#my grandma had a stroke and it was real bad

[boyhooters]

I think it is so interesting that, time and time again, worsening economic conditions result in a radicalized left youth. Growing up in dire conditions inspires them to do better.

I'm not saying it's good we have to live like this, I'm saying those who have put such oppressive systems in place NEVER fucking learn their lessons.

[artdcnaldson]

UGH ok twist my arm i guess!!!! as a little treat!!!! dr donaldson <3

so gynecologist art, yall, doctor donaldson. cat and i were in the dms TRUST. so art decides that he should probably have a backup plan, just in case tennis doesnt work out after college. he doesnt expect to actually need it because his tennis is going great, hes on track to go pro very soon. but JUST in case, he decides to use his good grades to study some kind of medicine. initially he had thought some kind of sports medicine, if nothing else then it would be good knowledge for himself down the line.

but after his grandma passes (not of a stroke) and he hears his family discussing how if only her gynecologist had paid better attention and taken her serious she might have lived longer (idk anything about medicine but probably some kind of cancer yknow?). anyway he sees that a his motivation and picks gynecology as his field. patrick absolutely teases him to death over it, "you're gonna be a pussy doctor? what so you just get to look at naked chicks all day? i'd quit tennis for that too". again he's not really expecting to need it, so he doesnt take it too hard. but he's kind of obviously the only guy in the course, and the girls all think he's kind of weird for wanting to pursue a field of medicine that isnt relevant to him. but after him telling the story about his grandmother they all coo and comfort him that its okey and they understand.

he does well in all his classes because he does truly find it interesting and wants to do his best to help women. but as he's getting ready to go pro, he has an accident on the court, as he's going to return a long ball he twists his ankle and takes a bad fall. his recovery is good, but his ankle will never be as it was before, and his chances of the big tennis dream slowly dies. and ultimately he's just unwilling to spend his life as a struggling tennis player, when he could be making a real difference.

now that he has his own practice he likes to tell that story to his new patients, especially the ones who seem tense with the fact that he's a man, who will be examining their most private area. it does well to ease their minds. hes been doing this for many years now, he enjoys the work, and the women who come to him are happy with his work. his patients are typically slightly older women, as they're not as phased by a male gynecologist, whereas most younger women arent as comfortable with the idea. he doesnt mind that, in fact he understands perfectly. honestly hes grateful for it, he fears the day he might have a patient whos just a bit too attractive and he'll have to struggle to keep his cool.

that day unfortunately comes sooner than he had hoped. its your first appointment with him after having him recommended by a friend, you had contacted him and told him how you were very unhappy with your current doctor and wanted to try something else. not having had a male doctor before, except like your dentist, youre very nervous for the appointment. not knowing what to expect from it, or how seriously he will take your issues. out of nervous habit youve gotten ready for the appointment as if it were a date rather than a clinical exam. showered, shaved, cute panties, hair and makeup done. its all totally unnecessary, but the moment you see him for the first time you thank the divine for looking your absolute best. GOD hes so hot. far too hot to be a doctor. lets just say that he wears scrubs because theyre so sexy, and they truly are criminally flattering on him. he sits on his chair, typing away as youre lead into the room by an assistant. as soon as he looks up and asks you to have a seat with him, you both know youre screwed. the tension is immediately noticeable as you discuss your reason for coming in, just a routine check because your last doctor wouldnt do it thorough enough and didnt listen enough to your issues.

he leaves the room while you strip off and leave your clothes in a neat little pile, panties clearly on top in the hope that he'll see them and think theyre cute. and he does, in fact his eyes keep fluttering to them as hes getting ready for the exam. he has to adjust his chair a little lower in the hopes that you cant see that he's getting hard. meanwhile youre going from soaking to sopping wet as you watch him put on the latex gloves, snapping them against his wrist.

he can tell that you're tense, but as its your first appointment with a male gynecologist, he assumes thats the reason, and not the fact that youre mortifyingly wet. he tries to calm your nerves by telling you what he'll be doing, he sits right in front of you on his chair and tells you how first he'll examine externally, just checking for anything irregular. then an internal exam with the same purpose, and then finally a physical exam where he will just have to feel your tummy as well as your pelvis to ensure everything is as it should be. totally routine stuff, nothing out of the ordinary, if anything hes far more attentive and careful to make sure youre comfortable. but the way hes saying it, his voice and the way he's looking at you has you clenching your thighs shut and trying to keep yourself from making a puddle on the table.

as he gathers his tools he asks you to place your legs in the stirrups, he sees you struggling a little to get your right leg properly in place, he gently grabs your leg and helps you place it properly. goosebumps cover you leg as he pulls his hand away again. you can feel how wet you are as youre not totally exposed to him, dripping wet, youve been less wet when hooking up with people. this is just from interacting with him briefly, really its embarrassing. hes so sweet asking if everythings alright, and if he can do anything to help you relax. and after squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath for a second you finally get out that you just feel like youre really wet, and youre not youre not sure why, this doesnt usually happen. hes so sweet, trying to reassure you, telling you its perfectly normal. its a natural response from your body, if anything its a sign that youre healthy!

hes not lying, he really does mean what hes saying, it is good and it is normal. but hes never seen anyone be quite this wet during an appointment in his office. youre soaked, its practically dripping onto the table and forming a puddle. if he was sporting a semi under the table he might have referred you to a different doctor. but youre so pretty he cant help himself.

he really does try his best to stay professional and not let his attraction crack through and distract from his work. but fuck youre so tight around his latex covered fingers when hes doing the exam. and you only squeeze down tighter when he tries to reassure you, tell you youre doing good. its making it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. it takes everything in him to keep his hands from drifting and moving to find those sweet spots inside of you. he doesnt have to deprive himself for long tho as he accidentally brushed against your gspot. his cheeks turn bright pink as he hears a tiny moan escape your lips. and youd been so good at keeping them in the whole time too. but this one couldnt be contained. he stays good, doesnt say anything, just carries on with his work. but he almost lets out a moan of his own as he sees the ring of cream gathered around his gloved fingers.

he takes his work very seriously and he doesnt take the idea of losing his medical license due to malpractice lightly, so he wouldnt be just giving in to his urges. his resolve breaking doent come lightly, its a big deal to him. he goes home that day and jerks off in the shower while thinking about you, he knows exactly what your pussy looks like, what it feels like, how soaking wet you got for him. he cums again in his bed and humps his mattress while dreaming about you. he wakes up and decided he needs to see you again. asks his assistant to set up another appointment with you. when he asks what for, he stutters and says something about needing to do some tests just to be sure of something. hes lying, obviously, but he needs to see you again. he cant stop thinking about your tight little cunt...

-🐞

ladybug your mind amazes me... <3

He can't risk medical malpractice, and he really is a good doctor, he loves his work, he wants to help people. And he's really never, ever reacted this way to a patient before, but god, he can't get you out of his mind.

So maybe he schedules a follow up for a week later. Maybe his heart is racing and his palms sweat when he walks into the examination room and sees you in the little fabric gown, hands in your lap, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He feels like a nervous teenager on a first date, not a fucking healthcare professional.

He listens to you speak about your concerns, walks through your test results from the week prior. Everything looks good, he says. Nothing felt abnormal, your body is working just how it's supposed to. Do you have any questions for me?

You shake your head, sweet and shy, aching for an excuse to get his hands on you again, but running low on things you can ask for.

[achaotichuman]

See the thing with Tamlin having a daughter, he's absolutely a single parent and has no clue what the fuck he's doing.

So, balancing having a newborn with also rebuilding a Court from the ground up would be one of the most mentally taxing jobs he's ever had. He's so exhausted and can barely think straight or string a sentence together, and there's no real help in Spring, because most of the servants, or nurses, or anyone that could provide any support are still wary to enter.

So, he reaches a point where he's like, 'If I keep going like this, I'm not going to survive.'

Therefore, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Tamlin goes to one source of help that might take pity on the situation, or least on his daughter Dahlia.

And goes to Day, where Andrea, former Lady of Autumn, is staying with Helion.

Cue super adorable step in grandma and grandpa Lady of Autumn and Helion.

Anyway, it would start something like this.

Rain pounded down on the Day lands. People rushed inside, desperately dragging signs and chairs into buildings. Using books, clothing, anything to shield themselves from the onslaught of water that poured and poured from the raging dark clouds above. 

Andrea drank jasmine-infused honey sweet tea. The warm liquid slipped down her throat, and soothing her body. The Day palace was warm and dry, a stark difference from the thunder and lightning cracking in the sky. A fork of brilliant white light streaked the sky, Andrea smiled, she had always loved storms. 

Her husband… not so much?

Helion huddled himself closer to Andrea when lightning followed quickly by a snap of thunder pierced the sky. The Day Lord had near a dozen blankets wrapped around himself, his head lying in Andrea’s lap. Andrea laughed as he jolted and wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pressing his face into her navel. She toyed with the braids in his hair. 

“It isn’t all that bad,” She assured him, leaning back into the soft white couch, while her eyes tipped to the balcony across from them, the glass doors sealed tightly to shelter them from the rain. 

“It is that bad,” Helion insisted, “The thunder has no right being that loud.”

Andrea laughed quietly, stroking her husband’s hair. Placing the porcelain cup down on the table beside the lounge, Andrea tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Smiling to herself at the next round of thunder, holding Helion closer, knowing he was ever so frightened of the storm outside. 

She sighed, this was nice. 

There was a rapping at the door. Looking up Andrea furrowed her brow, surely none of the servants needed them currently? After a moment’s hesitation, Helion sat up and looked at the door, then Andrea. It was Andrea who called out, “Please come in!”

A short female with wild brown curls, red eyes and fluttering wings entered. She bowed low, then straightened, “Your Majesties, there is a visitor requesting your presence.”

Andrea put a hand on Helion’s. Her brown eyes turned to his, though she found no answer, his face was as confused as her own. Helion took in a breath, “Where are they as of now?”

“Still at the entrance, my Lord, the guards have not let him through.” She replied. 

There was a moment of silence as Helion and Andrea assessed each other. Helion raised an eyebrow, Andrea shrugged ever so slightly. They weren’t in the middle of anything, the slight quirk of her lips told Helion she was just a little bored and this could be some form of entertainment.

“Alright, we’ll head down, thank you.” Andrea told the female. 

She again bowed low, then quickly fled the room, flittering off to wherever she was required. 

Andrea and Helion fixed themselves and quickly headed down for the Day Court palace entrance. Whispering to each other, “Who could be visiting so late?” “Perhaps a courtier, or emissary?”

They reached the tall golden doors, the two guards stationed there shared a glance. When Helion lifted his hand, they nodded, the doors flew upon. 

Immediately there was an onslaught of cold wind, it rushed through the threshold and splattered water across the polished tiles. Hail had begun, the small balls of ice rained down from the sky, smashing against the flooring. 

Andrea had closed her eyes and put her hands out in front of her as she adjusted to the sudden cold. Then she looked up to see the person standing at the entrance. 

Her jaw fell open. Looking at Helion his face had gone white. 

Tamlin was shivering in the cold, his whole body quivering. His eyes were dull and his skin was near grey. His lips were blue and frost-bitten. Instead of the normal greens and whites he wore a heavy black coat with a hood that had fallen off. His hair was a wild mess of knots and tangles. 

And in his arms was a tiny babe, so small she couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. She had tiny golden curls and pale skin, mostly wrapped in linens, her face was red, she was crying and screaming in his arms. 

Tamlin met Helion’s eyes, then turned to Andrea’s. Looking back at the High lord, he half-sobbed, “I had nowhere else to go.”

He stumbled like at any moment he might collapse. Snapping out of the daze they had been shocked into, Andrea made the first move. Like him or not, he had a child in his arms. She quickly approached the male and gently took the small girl from his arms, hushing and cooing as she did in an attempt to console her. 

As soon as the babe was safe in another’s arms. Tamlin collapsed to the floor. Helion then rushed to the younger High lord, shouting orders for a room to be made up and dry clothes to be brought out. Andrea rocked the crying girl as Helion picked up Tamlin. 

The doors were shut and the storm was locked outside. Helion and Andrea exchanged a look. Then the Lady of Day looked at the babe in her arms. 

Green eyes glistened up at her. Andrea stood there in pure shock. She looked like a tiny version of Tamlin. She screamed and Andrea watched as tiny claws pricked out of her fingertips. 

“Thats…” Helion trailed off. 

“The future Heir of Spring.” Andrea finished, her voice filled with wonderment, “Tamlin’s daughter.”

Tamlin himself shivered and gasped in Helion’s arms. The older High lord gritted his teeth. Her eyes didn’t deceive her, Andrea saw Helion bring the younger male closer to his chest. 

“What do we do?” Andrea asked. 

“We do what’s right.” Was all Helion said, then a group of servants came out. 

The oldest among them said, “We have prepared a room for the guest.”

Helion nodded, he then said, “Tamlin and his daughter will stay with us until further notice.”

Looking back down at the baby in her arms, Andrea bit her bottom lip. 

“Why were they out in the storm?”

Helion shook his head slowly, “I don’t know.”

