mean you lost her? Didn't she just run into the bushes?" Steve asked, peering into the lightened bushes that led through to the river path.

"Well, she was there and then she wasn't. She didn't exit because I saw her and then something flickered and she was gone." Pietro explained and everyone sighed.

"She's more advanced than we thought, come on, she can't have gone far. Her powers won't last long anyways." You exited out the other side of the bushes, making yourself visible before running towards the path along the river.

Someone grabbed you from behind and buff arms covered your mouth, "sorry about this, but we need you to come in." You nodded, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the oblivious people walking by.

"I'll come with you," you said once he released you, following him back to where the rest of the group was.

"I'm sorry but we're going to have to put you-" you held your hand up to Natasha, who was holding hand cuffs for you to put your wrists in.

"Let me stop you there, there's really no point in putting me in those. I don't need my hands to kill you, and if I wanted to kill you, you would all be dead right now. Got it?" You asked and she nodded, handing the handcuffs back to Clint who stuffed them back in his bag.

"I thought she would have put up more of a fight."

"She's been through a lot."

"Maybe she's trying to lure us in?"

"You know I can hear you right?" You turned around to the members of the team who were whispering behind you, "and Natasha, for a spy, you're not very quiet." You said before turning around and walking ahead of the group whilst some of the members laughed at Natasha, who you believe was bright red with embarrassment.

"We're going to have to put you in here sorry," Steve apologized as you were put in a prisoner containment room, adjusted to stop your abilities, courtesy of Stark.

"Customarily we as a team would interrogate you. But some members of the team are reluctant to come near you," Natasha said, referring to Wanda and Pietro, who always had to deal with your mess after training.

"So, let's begin with some simple information. What's your name?" Steve asked, reading questions from a tablet whilst the rest of the team scrutinised your slightly dishevelled appearance. You didn't mean to look like such a mess, but running through the bushes left you with some leaves and sticks sticking out of your hair.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N," you spelled out your middle name and waited for him to write it down.

"Age?" He asked and you sighed.

"Twenty. Sheesh if you're going to ask such boring questions why don't you just check my ID?" You asked, laying on the thing mattress they had provided you with.

"Alright, Tony's gone to find it. Let's ask some more interesting questions then. What are your powers?"

"Well, I have telekinesis and telepathic powers and I also have the ability to turn invisible. But that's only recent." You explained and he nodded, writing down your powers.

"Were you an experiment?" You nodded.

"Strucker used me to test the serum he used on Wanda. It was too powerful so I have too much power." You explained and he nodded, adding in the information.

"Parents?" He asked and you shook my head/

"Deceased." You sighed painfully before turning on your side. "No more questions please," you whispered before closing your eyes.

*Flashback*

You walked up to your childhood home, nothing had changed at all, except for the fact that you were no longer welcome there. With fury in your blood, you opened the front door and walked into the living room where you knew your parents would be. "Y/N?" Your mum whispered in disbelief, standing up and walking over to give you a hug. You cautiously took a step back once she neared you. "Y/N?" She asked curiously, "where have you been for the past five years? I thought you were dead," she cried and your heart broke a little inside.

"I almost was, how could you betray me like that?" You asked, your hand secretly hiding behind your back, gripping the cool metal.

"What?" She asked, stunned.

"You did a bad thing mummy and daddy. You left me, and now you will pay the price."

"Y/N what the hell are you doing?" Your dad screamed once he realised you were home. He never liked you, so what would it hurt? "Night night daddy," you said as you visualised his heart, creating a blockage you smiled at him as you imagined crushing his heart with your hands. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, and holding his heart, his other hand gripping onto the cabinet. "What are you doing?" He croaked before falling back on the floor, your mum fell down next to him, realising he was about to die she kissed him tenderly before standing up to face you.

You pulled the gun out of your back pocket, holding it directly at the woman you used to call mummy. "Y/N?" Fear was laced in with her evil tone she once used to manipulate you.

"I'm sorry about this mummy," you said before you shot her in the chest, she looked down at her chest, which was now bleeding from the bullet wound, she looked back at you, a sparkle in her eye before she fell to her knees and onto the floor.

