#that hurts and is not fun and is not easy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eu-nicola · 2 days ago

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summary: In the dazzling world of high society, you are a young woman who lives an apparently perfect relationship with the pilot Pierre Gasly. However, when you discover that your boyfriend of years Pierre was unfaithful to you with one of your best friends you decide to walk away and what better idea than a vacation in the break of Formula 1 in Italy with one of your friends, Charles.

warnings: tension, infidelity

word counter: 8718

author's note: english is not my first language, btw i'm writing the third part of Max's story

You had grown up with them, in those endless summers in the south of France, where the sun seemed brighter and the air was filled with laughter and promises that seemed eternal. Pierre and Charles were like brothers to you, always there, on days of adventure and days of calm. All of your families knew each other well, and every year the summers brought you together in the same coastal corner. Sometimes, Camille would arrive, that inseparable friend with whom you shared secrets and dreams.

Pierre was the center of calm in the group; observant, with an easy laugh and a confidence that inspired trust. He was the boy who always had a logical answer to every problem and calm advice for each of you. You got used to feeling safe when he was around, to trusting in his loyalty and relying on that serenity he conveyed. He had dreamed of being a driver since he was little, and his tenacity in reaching Formula 1 did not surprise anyone; you always knew that he had the discipline necessary to go far.

Charles, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy, the first to jump into any challenge, no matter how reckless or absurd it seemed. Always on the edge, he was the friend who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, but also the one who could drive you crazy with his impulses and ideas. But that intensity of his, that boundless passion, was also what made him unique. He and Pierre shared the same dream, and although their personalities were opposite, they were both united by that common goal, by that desire for speed that made them talk about races all the time.

Over the years, you witnessed their triumphs and falls. Sometimes, childhood summers seemed like a distant dream; the pressure, the training, and the anxieties of the future began to infiltrate those vacations that used to be just fun. But the friendship between you remained solid. Although life took you on different paths, the connections remained strong, and there was always a message or a call to remind you that they were there.

Pierre had been more than a friend in the last few years, and that spark that had emerged sometime in their teens had grown into something more solid and deeper. The shared laughter and knowing glances had transformed into a relationship in which both found refuge amidst the demands of their lives.

You remember how it all began, almost without realizing it, like a gentle current in the sea that slowly drags you along until you are completely immersed. For years he had been your friend, your confidant; the boy who was always there. But, at some point, something in him changed, or maybe it was you who had changed.

It had started on a spring afternoon in Monaco, when both of you attended a Formula 1 event. You clearly remember what he looked like: hair messy from the wind and an expression of excitement at seeing the drivers gathered together, his idols. That afternoon you noticed how good he looked, how much he had grown and how much he meant to you. A mix of emotions washed over you, and when Pierre looked at you, holding your gaze a little longer than usual, you felt something in the air, something you hadn't felt before. And in that moment, your relationship changed.

The days that followed were filled with small details, knowing glances, and words that seemed to contain hidden meanings. Sometimes, a simple shared laugh or a silence at his side made you feel something different. Pierre began to appear in your thoughts at all hours, and, at first, you tried to ignore him, because you didn't want to risk the friendship you had with him. But it was impossible.

The first kiss was at sunset on the coast, on a beach where you both used to go when you were younger. You hadn't planned anything, you didn't even know how you had ended up there, in front of him, feeling the breeze and the scent of salt in the air. Pierre looked at you with those warm eyes, and without saying anything, he shortened the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, as if both of you were measuring the intensity, the newness of it, until it became deeper, more real. In that moment, you felt like a line had been crossed, and although a part of you was afraid, another part knew it was inevitable. Pierre held you with a tenderness you had never experienced before, and in that instant you felt safe, as if you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

From that day on, your relationship evolved with a naturalness that surprised you. The transition from friendship to love was so fluid that, at some point, you couldn't remember what your life was like without him. Pierre became your partner in every sense. He was that constant support in difficult times, the one who listened to you patiently when you shared your fears and your dreams, and the one who always had a smile for you, even after his hardest days on the slopes.

On one occasion, after a particularly exhausting race for him, you both sat on the terrace of your apartment, looking at the sky full of stars. Pierre was exhausted, his shoulders tense and his expression more somber than usual. Without saying anything, you approached and began to massage his shoulders. He sighed, grateful, and let his head fall back, relaxing under your hands. That night you talked for hours, about his career, about the future and about how you saw the world.

The days passed and, little by little, you realized that Pierre had become an indispensable part of your life. His way of seeing the world inspired you, his patience taught you, and, above all, his love made you feel complete. When he held your hand, looked at you, or said sweet words in your ear, the rest of the world seemed to disappear, and there were only the two of you.

It had been almost a year since your relationship with Pierre began, and things between you seemed to be going better than ever. The trust between the two of you was unbreakable, and you felt that he understood you better than anyone else. Pierre was present in every aspect of your life, and you, in his. It seemed like a solid love, a relationship based on years of friendship and respect. But there was something, a detail hidden between the corners of his life and yours, something that would soon emerge, transforming that feeling of security into a wound.

The first time Camille appeared again in your lives, it was on one of your weekend getaways. You had invited your childhood friends, as you did every year, to spend a few days in a villa near the sea. Camille joined the group near the end of the trip, saying that she had been away on a trip and hadn’t been able to make it earlier. Her presence made you happy, as always; after all, she was your lifelong friend, and sharing those moments with her made you feel like everything was in its place.

Pierre and Camille seemed to get along, and that had never worried you. They had known each other for a long time, as had Charles, and they all had a unique bond, one that you had come to value greatly. But what you didn’t know was that, months ago, during one of Pierre’s trips, something had happened between them, something that had become the darkest secret your relationship kept.

It was one night in Monaco, when Pierre was at a team dinner and Camille was visiting the city. Camille had always had a weakness for glamorous nights, clubs, and the freedom to be whoever she wanted. That evening, without thinking twice, she wrote to Pierre, and he, without thinking twice either, agreed to meet her for a drink after dinner. What started as a reunion between friends quickly turned into something more.

That night, Pierre and Camille shared not only laughter and memories, but also glances that went beyond friendship. They both knew it was wrong, that crossing that line was betraying the trust of someone they loved. But, between the intoxicating atmosphere of the place and the complicity they had shared for years, they let themselves go. Pierre felt an attraction he had forgotten, and Camille, who had always had a spark with him, encouraged him, letting herself go as well.

It was a mistake, one they both knew should stay in the past. After that night, Camille returned to her normal life, and Pierre returned to you, convinced that you would never know what had happened. They swore not to talk about it and to carry on as if nothing had happened. Camille continued to be your close friend, and Pierre, your partner.