[ironborealis]

Lineage Cousins AU pt. 3

aka Missed Connections on AO3

Part 1 and Part 2 on Tumblr

Anakin has fixed a lot of dejarik boards before.

Well... Mom did all the soldering of the broken circuit boards because she said that the fumes were bad for growing boys, BUT it was his responsibility to take everything apart and carefully label it, test the circuits and mark the ones that Mom needed to fix, and then put it back together again when she was finished. He even tested the projectors and commands to make sure everything was in working order before Watto put it in the shop's inventory to sell.

So... He's mostly fixed a lot of dejarik boards and tested them afterwards, but he's never actually played dejarik before.

He hopes Mr. Kenobi hasn't noticed that Anakin is just making things up as he goes, figuring out how the pieces move by watching the projection stall for a split second every time he tries something that the rules don't allow.

He must have fixed a hundred, a thousand boards since he was old enough to start helping -- and the boards always sold quickly because everyone and their great grandma plays dejarik...

Everyone except Anakin and his mother... he doesn't think any of his friends on Tatooine had played either.

There's something sick growing in his belly as he thinks about it all, tears pricking at his eyes -- but he's pretty sure that Jedi don't cry, and he's a padawan now so he can't cry -- if Mr. Kenobi doesn't ruin everything by telling the Jedi Council to send him back to Tatooine.

Mr. Kenobi hums after Anakin's last move, stroking his beard and appearing to be deep in thought.

Mr. Qui-Gon had explained that Mr. Kenobi wasn't his brother-brother, like Kitster and Kassu who had the same mother, but a 'lineage brother' because the same Jedi Master had trained them both to be Knights.

Anakin thinks his Jedi grandmaster must be very old, to have taught both Mr. Qui-Gon and Mr. Kenobi.

Not that it matters, because apparently Master Dooku left the Jedi after Mr. Kenobi was knighted, so that only left his great-grandmaster Yoda... The green person with big ears on the Council who had thought he was too scared to be a Jedi.

He misses his mom.

Mr. Kenobi's foot taps the base of Anakin's chair, and Anakin realizes that Mr. Kenobi is waiting for him to play, but Anakin was so busy gathering eopie chips in his head that he'd missed Mr. Kenobi making his move.

He can feel the tips of his ears grow pink with embarrassment. Surely real Jedi don't become distracted or miss their moms and of course they all know how to play dejarik --

He reaches to move the big white monster, but Mr. Kenobi purses his lips and hums.

"That's an interesting choice -- I would have used the Grimtash's -- the gray one -- special attack," Mr. Kenobi keeps his eyes on the board.

"...Why?"

Anakin uses his best sabacc face, like he's only interested in Mr. Kenobi's strategy and not desperately trying to figure out how to win a game he doesn't know how to play.

"It's special attack is powerful enough to defeat my Ghhhk, which you've been abusing," Mr. Kenobi points out the dark green creature on his side of the board.

Anakin debates for a moment whether or not to take Mr. Kenobi's advice. If they were on Tatooine, it'd be a given that Mr. Kenobi was trying to trick him -- but they're not on Tatooine and besides he's pretty sure Jedi aren't allowed to lie unless it's really important.

He makes the move that Mr. Kenobi suggests and watches as his piece battles and destroys Mr. Kenobi's.

They continue to play, with Mr. Kenobi occasionally talking about what his strategy would be. He thinks Mr. Kenobi must be a horrible sabacc player, with all his obvious facial tells and the way he literally just tells you what he's going to do.

Maybe that's why Padmé's handmaidens like playing with him every night -- he's such an easy mark they must have taken every single credit he has by now.

Anakin doesn't always do what Mr. Kenobi would do, but he starts feeling more confident about how the game works and most importantly, how to win.

Soon, it's just Anakin's Grimtash against Mr. Kenobi's K'lor'slug (the purple one), and then it's over and...

Anakin won. He won! He didn't even know the rules and he won anyway, AND he beat a Jedi who's probably been playing dejarik since he was in diapers --

"Good game, Anakin." Mr. Kenobi holds his hand out over the board for Anakin to shake. His tone is jovial, like he hasn't just lost, and he's got that same amused glimmer in his eye like he did when Anakin tried bowing to him like a proper Jedi.

The sick feeling is back in his stomach.

"You let me win, didn't you?"

Mr. Kenobi's expression falters for a second, before becoming even faker than before.

"No, I didn't --"

"Jedi aren't supposed to lie!" Anakin jumps out of his seat, his heart pounding in his ears. "Did you think it was funny? It's not my fault that I don't know the rules! Dejarik is a stupid game anyway!"

Mr. Kenobi's face goes unnaturally calm, and Anakin knows now that Mr. Kenobi has a sabacc face that could rival some of the best on Tatooine -- and he hates it. He hates being made into fool by someone who's supposed to be deciding whether Anakin is good enough to even be a Jedi, it's not FAIR!

"What's going on?"

Mr. Qui-Gon appears, coming out of their room, and glaring at Mr. Kenobi like he did something wrong.

"He let me win!"

Anakin tries to put as much weight as he can into his accusation, to convey the seriousness of the situation in a Jedi-like manner, but when he hears himself, he sounds more like Kitster's little brother Kassu whining whenever he lost at a game.

The confused look on Mr. Qui-Gon's face only confirms that he thinks Anakin is acting like a baby.

The anger, humiliation, and homesickness are all boiling away inside of him -- ready to explode at any second. Anakin can't do that here, in front of these Jedi, he's already embarrassed himself enough.

He pushes past Mr. Qui-Gon and goes into their room. He can feel electricity arcing underneath his skin, forcing him to pace the room to burn off some of the energy before he does something un-Jedi-like.

He can hear Mr. Qui-Gon and Mr. Kenobi talking outside, their voices growing louder until he can clearly hear some of what they're saying.

"...won't hold it against him..."

"Well... pretty hypocritical of me... didn't you tell me..."

"Knight Kenobi why can't... in the moment."

Anakin climbs the ladder into his bunk, trying to get away from something he knows that he definitely doesn't want to be hearing. Even the walls back home were thicker than this.

"Tell me... dangerous, they all sense... what changed?"

Anakin pulls his pillow over his head and screams to drown out the noise around him and inside of him.

[hotchocolateandpillowforts]

It's been a few days so I guess I'm in the mental headspace where I can talk about IRL stuff for a second. (I ended up breaking up the paragraphs a lot because I can fucking rant y'all.)

I had a pretty rough doctor's appointment on Wednesday morning. I told my neurologist about a few new symptoms I've developed since I've seen her last. (Pulsatile tinnitus that's especially bad at night when I'm laying in bed, numbness in my hand when I wake up in the morning and at some random points throughout the day, and, it's not new but it's worse, the tinnitus I experience pretty much 24/7 is getting worse.)

She asked a few questions and said I probably have carpal tunnel because of my job plus doing schoolwork after my 40 hours a week job. We're going with a brace at night for now to see if it helps. If it doesn't I get to do an invasive test that includes getting a shock in order to stimulate the nerve AND a needle pressed into the nerve. Fuck that shit.

She also said that she wants to do a Magnetic Resonance Angiogram in order to "rule out any possible aneurysm" which is just amazing to hear as someone who has a brain disorder and has an uncle who had a stroke less than a year ago. But apparently hearing your pulse in your ears is bad and is usually caused by aneurysms or cardio vascular issues of some kind. The soonest we were able to schedule the MRA is this Friday in the morning.

But that wasn't the end of my horrible day. A couple of hours later I got a text from my brother telling me to call him. I did so and he told me one of our other uncles had died. It was sudden and out of nowhere so it was a real shock. The ME thinks it was probably a heart attack but we won't get the official cause of death for another week or something like that.

So that day was just a garbage fire day. And my week continued to get worse (somehow) with my cousins and grandma getting into fights about doing a service. I guess the cousins don't want to do one but my grandmother wants one. (And this is the second child she's burying in her lifetime so maybe give that woman whatever the fuck she wants.) And no one could give me any dates to tell my employer so I can take bereavement. Then my husband and my brother got into a fight because my stress and anxiety and grief have been so fucking hard to handle and all I wanted was a fucking date so I could have a plan. I think I just wanted to be doing something other than going to work and being sad and being anxious about my health stuff. And if I had a date then I could tell my boss and make plans and feel like I'm making progress.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (and probably again and again) this is a shitty fucking year and it can go straight to hell. I fucking hate this year. I'm going to get ready for bed now, work 4 days in a row (while also keeping up with school work and my workout routine and my reading habits because how else am I going to get through this week), get up early on Friday for an MRA, drive up to Oklahoma and spend four days with my wretched family.

[ohtobeleah]

I was trying to figure out why the sick!reader storyline seemed kind of familiar (not the exact same though!)…and now that I’m with family for American Thanksgiving I remember:

My aunt (the sweetest and most caring person in our family) and uncle (grumpy and gruff, Silent type) were together for almost 30 years. And then a couple years ago he came to her wanting to separate (there was an argument over how he was treating one of their grandchildren). So she agreed and he moved out and got a house way across town and everything was split up. My aunt still loved him and told me she would never divorce him unless he came to her and asked for one (which he didn’t).

Fast forward to the beginning of this year, he hadn’t been feeling well. They are still separated. Her mom (my grandma) has had a pretty scary stroke so she is taking care of her. He gets diagnosed with esophageal cancer. My aunt, bless her, steps up and takes him to ALL his appointments, let’s him spend some nights at her house when he feels particularly bad, and always checks in on him.

They recently were going through some financial statements and were trying to figure out why taxes were so high and found out that the state we live in does not have “Legal Separation”. It’s you’re married or you’re divorced (can you see where this is going?)

So my poor aunt, who still loves my uncle, made the decision to agree to divorce. His cancer has progressed to his lungs and she’s still taking care of him, going to all his appointments and letting him crash with her after particularly hard appointments.

ANYWAYS

Sorry this is SO long. And I know it’s not exactly like your story, it just reminded me of this real life situation. ❤️

I’m speechless. I’m just so blow away by this story

[maerenee930]

this doesn’t feel real… 😣 it’s been about 5 days and it still keeps hitting me over and over again that my papa is gone. 😞 i can’t believe he’s really gone 😓

my head is all over the place and just- it still feels so wrong. 😔

i wasn’t really close with him. not many of us were to be honest. it was hard to bond with him for many reasons. but over the past year, i had spent more time with him and my nonnie (my grandma. that’s what we call her on my mom’s side cause we’re italian) and got a bit closer to both of them.

(i realize this is a very long post and i’m so sorry it is. i don’t mean for it to be. there’s just a lot of thoughts and feelings i’ve had about this and would like to get them out on here as well. also, i’m very sorry for any spelling and grammar errors. and i’m sorry if all of this is like all over the place or of it doesn’t make much sense.)

my mom would tell me that over the past year and a half, he always asked about me when she would visit him and my nonnie. which ngl, really surprised me 😅 i mean for the longest time, he didn’t really care for most of his grandkids once we started talking and forming our own opinions. i wish i was joking about that.

i mean don’t get me wrong, he did love us, but he only really liked us when we were small. 😅 it was like once we got older, he just didn’t care for us as much. unless you kinda put him in his place, he didn’t really care if you were there or not. or he would make comments about some of us gaining weight, telling us we’re getting fat and we need to start exercising more and lots of other unkind and not okay things to say to his grandchildren or his daughters or son. yeaaaah… he was pretty good at making his family feel bad about themselves… 😣

he like anyone, was a very flawed human being. but he was also just that, a human being. he had a lot of mental health issues that he wasn’t willing to admit, acknowledge/address or face. and those issues caused a lot of pain and heartache for him and the people he cared about. but for being raised in a time when that wasn’t even anything that was somewhat taken seriously, it doesn’t come as a total surprise that he wouldn’t take care of those issues for himself.

and when i stop and really think about it, even though this man loved to throw himself a good pity party and loved to wallow in his own pain and grief and as we joked was “always dying” (he was a very dramatic man lol) and while he also very much had the mentality that he was better than everyone, he really could be a good guy and had some legitimate reasons to wallow in self pity at times.

he was just a child during world war two. thankfully his family did survived it. but he also had a very abusive father.

he came to america from their home in italy twice and made a life for himself and my nonnie. leaving his family and the one place that was truly his home.

he suffered multiple work injuries over the years and one of them resulted in him actually losing all of his fingers on his left hand expect for his thumb 😣

he had multiple strokes over the past decade. one of which was one of the worst kinds someone could have and thankfully came out from it so much better than he could have.

and there were many other things that happened throughout his life and i only know very few of those things.

but the fact that he survived through all of the things he did, it just- it shows that he had so much strength and i do admire him for that.

and now as an adult, i can understand a bit better why he did wallow in self pity as much as he did. (i’m not saying it’s right that he did or that he let it consume him and stop him from having good and long last relationships with his children and grandchildren, because it wasn’t. i just can understand a little better as to why he would do it. and how those things helped shape him into the person he became, you know?)

my papa would tend to tell us grandchildren the same few stories when we were growing up. most of the time the moral of those stories was that we are lucky and spoiled children and that he had it so much worse than we did/do or ever could have. so you know, that was always fun to hear and felt great 🙃🤦‍♀️

and man oh man, did he love to talk about himself 😄 i mean this man really, really loved himself a lot lol. he loved to talk about how wonderful he was not only in general but so many things lol.