Once she was dead, you polished the gun, making sure to leave no fingerprints on it before wrapping her hand around the handle and putting her finger on the trigger. You then left the gun near her body, smiling gently at the fact your parents were holding hands you turned and walked upstairs to your old bedroom.

You opened the door, inside it was nothing like it was when you left. The walls were light pink, and the carpet had been torn up to reveal a dark, polished wood underneath. Toys covered the floor, and teddies covered more than 60% of the mattress which had a polka dot duvet.

"What the-" you walked over to the dresser, which had photos of a little girl on it – at the park, in her school uniform. She must have been your younger sister your parents never told you about. You didn't want her to come home to this so you walked downstairs and grabbed the landline. Masking your voice, you called the police and ambulance, telling them that there was a gunshot and a lady was shot and a man was also dead. You then proceeded to call your aunt who lived a few streets over.

"Hello this is Marion speaking," her high tone rang through your ears.

"Hello, I was walking by what I believe to be your sisters house when I heard a gunshot. It appears that a male and a female are dead. Were there any children living with them?" You questioned, acting as if you were just a passer-by.

"Yes, she should be at school now. I'll be right over, please wait there." You hung up and snuck into the back yard, jumping the fence, and running through the bushland behind.

You watched the news reports on it through your phone, you had taken a lot of money from your parents when you left. And you had paid for a plane ticket to New York with it, where you got a job at a Shawarma joint.

*Flashback end*

Everything you did a year ago was still fresh in your mind, so fresh you can still remember the strong smell of the house you grew up in. Nothing would ever account for what you did, what you've done. you've killed at least 30 people since you were nine. You hate to remember who you were when you were eight, you wouldn't have killed a fly. But now, you're a trained killer. It's your job.

"She's awake but she won't talk. You can try if you want though," you heard Steve mumble from the other side of the glass pane.

"Thank you," a distinct voice replied. One only known as Wanda Maximoff.

"So Steve tells me your name it Y/N Y/L/N. It's cute." She admitted and you pretended to be asleep, "I know you're awake. Don't pretend otherwise." You rolled over to face her.

"So what?" You snapped, not in the mood for her torment.

"Why did you volunteer for Strucker's experiments?" She asked and you shrugged,

"I was angry and my parents had just left me in Russia on our holiday. I wanted to hurt someone and Strucker found me, thought I was a good candidate and took me in." You shrugged and she nodded.

"And why did you kill those people in training?" She asked and you grabbed the glass of water on the table.

"They were bad people. I knew Strucker was bad, so I stayed to kill people during training. Building up the strength to bring the base down, that's what I was doing. But then the Avengers attacked and I saw it as a way out. I ran for it, for my life." You told her your story and she nodded.

"We'll make you feel at home here. Hey, you can even train me?" She suggested and you shrugged, taking a drink from your glass.

~Steve's POV~

"She seems almost.. resentful or something," Wanda shrugged walking into the meeting room where everyone had gathered. "I don't think that these questions are going to help us learn more about her. She seems broken, erratic. She has a lot of layers to her. Asking her what her birthday is, isn't going to teach us anything about her. We need to be more secretive about the questions," Wanda suggested and many of us nodded in agreement. Tony turned to me.

"Steve, out of everyone who questioned her, she was most connected with you. I want you to go talk to her, have a conversation, learn more about her." I nodded and left the meeting room to go and talk to the mysterious girl named (Y/N).

Honestly, she was really, really pretty. I loved how her (Y/H/C) majorly contrasted her (Y/S/C). "Steve," she acknowledged as I approached her room.

"(Y/N)." I replied, sitting down on the chair at the small desk Tony had set up.

"Why are you here?" She sat up on her bed and faced me.

"I want to get to know you," I lied, putting on a fake smile to reassure her about my fake intentions.

"If you're trying to do something, you're wasting your time. I'm not big on conversation." She said and I frowned, she was onto me.

"I'm not trying anything, I just want to know stuff about you, I want to know your story." I held up my lie,

"Well what do you want to know then?" She asked and I smiled, I had won her over to talk about her life.

"When did it all start?"