In the following months, Pierre did everything he could to act as if nothing had happened. His attentions towards you increased, the small details with which he showed his love and the constancy of his affectionate words. With every glance he took at you, he tried to redeem the guilt he felt inside. But even though he seemed to have put it behind him, the shadow of that night still haunted him in his darkest moments. At night, in moments of silence, that guilt tormented him, and he knew that if you ever found out, his whole world would fall apart.

Camille, for her part, came back into your life without showing any trace of remorse. She was skilled at hiding her emotions, and although sometimes her glances at Pierre had a trace of complicity, she managed to remain distant, as if nothing was different. She was still the same Camille as always, with her contagious laugh and carefree attitude. When you were with her, you couldn't even imagine what she was hiding behind her smile.

A few months after that meeting at the villa, something began to change. At first, it was just an intuition, a slight feeling that crossed you from time to time, like a shadow that made you frown for no apparent reason. Pierre was still affectionate, attentive, almost as if he was trying to make up for something, although you didn't know what.

One night, while you were looking through some photos from that getaway, you noticed one in particular: Pierre and Camille, sharing a somewhat peculiar smile. It was a harmless image, but, without knowing why, it made you uncomfortable. You kept telling yourself that they were your friends, that they had known each other all their lives and that it was normal for them to get along. However, something inside you kept doubting.

The weeks that followed increased that uneasiness. You noticed how Pierre looked away when you mentioned Camille, or how Camille, in a conversation, avoided giving details about some nights in which, according to her, "everyone just had fun." You began to analyze her words, her gestures, her looks. You felt trapped in a spiral of mistrust, and you couldn't help it.

You couldn't keep those concerns to yourself; you needed to vent to someone, someone you really trusted. That's when you decided to talk to Charles. After all, he knew Pierre, Camille, and you better than anyone else. You knew he would be honest with you, without trying to sugarcoat things.

One afternoon, while Charles was back at his house, you decided to call him. He answered on the second ring, in that warm, relaxed voice that always managed to calm you down a little. It didn't take you long to convince him to meet you at a secluded café, away from the eyes of anyone who might recognize you.

Charles arrived shortly after you, and upon seeing you, he immediately noticed that something was wrong. He sat down in front of you, looking at you with a mix of concern and curiosity. You tried to smile to lighten the moment, but you barely managed to keep it. So, without further ado, you blurted out what you had in store.

“Charles, I need your help. I feel like… something is going on between Pierre and Camille. I’m not sure what, but… I have this feeling that they are hiding something from me. It’s just a suspicion, but I can’t get it out of my head,” you said, your voice a little broken, trying to control your emotions.

Charles looked at you silently, evaluating every word and every expression of yours. He knew how important Pierre was to you, and the seriousness of your words made him realize that this was not just a passing doubt. He leaned forward, getting closer, and gently took your hand, as he usually did in those moments when you felt lost.

“I don’t know what to tell you… I mean, Camille and Pierre have always been close, but I never thought that…” he paused, as if he didn’t want to feed your fears. “Look, I don’t want you to be hasty. Sometimes, the mind plays tricks on us, and it’s easy to get carried away by insecurity.”

However, your words had awakened something in him, a kind of doubt that seemed to invade his mind as well. Charles knew Pierre and Camille, and, although he had always trusted them, he had never ruled out that a spark could arise between them. After all, he knew what Camille was like, how impulsive she could be, and he also knew Pierre, and how much he hated dealing with conflict. And now, seeing you so distressed, he couldn’t help but think that maybe your suspicions had some truth.

“Do you want me to talk to Pierre?” he finally asked you, looking at you seriously. “Maybe I can get something out of him, try to see if there’s something he’s hiding from you.”

You stayed silent, considering his proposal. You didn't want this to turn into a confrontation, and you didn't want to put Charles in an awkward position either. However, the idea that he could get some truth that was hidden from you seemed tempting.

"I don't know... I don't want Pierre to feel like I'm distrusting him," you murmured, lowering your gaze. "But I can't keep this doubt in my head either."

Charles nodded.

"Look, I'm going to try to find out something, in a subtle way. And if there's something you need to know, I'll tell you. But promise me that you won't do anything until we have some proof, okay?"

You promised Charles that you would be patient, that you would wait before doing anything. At that moment, you felt a mix of relief and fear. At least you weren't alone in this anymore; now you had someone on your side, someone who was willing to help you discover the truth.

The days that followed were long and heavy. Every time Pierre took your hand or looked at you with his affectionate eyes, you felt a pang in your chest, a doubt that went beyond what he could see. Meanwhile, Charles did everything he could to find out something and, in a casual conversation, try to get some clue. You didn't reveal your suspicions to him, but you watched him, attentive to any gesture or word that could give him away.

Finally, one day, Charles called you again.

That call from Charles came when you least expected it. You were at home, in your kitchen, with a cup of tea in your hands, trying to stay calm. The sound of your phone brought you out of your thoughts, and seeing Charles' name on the screen, you felt a knot in your stomach.

You answered quickly, trying to hide the fear that was eating away at you inside.

"Charles?" you asked, your voice a little hesitant.

It took him a moment to answer, and his tone, serious and slow, gave you no reassurance.

“We need to talk. It’s about Pierre… and Camille,” he said, bluntly, and you felt as if the air was being knocked out of your lungs.

You fell silent, knowing that this was the moment your suspicions were either going to come to life or fade away completely. Charles continued, with a tense calm that only increased your anxiety.

“What I suspected about you… it’s true. Pierre and Camille were together, a couple of months ago. It was… it wasn’t something they wanted you to know, and they tried to hide it, but… the pieces don’t fit, and I found out.”

Confusion and pain hit you hard. The teacup in your hands shook and nearly fell, but your fingers tightened around it, as if that small sense of control could keep everything from falling apart.

“It can’t be…” you whispered, unable to process what you had just heard. Charles’ words echoed in your head like a distant echo, but your mind didn’t want to accept them. You couldn’t believe it, not after everything you had shared. Somehow, you hoped this was just a mix-up, a cruel joke. But the seriousness in Charles’ voice left no room for doubt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Charles said, a mix of frustration and sadness in his tone. “I know how hard this must be for you, but what I’m telling you is the truth. Pierre… I don’t know what he thought, but he wasn’t being honest with you.”

Pain gripped you immediately. You slumped into the chair, your hand still clutching the cup, which now shook as if your entire body was trying to hold on to something that was about to break. Images piled up in your mind: Pierre, so close, so loving, and Camille, your lifelong friend. It all seemed like a cruel game, a lie that was woven with invisible threads until now.

“How did you know?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. You needed to understand how something so destructive had gone unnoticed for so long.

Charles sighed, and in his tone there was a hint of helplessness, as if it hurt him too to be the bearer of bad news.