one of his favorite stories was one where he had a very rude boss who was a jerk and just an ass. and to quote my papa this guys was “the big boss”. well, one day my papa stood up to him and would giggle every time he said this or got to this part of the story and he said in his italian accent “and imma tella hims to go fucka himself” 😂 and after that, his boss respected him. he would tell us that he thought his boss was gonna fire him but he didn’t cause he knew he (my papa) was right. (that’s legit how he would tell it 😂)

it was so funny to see him giggle and just the fact that that was something that was so just like big to him and just so unbelievable that he would do something like that 😄

but to a lot of us, it sounded about right. and it made sense that he would say that to one of his bosses. it was just very papa.

one story that my nonnie always loved telling me about something i did cause of my papa when i was small was i used to sit on the top of the couch in the living room. idk why i did, but i did.

so anyway, one day i did it and papa told me i needed to get down or i could hurt myself. no i’m sorry, it wasn’t just because i would hurt myself, it was because i could’ve possibly broken his picture window and gotten hurt from it.

so me being my normal stubborn and sassy self, i argued with him and told him i would be fine and i wouldn’t fall back. i told him i’m not gonna get hurt and or break the window.

he told me i would and i needed to get down. so finally at some point i did. and i went to my nonnie all upset and mad. she asked me what was wrong and i very dramatically told her that papa was ruining my life 😂🤦‍♀️😂

it’s one memory i will never forget and am very thankful to have a silly and stupid moment like that with him.

i didn’t really have a lot of good moments with him. at some point i learned to keep my distance from him.

i would say hello to him and goodbye and didn’t really talk to him or with him unless he asked me something, told me to do something or if someone asked me to tell him something.

i just- knowing what most of my family had been through with him and the pain and heartache he caused them, and not really having the kind of grandpa us grandkids deserved or needed, it was hard to want to be around him.

it really sucks to have mixed feelings about someone you love.

someone who you were supposed to adore and look up to. but who just wasn’t the kind of grandparent we needed. i realize he was also just a human and wasn’t perfect and had a very hard life and made mistakes just like anyone else. but letting things throughout his life get to him the way they did caused him to do and say some very hurtful things to the other people that i love so much and who have been there for me and loved me and supported me in ways he really didn’t. 😞

how can i have mixed feelings about the person who helped bring my mom into the world? 😣

how can i have mixed feelings about the person who helped give me the family i have and wouldn’t trade for the world…? 😓

how or why could i not move past my issues and just push and push and try to make us have a better relationship?

why couldn’t i just push through my anxiety and heartache and just go see him and spend time with him when i had the chance to? to show him that i do love him and he does mean a lot to me. to be there for him when he needed all of us and i wasn’t. 😣

how could i not go see my papa one last time and tell him i love him. he deserved to know and hear that.

i should’ve told him that 😞

i’m so sorry i didn’t, papa. i do love you so much and i am so glad you aren’t in pain anymore. i’m so glad you finally get to be home with your mom and dad and the rest of your family.

i’m so glad that you get to just relax and rest. you fought and worked hard for so long and for so much of your life.

i’m very thankful i got to have you as my papa. i didn’t expect losing you would hurt quite as much as it does. but i have to say that i am thankful it does it hurt so much. it’s a nice reminder that i do and will always love you because you were my papa.

thank you for being my papa. thank you for ruining my life 😉

i miss you more than you know 💖

[masterkirby]

How do I even

How do I talk, how can I

How to think about my deceased Mother?

I'm terrified of not having enough memories so I don't try to dig in my head for them because they don't come to the surface naturally, instantly. I quite often dream about her, but she's just there, as part of a family situation, just talking, laughing, whatever. No indication on part of my brain that anything, anyone, is amiss.

How can I think about her?

Round features, prominent chin, piercing blue eyes, thin, wavy and frizzy hazelnut hair,

always wearing a long skirt and that type of top that grandmas and aunties here wear, bought in this or that bazarek, ryneczek.

I kept thinking recently about this leather coat she'd wear, but couldn't find it anywhere.

She's been keeping me warm all these years after her death because I'm just going through her coats.

She was a bit taller than me, I never got taller then her, even when I stopped growing.

When I'd hug her, I'd put my chin over her shoulder, so soft and warm.

Dad would buy her chanel 5 during trips abroad, when he'd fly. I have her last bottle on my shelf and sniff it from time to time.

I don't remember her voice and can't find any recordings. I want to find one so, so, so bad. Her laugh, she would be so cheerful, a sun ray (despite her sun allergy)

Although I've mostly been pondering her melancholy over the years, having moved very suddenly to a country beyond the iron curtain, to marry and live with, basically, a stranger. They'd written letters to each other, my mom and dad, before meeting each other in real life. Dad was a uni professor who fled to the United States, she was a country girl, first in her family to go to university and she studied pharmacy. Dad's father was a professor at med school and somehow got them acquainted. Mom had a way of reaching people's private lives, or hearts. I still don't know and have no way of asking now how Dad got to her heart. Recently he told me, prefacing with a "if you've ever wondered how Mom and I ended up together", that they were both deeply heartbroken at the time. But that she was good to him and he wishes he'd been better to her.

So yeah, alone in a foreign country, no knowledge of the language, and her husband turns out to be... well, now we acknowledge he's on the autism spectrum but back then it just looked like anger issues, depressive episodes and spacing out (not caring about everyday stuff).

I remember surprisingly little about her from my childhood. What did we do together?

I remember asking her why she wears diapers (when I found her sanitary pads)

and her giving out food like kabanosy (where did she get those from??) during long car trips

And going to the supermarket with her

And the Polish food store (where we'd get Kinder niespodzianka and torciki wedlowskie)

And I think the video rental was nearby

I remember going to the Badzian family with her, where they had a TV (we didn't have cable) and Tereska and she were crying when the Pope died.

Tereska tried to teach me English before I went to kindergarten but didn't manage to (I acquired it at school but still have no clue how I survived the time before I knew any English).

We would go to the pool sometimes and that's how I learned how to swim, I guess. It was an outdoor pool and she'd love to swim using the frog stroke, always a dark one suit and a beige, wide-brimmed hat. She'd complain about having to shave specifically for the pool.

She never wore make-up so that was something I learned and unlearned on my own.

She had this silly szlafrok type gown, hot pink, over her regular sleeping gown.

I probably spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen. I remember making rice krispie "cake" together and brownies. She would often make ciasto drożdżowe and I'd eat out the kruszonka, both in baked and unbaked form. We also made flubbers and I'm sure she helped me with any school science experiment I had.

There was something with creating a rainbow on the windowpane.

She would love to make us kanapki for dinner which we would make by ourselves, as in she'd prepare various ingredients and we'd make ships out of them or whatnot.

I want to make an omelette like she did someday.

Another speciality of hers were oponki and she'd make them for everyone's birthdays. And the gołąbki and eggplants with cheese and zapiekanki. Her schabowe were the best I ate.

Turns out she never really cooked before getting married so she had cooking classes, but I only know this from stories and pictures.

Zalewajka, rosół, pomidorowa z ryżem, which is interesting because her mom always makes it with noodles.

She had a small garden in the backyard but only really mint grew there from the times that I remember. But she kept a row of beautiful roses out front, just like grandma does. She loved roses best.

She was overall a very romantic and poetic soul, idealistic and dreaming. Open to people and experiences, well, mostly... She was a devout Catholic which is the reason we'd fall out when I was a teenager and young adult. It was hard hearing that pregnancies from r@pe should be carried to term... And that homosexuality is a disease and we should have compassion for those people but pray for their recovery... Yeah ...

This is always the part that makes me pause my reminiscing. As warm and hard-working and caring a person she was, I always arrive at this... confusion. That I can't help but remember her, in my heart, as somewhat cold and narrow-minded and hurtful.

I remember going to her with my problems (some school drama) and hearing that I should go to god for help. Or all our disagreements because I liked going out, partying, drinking alcohol, wearing skimpyish clothing, making out with people, and so on. When I once told her that I'm being bullied by this one girl, she responded that that girl has a tough family situation. I had hellishly low self-esteem for some reason as a kid and now sometimes as well. Always hearing to be modest and give way for others...

Or when they did a 180 on us when our trip to Poland was supposed to be a one-year sabbatical but turned into a "lifetime".

Her lack of trust in me hurt me deeply and I always couldn't help but compare it to the trust I felt from Dad (I have to ask him someday if it was illusory). And I guess I felt that lack of trust in her overprotectiveness. However horrible it sounds to complain, she'd sometimes show up at my middle school with, say, lunch, or something I forgot to take. Imagine my horror as a kid trying to fit in, in a school where people would regularly be bullied for lesser things. Or she'd try to recruit kids for her rosary circles... I cringe. It hurt to be the laughing stock of, well, at least a few classes. It was a big school.

Or she'd always volunteer to supervise trips and school balls and to go to every school year ending and beginning. I feel like crying even now for feeling... ungrateful. But it just wasn't what I needed as a growing person...

She'd once scolded me for not going to an extracurricular class and she'd never let me not go to school unless I was super sick. But she let me stay home a few days once in high school when my anxiety/depression was really kicking in.

I spent most of my middle school outside of home, if not school then roaming with friends, returning late at night. In highschool my views started forming, far from her own, and I was consumed by school life, building a social persona, dating, having (gasp) premarital sex (not that we ever talked about that). She was more and more into the church, spending all her time and worry on problems of the parish community. We grew distant.

I moved out for uni and she soon fell ill. There wasn't enough time to grow back together.

I don't know. I started therapy recently and I repeat to myself, like a mantra, a thing the therapist said:

Sadness isn't something we're born with. It always comes from somewhere.

I don't think my mom was ever a driving force for my sadness but I have been sad ever since I was a kid. What gives?

The therapist says I didn't have my emotional needs met. Maybe? But still, nothing that traumatic happened in my life until my Mom passed away so suddenly.

I wish I could talk to her about what she remembers about me as a kid. Maybe she could help provide the clues to my potential autism diagnosis. I'd want to hear more of her stories and thoughts. I'd love to hear her worries and troubles and be able to help her, as an adult in my own right. I'd love to get tips on running a household from her, cook and bake together.

I feel like I never really got to know her.

[doodlenoodleboi]

(Just a rant about my long distance lover things are but rough right now but I know it will work out in the end!) part 1 of my romance rant

These fictional characters remind me of him, I honestly had his contact as miles for a minute because that’s she he reminds me of. As I to know him more he did show more quality’s of Tsuki in the way that he tries to be nonchalant but once again he’s simply the playful type like miles but he could be the mysterious type if he ever chose to. But I promise you that pink hoodie and nervous sounding taking he had in the beginning of our relationship is far from mysterious. I thought he was just shy but English just isn’t his first language.

He has pretty tired eyes like Shinsou his hair is also similar to miles but different texture. His eyes are almond shape like most people associate with Asians because his grandma is Chinese and whatnot. We can say that he’s Blasian but he doesn’t really fit the label nor really like it so let’s just say he’s black. I feel like he fits the description even more so with all his traveling and his remarks on the UK sounds like he’s been there. My significant other at the moment is busy at the moment with his stuff and I’ve come to terms with trusting him and believing that everything will be work out in the end.

I don’t know why but I copy people I love so much like my s/o (significant other) has glasses so guess what I get glasses. My crush in middle school through high freshman year, I got not one not two but 4 skateboards because of him. (I still can’t skateboard properly, I prefer skates) which one our first “date” was at a skating ring wayyy to loud for us. Oddly enough we’re both introverted but my s/o just adapts easier. I fixked up so bad around him I even fell making him look so much better than me but hey we both have our embarrassing moments.

My s/o one time mistook a stuffed animal at the park when we skipped school for a real bear and I was so confused but when I realized it must have been to embarrassing for him. So every time I’m embarrassed of past events and or experiences I think back to that and most of the things I’ve done weren’t that embarrassing. The man is practically blind without his glasses and decides not to wear them most of the time even though he looks so good with them on. At the same time I think I stroked his ego just a bit given he did wear his glasses more often afterwards.

I love him… 

- ✩ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧

[akuma-homura]

truthfully even with this being My Account My Blog My Personal Blog yapping about my woes just feels annoying

and it's like,,, it's not annoying when others vent about whats going on in their lives, but it's really felt like stuff just keeps happening on my end and that feels like. others would just. get tired of it? tired of me?

like, gonna be real, the scam thing actually still isn't even settled or fixed. that was from february and felt like it kickstarted the awful stress and just. sick feeling of being tricked but also feeling like we should have known. some people were nice enough to send money and stuff and that DID help us but I also feel. guilty. about that

and especially since it's still an on-going thing. dad hasn't been able to use his own bank account literally all year. i'm lucky mine is decently disconnected.

long-covid-like-stuff kicking my ass, the stress adding on top of that, all of which adding on top of existing health issues, then my brother fucking dies when he was gonna come down here and was turning his life around, and the stress and grief from THAT kicked me down AGAIN / even more

and i'd just been trying to get myself together decently enough but not. being able to as well as i would hope. for most of this year.

and then my grandma has a stroke just before my birthday and dies just after my birthday.

and even listing this all just feels. Bad? Excuses? I should just get over it all? But I can't?