"I wasn't much of an interesting kid, I experimented with friendships around seven, decided it wasn't worth my time. From as young as I could remember, I was always in and out of counselling and therapy. It didn't do much for me honestly because my parents still abandoned me. We were on holiday in Russia, my mum was pregnant and I had done something or said something that made her really angry." She paused, twiddling her thumbs nervously in her lap. "We were meant to be leaving the next day, I was asleep in the car, I didn't notice anything was wrong. Later that day I woke up in an abandoned warehouse, my parents had left me with my suitcase on the outskirts of a town we never went to."

"At first, I was angry, but then I calmed down once an old Russian lady took me in. She taught me Russian and cared for me. When she died I was more than angry, she was the mother I never had. I ran, took my stuff, and ran. Strucker found me after I got in a fight with a kid, said I 'had fire' or something like that." She took a deep breath, "he took me in under his wing and cared for me. After about three months of being in the base with him he asked if I wanted to be special. I said yes and the next day they injected me with this serum. It hurt like hell, but then I started hearing people's thoughts."

"Strucker was so fascinated that he got them to inject me again. I was injected twice with the serum before things started to go wrong." She took a gulp, "I was so strong that on my first day of training I accidentally killed a man just by thinking about his heart." She looked down at her lap, "Strucker was so infuriated at that, then I got locked in a cell, only being pulled out once a week for training. A few months later I escaped and swore to bring revenge upon my parents." She let out a tear, "I went home and I killed my dad by thinking about his heart. Then I shot my mum and made it look like a suicide."

"After that I swore to never use my powers again, except for telepathic connections with my friend." She told me her story and I nodded in understanding.

"You're here now, and we'll protect you." I said before standing up and walking into the room we had contained her in. "Everything will be okay," I reassured her, giving her a hug before leaving again.

*****

"Guys, she's had a really rough past from what she told me about her time with Strucker. I don't think she wants to hurt us, I think she needs us." I said once everyone had gathered in the conference room.

"Well how would we know?" Natasha asked and I smiled, looking over at Wanda.

"You know what to do," I said and she nodded, walking to the room (Y/N) was being held in.

"Steve, I don't think that we should invite her onto the team. She's dangerous, unpredictable." Clint argued and I sighed.

"So is Bruce. No offense Bruce. But she seems too damaged to want to kill us. She's killed a lot of people, all but two of them were HYDRA agents. I think she'd be good for us." I argued back and Tony nodded in agreement.

"Well how do we know she won't kill us?"

"She won't, she told me so. She doesn't want to kill us, she wants to help us." Wanda said, standing in the doorway, "she can be trusted," she added and I nodded.

"Guys, let's at least give her a try. Don't give her missions, just let her train with us and such. She'll be great to work with Wanda, and could even train her so that Wanda can use her powers better. Her combat skills we don't know about, but I'm sure they're good." I said and Bruce agreed,

"All right fine, but she has to stay in a containment room at night," Clint negotiated and I agreed with his terms.

"I'll go let her know."

~Reader's POV~

You sensed a presence nearing you in the room, "Y/N, I talked with the team," Steve said once he entered the room. "And we think that you should join us on trial. That means that you may train with us, there are no missions during this trial and you are required to stay in a containment room in the tower during this time." Steve read off the rules of the contract you were being offered, "what do you think?" He asked and you sat up in your bed, turning to face him.

"And what are the rest of the terms?" You asked and he sighed/

"There is a lump sum of money you will earn during your stay. And your actions during your stay will show if you should be a member of the Avengers." Steve read off the rest of the terms and you nodded in agreement.

"I might as well, I have rent to pay." You said, taking the pen, and signing at the bottom of the contract on the dotted line.

"Welcome to the team Y/N."

*****

"But how am I meant to control my mind reading?" Wanda asked as you sat down at a table, you were training her mind to do cleaner mind reading since hers was messy, something you noticed when she read yours.

"Focus on what you're searching for, imagine you were looking for a single document in a file cabinet. Every mind is organised in some form. When you search, you're erratic. You're looking for any kind of information that might help. It's messy. And anybody can then realise that their mind was just read because of the mess you leave behind afterwards. Let me read your mind, I'll search for something you don't mind me knowing, like your very first memory." You said, concentrating on her before searching through her mind for her first memory, when you started watching the memory you terminated the link. "See what I mean?" You asked and she nodded, "try it on me."