“I knew because when I was with Pierre last week, I couldn’t help but notice that something wasn’t right. He… was behaving strangely, and when I started asking him questions, everything fell into place. It wasn’t easy for me, but… that’s what I found.” I didn't like having to do it, but I did it for you.

A lump formed in your throat, and you felt the weight of everything you had taken for granted fall on you, crushing you. Everything you had lived with Pierre, all those moments of love, of complicity, suddenly seemed unreal, as if you had been living a lie.

"I... I can't believe it, Charles," you finally said, your voice cracked, full of pain. You felt like the ground beneath you was no longer firm, that everything you had built with Pierre was crumbling into a thousand pieces.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and Charles, although worried, knew he couldn't say anything to ease the pain that was now overwhelming you.

"I'm so sorry..." he murmured, not knowing what else to say. He was also sad for you, for the way things had happened, and for what you knew you would have to face.

The words seemed to flee from you. All you wanted to do was scream, to run away, to run away somewhere where no one knew you, where all of this wasn’t real. How could Pierre, the man you trusted, the one you’d put all your love into, have done this? And Camille, your friend, the one who’d always been there, how could she have crossed that line, betrayed you like that?

“Thank you, Charles,” you said at last, your words cold, automatic, as if you were somehow trying to keep some control over yourself. You knew you needed to process it, but you didn’t know how. You didn’t know how to move on when what you thought was your life had been shattered in front of you.

You hung up the call, and for a moment, everything was silent. The pain washed over you like a wave, and you felt empty, as if the betrayal had ripped a piece of yourself out of you. The space Pierre had occupied in your life suddenly seemed like an impossible void to fill, and Camille, your friend, became a distant, unrecognizable shadow.

While you were sinking into your pain, your bewilderment and the whirlwind of emotions that Pierre and Camille had unleashed in your life, the two of them continued with their own secret. Far from what was happening with you, in the distance that you could not see, Camille and Pierre

were together at an event and, as on so many previous occasions, when they crossed paths in the hallway, there was an instant clash of glances. Memories of the past came back, like ghosts that had never left. Camille, like him, felt the tension between the two of them, a tension that seemed unable to dissipate, even with the passage of time.

Pierre, with his mind full of contradictions, had managed to calm down after his return to you. But now, again in front of Camille, the old emotions invaded him again. He remembered the moment when their bodies met, the touch of their lips, the sensation of something he had not been able to reject. Camille, aware of what had happened, stared at him, and although her expression seemed relaxed, her eyes betrayed the mixture of regret and desire she felt.

“I don’t know why, but… I haven’t been able to forget you,” Pierre told her, his voice lowering in tone, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear them. The confession came out without her being able to avoid it, like a truth that had been pressing against her chest for weeks.

Camille didn’t say anything at first, she just stared at him, with a slight smile on her lips. She couldn’t deny what had happened between them, even if she tried to act indifferent. After all, she had been the one who had made the first move that night, she who had accepted the kiss, who had taken him to a place where neither of them thought about the consequences.

“Don’t forget it,” she replied, her voice soft, but with a tone that Pierre recognized as dangerous. There was something in her words that caught him, something that made him feel as if he were at a crossroads. Camille hadn't let him go, and deep down, he knew she didn't want to either.

Pierre stayed silent, watching her. There was something about her, that intense, direct gaze, that completely disarmed him. He realized that, despite his relationship with you, something with Camille was still alive, something that refused to die out.

"And what do we do with that?" Pierre asked, his tone full of uncertainty, but also of an emotion that he couldn't hide. The words tasted bitter, but also necessary. He couldn't continue living with the guilt, with the weight of what had happened between them.

Camille took a deep breath, looked around to make sure no one was around, and then whispered, almost as if she were revealing a secret truth.

"I don't know what to do with us... with what happened," she admitted, and for a moment, Pierre felt time stop between them. Camille had always been direct, and though there was regret in her words, there was also something deeper, something that kept them connected beyond betrayal.

Pierre took a step closer, a movement that was driven by a need he couldn't control.

"I should never have let this happen… but I can't ignore it, Camille. I can't ignore you," he confessed, this time bluntly, as if the words were slipping from his control.

Camille didn't back down. On the contrary, she moved a little closer to him, and although remorse was present in her eyes, there was also a spark that she couldn't hide.

"I can't forget you either," she replied, with a smile that, although bitter, was sincere. There was something in her voice that, although full of contradiction, showed that, deep down, despite the betrayal, there was still something between them, something they couldn't just leave behind.

The conversation between them ended with a heavy, but not definitive silence. They both knew that what they felt, what had happened between them, wasn't going to disappear immediately. Although Pierre had returned to your side, his mind was still caught between the love he felt for you and the temptation of what he had experienced with Camille.

When Pierre returned, everything seemed to be in its place. At first, he tried to be the same as always: caring, attentive, the kind and loving boy you had been with. But something in him had changed, and you knew it.

That evening, after he arrived at your apartment, you found him in the kitchen while you were making dinner. There was something different about him, and you couldn't ignore it anymore. You knew you couldn't keep living with the doubt and the pain in silence. You had to face it, even if it meant losing him.

You approached him decisively, your heart racing, but determined that, at last, you would have answers. You couldn't keep up with that feeling of betrayal that was eating away at you inside.

"Pierre, we need to talk," you said, trying to stay calm, but knowing that your words sounded much colder than you wanted.

Pierre looked up, surprised by the tone of your voice. He tried to smile, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and for a moment, everything seemed to collapse between you.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, with that typical calm of his that used to reassure you, but now only irritated you.

You knew what you had to say, you knew there was no turning back now. You had the proof, you had the truth. It was time for him to face what he had done.

“I know what happened with Camille,” you said suddenly, and the air between you both grew thick. The words came out with the force of something that had been bottled up for too long. It was as if, as you spoke them, the pain you had been carrying around with you for weeks began to release, but at the same time, it intensified.

Pierre was silent for a moment, his face expressionless. Then, you saw him tense, his jaw set. His eyes shifted for a second, as if he were looking for a way out, a way to evade the truth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally answered, but his tone was no longer the same. There was something uncomfortable, something you couldn’t ignore.

“Don’t lie!” you exclaimed, feeling the rage and pain explode inside you. The truth burned you, and you needed him to accept it, to stop hiding it. You knew you couldn’t continue with someone who was lying to you so openly. “Charles told me everything, Pierre. I know what they did, I know you were with Camille.”

Pierre tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t help the slight trembling in his hands, the anxiety that invaded him. He knew he couldn’t continue denying the obvious, but he also knew that if he admitted it, he would lose everything he had built with you.

“It’s not what you think…” he said, his voice now lowering, trying to control the situation. But you weren’t going to let him manipulate you anymore. You knew him too well for his empty words to convince you again.