Like, life isn't all horrible!! obviously!! i've had happy times!! i've still been creating to the best of my... current ability. I love my friends and my friends have been there for me.

but it's still just this. everything that has happened, is happening, just... hurts. and is a lot. and I hate it.

[seungwoonies]

Health care for the elderly is so bad here, my grandma had 3 strokes in 4 days, is now paralyzed in half her body. Literally cannot do anything without assistance, sometimes requiring multiple people to help her to her chair or even eat.

and the authorities take more than a week to find a care home for her. What if she didn’t have family to care for her like we do every second of the day and night? (We can only do this because it’s summer break and don’t have to work out otherwise fulltime jobs)

the care home is on another damn island, which makes visiting real difficult and to make things worse we have to wait until Thursday to get her admitted into the care home. If we reject this offer, they will throw her off the emergency waitlist.

they (the authorities) wait and see and claim to look for solutions but they don’t to anything. We can’t keep this up, everyone is drained emotionally and physically. Why aren’t the proper institutions helping? Why won’t they admit her to a care home nearby that has space (albeit only for dementia patients; if there’s no patients why not use that damn spot for someone who desperately needs it as well)

[stressfulsloth]

anon, i'm really sorry, i accidentally deleted your ask for the game thing!

answer for MC is i don't know what kind of reputation i have. at work i get told i'm really upbeat and overly positive, but that's 100000% the masking. i know in my family i have a reputation for being a rabid leftist because when my grandma was in hospital and drugged out of her mind on pain killers she told me that she knows i'm trying to destroy our country lol

and pluto- okay so i was a weird kid and there is a high likelihood that this was a dream or a story i convinced myself was real, but once when i was a kid we went to stay at this really really old hotel in lyme. i had this really weird vibe about the place, like just felt like i was being watched the whole time, and when i went to bed that night i started having freaky dreams. so i was about 12, and i was meant to sleep in the adjacent room to my parents, so totally on my own, door locked. i wake up in the night to someone sitting on the end of my bed, stroking my hair, and thinking its my mum i just go back to sleep. next morning i ask my mum what she was doing in my room, she's confused. denies it being her. it definitely wasn't my dad either, and the room was locked and on the chain. so *something* knew i was having bad dreams and tried to help, i guess. i still don't know what it was.

[rustworks]

The Brokowski Files - 10

Fahey slid out of the car at sloth speed. Brokowski smiled and nodded casually. “Detective.”

“Hey there, Detective Mauer!” blurted Fahey. “Long time no see, sir! Ha ha! You know, because we just saw you?”

“That we did,” Mauer cooly replied. “Been trying to find you. We’ve figured things out and you’re a big reason why.”

“Oh man, Detective Mauer! I can explain! My old lady lost her job and I’ve…”

The detective held out a hand. “Easy there. Let me finish.”

“Of course, Detective Mauer sir!”

“I don’t know how you do it, Brokowski.” Mauer gestured to somebody behind him. It was Officer Menchie, holding a bag of Funyuns. “That look familiar?”

Fahey laughed hard. “Those are the Funyuns you snagged! Now they’re getting wet, amigo sir!”

“You did it,” Menchie said. “You boys did it.”

Fahey started to fidget, but Brokowski spoke first. “Do tell, bros.”

“Always playing it cool, Brokowski,” Mauer said with a laugh. “Care to weave your tale?”

Brokowski shrugged. You should. Sound it out for us.”

Mauer smirked. “I’ve got to hand it to them. Smuggling cocaine in bags of Funyuns. Their inside men sticking them behind the normal bags. But you two still found them.”

“We did?” Fahey screwed up his face. Brokowski elbowed him.

“Not the time to be modest, boys. You sniffed out the Riaz Crime Ring. Paying their head honcho a visit really spooked them. And then your master stroke, Brokowski…”

Brokowski grinned and shrugged modestly, so Mauer continued. “Mr. Incognito, is it now?” He chuckled. “Your little ‘anonymous’ call to Mueller’s show? Calling out Riaz publicly? That was the death blow. You could have just come to me, but that ain’t your style is it? Always got to add the Brokowski sizzle!”

“What’s he…ow!” Fahey hopped, clutching the foot Brokowski’d just stomped on.

“You rattled Perlman too, during your little confrontation with him.” Mauer pointed at a nearby squad. Perlman was scowling at them from the back seat. “His thugs holding up QuikMarts to find the drugs first? Bold move to take on the Riaz Family, but crime doesn’t pay for either of them when Brokowski’s on the case!”

“I just like clean streets,” replied Brokowski.

“You care to explain why there’s high-quality reefer in your warehouse?” Menchie suddenly called out, motioning some fellow officers to join them.

Fahey made a sound that surely meant more bad news for his trousers. Brokowski shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong guy, bro. Ask him.” He gestured at Coggs.

Coggs’ eyes went wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This one of your crew?” Mauer asked Fahey, gesturing to Coggs.

Brokowski answered. “Clearly not, bros. Fahey doesn’t deal that crap.”

Coggs cried out in protest, but Menchie’s men dragged him away.

“You’ve done this city a real solid,” Mauer said. “The check’s going to be in the mail. Have a good day, friends.” He tipped his hat and strolled off.

“Thank you, sir! Always a pleasure, Detective Mauer!” Fahey called out, waving like one does when they see their grandma after years.

“Can we finish our business?” Brokowski impatiently asked.

Fahey rushed to his car. “I crapped my pants again. Thank God I carry extras in the trunk!”

“Is this a common problem, bro?” Brokowski followed him. Man, he needed a grit.

Fahey flung open the trunk and started laughing.

“Now what, bro?”

“Look at that! All this time, I had the KB in the trunk! That’s pretty hilarious, bro!”

[hmslusitania]

in which, Eddie and Chris actually talk to each other and our boy does not pull punches. technically speculation for 5x03

“Hey, can we talk for a second?”

Chris looks up from his book, the camp light beside him throwing weird shadows across his face that make him look so much older than eleven. If Eddie thinks about that too hard, it’s going to break him.

Well.

Break him more.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.

“Nothing’s—” But that’s just not true, is it. Eddie sighs and sits down on the foot of Chris’s bed. “It’s about Ana.”

Chris just stares at him, waiting for Eddie to continue.

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie starts, slow while he tries to put the words together in a way that’ll make sense to an eleven-year-old. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I have to break up with her.”

He braces himself for the explosion, the broken salad bowl all over again, the running away.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when Chris’s response is a level, even, “Oh. Okay.”

He keeps talking before he’s really processed Chris’s non-reaction, because it had taken him so long to get the words right in his own head.

“Because I don’t love her, and I don’t think I’m ever going to, and it’s not fair to her to do that to her. And I know you’ve liked having her around, and that you like spending time with her, and if you want to be friends with her, that’s—you—what do you mean ‘okay’?”

Chris shrugs.

“No, no shrugging,” Eddie says. He squeezes Chris’s foot under the bedsheet and gets the tiniest hint of a grin in response. It fades just as quickly. “What do you mean ‘okay’? I thought you liked Ana.”

“She was my favourite teacher,” Chris confirms. “And it’s been nice having her around sometimes since I didn’t get to see any of my friends during quarantine.”

The unsaid “but” echoes in Chris’s bedroom. Eddie waits for him to say it, and when he doesn’t, he squeezes Christopher’s foot again.

“But?” Eddie prompts.

Chris shrugs again.

“Chris—”

“I didn’t want to say anything because she’s nice and I thought you liked having her around,” Christopher says, completely avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “But sometimes, some of the stuff she says reminds me of Grandma.”

Before Eddie can even begin to process the instant bile that goes along with the “oh god I’ve been dating my mother” of it all, Chris continues.

“And I love Grandma! And I know she loves me! But, I don’t know, sometimes it feels like she thinks I can’t do anything,” he says. “And sometimes it feels like that with Ana too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know how successful he is at choking down his horror. He hasn’t been very good at swallowing back any emotions these days.

“Because I thought you liked her,” Chris says. “And I want you to be happy, Dad.”

“I thought me dating her made you happy,” Eddie replies.

“It doesn’t make me unhappy,” Chris says, which is at least something of a relief. “But I don’t understand why you can’t date someone who makes both of us happy. Like Buck.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to need 5-7 business days to recover from this conversation.

“Buck dating Taylor makes you happy?” Eddie asks.

Chris rolls his eyes and looks so much like a teenager, Eddie kind of wants to run and find a way to time travel so he can make his kid be a little kid again.

It would get him out of this conversation at least.

“No,” Chris says. “I mean, you could date someone who makes you happy and makes me happy. Someone like Buck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how long he sits there, slack-jawed, but it’s long enough Christopher has to lean over and tap him on the shoulder to break him out of it.

“Buddy, that’s not — Buck and I aren’t — I’m not—”

“It would be okay if you were,” Chris says, and if Eddie has to hear an entire it’s okay to be gay speech from his child, he might have to check himself back into the cardiology ward. “And I always like having Buck around, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that part.”

“That’s—”

It feels a little like his life flashing before his eyes.

Dropping Christopher off at Buck’s loft before the tsunami.

After, telling him there’s no one in the world Eddie trusts more with his son.

This is my kind of therapy.

Putting Buck in the will.

This is what I want for him.

All the time Buck had spent with Christopher while Eddie was recovering. Hell, all the time he’d spent with Eddie.

Of course he can’t handle a pre-fab, just-add-water, ready-made family with Ana. How the hell is she supposed to fit when he’s already built an entire family, a real one, an unbreakable one, with Buck?

“Too bad he has a girlfriend,” Chris says, and there’s something just a little teasing about it, like he might have noticed the disgust on Eddie’s face when he mentioned Buck and Taylor.

“Yeah, well, right now so do I,” Eddie replies, and when Chris grins at him, Eddie thinks that he might, somehow, have just followed all of Eddie’s internal processing. Or, at least, the broad strokes of it. “One problem at a time, okay?”

And now, he’s just got to rip the bandaid off. That part, at least, should be easy.

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Tongue Tied (M)

Genre: SMUT, fluff, crack, demon au (sort of), idol verse, established relationship au, pwp with a side of minor relationship angst

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count:12k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, orgasm denial, masturbation, squirting, sex toys, dirty talk, degradation, bladder desperation and brainwashing

A/N: So… this is porn. Apologies to everyone, especially Park Jimin. Blame my anons who goaded me into it. Love you all! Stay hydrated.

Jimin's tongue trails a warm circle around your erect nipple.

"Stop teasing," you groan, threading your fingers through his dark hair and tugging him closer to you.

Jimin obliges, spreading his tongue across the perky bud, sucking it into his mouth, massaging with his lips. Flames of arousal rush through you. His fingers move from your hip to your lower folds, dipping into you, checking how wet you are. He releases your breast and smirks, holding up his fingers to show you the translucent strings stretching between them. "So eager.”

He laves kisses across your throat. His tongue alternates between firm and soft, sucking just to the point of pain, then soothing it away. He moves downward, sliding you up the bed as he works his way toward your swollen center. Every place his tongue touches burns with desire.

Your core throbs as he draws closer and closer to it. Despite dating for six months, Jimin has never gone down on you. The place you most want his talented tongue is the one place it has never been. In the beginning of your relationship, you had assumed oral sex was something he had accidentally overlooked. But now it was starting to seem deliberate.

Jimin sucks a hard kiss onto your hip as he slips his finger back between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clitoris. He draws a slow circle around the sensitive nub, laughing softly against your belly when you moan out loud.

The closer he gets, the more your desperation builds. You tighten your fingers in his hair to coax him farther down. He pushes your folds apart with his hand, bringing his face in close to inspect your swollen cunt, chuckling as it clenches. Your clit pulses as you wait for him to bring his mouth to it.

But then he's pulling away from you, sitting back on his heels. "I'm going to fuck you now.” He holds you open with one hand and strokes his dick with the other. You bite your lip to hide your disappointment and nod.

There's nothing disappointing about Jimin's dick though. He knows how to use it well. It's not until you're both sweaty, sated and lying in each other's arms that you remember your earlier disappointment.

"Jimin?" You trail a finger over his chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

He gives a soft murmur of assent as he presses a contented kiss to your forehead. His hand strokes lazily up and down your arm.

"Why do you never go down on me?"

His hand stops moving.

You press on. "I blow you all the time, but you never go down on me."

"I don't know.” He shifts underneath you, his eyes not meeting your gaze. "Just like other stuff better."

"Well, sure," you reply, kissing his chest. It had never been your favorite activity either, always making you a bit self-conscious. But it was quickly becoming the thing you most wanted, simply because he wouldn't let you have it. "But it's always fun to try new things."

He continues to duck your gaze as he unwraps his arm from you and scoots away from you over to his side of the bed.

Maybe he was insecure about this particular activity?  You slide in next to him and kiss his shoulder. "I bet you'd be really good at it.”

He shifts away from you again, frowning as you continue to chase him across the bed. "I just don't like it, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s such an un-Jimin-like reaction. He's always so generous with everything in your relationship.