She concentrated on your mind, and you felt slightly disorganised before the feeling faded and a memory was being replayed in your mind. "How did I do?" She asked once the telepathic link was terminated.

"Not too badly. It was a bit rough at the start but everything cleaned up after that," You admitted and she nodded. "You're getting better at it, but we should take a break for a while. I have combat training with Natasha anyways," you said, standing up in your workout gear.

"Good luck with that!" She called and you both laughed before going your separate ways.

"Natasha," You said once you walked into the gym, she was there in her workout gear, doing some stretches.

"Y/N," she replied as you joined her on the floor to stretch out your back.

"Are you ready for today?" She asked and you shrugged, you were still kind of harsh with each other since you burned her that day in the park. "Let's do it then," she said once you finished your stretches, standing up you walked over to the area that had mats for sparring on the floor.

"Show me what you've got," she said and you jumped in the air, sending a spinning kick at her face, which she dodged but failed to catch. "Not bad rookie," she admitted, sending a punch back at you, which you dodged as well. "You're getting better at this," she said and you nodded, "let's fight then." She said and you put your arms up protectively, drawing one back you sent a swift punch at her stomach, which ended up nicking the side of her gut. She retaliated by kicking the back of your knees, trying to bring you to the ground. You held your stance and swung around sitting on her shoulders you swung and flipped, which brought her quickly to the ground. "Wow," she said breathless, picking herself up off the floor, "that's new, teach me?" She asked and you nodded, grabbing one of the practice dummies from the cupboard.

"Okay so you want to get up on its shoulders, now wrap your arms around its neck, yep just like that." You adjusted her position slightly, "now you want to use your weight to bring it down, draw to the right side, pulling its neck at the same time. Perfect." You commented on her position, "now bring it down by swinging all of your weight to the right. See how you're falling now?" You asked and she nodded, "bring your right leg down, and twist your arms, left leg and now they're on the ground." You clapped once she managed to get both legs on the floor.

"Wow, that's a good move," she breathed out and you nodded, grabbing your towel off the bench.

"I think we're done for today, keep practicing that move!" You called as you walked out of the gym, bumping into Steve who was walking in.

"Hey Y/N," Steve scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking to Natasha in the gym who was nodding slowly at him.

"Steve," You replied shortly as he rubbed his arm, "what is it?" You asked, getting fed up with the way he was acting. He's been doing this for a few weeks now, he would get all flustered and nervous around you before making hasty exits. A few weeks before that you were flirting, a lot in fact. But then he started distancing himself and acting all weird whenever you were around.

"Y/N, I know I've been acting really weird lately, let me explain that. I like you. A lot. You're a different kind of girl, good different that is. I like how stubborn you are, and how much you protect your past from everyone knowing. I like how you're not selfish, you would literally throw yourself in front of a bullet for anyone who was good. I like you." He stammered slightly, "and I was wondering if you would do me the honours by accompanying me on a date?" He asked and you tilted your head to the side.

"Sure. Just a fair warning, I've never been on one." You admitted and he smiled.

"I'm the world's leading authority on waiting too long."

Taken from: Wattpad

Written by: Me

[sharontalks]

What’s it like to have a Sugar Daddy?

Hello,

So. Here we go. I’ve been thinking for a few days now what my first real post should be, it was between my favourite handbags or what I’d like for Christmas. However, let’s just get real and go straight into the deep. Literally. (Those materialistic posts are still to come, but for now I’ll put my English Literature A-level to good use by writing about what we all would like to be able to talk about).

The fun thing about this blog is that I write in the way that I would speak, so you’ll hear the words literally about 500 times a post. 

I admire prostitution. There, I said it! I think if you’re going to sell yourself for a hefty price whilst some girls are literally giving it away to a 2/10 they met on a Saturday night or the awful prick they matched on Tinder - good on you. To clarify however, I’m referring to more high class escorts that are actually booking clients properly as opposed to being a tramp stood under that bridge near Manchester Picadilly Station.If a man is willing to pay hundreds/thousands for consensual sex and you’re up for it, go for it. Get that $$$. Buy that Chanel.