“How is it not what I think?” you asked, unable to contain the sarcasm and pain that seeped into your words. Do you think I'm so stupid that I don't realize what happened? You lied to me, Pierre. You lied to me! I can't believe you did this to me.

Instead of apologizing, Pierre tried to turn the conversation around, like he always did when things got tough. He tried to find an excuse, a justification for his behavior, as if that could make everything go back to normal.

"It was a mistake, something that happened, but it doesn't mean what you think it does. Camille… Camille has always been a close friend, and that night, it was just a moment of weakness. I love you, not her. What happened doesn't matter, what matters is that I'm here with you."

But those words had no power over you. They weren't enough to erase the betrayal you felt. He had overlooked it so many times, ignored so many signs that now they became crystal clear. And now, in front of you, Pierre was trying to downplay it, as if it was all an accident, something weightless, when what he had done had broken everything you believed in him.

You took a step back, unable to bear it any longer.

“I can’t go on like this, Pierre,” you said, your voice shaking, but firm. Each word was another nail in the coffin of what had been your relationship.

Pierre seemed surprised, as if he hadn’t expected you to get to this point. He tried to get closer, to take your hand, but you pushed him away roughly, not allowing him to touch you.

“Don’t touch me. You won’t.” You felt empty, but at the same time liberated, as if a heavy layer of pain and disappointment had suddenly been removed.

Pierre tried to speak, but the sadness in his eyes was evident. Now he saw that everything was crumbling before him, that the lie had come to light, and that nothing could save what was left of you.

“I don’t know what to tell you… I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice cracking, but the words no longer held the power they once had. No matter how sorry he felt, the truth was there, and there was no turning back.

“Then you should have thought about it before,” you answered, with a calm that surprised you. It was as if, finally, all the pain you had been accumulating had transformed into something more solid, something that strengthened you. “I don’t want you around. Not after all this.”

And without giving her any room to say more, you turned around and walked to your room, heartbroken, but with the feeling that at least you had done the right thing. You had reached the end, and even though it hurt, you knew that your life had to go on, away from lies, away from betrayals.

Pierre stood there, alone in the living room, watching as everything he had had with her faded away, unable to do anything but accept that he had lost what he loved most.

After the confrontation with Pierre, the weight of the situation did not fade away. On the contrary, what had started as a broken hope, was transformed into an urgent need to escape. You needed to disconnect, to get away, to find peace away from all that. And there was no better way to do it than taking a breather somewhere where no one could touch you, where you could recover a little of yourself.

That was when you thought of Charles. You knew that his impulsive personality and desire for adventure fit perfectly with what you needed right now: an escape.

The idea of traveling to Italy came to you as a perfect way to unwind. Italy had everything you were looking for: beautiful landscapes, tranquility, history, and culture. You called Charles, who was in the middle of training for the season, but you knew that if anyone could understand what you needed, it was him. At first, you took him by surprise, but upon hearing your voice, he immediately recognized the anguish you were trying to hide.

“Charles…” you said, hesitantly at first, but with the determination of someone who had already made up their mind. “I need to get away from all this. I want to go to Italy, to a villa in the mountains, away from everything. Away from Pierre, away from everything that happened.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. You knew he was processing what you had just told him, but you also knew that he would never leave you alone in something like that.

“Of course,” he finally answered, without a moment’s hesitation. “If that’s what you need, let’s go. To Italy then.”

The relief you felt upon hearing his answer was immediate. Charles never questioned your decisions. He had always been there for you, and his unconditional support gave you the strength you needed at that moment.

“Thank you, Charles,” you said, unable to stop your voice from cracking a little.

The idea of traveling to Italy began to take shape quickly. Charles took care of everything, from flights to accommodation, looking for a secluded place in the mountains, far from the hustle and bustle of tourist cities. A place where they could rest, explore, and above all, unwind.

As soon as you had everything ready, the anticipation grew.

The day of the trip arrived quickly. You packed your things with more excitement than ever, relieved to finally get away from the pain and Pierre’s constant presence in your life. It was clear that you needed this change, and, although you knew that the wound Pierre had left would not heal immediately, at least you could give yourself the space to heal, without the pressure of the media that already knew about the crisis between the two of you stalking you every day.

Arriving in Italy, the beauty of the landscape enveloped you like a warm hug. The mountains rose majestically, covered in green, the villas scattered among the vineyards gave a feeling of peace and tranquility that you had not felt for a long time. The villa in which they would stay was hidden between hills, and the rustic and cozy decoration made you feel as if you were in another world, one in which the past had no place.

You and Charles spent the first few days exploring the place, walking through the small towns nearby, tasting wines and eating fresh pasta at local restaurants. Every day was a respite, a chance to unwind, to forget about the pain for a bit and focus on the present.

Although Charles was his usual impulsive and lively self, he sometimes surprised you with his more reflective side, the one that appeared when he noticed that you were pensive, that the shadow of what you had experienced with Pierre had reached you.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he told you one day while you were walking through a small medieval town. The narrow streets, full of flowers and color, gave you a sense of calm that only Italy could offer you.

“I know,” you answered, smiling slightly, although it was evident that you still had a hard time letting go of what you had experienced. “It’s just that sometimes I think about everything that happened, and I think I should never have let it go so far.”

Charles looked at you and approached, placing a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t need to say more, because his gesture said it all. He was there for you, not just as a friend, but as someone who wanted to see you happy, free of any kind of emotional burden.

“Don’t worry about it. What matters is that you’re here now, and we’re in this together,” he said, and the sincerity of his words gave you the strength to keep going.

As the days passed in Italy, things between you and Charles began to change in subtle, but inevitable ways. The first day was just an escape, a respite from the pain Pierre had left behind, but you soon realized that being with Charles in that environment, without the shadows of everyday life, was making you feel something new, something you hadn’t anticipated.

Charles was excellent company, with his sarcastic humor and contagious energy, always ready to make you laugh even when your thoughts wandered to pain.

One afternoon, as they walked down a path between olive trees, Charles began to talk about his life, about his unfulfilled dreams of becoming a world champion, as if he was truly enjoying the company, as if the noise of the world had disappeared. When dinner time came, they sat together at a small table in the garden, with candles lighting the atmosphere and a glass of wine in their hands.

“Did you know that when I was a kid, I thought Italy was the perfect place to live?” Charles said, looking out at the landscape, as if he was reliving his childhood. There was something in his voice that made you think that, although he was always the impulsive and fun-loving boy, there was a side of him that he never fully showed.

“Really?” you asked, intrigued, and smiled at him as you took a sip of wine.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling back, but now with a softer touch on his face. “My family used to come here during the holidays. Italy has something magical, don’t you think?”