"Why?" Did he have some terrible previous experience he didn't want to discuss? What kind of traumatic cunnilingus backstory would leave him this turned off?

"I don't know." He rolls over so his back is to you. "Can't you drop it?"

"No, I'm not going to drop it!" You sit up and nudge his shoulder. "Are you saying you'll never do it?"

He turns back over to face you, licking his lips. "Would you break up with me if I was?"

"What?"

"How big of a deal is it?"

"I don't know." It never occurred to you that you might face a relationship ultimatum over oral sex. You’re madly in love with Jimin. He’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Surely that matters more than how much time he spends between your legs.  

"Is there something wrong with me?" you ask. Did you taste bad? Smell funky?

“No!" Jimin's eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, no, it’s just...” He sits up, sighing as he leans back against the headboard. "I was waiting to tell you this until we'd been together a bit longer." He runs a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.  

What secret has your boyfriend been keeping from you all this time? Does he have some weird STD that is only spread through oral? Is he allergic to vagina?

"My tongue is cursed." He rubs the back of his neck, sighing as if relieved of some terrible burden.

You laugh out loud. Of all the explanations you had concocted, none were as ludicrous as this.

"Don't laugh." Jimin frowns, kicking the bed.

"Your tongue is cursed?" It's impossible to not laugh when you say it out loud. "Like by a witch?"

"No, not by a witch, don't be absurd." He squirms and pulls his knees up to his chest. "I'm part demon."

You snort in laughter again. But Jimin looks so hurt by the sound that you bite your tongue.

"My great-grandfather on my father's side was a demon,” Jimin elaborates, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, are you serious?” You arch an eyebrow, afraid of appearing to actually believe him just for him to tease you.

Jimin groans in frustration, twisting the bedsheets in his hands. "I didn't believe my mom when she told me either. But it's true. My grandmother swore it was true."

"Let me get this straight." You sit up a bit straighter, eyeing him skeptically. "The reason you won't go down on me is that you are one-eighth demon, and your tongue is cursed."

He bites his lip and nods.

"Jimin, that's ridiculous."

His shoulders slump as he curls in on himself. You're still waiting for the "gotcha!" you think is coming, but he looks sad and embarrassed.

"Fine," you sigh, willing to hear him out. "What kind of demon?"

He picks his head up and licks his lips. "An incubus."

"Your great-grandfather devoured the souls of women through sex?"

Jimin shifts back and forth, rubbing his hands up and down his legs. "Grandma said he was very handsome."

Your boyfriend is very handsome too. But that doesn't mean he's part demon.

"He didn't hurt anyone." Jimin tries to defend his clearly fictional demon great-grandfather. "He just, you know, hooked up with a lot of women."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "So which parts of you are demon then?"

"Just my tongue."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious! Look!" He sticks his tongue out as far as it will go. It's very long, reaching all the way to his chin. And it's pointy. But it seems to be a perfectly normal tongue.

"It doesn't look cursed to me."

"It's so long though," he mumbles, having difficulty pronouncing the words with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah, but not like supernaturally long." You argue, leaning in closer to inspect the potentially cursed muscle. He wiggles it back and forth as if that will convince you there's something unusual about it. "What does that even mean, a cursed tongue?"

Jimin draws in a deep breath, as if about to reveal a deep, dark secret.

"Any girl that I get off with my tongue…“ He pauses for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes, “can never come again."

His proclamation hangs in the air of your bedroom, as he waits for you to gasp in shock. You raise an eyebrow instead. "Ever?"

"Except!" He holds up a finger. "On my tongue."

You can't hold back the laughter this time. "So is there some horde of perpetually horny women out there, dying to experience your tongue again?"

He shakes his head and chews on his lower lip. "I've never done it with anyone before." He begins twisting the bedsheets in his hands again. "I didn't want to risk it being true. My mom was really serious when she explained it."

"That's an awkward conversation to have with your mother."

Jimin finally laughs. "Yes, yes it was."

His change in demeanor brings you some relief. But it can't be true. There's no such thing as demons.

"You sure you're not making up excuses to not reciprocate?"

"I'm not making it up!" Jimin smacks the bed in emphasis. "I'm dying to go down on you!"

"You are?" Your earlier arousal knocks between your legs again.

"Yes!" He pushes his hair off his forehead. "Every time I get down there, all I want to do is suck on your needy little clit." Your core clenches and you squirm on the bed next to him. He eyes you up and down and smirks. "To make you fall apart with my tongue." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close enough to whisper in your ear. "To be surrounded by you as you come on my face."

"Would it be so bad if we tried it?" you ask, squeezing your thighs together to cope with the tension building between them.

"You'd want that?" His eyes widen and he licks his lips in excitement. "Even if the curse is real?"

"Yes, I'd want that." He's so excited that you don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way the curse is real.

Jimin giggles with delight, gathering your hands into his. "You know I love you right?" He kisses each of your hands. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Jimin," you reply and he pulls you in for a long kiss. His reaction would make you think he'd asked you to marry him.

"We can't do it tonight though," he mutters, frowning. “I’m leaving tomorrow."

Shit. The boys are leaving for their world tour tomorrow. A fact that has slipped your mind in the whole your-boyfriend-might-be-a-demon discussion.

"What better way to say goodbye?" You whisper, leaning in and planting light kisses up and down his neck. You're not going to let some weird family legend stand in the way of your boyfriend getting you off one more time before he disappears for a month.

"You sure?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "A month is a long time to go."

"I think I'll survive." You've dealt with Jimin's absences before. You don’t like them, but you can’t admit to him how much they bother you. And curses aren't real.

Jimin's whole attitude changes, a dangerous glimmer in his eye. "Yeah?" He kisses your neck as his hand sneaks down between your legs. You're still sensitive and wet and you flinch when he slips his fingers into you, your arms breaking out in goosebumps. "Is this where you want my tongue?" he teases as his index finger brushes against your clitoris.

"Jimin, please," you whine. He pulls his hand back, but you slide your hips forward, chasing after him. You've been waiting for months and all he wants to do is tease.  

"So needy..." The smirk on his lips and predatory gleam in his eyes have you almost believing he is a demon. "It's like you want to give me all your orgasms."

"Curses aren't real," you gasp as he sucks a long kiss into your neck.

"Maybe you don't care if it's real." He trails kisses downward. "Maybe you want me to claim all your pleasure for myself." It's embarrassing the way more arousal drips from you at the idea. "Maybe you want to be alone and desperate, unable to satisfy yourself without me."

It's probably your mind playing tricks on you, but his mouth feels hotter than usual. It burns everywhere he touches you. He pauses his trail downward to suck on your nipple and you arch your back to press into him further.

"I like that idea," he says, releasing your breast and continuing his burning trail downwards. "That no other man will ever be able to satisfy you." He slips his fingers back inside you and you moan. "No toy, no dick, not even your own fingers will be able to bring you relief." His tongue inches downward, interrupted by lingering kisses. Your core is so swollen with arousal, the ache inside you so desperate. He smiles as he curls two fingers upward, so slowly that your thighs begin to tremble. "Every single one of your orgasms will belong to me."

"Please, Jimin." You're going to lose your mind if he keeps teasing like this. You roll your hips against his hand, trying to get his fingers in deeper.

"Is that what you want?" he asks. His mouth is so close you can feel his warm breath on your sensitive swollen skin. "Do you want to give me all your orgasms?"

He looks so serious when he asks, it almost makes you believe. But curses and demons aren't real. It's just a game. A game you’re both enjoying.

"Yes," you whisper. "I want you to have them all, Jimin."

"Good girl." He closes his eyes and exhales, then finally - finally - brings his mouth to your clitoris.

The surge of heat on the swollen bud almost has you coming the moment he takes it into his mouth.

"Holy shit," you groan, rocking your hips upward.

"Easy..." Jimin soothes, placing a firm hand on your hips to hold you down. "I'll take care of you." Then he buries himself between your legs.

His tongue alternates hard and soft as it strokes your clit. Any reservations he had about this have disappeared with the way he relishes you. He slides his fingers inside you and pairs each stroke of his tongue with internal pressure from his fingers. You pulse with arousal inside and out. You wind your fingers through his soft hair and he groans a deep satisfied rumble.

"Please, please," you beg, tugging him against you as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it." He pulls off one last time to catch his breath. "Let me have it." His thumb rolls slowly over your clit as he watches you from between your thighs. "Come for me. Be mine."

He dives back in, the pace of his fingers curling inside you matching the figure-eights his tongue weaves over your clitoris. Heat radiates from his tongue, burning and tingling, so pleasurable it's almost painful. Warmth spreads through you, flowing into you and flooding up your spine and down to your toes. You tug harder on his hair. The groan he releases sends vibrations throughout your core, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, Jimin, I'm coming," you gasp. Your muscles clench around his fingers and your hips rock against his face as waves of pleasure cascade through you. It lasts for an eternity as he keeps stroking you, perfectly in time to the rhythms inside you. He keeps at it until you finally whine and squirm away, everything becoming too much.

"That's my girl." He smiles as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh and chuckles when your skin trembles in response.

Minutes pass as you recover your breath. Jimin's head is still between your legs, trailing soft kisses up and down your inner thigh. It tickles and you try to squirm away, but his grip on your hips is too tight.

"Jimin," you whine, wiggling beneath him.

He ignores you, trailing his wet fingers up and down your leg.

"You know," he says, resting his chin on your thigh. "If the curse is real..."

"The curse is not real, Jimin.”

"If the curse is real,” he talks over you, pinching your inner thigh and making you jump, “then that was your last orgasm for a month." He looks so pleased with himself, dark eyes full of mischief. Your skin tingles under his hungry gaze and you begin to heat up again. "Seems a shame to leave it at that."

"Jimin," you sigh. "I'm not sure I have another one in me tonight."

"Oh, come on." He dives back into you, bumping his nose into your clitoris and causing your whole body to jolt. "I can't leave you with just one." He nuzzles against you. "How will you manage?"

A slight pang of pain hits you that he’s going to be gone for so long. But you don’t want him to see it, so you play sarcastic. "I have a vibrator."

"You do?"

"How else do you think I deal with your touring schedule?"

"Dirty girl..." He nips playfully at your inner thigh. "Where is it?"

You blush. "Under the bed."

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise. He swings his head over the side of the bed, inspecting underneath it. "There's nothing but shoes down here," he says as he hangs upside-down searching for your vibrator.

"In the Adidas box." You hide your face behind your hands as he climbs off the bed.

"Look at you," he teases. "Hiding sex toys in shoeboxes. You are dirty." He laughs a delighted laugh when he opens the correct box and you curl in on yourself further. He climbs back on top of you, pulling your hands away from your face.

You laugh when you see him, a small bullet vibrator hanging by its cord from between his teeth.

"I want to see it," he says as he drops the vibrator into your hands. "Show me how you get yourself off, if I'm not around to do it."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Two is kind of my max. I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you, sweetheart." Jimin sits back on his heels to watch you, keeping his hand on the controller connected to the vibrator in your hand.

Your heart beats faster as he stares at you. His semi-erect dick dangles between his spread knees.

"Go on," he encourages, turning the vibrator on.

You move the vibrator down between your legs. It makes a spluttering sound as it encounters your wet folds.

"Listen to that." Jimin smiles and scoots forward on his knees, licking his lips. "Listen to how wet you are. I bet you can come again."

The vibrator does feel good against your sensitive skin and watching him watch you fills you with an arousing mix of embarrassment and confidence. The pleasure builds quickly, everything still wound up from your previous orgasm.

He increases the speed on the vibrator. "Are you getting close?" he asks, his own erection rising as he watches you.

You groan and nod, rolling the vibrator in circles across your palm, grinding it into your clitoris. The sounds of the vibrator, the sloppy wetness of your arousal, and your panting breaths fill the room as Jimin waits to watch you come.

But the closer the edge of your pleasure gets, the more distracted you become. He's just sitting there waiting, with that smug grin on his face. What if you can't come? What if he thinks this stupid curse is real? You just came, it's perfectly reasonable that you might not be able to come again right now.

The further you get into your own head, the further your climax drifts away.

"It's not working, is it?" He strokes his now fully erect cock and wiggles his eyebrows. "Need some assistance?" He turns up the vibrations to their maximum setting.

The drive to come surges back as you press harder against yourself with the vibrator and watch him stroke himself. He shuffles forward on his knees, until his dick is right next to your face.

"Suck my cock," he urges, nudging your cheek with his erection. "Do a good job and I'll let you come."

You want to roll your eyes at the suggestion that he has any control over whether or not you come, but his erection is too tempting. You sit up slightly and draw him into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he groans. "My desperate little cockslut."

He's so hard on your tongue. You let go of the vibrator to angle yourself better. He moans when you sink down so far that your nose bumps into his pubic bone.

"Fuck," he exhales and his hands tremble as he caresses your cheek. "You take it so well." He picks the vibrator back up from where you dropped it onto the bedspread and positions it back between your legs. You jolt and moan, sending vibrations through his dick. He threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck, easing you up and down his cock.

You hover at the edge of coming, so debauched and needy and desperate to please him. He rolls the vibrator faster around your clitoris and you're so close. "Can you come for me?" he whispers, stroking your hair. "I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth."