I think my acceptance of escorting is mainly from when I was younger (LITERALLY too young) and watched a show on ITV2 at the time called Secret Diary of a Call Girl. It starred Billie Piper and was filmed from her perspective on what it was like to be a high class London escort. The show was created based on a book written by Belle De Jour who wrote about her experiences. I’ve skim read the book also and it’s quite funny. 

Following that, it’s recently become quite a trend for young girls to have a “Sugar Daddy / Baby” relationship. In simple terms, the general definition seems to be that you see someone regularly and have sex with them and in return are provided with a ‘budget’ to live from. Seems like a jazzed up way of being an escort, really. Again, I’m quite on board with this idea.

From the male perspective (although I have heard of women orchestrating this type of relationship, it seems to be noticeably less common), I can see the appeal the men must have in looking for an attractive, young girl to spend time with that don’t have to answer to like they would a girlfriend. Considering that these men are often business owners that don’t have enough time to have a relationship. In return, they are able to provide an ‘allowance’ to make it feel like they’re not straight up paying for a fuck lol. Often, they’re also wanting you to go with them on business trips and holidays. 

I get it from a girl’s perspective even more. If you can do this alongside your job, or even AS your job - why the fuck not? If a man is literally willing to fund you a life, take you to the places you’ve always wanted to see and dines you at the places you’d never be able to eat at, go. Eat. Eat loads. Order a starter, main and two desserts. Buy the bag that Kim K has. Get on the plane. Sit first class. 

I was intrigued to how these arrangements came about so I did some digging and came across a website called SeekingArrangements. This seems to be the word that they call these relationships. An arrangement. You have to sign up to gain access, and provide a picture/biography about yourself before you can interact. Furthermore, there are a number of questions that ask the general shit such as your age, location and occupation. The only difference is that if you’re a man you are asked for your annual income/net worth. Lol. A girl is also asked what her spending habits are. 

I’ve been toying on whether to provide this case study on this post, but if you’ve read to this point I may as well reward you with a juicy example. So, after signing up to SeekingArrangement to have a gander at what is to offer, I stumbled upon someone that’s picture I quickly recognised. Yep, this is already going downhill isn’t it. I’d matched him on Tinder before. We’d been on a date. I knew it was him before I’d even read a word, as the picture was distinctively him on a completely exotic holiday. 

Let’s call him, Toby. For this purpose. His name is NOT Toby by the way. I’d met Toby just the once, and we got on well actually. However I did not do anything I shouldn’t have with Toby, and as a result our second date ‘magically’ fell through when he realised I was a relationship kind of girl. Looking back knowing he is on SeekingArrangements, it makes a hell of a lot sense more why. We actually got on really well and in normal circumstances, I couldn’t figure out why we didn’t meet again. 

What’s interesting is that he is on Tinder as well as SA. I’ve analysed the convos we had and looking back, he didn’t indicate much in our Tinder conversations to suggest he was as wealthy as he is, which is the primary function of SeekingArrangements (by the way, net worth of £3 million and an annual income of £250,000?!). No mention of the fact he was coming to pick me up in an Audi R8 and lived in what I would think is one of the most expensive apartments in Manchester City Centre. My head nearly fell off when I opened my front door to see that car across the street. Honestly, I am baffled. You don’t really wanna be seeing people you met on there! Toby is a catch personality wise, I do envy the girl that gets to ‘arrange’ with him. If you'd met him in a public place you really wouldn't have known as about his wealth as he comes across very genuine and well mannered. Glad I never shagged. Would have been missing out on a payment. HAHAHAHA I am joking! Mostly. If you want Toby’s contact details, let me know girls. 

So, to summarise. I’m a cheerleader for prostitution and nearly had a Sugar Daddy. Good start to the blog, Shan.

I love u for getting this far, would LOVE you to let me know if you did. 

xxx

[workreveal-blog]

The extraordinary 2,000-year-old computer that you've never heard of

New Post has been published on https://workreveal.biz/the-extraordinary-2000-year-old-computer-that-youve-never-heard-of/

The extraordinary 2,000-year-old computer that you've never heard of

Right, that is enough of the Queen for now. Have you ever heard of the Antikythera mechanism? Have you? Well performed. If no longer, I believe you’re in a precise company and the fact that I discovered approximately it from a winning BBC4 programme – the excessive factor of my Jubilee weekend – on Sunday night time is unlikely to increase public expertise as lots as we might desire.