You nodded slowly. Something about the atmosphere, the tranquility that enveloped everything, was certainly special.

Every day passed so naturally. On the walks, the comfortable silences, the shared laughter, the deep conversations during dinner or at the end of the day, when you sat on the terraces to watch the sunset, everything seemed to fit together, as if you were both in the right place, at the perfect time. Charles' presence calmed you, made you feel protected and, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe without the anguish that had been drowning you.

On one of those afternoons, after a long walk in the hills, when the light of day was already beginning to fade and the fresh air was felt on your skin, Charles moved closer to you.

“You know, I’m glad we made this trip,” he said, walking close to you, with a look you couldn’t quite read. “I want you to know that even though I’m a little… unpredictable at times, you can count on me for anything.”

There was a silence between you as you walked together, as if the words had become more meaningful, heavier. At that moment, you realized something: Charles had been an unconditional friend.

The tension in the air between you was palpable, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was more of an attraction that grew little by little, unhurriedly, but inevitably.

Despite the serenity that Italy brought, there was something you couldn’t avoid, something that kept stalking you. Camille’s messages were starting to become more and more frequent. At first, you ignored them, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be the right time to deal with what had happened between her, Pierre, and you. But, as the days went by, the messages became more persistent, more urgent.

Camille: "I need to talk to you, please. I know things aren't right, but we have to talk."

Camille: "I miss you, can we fix this? I don't know how to fix this, but I feel so bad..."

The messages were always similar, asking for a chance to explain herself, to tell her side of the story. You knew it wouldn't be easy, that nothing she said could erase what she had done, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel guilty for not giving her the chance to explain. The problem was that, deep down, you knew you didn't want to talk to her. You had been so devastated, so broken by the betrayal, that it was impossible for you to find the right words to forgive her, or even to listen to her.

One day, while walking through a nearby villa, Charles noticed that you were staring at your phone, distracted. You didn't give it much importance, but he, as always attentive to your gestures, came a little closer.

"Everything okay?" “He asked softly, stopping beside you.

You looked at the phone in your hand, seeing Camille’s latest text. The temptation to respond, to end it all, was rife, but then you remembered what Charles had said: “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You took a deep breath, feeling like even if you wanted to work things out, this wasn’t the right time or place to do so.

“It’s Camille,” you said, trying to sound calm. “She’s been texting me all the time. She wants to talk… but I don’t know if she should.”

Charles didn’t say anything at first, but his look said it all. He didn’t need to explain further.

“I understand,” he replied, his voice firm, but also soft. He moved a little closer, walking beside you. “Sometimes people do things they can’t undo, and even if she wants to explain herself, I don’t think that will change what happened. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something out of responsibility or fear. You have every right to decide what’s best for you.”

You were surprised by how Charles had handled the situation. It wasn’t just a matter of being there for you; he seemed to understand you beyond words. You felt cared for, supported, and that was something you had never experienced so clearly. Camille’s words seemed to fade away in Charles’ calm presence.

‘What if I just stop responding? What if we never talk again?’ you thought to yourself.

“Sometimes when someone hurts you, it’s best to let it go,” Charles said, not looking at you, but his confident voice made a shiver run through your body. “You don’t need to solve everything. You don’t have to heal the wound right away.” Just do what makes you feel better.

His words resonated within you. For the first time in days, you began to feel like you could truly let go of Camille and Pierre without feeling the pressure of having to face it all. The relief of taking control of the situation spread like a wave of calm.

You decided you wouldn’t respond to Camille. Not right now. You were learning to set boundaries, to recognize what really mattered at this point in your life.

The next night, after dinner, Charles sat next to you on the terrace, looking up at the stars, and broke the silence with a smile.

“Have you?” he asked, knowing what he meant.

You looked at him, a little surprised by his question, but the answer came easily, as if you had been waiting for that moment to finally make a decision.

“Yes,” you said, looking at your phone one last time before putting it back in your pocket. “I’ve decided not to respond. I need to focus on myself now.”

Charles nodded, satisfied, and moved a little closer.

“That’s good,” he said, his tone making it clear that, in his eyes, you had done the right thing.

And even as Camille continued to text, your mind and heart were beginning to free itself.

The atmosphere in Italy had already changed by then. Everything felt different, more intense. Although it had all started as an escape, a simple respite from what you had left behind, now things between you and Charles were clear. There was something else in the air, something you couldn't deny, even if you tried.

That evening, the villa was particularly quiet, the fresh mountain air caressing the skin, and the dim lights on the terrace creating an almost magical atmosphere. They had spent the afternoon touring a small nearby town, exploring local shops and enjoying Italian cuisine. It had been a day full of laughter, of shared glances, of small gestures that, although not obvious to the rest, were clear as day to both of them.

After dinner, in which everything seemed to happen with overwhelming naturalness, they retired to the living room, where the fireplace was already burning softly. The villa was silent, as if the outside world had been left behind. Charles approached you, offering you a glass of wine as he sat down beside you, closer than he usually was. Your breathing quickened a little, as if a fate you couldn’t resist was drawing nearer.

The words trailed off little by little. The silence between you two was filled with a palpable tension, an energy that only the two of you could understand. You realized that, in all that time, what was between you two wasn’t just friendship, it wasn’t just support. It was something much deeper, more visceral. And, for the first time, fear didn’t invade you. There was no doubt in your mind, only an overwhelming desire to be closer to him.

“You know, sometimes I wonder how we got here,” Charles said, his voice deep and low, as he looked into your eyes. There was something in his tone that made you understand that, just like you, he already knew. You already knew that tonight wouldn’t be like the others.

Without thinking, you took a sip of wine, trying to calm the racing heartbeat in your chest, but you knew it wasn’t just the wine that was affecting you. It was Charles’ closeness, the warmth of his body beside you, the way his eyes kept scanning your face, like he was searching for something, like he was waiting for your permission, or like he had already crossed that line without either of you saying it out loud.

“Maybe…” you whispered, staring at him. “Maybe this was all meant to be.”

Charles’ response was immediate, and before you could say anything else, he moved a little closer. His breath, warm and slightly intoxicating, mingled with yours as his hands, gentle but firm, settled on your shoulders. At that moment, you knew. There was no turning back.

The contact between the two of you was subtle at first, almost like a test, a check to see if you were both willing to move forward. But the desire, that raw, unadorned desire, became unstoppable. He didn’t say anything else. His mouth moved closer to yours, and when your lips finally met, it was like all the weight of the world melted away. It was a soft kiss at first, but with each second it intensified, as if the touch of your lips was just the beginning of something much deeper.