You groan and rock your hips back and forth against his hand, chasing the edge as he guides you up and down his dick. But you can't quite get there. Every time you reach the tipping point, his cock bumps into the back of your throat and you gag.

"You can't do it, can you?" he teases, pace increasing as he gets more and more excited. The vibrator drops to the bed as he uses both hands to grip the back of your head. "You're mine now. All your orgasms are mine," he chokes out as he loses control of himself and comes down your throat, holding you to him and forcing you to swallow his whole release.

His thighs tremble as he sinks down onto the bed. "I love you," he says, kissing your cheek. He folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and sighing happily. Your core aches, but Jimin looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Hey!” You poke him in the ribs. "You can't leave me like this."

He opens one eye and laughs. "You admitting that you need me?"

You pout, not wanting to admit anything, but really wanting to get off one last time before bed. He's leaving tomorrow. Just because you want him right now doesn't mean you're cursed.

"Please, Jimin." You nudge the vibrator back into his hand, core clenching again when he takes it from you. "Help me."

"Of course." He smiles and kisses you again, before scooting down the bed and positioning himself between your legs one last time.

"So wet and swollen," he teases, as he traces a finger up and down your labia, chuckling as it twitches.

"Quit teasing," you groan, smacking his hand in irritation.

"Yes, dear." He brings the buzzing vibrator back to your clitoris and your hips buck upward to meet him. You're so close to coming you cry out, reaching out for him and grabbing on to whatever you can reach. One hand grips his shoulder as the other tangles into his hair. "That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me."

His warm wet tongue slides in next to the vibrator and you shatter into a million pieces.

Your fragmented mind floats above you as you tense in pleasure, every muscle contracted as it all becomes too much. You sob as your third orgasm of the night is ripped from you. Jimin massages both the vibrator and his tongue against you, pulling every last drop of arousal from you.

You collapse into a pile of jelly. "Fuck," you breathe out. "That was amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Jimin beams from between your legs, giving one small kiss to your pubic mound before sliding back up and cradling you in his arms. "Hope it was worth it," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as you close your eyes.

You nuzzle into his warm, muscular chest. It certainly seems worth it right now. But curses aren't real. It's the last thing you think before you fall into a deep satisfied sleep. Curses aren't real.

______

You roll over the next morning to find Jimin’s side of the bed empty. Running water in the bathroom tells you he’s already up and getting ready to leave.

There’s a tingle between your legs, an echo of the night before. Your legs and crotch are slick with a mix of saliva, arousal and sweat. It should be disgusting, but it makes you smile mischievously. Memories of last night replay in your mind as you slide your hand down between your legs and contemplate how you got so messy.

The bathroom door is closed. You wiggle over to Jimin’s side of the bed and pick up his phone. It’s 5:30 am. Do you have enough time to talk him into coming back to bed? Your core pulses and you run a teasing finger around it. It’s so sore that it almost hurts to touch it. Almost, but not quite enough to stop you. You miss the heat of his mouth, the possessive way he talked, his groans of pleasure as he consumed you.

“Jimin,” you call out, unable to wait for him any longer.

The running water stops. “Yeah?” he calls out, not opening the door.

“Are you almost done in there?”

“One second.” The water switches back on briefly before he shuts it off and opens the door.

Jimin is shirtless, patting his face dry with a towel. You lick your lips at the sight of him, the tingle between your legs escalating to full ache.  He’s dressed in only black slacks, hair wet and tousled from his shower. Your core pulses as you watch a drop of water from his hair drop onto his chest and trail down the muscular planes of his stomach.

His eyes rake over you, making you feel naked despite the covers. You pull your hand away from yourself, embarrassed. Your possibly demonic boyfriend smirks.

“Last night not enough for you?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking all too pleased with himself. “Greedy girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but your pussy clenches traitorously instead. His dark eyes burn even hotter, as if he knows.

He chuckles. “I’d offer to help you out, but I just washed my face.”

You roll your eyes and squirm under the covers. “There are other ways to help me.” You don’t need his tongue. His fingers or his cock would do just as nicely.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he walks over to his nightstand and picks up his phone. “I’ve only got ten minutes before the car arrives though.”

The pang of distress at his leaving returns. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I thought you could use the rest.” He laughs and kisses you on the forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you earlier than I had to.”

It feels especially hard to say goodbye today. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I bet you will,” he replies, striding across the room to fish a white button-down shirt from the closet, still smirking. “A month is a long time to go.”

“I like more about you than just the sex.” You cross your arms and pout. “Won’t you miss me?”

Jimin laughs brightly as he buttons up his shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Of course, I’ll miss you.” He takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It doesn’t feel like enough to convey how much you’re going to miss him. But you don’t want to be that needy girl who begs her boyfriend to stay.

He smiles and picks up your hands, lifting them to his lips and kissing the back of each. Then he pauses and sniffs. He can smell the arousal on your hand and you are mortified. His eyes flick back up to your blushing face and he cocks an eyebrow, pleased smirk on his lips. "You sure you don't want my assistance one last time?"

You clench your thighs together and squirm under his heated gaze. "I wouldn't want you to be late." You can always get yourself off after he leaves.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing at his watch. "I should get going." He cups your cheek in his palm, tilting your chin up to give him a kiss goodbye.

You pour all your unspoken longing into your last kiss. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, and when his tongue enters your mouth, your whole body breaks out in droplets of sweat. You thread your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him closer as you moan against his lips.

He laughs as he pulls away from you. "So needy," he teases, wiping his lips with his thumb. "I like it." You want to scoff at how patronizing he sounds, but then he places a soft kiss on your forehead. "Be good for me," he whispers and you can't help the whine you emit as he lets go of you.

What is the matter with you? You've always prided yourself on being a mature adult who was respectful of his schedule, not some hormonal teenager who can't live without her boyfriend. You must be horny. As soon as he leaves, you can solve that problem and go about your day as usual.

You watch Jimin leave, admiring the way the tight black pants show off his best assets. "Hurry back!” you call after him. He blows you a kiss, and then he's gone.

The moment he's gone, you feel colder and emptier. You slide back down under the covers, drawing them up over your shoulders, and sighing broken-heartedly. It's dramatic, but no one is around to see you, so you let yourself wallow for a moment.

The tingle between your legs recaptures your attention. You glance over to the nightstand where your vibrator waits. Your pelvic muscles twitch in excitement. You scoop the vibrator up and sneak it under the bed covers.

You take your time easing into your arousal. You're still sore and sensitive from last night, so you don't go straight for the maximum setting. You tease yourself slowly, like Jimin would. His kiss lingers on your lips. Your fingers miss his soft hair. The vibrator echoes the burning, tingling pleasure of his tongue.

Just as you reach your plateau, cranking the vibrator to the highest setting and settling in for the home stretch, your phone buzzes.

Today 10:35 am

Jimin: What are you doing?

You: Nothing...

Jimin: Nothing? You sure about that? You sure you're not fingering that needy clit right now?

You: I am doing no such thing.

Jimin: You've got the vibrator out then.

You: Fuck. How do you know that?

Jimin: You seemed pretty needy when I left. ;)

You: Where are you?

Jimin: Pulling into the airport.

You groan out loud. The idea of him texting you filth while surrounded by his members made you flush with heat. You ignore him for a moment as you ride the wave of pleasure that surges through you at the thought.

Jimin: You going to answer me?

You: I have the vibrator.

Jimin: Dirty girl... Did you cum?

You: No, not yet

Jimin: Can't get it done without me huh?

You: just taking my sweet time. thank you very much. curses aren't real

Jimin: prove me wrong then. cum for me

Your clitoris throbs as you lower the vibrator back to it, buzzing excitedly. The edge of your orgasm hangs just out of reach. You read back Jimin's command and press the vibrator harder against yourself, rocking your pelvis up and down. It's right there. You ride the edge for a moment, then breathe out and let yourself tip over.

Your whole body goes numb. All feeling disappears, as if you are floating in mid-air, all sense of time and place gone and you feel nothing. Your pelvic muscles contract rhythmically, as if you’re having an orgasm, but you can’t feel it. You feel nothing.

Blinding pain rips through you. The vibrator is a curling iron pressed to your clit. The sheets burn everywhere they touch you. You cry out in shock and fling the source of pain away from you. You tear the bedcovers off as the vibrator clatters into the dresser on the far side of the room.

What the fuck just happened? The pain disappears as quickly as it appeared and you are the same, cunt still pulsing with arousal. You lie in a pool of sweat, panting.

You look over at Jimin's message. Should you tell him what just happened? What if he thinks it's the curse?

You shake your head. No. Curses aren't real. It must all be in your head.

Today 10:42 am

You: did it

Jimin: really?

You feel a slight twinge of guilt as you lie to him.

You: really

Jimin: oh...

Is he disappointed? Did he want you to have an ancient demonic curse? He told you to come for him. You watch typing bubbles appear and disappear several times, but no messages come through. You feel overheated and overwhelmed. You get up out of the bed, ignoring the ache between your legs, deciding to have a cold shower instead.

Jimin: getting on the plane now

You: okay, have a safe flight! I love you! Call me when you land!

Jimin: yup, will do

No "I love you too"? Was he mad at you? Upset? You frown as you stand in your bathroom and watch his flight take off on the flight tracker app on your phone.

_____

It’s a long eleven hours as Jimin flies to Los Angeles. Every time you think about him, the slight tingle between your legs returns. You make the shower ten degrees colder to try to calm yourself down, but it provides only temporary relief. You are on edge and restless all day, but too afraid of the strange thing that happened this morning to try masturbating again.

By the time midnight rolls around, you are very tired and very frustrated. You should go to bed and talk to Jimin in the morning. But as you watch the plane get closer and closer to landing, you can’t fall asleep.

His plane lands and you wait for him to text you. Five minutes go by, then ten, with no message. You can’t take it anymore.

Today 12:18 am

You: Did you arrive safely?

Jimin: Just landed

You: Can you talk?

He’s only been gone half a day, but it already feels too long. You’re annoyed with yourself for feeling this needy.

Jimin: Not right now. Maybe in a couple of hours

You: I have to go to bed…

Jimin: You should go to bed then

You frown. Usually he would plead with you to wait a little longer, or ask if he could wake you up when he was free. You’ve had many whispered conversations at 4 am because it was the only time he could talk.

You can’t let on how much you already miss him though. You don’t want to be one of those girls who becomes a burden. This was the trade-off to dating an idol.

You: Okay, good night then

Jimin: good night

You frown at your phone again, before finally giving up and setting it down on the nightstand.

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom wishing he was here with you, instead of halfway around the world. You roll over and hug the pillow next to you. It smells like him. It triggers a deep knock of the same arousal that’s been haunting you all day. Maybe it would help you sleep if you got some relief.

You slip your fingers down into your underwear and find yourself already wet. You trail your fingers through the sticky wetness curiously. You are not usually this wound up so quickly. It’s ridiculous that the smell of him alone can get you this excited.

You bury your face in his pillow and inhale again, amazed as you feel another burst of wetness gush from you. God, you miss him. How do you miss him this much when he’s been gone less than a day? His arms, his hands, his tongue, his lips are all you can think about.

You sigh softly as you trail a damp finger up around your eager clitoris. You close your eyes and imagine the hand belongs to Jimin instead. He’s here with you. His lips on yours, his hand curled into your hair, whispering how you belong to him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers in your head. “Make yourself wet and desperate for me.” You groan as you pick up the pace of your hand. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.”

“Jimin, please,” you plead into the silence of your empty bedroom.

The Jimin in your head laughs. “You know it’s hopeless right?” he teases, smirking at you in that self-satisfied way where he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. “Every one of your orgasms belongs to me.”

You feel the edge of pleasure begin to slip away. You speed up your hand and chase after it, but it’s no use. The pleasure fades aways and you are left numb, empty and wet.

“Told you I was cursed,” imaginary Jimin teases. You huff in frustration, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, and roll over away from the pillow that smells like him. You shut your eyes tight. Curses aren’t real.

_______

Your dreams are full of Jimin. Jimin’s hands, Jimin’s chest, Jimin’s tongue. Over and over, he teases you toward your climax in your sleep. Always pausing, always stopping before you get to your end. By the time you wake up in the morning, you are swollen and dripping with need.

Your alarm sounds. It’s Monday. Work starts in an hour. You reach down and confirm how wet you are, more wet than you have ever been before. Your thighs slide past each other, slick with arousal. You can’t go to work like this.

It’s time to break out the big guns.

You lean over the side of your bed and fish out the other shoebox. The one you couldn’t tell Jimin about. The one that contains your dildo. Sometimes the vibrator alone wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed a bit more. Sometimes you needed to be filled.

“Won’t do any good,” imaginary Jimin whispers in your head. You ignore him.

You slide the toy through your folds, slicking it up with your excessive wetness. The sides of your entrance tingle with heat as you stroke over them.

“Imagine it’s me,” Jimin teases. The fake cock heats up in your hands and you can almost believe it's his.

“Please, fuck me, Jimin” you beg, even though Jimin is thousands of miles away.