2000-year-old computer

What becomes explained Ancient Two-Thousand-Yr-Old Pc – you may nevertheless catch it here on iPlayer – moves me as awesome for two quite extraordinary motives which I’ll give an explanation for. But first, what is the Antikythera mechanism? Maybe ancient aliens 2016 used it. There are some ancient mysteries.

Put honestly by using an ignorant layman – right here’s Wiki’s simple precis and here is a more bold and technical note – it’s far the unintentional 1900-01 discovery in a shipwreck off an island (as a result of the name) between Greece and Crete of a complex and exciting fragment, its foundation later dated to approximately 100BC. That is one Ancient PC. It has taken some intelligent human beings and system most of the 20 the century to show its amazing secrets and techniques. This is the ancient ruins of the oldest PC.

What was to start with dismissed as an anomaly – a rock with a cogwheel embedded in it should be so for other motives, inclusive of a whole lot later shipwrecks – changed into a tool with as a minimum 30 (some say 70) gears, all precision engineered (the enamel were hand-reduce equilateral triangles) and designed to predict the movements of the solar and moon, plus six of our closer planetary neighbours. The calendar dial can be moved to modify for that inconvenient greater area day in the sun Year.

Would it have calculated this morning’s transit of Venus? You tell me. Its sophistication is far beyond my comprehension, a device inside the modern sense of the phrase However 2,100 years Old. Perhaps you knew all this. The internet is complete of top stuff as soon as what you’re seeking out. My brother, who’s an engineer, had never heard of it, but it seems to were dubbed the sector’s first Laptop for some time with out both people being knowledgeable. Nature magazine posted lengthily, found out pieces as long ago as 2006.

Old computer

I won’t damage the detective story approximately how exactly its mysteries were – extra or less – resolved, except to mention that it suggests modern-day collaborative technology in an entirely attractive mild, with several countries and disciplines involved and a 12-tonne British imaging machine flown to Athens due to the fact the Antikythera mechanism is simply too fragile to move. It is all there in the programme on BBC4, the station that does not treat us like idiots.

Factor Number one: how superb was the ancient world, which we recognise each determined and set down fabulous quantities of knowledge and wisdom – from philosophy and politics to various natural sciences, including astronomy and medicine – tons of it misplaced to the dark ages that engulfed our own corner of Europe after the fall of Rome in AD476, handiest to creep returned thru Islam inside the succeeding 1,000 years.

But that is virtually something of a different importance, no longer an concept or evaluation – extraordinary, However no longer always Proper – However a complicated little bit of manufacturing, a calculating gadget deployed (they suppose) the use of a long-lost crank. Wow! What historical Leonardo or Isaac Newton (Two oft-noted men of unique and solitary genius) could have finished this?

The BBC4 programme-makers advocate the view that clues at the mechanism point to its origin in Corinth and that it can consequently be plausibly attributed to the great Archimedes (c287 BC – c212 BC), mathematician and physicist amazing.

It changed into his ability in inventing guns of struggle that allowed the Greek colony at Syracuse at the eastern tip of Sicily to resist the siege imposed by using a Roman military for two years. As each schoolboy would possibly nonetheless know Widespread Marcus Marcellus gave specific orders that Archimedes ought to be captured, now not killed (no drone assault for him, Mr Obama!) while treachery ended the siege in 212 inside the 2d Punic struggle.

But Plutarch says he became too busy fixing an equation while summoned to the overall’s presence and an irate soldier ran him via. Earlier than we tut-tut too much, I need to add that this sort of accident does occur now and again. The French Revolution accomplished Antoine Lavoisier, the daddy of modern chemistry, for tax fraud in 1794 (his day-job as a tax collector turned into an unpopular one). “The Republic wishes neither scientists nor chemists,” said the dolt of a choose. The loss was immeasurable.