Your hands slid to his neck, pulling him towards you, as you gave yourself over completely to that moment, to that connection that had been slowly building over those days in Italy. The barrier between the two of you was completely broken. There was no longer room for doubt or the past. There was only the now, the shared present in which Charles and you were no longer just two friends, but something more, something that could not be ignored.

The intensity of the kiss increased, and Charles gently laid you down on the couch, his body now closer to yours, almost merging. Everything you had been holding back, all the pain, doubts and uncertainties, vanished in the electricity of the moment. There were no words, only the sound of labored breathing and the beating of hearts in unison. Each touch was more urgent, more demanding, as if the world around you did not exist and only the palpable desire between you remained.

Desire took hold of both of you without reservation. The connection you shared went beyond physical attraction; There was a deep need to be together, to explore everything you had been holding back, to take that friendship to a whole new place. And, even though you knew things would never be the same again, you couldn't do anything but surrender to the intensity of the passion you shared in that instant.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, but with a feeling of having crossed a line that could no longer be erased.

Charles, with a mischievous smile on his lips, looked at you and, with his voice heavy with desire, whispered:

“That… wasn't just a kiss, was it?.”

The sparkle in his eyes reflected the same thing you felt deep within your soul. You knew that what had happened between you two wasn’t just a passing desire. It was something that would change the dynamic between the two of you forever. But at that moment, in that villa, with the cold wind blowing outside and the fireplace burning softly inside, it didn’t matter what the future held for you.

All that mattered was the desire you shared and the fact that, for the first time in a long time, you felt completely alive, completely present in what was happening between you and Charles.

The night dragged on, but time seemed to have stopped, as if the universe itself had been suspended between the accelerated heartbeats of both of you. The air in the villa, permeated with the mixture of your perfume and the woody scent of the fire, seemed to envelop you, making you feel closer to Charles, more connected to everything you had just shared.

You lay back in the chair for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, still processing what had happened. The taste of his mouth was still on yours, and the warmth of his body was still there. Despite the unexpectedness of the situation, there wasn’t a hint of regret.

Charles, for his part, was also silent, his eyes fixed on you. He seemed so serene, so calm, as if everything was natural, as if you had both been waiting for this moment. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his tone soft but with a slight tension, as if he was searching for any sign of doubt in your eyes.

You turned to him, looking into his eyes, and felt a warmth run through your body. You could see in his expression that he already knew the answer. There was no need to talk about it, but something inside you needed to confirm that you were both on the same page.

“No,” you answered, the word firmly coming out of your lips. “I don’t regret it.”

Charles smiled, his expression relaxed, as if he had dropped an invisible burden that you had both been carrying for days. He leaned back, his body close to yours, as if he didn't want to separate for even a second.

"Me neither," he said in a deep voice, his hand sliding towards yours and intertwining it with yours, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Time passed without you noticing, between soft conversations, shared laughter and knowing glances. There was no need for more words, just the feeling that the moment was flowing in a way that neither of you had anticipated, but that, somehow, both of you wanted.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1

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thewitchblue · 2 days ago

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You were a ray of sunshine in the Batfamily's life. You loved the children and Bruce with your entire heart, and everyone took notice. You loved each of the family members differently but equally intensely. No kid ever felt unloved by you.

You softly hum as you trace Damian's face. He always struggled to sleep. He struggled to relax enough even with sleep medication aiding him most nights. Until you start humming softly and draw patterns on his face lightly. His entire body physically relaxes as his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out after a minute. His face subconsciously leans into your soothing touch.

With a tender smile on your face and a gentle forehead kiss, you moved onto the next Batboy who struggles with sleep: Dick. You knock your secret knock with a smile on your face. You had a soft spot for Dick the second the kid lost his parents. How could you possibly not when his small body shook so badly in your arms? He had the same tormented look Bruce used to have before your loving family formed.

You hear a soft but excited "come in" from Dick, who seemed to have still been getting ready for bed. He loved it when you told him stories above all else. You told him thousands of your stories, but he was always excited to listen to you talk about the moment you adopted him. You'd tell him about how much you loved him as you reminisced on the first time he called you mom. How your heart had never been so full of love and adoration for your kid. He wasn't an easy kid, but you loved him deeply, and you reminded him constantly.

Dick gives you a warm smile as you set down his nighttime tea: always chamomile with lemon and sugar cubes on the side. It had to be sugar cubes, as the packets tasted weird to him.

"What story do you want tonight, sweetheart?"

He surprised you, honestly, when he asked to hear about how you met Bruce. You chuckle softly.

"It was a rainy Thursday night. We both became vigilantes the same day and met during our nightly adventures. We looked at each other for a long time before we heard police sirens and ran towards it. I must have saved his life hundreds of times that night. We have been close together ever since."

Dick cuddles into his bed and looks at you with wide eyes. He was always excited to hear this story. With a look of adoration, he murmurs,

"And you give us a hard time about our recklessness."

You roll your eyes but can't fight the fond smile off your face. You gently play with Dick's hair, continuing your tale,

"I'm not the one charging into burning buildings nightly without superpowers, darling.

Dick and Bruce adored your moral compass more than anything. You always did what was right no matter how hard it was to do. You saved thousands of lives throughout the time you were a vigilante with Bruce. He called you rash every night because of the way you handled being a superhero, but you see the endangered people and never hesitate. You are immune to damage of all types, so it was easy to run into the thick of danger to save everybody from a burning building or from the Joker's psychopathic game. Joker was angry when he found out you couldn't get hurt. You don't even feel pain because of your powers. You weren't a fun target to him, so he gave up.

"I wish I could've met younger you. I love seeing my mom being a casual badass."

You laugh softly, giving him a cheek kiss as a goodnight. Batboy number 3 was Jason. Jason took after your personality more than the rest and defends you even when it's just reporters talking bad about you. You taught him how to love and accept being loved, despite everything. You taught him to look for the best in everyone because their stories often run deeper than the surface.

You can hear his excited steps as he lets you in. He held up the newest book he wanted to share with you. You read to him every night, as he finds your voice soothes him.

He drags you to his bedside and climbs into his bed. You kissed his forehead before starting to read the book. He knows he could listen to Audiobooks, but he found it was you that soothed him. He found the narrators of Audiobooks often annoying or dramatic, but you read the exact way he wants you to and at the perfect speed.

He was soon drifting off as well, your hand holding his and squeezing morse code messages into his hand. You kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving on.

By the time you were done with all the children, Bruce was back. You grabbed the first aid kid you keep in your shared room. Bruce must've had an easier night because his injuries weren't nearly as life-threatening as usual.

He hissed through his teeth as you cleaned his wounds, but you murmured reassuring words and held his hand with your free hand.

"Just a few more, baby. You're doing so good, my hero."

He squeezed your hand when you were done. His exhausted smile was still so full of love for you.