“Would if I could, sweetheart,” he answers. You picture him running his tongue over his plush lower lip. “But that’s not what you really want.”

“No such thing as curses,” you urge as you slide the dildo into you. “Fuck…”

Being finally filled again scratches an itch you hadn’t been able to before. It’s a pleasure and a relief all at once. The toy slides in easily with how soaking wet you are.

You pull up some porn on your phone and prop it against a pillow before grabbing the vibrator. You’re done fucking around. You need to get off right now and then go to work.

The porn isn’t very interesting though. The only thing you want to think about is Jimin. You close your eyes, listening to the audio but picturing your boyfriend. It doesn’t take long before you feel the pleasure crescendo. You let out a sob. It’s happening, it’s finally happening. You aren’t cursed.

The phone rings.

“Fuck!” You throw the vibrator down in frustration.

It’s Jimin. If it were anyone else, you would let it go to voicemail. But you really want to hear his voice. You turn the vibrator off so he won’t hear it, but keep sliding the silicone cock in and out of you.

“Hey babe,” Jimin’s voice is a little raspy. “I thought I could catch you before work. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you lie, sliding the dildo further inside yourself and biting your lip to conceal a groan.

He chuckles. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Getting ready for work.” You refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting that you’re actually naked in bed, dripping for him. “What are you doing?”

“Finally made it to the hotel,” he groans. You can picture him stretching his arms over his head as he spreads himself across his big empty bed. “Was thinking about you. Thought you might be thinking of me.”

Does he know? How could he know? Does he have magical “knows when his girlfriend is horny” demon powers”?

Shit. No. Jimin is not a demon. There are no such things as demons.

“Did you just call for phone sex?” You want to sound irritated, but your pelvic muscles clench traitorously around the dildo.

“Can’t stop thinking about yesterday.” His voice gets lower and you can hear the slick sounds of his hand moving over his dick in the background. “You were so needy for me. I liked it.”

A sharp blade of anger slices through your fog of lust.

“Jimin.” You pull the dildo out of you, setting it to the side. “You can’t ignore me all day yesterday and then expect me to talk you off like nothing happened.”

“Aww, come on, we were so busy. I called you as soon as I got here,” he whines. “I’ll make sure you get off too.”

You aren’t sure he can. Not with his voice alone. You need him here with you. But you’re not going to admit that.

“I have to go to work.” You are rapidly running out of time.

“Don’t you miss me?” he asks. You can practically hear his pout through the phone.

“Do you miss me?” You want to know why he hadn’t called earlier, but you don’t want to seem too needy.

“Of course, I do, baby. I love you.”

The tension in you eases slightly. Maybe you had been making things up.

“Miss you so much,” he continues and you can hear the sounds of his jerking off pick up speed. “Miss that sweet little cunt.”

It’s just about sex. He doesn’t miss you, he just wants to get off. “I have to go Jimin.”

“What? No! Don’t go.”

“I’m going to be late for work.” You hang up on him, feeling a vindictive victory. Your core is still wet and aching, but your anger powers you long enough to get you up and into the shower.

______

One cold shower and a hot cup of coffee later and you are on your way to work.

The commute sucks. Your lingering arousal refuses to abate. Your mind dwells on Jimin. Sitting down on the subway has you springing to your feet as the train starts moving, vibrations from the rails threatening to have you soaking through your underwear. Memories of Jimin commanding you to orgasm echo through you as you fight to calm your breathing.

You haven’t heard from real Jimin since you hung up on him. He probably fell asleep.

At work, you shift uncomfortably at your desk. You try to answer some emails, but every few seconds your core pulses, forcing you to reposition yourself. Your clothes itch. Everything is too hot. You shrug off the cardigan that you usually need to cope with the building’s air conditioning system. But then you rush to put it back on when you notice how hard your nipples are, poking through your bra and shirt.

The only thing that can distract from the tingling all over you is the buzz of your phone.

Today 10:22 am

Jimin: I’m sorry :(

You: Go on…

Jimin: I’m sorry I ignored you. This whole thing has me a bit thrown off.

You: How so?

Jimin: I was just so sure that the curse was a real thing, you know? I felt pretty stupid that it wasn’t.

You bite your lip and shift uncomfortably in your seat, pressing your legs together. Should you tell him? No… curses aren’t real. You’re just missing your boyfriend. That’s okay.

You: It’s okay, Jimin. Thank you.

Jimin: Is it bad that I kind of wanted it to be real?

You: You did?

Jimin: Well, it’s pretty sexy right?

Sweat trails from your hairline down your neck.

You: I have to be able to live my life Jimin. Can’t be sitting around waiting for you.

Jimin: I’m sorry we’re gone so much.

Shit. Now you’ve made him feel bad for his work schedule, something you swore you’d never do.

You: It’s okay. I’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real. I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real.  

You repeat the mantra under your breath until you make it to the end of the work day.

_______

The rest of the work week passes in much the same way, days of jaw clenching and sweating until you can rush home and lie in bed with the vibrator. You edge over and over, afraid of the pain you experienced last time, until you pass out exhausted.

You manage to make it to Friday. There’s a big meeting at nine. Your whole office, crammed into one conference room. At least this way you have an excuse to linger at the edge of the meeting, rather than sit leaking all over an office chair. It’s the first time you’ve had to be around this many other people at once.

“Do you think they can tell?” demon Jimin whispers in your head. “Do they know how wet and desperate you are right now?”  

You teter at the edge of the room. You clench in horror as a drop of something begins running down the inside of your leg. You’re too far gone to tell if it is arousal or sweat.

A colleague next to you leans over to ask you a follow-up question on something your boss just said, but you cannot hear them over the buzzing in your head.  They look at you in confusion. “Are you alright?”

No, you are not alright. You’re becoming dumber with each passing moment. Sweat beads up on the back of your neck. You mutter something about not feeling well and run for the restroom.

You slam the door to the stall behind you, ripping off your cardigan and undoing several buttons of the blouse underneath. You can’t breathe. You need air. You need relief. You slip your hand underneath your skirt. Your fingers are cool against your burning core. It’s a relief to touch yourself again.

“God, you’re a mess.” Jimin whispers in your head. You want to cry from how humiliating this is. “Can you imagine if they knew what you were doing in here?”

“Jimin…” you plead, unable to stop yourself.

“Shhh… ” he chuckles. “Don’t let them hear you.”  

You bang your head back into the stall door in frustration. If you could just come, if you could just get five minutes of relief. Maybe the pain would be better, at least it would be a different sensation. You speed up your hand, chasing any form of relief.

“Such a dirty girl. Getting yourself off in the bathroom to the mere memory of me. What are we going to do with you?”  

Your fingers slurp through the slick leaking from you. The noises fill the small office bathroom. It’s disgusting and debauched and you can’t stop yourself.

“Listen to that.” Jimin whispers. “You’re so hopeless.”

Your orgasm dances tantalizingly near, but your hand is starting to cramp up.

“Don’t stop now.” Jimin urges. “Keep rubbing. That’s it. The more desperate you are, the more control I have.”

“Fuck…” you curse.

The bathroom door opens, noises of chatter and typing pouring in from the larger office. “Everything okay in there?”

Your face burns with humiliation and your back drips with sweat. “I’m okay!” you call out, even though you aren’t, not even a little.

You’ll never get relief here. It takes all your strength to pull your fingers away from your swollen cunt. Especially with Jimin whispering in your ear to keep touching yourself.

You adjust your skirt and rebutton your blouse as best you can.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you emerge from the stall, not looking at the colleague who has come to check on you. “Stomach bug.” You hope your excessive sweating sells the idea that you are actually ill.

“Go home!” your colleague insists, waving their hands at you. “Don’t be spreading your norovirus around here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think that is a good idea.” You nod, rinsing off your hands and patting a damp cloth on your face.

Imaginary Jimin grins, his dark eyes burning in your mind’s eye at the idea of having you all to himself again. “I think that’s a good idea too.”  

_______

The first thing you do when you get back to your apartment is strip out of your clothes, leaving a trail of sweat-soaked clothing from your front door to the bedroom. You climb back into bed and grab the vibrator, hissing in relief as it clicks on, feeling like you can breathe for a moment.

“You know, you’re only going to make it worse.” Demon Jimin continues to taunt you. “The more you touch yourself, the more you’ll want me.”

“Please, Jimin, please,” you beg, even though there’s nothing your imaginary boyfriend can do for you.

“What will we do with you?” the demon smirks, tutting in mock disapproval. “Can’t even work a full day. How will you keep a job? I’ll have to take you everywhere with me, never too far away. My personal slut.”

“No, Jimin, please…” Everything hurts. Your folds are red and irritated. Your hand cramps from pressing the vibrator into you. But you can’t stop.

“It’s okay, my love. Keep rubbing yourself. Melt your brain away. Be mine. There’s nothing else you need to do. That’s my good girl.”

All conscious thought begins to slip from you. There is only aching burning need. Jimin’s voice echoes in your head, drowning out all your attempts to fight him.

“What an embarrassment you are. So wet and needy. Filthy girl. I won’t be able to take you anywhere. You’ll have to wait around my hotel room, begging me to take pity on you. My own horny little pet.”

Waves of desire roll through you, washing away any other aspirations. Just to be his. To be only his.

“Won’t that be easier? Nothing to worry about. No work, no chores. Your only job will be to stay wet and ready for me. And you’ll be so good at it. I’ll use you when I feel like it and only let you come once I’m satisfied. Every single orgasm will be mine.”

A groan rips from your throat, more animal than human. Tremors run up and down your spine.

“I’ll have to be careful not to let you come too often though,” Jimin teases. “I like you like this. All needy and desperate for me. Want to keep you like this. My brainless little fucktoy.”

You sob. He’s right. It’s all you’re good for now. Nothing but a shivering pile of desperation.

The only thing that saves you from drifting under the demon’s spell is the ring of your phone. Jimin is calling you. Real Jimin. Your only lifeline.

“Hello?” Your voice is raspy and parched. You click off the vibrator so he can’t hear it. But that only makes the need worse, so you replace it with your hand.

“Hello?” Jimin answers. “Are you sleeping?”

“No…” Should you be asleep? You have no idea what time it is.

“You sound weird.”

You switch the phone to speaker and rest it next to your head on the bed so he can’t hear your heavy breathing.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you all week.” He sounds a bit upset, and very far away.

You have no answer. No, things were not okay, but there was nothing he could do about it when he’s thousands of miles away.

“Beg him,” demon Jimin whispers. “Go on, beg him to let you come. It will be funny.”

“I can’t,” you mutter under your breath, groaning in frustration.

“What?” Jimin’s voice calls from the phone. “I can’t hear you. Are you still there?”

“I… I can’t do this right now Jimin.”

“Are you still at work?” His tone has shifted from upset to confused.

“No, no, I went home.”

“Are you sick?” Jimin asks through the phone. “Hello?”

A small sob bubbles its way up out of your throat.

“This conversation is boring,” the Jimin in your head insists. “Turn the vibrator back on.”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Jimin.”

“What are you doing?” Real Jimin sounds worried. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Go on,” the demon whispers. “Tell him you can’t come without him. Tell him you belong to him now. Tell him his pathetic excuse for a girlfriend can’t live without him.”

“Jimin please!” you cry out. “I can’t do it anymore, please!” Tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me come.”

“What? Are you playing with yourself right now?” he asks, incredulous.

Somehow the vibrator has turned back on and you rock against it, even as you wish you could stop. “I can’t help it,” you sob. “I can’t stop Jimin. I can’t stop.” You’re useless and pathetic. He’s going to leave you and you’ll never get relief again. “I’m sorry. Please let me come.”

“You can come! You can come!” he shouts through the phone, but of course, that does nothing to help you.

“I can’t come without you!” you sob. “You were right. The curse is real.”

“Huh? But, but... at the airport, you said you did.”

You groan, still chasing relief that isn’t coming. “I lied, Jimin, I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. But it’s real and I can’t… I can’t do anything without you. You have to come back.”

“I can’t come back. We have a show tomorrow.”

“ He’s not going to help you.” The demon is still there, waiting for you.

“Please, Jimin, please come home.” you beg. “I need you.”

“This is my job. I can’t leave.”

“What about my job, Jimin? What about my life? You can’t leave me like this!”

“It’s only been a week! Can’t you deal with it for a little longer?”

“Fuck you Park Jimin! You did this to me!”

“You said it wasn’t real!”

“He’s useless,” demon Jimin begins to drown out your boyfriend. “Come back to me. Be mine.”

“I have to go Jimin.”

“No, don’t hang up. We can figure this out.”

“You can’t help me.” You hang up the phone and toss it back onto your nightstand.

“Good girl.” The demon hisses in satisfaction. “Let it all go. Let your mind go.” You cry, still rocking against the vibrator, searching for relief that isn’t coming.

______

Your mind slowly leaves you over the next few days. You can get a few minutes of clarity if you’re willing to push yourself all the way over the edge, the searing pain providing you with enough mental clearness to call in sick to work or order food. But every time you do, it leaves you with even less with even less mental clarity.

At some point, you stop keeping track of the days. You stop sleeping. You stop eating. Eventually, even getting out of bed becomes too much work.