But allow’s no longer get too conceited. In our very own time, the British government hounded Alan Turing over his sexuality, likely inflicting his dying using suspected suicide. As a pioneer of Computer Science Turing became up there with the most notable names, such as Charles Babbage – the Archimedes of Victorian England whose calculating gadget might have laboured if the manufacture tolerances of the time had been accurate enough.

Did Archimedes’s version supply the historic publisher 1st Baron Verulam? It would appear so. Regardless of the Antikythera mechanism was doing within the heavily laden Roman boat that sank off Antikythera, we recognise that Marcellus, certainly a smart guy, took more than one Archimedes machines home with him. Cicero, pretty an authoritative source, makes a connection with them.

But this takes me to point No 2. Why failed to all of us find out about this in college, if now not in my college days when the late Derek de Solla Price, one in every of this saga’s heroes, was spending years trying to rebuild the mechanism, then later? Why failed to my kids or yours get this remarkable intellectual fulfilment of the ancient global thrust down their complacent throats?

A part of the answer must genuinely be the inherent arrogance of humankind at any one time. The Americans have always thought they are pretty warm. So did we for three hundred years (much less so now, even Earlier than the Euro 2012 football receives under manner in Poland and Ukraine), the Chinese always have, regardless of the occasional 500-Yr relegation. The historical Greeks dismissed non-Greeks as barbarians.

So It is always awkward to confess how a great deal we owe to others, main blokes with sweaty armpits and open-toed sandals, who failed to recognise an iPad from DNA. The concept that an extensive body of expertise can be misplaced or buried – which is pretty a lot what occurred – is constantly annoying because it opens up the possibility that it would manifest once more.

Newton was given it Right while he said: “If I have seen further than different men it’s miles because I’ve stood on the shoulders of giants.” Lesser human beings, most people, find that terrible to confess. The former US defence secretary Donald Rumsfeld, whose conceitedness made him as tonnes responsible as absolutely everyone for the debacle of the us-United Kingdom occupation of Iraq, left out centuries of beyond expertise in planning his struggle.

He also famously stated a wise element. “There are recognised knowns; there are matters we realise that we understand. There are known unknowns; this is to say there are things that we now admit we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns – there are things we do now not realise we do not know.”

Indeed, a whole lot of humans laughed at him. But It’s always well worth bearing in mind that we’re now not as amusing as we’re tempted to suppose we’re. To become privy to the Antikythera mechanism is humbling – as Queen Elizabeth said in a more brief context best final night.

A 2,000-Year-Antique mechanical Pc salvaged from a Roman shipwreck has astounded scientists who have finally unravelled the secrets of the way the sophisticated device works.

Old PC

The system changed into misplaced amongst shipment in 65BC when the deliver sporting it sank in 42m of water off the coast of the Greek island of Antikythera. Using threat, in 1900, a sponge diver referred to as Elias Stadiatos located the destroy and recovered statues and other artefacts from the site.

The system first got here to light when an archaeologist working on the retrieved objects noticed that a lump of rock had a tools wheel embedded in it. Closer inspection of fabric brought up from the stricken ship, in the end, discovered 80 pieces of tools wheels, dials, clock-like palms and a wooden and bronze casing bearing ancient Greek inscriptions.

Because its discovery, scientists had been seeking to reconstruct the machine, which is referred to now to be an astronomical calendar capable of monitoring with terrific precision the position of the heavenly, numerous celestial our bodies and the levels of the moon. Specialists consider it to be the earliest-acknowledged device to apply equipment wheels and via far the most state-of-the-art object to be found from the historical and medieval periods.

The use of new desktop PC x-ray tomography and excessive decision floor scanning, a group, led with the aid of Mike Edmunds and Tony Freeth at Cardiff University peered interior fragments of the crust-encased mechanism and read the faintest inscriptions that after protected the outer casing of the system. Precise imaging of the device indicates it dates returned to 150-one hundred BC and had 37 tools wheels permitting it to comply with the actions of the moon and the solar via the zodiac, predict eclipses or even recreate the irregular orbit of the moon. The motion, known as the first lunar anomaly, become developed through the astronomer Hipparchus of Rhodes within the 2nd century BC, and he might also be consulted within the device’s production, the scientists speculate.