"We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

He kissed your cheek gently. He loved you deeply, even when it was hard for him to express it. Love truthfully scared him ever since his parents' deaths, but you were the ray of sunshine in his darkest of nights.

"I'm lucky to have my little army of heroes. I love you and the kids."

He gave a tired hum of acknowledgement.

"We all love you too."

Alfred, appearing as silently as ever at the doorway of the bedroom, said,

"Master Wayne, if you don't marry her, I will."

You laugh at Bruce's shocked expression. He whipped around to face Alfred, who was staring at him with a look that was so serious you couldn't help but smirk at. While you'd love to marry Bruce, you knew it wasn't that simple for him. He struggles with the idea of having a loving wife waiting for him. He doesn't feel like he deserves it at the moment, and you respect that. You will continue to be the mother of his children and the warm presence in his life. You voice your thoughts,

"Alfred, I don't need to marry Bruce to be part of the family."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce, but Bruce was in another place.

"That much is clear, but I still want you officially part of the family. You're the glue holding everyone together."

You smile at the duo. Family is so much deeper than blood, and you continue to prove it to the Bat family every day. You ruffle Bruce's hair gently.

"I'd never say no to my boys."

Bruce took Alfred's advice on your anniversary. He proposed in front of the entire family, which inevitably ended in a dog pile of hugs from all your boys and a sweet kiss from Bruce.

Bruce, your private and loving fiancée, confirmed the engagement to the world the next day, holding up your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. He held your engagement hand everywhere he went, the rest of the Bat family fighting to hold your other hand, eventually scheduling who holds your other hand in an endless cycle.

#batmom #x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #ex vigilante reader

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casurlaub · 17 hours ago

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There's no way of knowing for sure but I think it's an interesting question to discuss...

I assume that you'd need to recognize your fear on some level for the Boggart to represent it... We see a lot of pretty 'childish' (not meaning this in a condescending way) fears displayed in PoA when they have that Boggart lesson... Not so many dead bodies or even abstract fears (like being lonely), as you would expect from adults. And it all makes sense because they are children but you simply can not tell me that Hermione's greatest fear really was McGonagall telling her she'd failed all her classes. Of course fear of failure is a valid fear (all fears are valid?) and believe me, I can relate, but with everything they had gone through already? Also... Remus asking them to take a moment to consider their greatest fears implies to me it's something you're aware of on some level.

So... What is/was Remus aware of?

The moon obviously is a very obvious choice - from a young age on its there, it's visible, it's easy to blame for him reliving excruciating pain and fear (and lose of self-control) every month.

And when we see him facing his Boggart, it's indeed the moon. Not being shunned by other wizards, not side-effects of lycanthrooy but the moon. Of course it's a symbol for his lycanthropy but as it's the full moon it's obviously linked to the transformation into a werewolf. That's what he is most afraid of. But which part? The pain? The lose of self-control? Reliving trauma? All of it?

It's interesting to note that the moon is Remus' Boggart even in a time in which he had access to Wolfsbane (PoA) which means in a time in which he did not experience lose of control (of course it's a possibility that by then it's been ingrained into his mind so there was no simple 'rebooting' it). So maybe it's not the self-control thing? And if it's not and the pain has always been there, does that mean it's always been the moon?

I don't know if it's as easy as that... Because in PoA Remus misses classes for days because of the moon, Wolfsbane and all. We don't know for sure how it has been when he went to school but I personally don't think he was out for that long. Because I can not imagine that no one except for Snape picked up on his absence if he missed days and days every (other) month. But also because of Sirius' (insensitive) 'wish it was full moon' comment. Yes, Sirius can be cruel but I can not imagine him making such a comment if Remus spent a considerable amount in the hospital wing every month. No, we're led to believe the full moons were fun, adventures. Remus tells us so himself and calls them the best times of his life? Now he is obviously lying a bit (because the transformations were still painful even though he now had company and didn't hurt himself anymore and I do believe he was playing it down out of gratitude and guilt towards his friends.. along the lines of 'they already became animagi for me, don't complain about feeling sick now') but isn't there a bit of truth in there still?

So the full moons obviously were still painful but he has company, roamed the grounds with his friends and didn't need as long to bounce back? Is that enough to assume the moon wasn't his Boggart at least through a few 'happy' years?

I honestly don't know. I can see him having a different Boggart in that short period of time between them becoming animagi and the war picking up... I can see it being something about abandonment (which is also the reason he did never say something about them bullying Snape?). And I think it's safe to assume he was aware of that fear (the Snape thing, him looking grateful in that photo on Sirius' walls, his behaviour as an adult even when he continues to defend them..) But I don't know if it's about losing people in the sense of them dying...

His Boggart is still the moon in OotP when he yet again had someone to lose (if not Harry then Sirius - old friends and all..). But maybe by OotP he has realised that he could survive on his own, that, while it wasn't pleasant, he didn't need his friends.

I can also see his Boggart changing after Teddy was born (or, before Teddy was born that he had infected Teddy with lycanthrooy - actually I think that Boggart is very likely), but that is also just speculation.

Long story short: I don't know but I find it interesting to explore and I think there's enough ground to argue in different directions. But I do think as a teenager/young adult it's less about losing his loved ones than his own deep-rooted abandonment fear (being worthless...)

Was Remus' boggart always the moon, or did it only become that when he no longer had to fear losing everyone he loved?

#nor sure I'm making much sense #just rambling #also I didnt read the hp wiki #no idea what it says #remus lupin

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jokeroutsubs · 2 days ago

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[📝ENG translation] 'My Parents Gave Me a Strong Sense of Identity'

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin.

Original article written by Teja Roglič for Ona plus, published 05.11.2024. English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu, proofread by IG Gboleyn123.

Full article and Spotify link under the cut 👇

�� Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Last year’s craze at Stožice, summer festival performances, the Eurovision Song Contest, international success. And then everyone asks, what could be bigger, what could be better? But as the band Joker Out releases their new album, they consciously follow the motto "I want less". Singer Bojan Cvjetićanin explains why: "This is our home, this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We need to rediscover love in our base, that’s what we told ourselves."

With the song Bluza, you’re returning to love. Why?

We went through a lot. The songs we released after Eurovision dealt with the most acute situational changes in our lives—touring, exhaustion, questioning ourselves. Now, it’s time to have a bit of fun again. And there's probably nothing more beautiful than being in love. (smiles)

I’ve been looking into people’s stories, into the lives of those around me, seeking beauty.

What did you discover?

That I enjoy writing about love the most. When you write from a place of uncertainty, it’s nice to get those feelings out; when you write about love, you search for timeless beats within yourself, not something that’s only fleeting. I write about the ideals of love I held as a child, and in the future, I’ll see how these have either evolved or fallen apart.