The bed sheets are wet, a mixture of sweat and vaginal secretions. You need to pee.

“God, you’re disgusting.” Demon Jimin laughs in your head. “He’s never going to want you now. Wet yourself like the animal you are and be done with it.”

You whine, hiding your face beneath your pillow and trying to distract yourself with the vibrator from the growing need to urinate.

The phone rings. Jimin is calling. He’s been calling for days, but you can’t answer him. You can’t let him know what you’ve become. He’ll never want you again.

There’s a loud banging on your front door. Who could that be? You haven’t ordered any food in a while, not really sure how long.

“Ignore it,” the demon instructs. “Lie here in this bed and piss yourself.”  

You wrap the pillow around your head, unsure if you are trying to drown out the pounding on the door or the demon whispering in your ear.

“Open the door!” A loud, frantic voice carries through the door and you curl in on yourself. You don’t know who they are, but you can’t let them see. You can’t let them know. The pounding stops, followed by a loud thud that rattles the door on its hinges. “Goddamn it!” The voice shouts. Then, a softer voice calls through the door. “Baby, please open the door. Please, let me in.” It’s Jimin. Real Jimin. He’s here.

The overwhelming drive for him is the only thing that could propel you up and out of the bed. You’re shaky on your feet, a bit dizzy. The world is not entirely stable. But you manage to make it to the door and unlatch the lock before collapsing in a heap next to the entry.

For a second, there’s nothing. The door stays shut and you are worried that you hallucinated the whole thing. Of course he’s not here. He has more important things to be doing than dealing with his pathetic girlfriend.

But then the door bursts open.

“Babe?” Jimin calls for you as he steps into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He’s wearing the same white dress shirt and black slacks that he left you in. Maybe he’s a figment of your imagination.

“Jimin…” You reach out for him, unable to believe he’s actually here, needing to feel whether or not he is solid.

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he finds you crumpled up and naked on the floor. “Are you okay?” He drops his overnight bag on the threshold and kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. “Tell me what’s happening.”

You don’t know how to answer him. You don’t know what’s happening. But his fingertips are cool against your feverish, sweaty skin. He brushes the hair out of your face so he can look you in the eyes. You only know you need him.

“Jimin, I need you, please.” Your hands reach for him, searching for more of his skin to cool yourself against. You’re untucking his shirt from his pants and trying to undo his belt buckle, but he bats your hands away.

“Woah...” He grabs your hands to stop you as you battle him for his belt. “Babe, slow down, talk to me.”

He doesn’t want you. He’s repulsed by you. The demon was right. He’ll never touch you again. You’re worthless. You’re repulsive. You burst into tears. “Please, Jimin, please, I can’t,” you sob, nearly incomprehensible.

“Shh, shh...” He runs his hands over your shoulders. “Shh… it’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you.” He scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the hall, back toward your room. “I was so worried,” he says as he cradles you against him.

You can only respond by nuzzling your face into his chest, the cool cotton of his white shirt absorbing the heat from your skin.

“Your work called and said you haven’t been in since last week.” He kisses the top of your head and inhales the smell of your hair. “Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

You ought to feel bad, but it was hard to feel too bad when you had what you finally wanted, Jimin back here with you.  

“I thought something terrible had happened to you.” He pauses at the door to the bathroom, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s the curse,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “I’m cursed. You cursed me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He set you down on the toilet, before turning on the shower. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead and turns to leave the bathroom.

You panic. Where is he going? He can’t leave you like this. “Jimin, no, don’t leave.” You chase him out of the bathroom, catching him around the middle and clinging to his waist. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he chuckles, trying to unfasten your arms from around him, but you refuse to let go. “I was just getting undressed.” He sighs, picking you up once again and carrying you back to the bathroom. He tries to set you down again, but you whine, clinging to his neck.

Giving up, he steps directly into the shower, still dressed, cradling you in his arms. The white dress shirt turns translucent as the water hits it, clinging to his skin. The water runs down his torso and thighs and you groan with need. The water is warm, but it feels cool compared to how hot your skin is.

“Jimin, please.” You’re begging again. “I need you.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he answers. Your legs tremble underneath you as he puts you back on your feet.  He grabs the bottle of body wash and squirts out a generous dollop, lathering it up in his hands.  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It’s all you can do to stay standing as he caresses you. He removes the shower head from its hook so he can follow each soapy caress with water to wash you clean.

He starts with your neck, then your breasts, then your stomach, gentle hands massaging over you. It only makes the ache for him worse.  He reaches the puffy and swollen labia and you gasp, legs trembling.

“Please, Jimin, please,” your endless chant of pleading begins again.

“Shh…. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He runs the showerhead over your aching core to rinse off the soap and your legs give out entirely. You collapse against the wall behind you, unable to support yourself.  Still dressed in his soaking wet clothes, he kneels in front of you. He spreads your legs, investigating your swollen folds with his soapy hands. Your clitoris throbs, hard and angry and red. You shiver as he runs the water stream over again. “Does it hurt?” he asks, watching your face as he strokes over your tender core with his fingertips.

“No, no,” you shake your head emphatically. “Not anymore.” The only pain now is the distance between you. “Please, please, please…”

He slides closer to you, brushing his dark wet hair back off his forehead and licking his lips. He picks up one of your legs and wraps it over his shoulder, then the other, carrying you on his shoulders as he buries his face in your core. You are so on edge, have been on edge for so long, that you’re already at the peak of your arousal the moment his tongue touches you.

Something monstrous is building inside you. A sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before moves through you as he moves his tongue in slow broad strokes over your clit. Flames of heat lick at your extremities, beginning in your fingertips and toes and spreading upward. Rising warmth builds in your belly as you ride his face, hips undulating in time with the bobbing of his head. Fear floods you as the memory of the searing pain returns from those moments you’ve gotten this close in the past. You tense up, gripping his shoulders tightly, afraid to let yourself tip over.

“It’s okay,” Jimin whispers, pausing for a second to admire you from between your thighs. “It’s okay to let go.” His warm wet tongue slides over your aching clit as his fingers penetrate you. A massive tremor rolls through you as all the pent of tension releases at once and you’re coming. Every muscle in your body seizes over and over as you grind against his face.

Rhythmic muscle contractions seize you as a rush of fluid shoots out of you, spraying Jimin right in the face. You’re screaming, but not from pain. There is no pain, only release, only relief.

“Woah.” Jimin gapes at you, your release dripping down his face and off his chin. Then he breaks into a huge smile. “That was amazing.”

You laugh out loud, relief washing over you. Your whole body turns to jello and you collapse into his lap.

“Thank goodness we were already in the shower,” he says, wiping his face with his hand and chuckling.

The two of you sit, holding on to each other under the stream of water, laughing. Finally, the mental fog begins to lift from your thoughts.

“How did you get here?” you ask, yawning as you do so.

“On a plane.” He laughs, nuzzling against your neck, arms wrapped around you.

You hit playfully on his chest, still covered in his soaking wet dress shirt. “You know what I mean, what about the tour?” You yawn again.

He mirrors your yawn, stretching his arms and groaning. “I have to go back in the morning. They managed to get me out of the press junkets for today by claiming I was sick, but I have to be back for the concert.”

“Do they know?” Your eyes are already closing as you lean against his warm firm torso.

“About the curse?” Jimin asks. “No…” he laughs. “No, I don’t think they’d let me leave if I told them it was because my girlfriend really needed to ride my face. I told them I had a family emergency.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin.”

He shakes his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He turns your face toward him and kisses you. “It’s my fault. I never should have left you.”

You sigh, head resting on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He squeezes your hand where it is entwined with his in your lap. “But we’ll figure something out.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall, finger stroking your arm. “But right now we should get some sleep.”

He turns off the shower, stripping off his wet clothes and leaving them behind before scooping you up. Your head is floaty as he wraps you in a warm towel. You lean against the counter as he strips the sheets from the bed and replaces them with fresh ones, then comes back to lead you back to the bed. The two of you collapse into bed together and sleep overtakes you almost instantly.

______

Your dreams are full of Jimin again. Not teasing demon Jimin, but your warm loving boyfriend, stroking your hair and holding your hand.

You are surprised to wake up and find him watching you.

“I have a solution!” He chirps excitedly.

“You do?”

“Yes! Apparently the curse is in my saliva. So here!” He thrusts the bottle of lube from your nightstand into your hands. You look at it in confusion. “I spit in it!” he proudly declares.

“Um…” You hold the bottle at arm’s length. “Thank you?”

“This way, if I’ve been gone too long, you have a way to get off without me.”

“How do you know it will work?”

He laughs sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mom.”

“Ugh, no…” You hide your head under the covers in embarrassment. “What did you tell her?”

“It was an awkward conversation.” He laughs again. “But I couldn’t let you go through that again. She swears this will work.” He glances down at his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to test it out with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Think you can get it done before I get on my plane?”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out…”

Jimin disappears under the bed and returns with both your vibrator and dildo. “Better get going then,” he teases, before giving you one last kiss. “I’ll text you when I land. I love you.”

You stare at the assortment of sex toys and lube now spread out on your bed. “You’re just going to leave? I don’t have to go with you?”

“Do you want to go with me? I thought you had work.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I do, but… I thought you were going to make me your personal sex slave.”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughs, then a more mischievous smirk spreads over his face. “Unless you want me to.”

You laugh in relief even as a lick of heat curls in your belly. “Perhaps that’s a game best left for when you are in town.”

He winks. “Looking forward to it.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

perpetually in my this is me trying era

vent post idk

everyone talks about how lonely your twenties are but no one talks about how lonely your twenties are when you’ve always been lonely and you were promised that your twenties would be the time. no one talks about how lonely it is to have friends but no one to talk to. no one hangs out with you. you’re the friend invited at the last minute, knowing you were never really meant to be there anyways. you’re the friend who people call every six months, wanting to catch up. you’re the friend who gets pushed to the side in favor of others. it’s not that they’re bad friends but there’s always people who are closer. there’s no one to call up when you’re having a bad time. no one to sit with you on the boring nights. no one to be there just for the sake of being there.

i have a friend. who’s supposed to my best friend. and she made a nasty comment that can be summed up with “talking to you is just a regurgitation of everything on your finsta.” it cut deep at my soul, weeded out long buried insecurities that i’m annoying, too much, always too much. no one likes me anyways.

my grandma is in the hospital for a stroke. for a second year i might be losing a grandparent. i don’t even get along with this grandparent but i can’t carry this burden again. i barely survived last time.

my mom is dating someone no one feels safe around. i worry about my sisters in that house. i don’t want to go home for the holidays. i don’t want to be around my family anymore. i wish i could come out to them. i’m tired of lying.

my only real friend is my 14 year old sister. she lives three states away and can't always be there. i wish that wasn’t so sad, that i didn’t depend on her so much. wish it could be the other way around. 

it’s my senior year and i feel like i should be getting everything i was promised. instead, i’m drowning in school work and stress. back to being stressed and sleepless nights. my canvas didn’t submit my assignment last night, so i was left praying my professor will accept the frantic email and apologies with the assignment attached. i still don’t know if she’ll take it. it feels like there’s never enough time. time to do homework, time to rest, time for myself, time to make things better. i’m always falling behind. 

i’m getting a new room mate and i’m perpetually stressed about that. i’m comfortable. i’m happy-ish. and now everything’s changing.

my detergent didn’t wash all the way through. running it through again, praying it actually dissolves this time. insignificant but enough to ruin my night, on top of discovering my assignment didn’t submit.

there’s a girl i have a crush on. someone i’m enamored with. someone i can’t have. someone i’ve always known i can’t have. someone who doesn’t even realize how they dig at my soul when they causally toss around how much they love being friends with me. my friends have watched me fall head over heels, excited for me to have a crush after him and are now watching me wallow. i always try to pull back but she always seems to just draw me back in. even my room mate noticed, telling me all about how i need to have a “hot girl fall” in order to get past things i thought i was over. to get over a girl who doesn’t want me the way i want her.

one of my friends told me i was a genius for helping her coming up with a presentation idea. almost a year ago, he said the same thing to me for the same exact reason. suddenly i was 20 again, begging for the slightest crumb that told me he still cared.

he talked to me for the first time in almost a year the other day. suddenly i was 19, sobbing hysterically on the floor of my pantry in my sophomore year apartment, having a two hour panic attack. it’s the still the worst panic attack i’ve ever had. suddenly all i could think of was the inability to breath, whispering “i’m sorry, i’ll be better, please don’t leave” over and over again. i was in class actually. he was asking a question about the location of a local war memorial.

i feel like i always have to be perfect. always there for everyone else. always knowing that if i stopped texting them first i’d never hear from them again. can’t depend on anyone but myself. i’m the sunshine friend, always meant to have it together. if they worry, that’s an unfair burden, because we aren’t those kinds of friends. not that close. never that close. 

i cant write anymore. i’m burnt out. i don’t see the point. i’ll never write for the things that bring me joy because everyone always hates them anyways. i don’t want to write because no matter what i post it’ll never be enough.

maybe i’ll never be enough.

maybe this is too much to post on the internet. maybe i should go back to therapy. i probably need to. i just wish i didn’t have to do it alone.

i’m tired of being alone.