It's best to write about love...

When you have a broken heart.

Your Eurovision song was more socially critical, though it might seem, at first glance, to be about joy. In it, you say: "We won’t take part in your games or your divisions." Did the song’s message reach people?

Undoubtedly. A lot has changed in a year and a half, not only personally but also in terms of our views of social issues. For the first time, we've connected with young people from abroad. It was fascinating to see how connected the fans from different countries became, encouraging each other, learning new languages—even a lot of Slovene. The desire for peace and unity is very strong at our concerts, so our messages have touched them. But of course, you can never reach everyone. (smiles)

You mention changed perspectives with regards to society. Have any ideals been shattered?

Many ideals have crumbled. In school, learning about war, it always seemed odd to me that the world could just go on at the same time, despite the ongoing disruption in the system. Now, I see that we have access to all the information, that we see and hear what’s happening, that we witness an influx of people coming from regions where this is happening, yet everything literally carries on as usual.

War has become more of a trend on TikTok or Instagram than something people feel hurt about. This makes me very sad.

A lot of ideals that have shattered relate to the life of a musician. We’ve achieved things we could only have dreamed of—not just as kids; even two years ago, what’s happening now would have seemed impossible to me. But the ideal that’s crumbled is this one: I don’t always know how to appreciate what I have.

On tour, I often slipped into negative thoughts, didn’t appreciate everything happening to us. This links to the idea that this kind of life is easy, that as a successful musician, you only have fun. This, of course, isn’t true; it’s incredibly exhausting, both mentally and physically. I could go on until tomorrow, listing everything that’s fallen apart, but fortunately, a lot of new things have also come to be.

You’re the idols of generations; do you feel pressure because of that? After all, you’re still young guys too…

No. We already lost the childlike joy of music because we had to start working so much so early and get to know so many new systems. If we also take on the responsibility of raising generations of kids, we could truly fall into a black hole.

We need to be role models, but we can’t shape our work around that. On the upcoming album, there’s a song, 'Muzika za decu' ('Music for children'), which touches on this very point. We want to convey that we’re not addressing generations who think all younger people are lazy bums who only hinder the world’s progress. We’re addressing everyone who is young enough at heart to believe in a better world, a brighter tomorrow.

Photo: Vita Orehek

More and more musicians are stopping concerts at large venues when fans are in distress or overcrowding happens. You too?

Absolutely. This summer, we constantly stopped concerts if people were packed tightly indoors or out in the sun. We handed out a lot of water from the stage, and I even paused a concert if some listener (m.) was treating another listener (f.) disrespectfully. A concert is a safe space; there’s no place there for infringing on the rights of others.

That’s an interesting topic I wanted to touch on anyway. So what is the rock ‘n’ roll world of the new generation like?

It’s a lot better. I’m glad we’re not a group of drugged-out dudes living only for today. Carpe Diem really means seize the day, but for us, that doesn’t mean picking every fruit that exists in the world. Waking up healthy and energised, wanting to go to a concert, being open to meeting new people, our fans, being creative...

That’s what it means to seize the day. Sure, sometimes we go on a trip, we do have fun too. But I’m glad that sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll aren’t our guiding principles in the band. When we watched the documentary about Mötley Crüe, we saw how they started with heroin and opiates and ended with smoothies and fruit. Well, we’re already at the fruit and smoothies stage. (laughs)

“We’re constantly building a relationship that gets deeper every day, even though it seems like it can’t get any deeper,” you told me before the Stožice concert, as I was stunned when you said you were going on holiday with the guys right after the concert. How much do you invest in relationships within the band? We know it’s sometimes challenging to nurture a relationship between two people, let alone five.

This is like a partnership with five people. Except for intimacy, all the other elements of partnership are there. We’re companions. We often live together, work together; the dynamics are demanding. I talk a lot about this with fellow musicians. Recently, I was talking to Mr. Vlado Kreslin, and we concluded that being in a band requires a touch of madness.

Even if it ends someday—nothing is guaranteed—I know I have four lifelong friends. We exist as friends even beyond the band.

Success demands hard work; you’ve told me before how sure you were of your path in the band, of your decisions, and how hard you worked to achieve what you have. And we’re back to the topic that some might say your generation isn’t hardworking, that you’re quick to say what you won’t do at the work place...

The young people I know could hardly be described as not hardworking. I’d rather say we’re diligent, and the drive to work comes from the strong pressure that you need to achieve a lot very quickly, or else you won’t make it in this world. As for them being quicker to say no... Maybe they know they can’t live that way if something doesn’t work. And to live is very costly.

Young people feel they don’t have to stick rigidly to one profession, that they can change courses, jobs, and find something that suits them. We’re far from the days when the son was a blacksmith because the father was a blacksmith, and the daughter stayed home as a housewife. But we also have to know that there’s more and more uncertainty, precarious work.

If Gen Z is the way it is, I wouldn’t attribute that to the generation itself but rather to the Boomer generation. Everything that makes life harder for us isn’t the product of our ideas and actions. But it’s also true that sometimes, you need to stop, think, and make a decision. I’d like to do something today, something different tomorrow, but that’s not realistic. When you’re bombarded by choices from all ends, you have to make decisions. If there are three shirts in a store, I’ll pick one; if there are 250, I might end up buying sneakers instead. (laughs)

You performed at a concert aimed at contributing to the best possible care, treatment, and support for women with gynaecological cancer. You probably get invited to participate in quite a few charitable events; how do you choose them? This concert likely wasn’t a hard choice, as both of your parents are doctors...

My father is a gynaecologist, my mother is a pediatrician, so naturally, when I got the invitation, I immediately thought my dad would be happy if I could perform there. Otherwise, I choose events based on two criteria: whether it’s something important and whether I’m home at that time. I've often had to turn down an event I would have really liked to participate in simply because I wasn’t here.

Life has taken you all over in recent years. What have your parents given you that has stayed with you and has been proven most useful today?

They gave me a sense of normality. I'm an ordinary person who takes everything in moderation. I didn’t become a hedonist, nor did I give in to the patterns that the environment might impose. They gave me a strong sense of who I am and what I am, unconditional self-confidence, and self-respect. And the certainty that I’m never alone in anything.

Recently, the dramaturg Nina Kuclar Stiković and I talked about how Generation Z might be the first to actively work through its traumas, though she noted that taking on such responsibility across generations is a huge task. In the end, you might even feel worse. If you only become aware of your baggage but can’t overcome it, it can feel even worse than if you had never been made aware of it at all, she said. What do you observe around you, in your own generation?

Mental health has never been as openly discussed as it is today. I know many people who go to therapy. It’s actually strange that mental health was never treated before, that this stigma existed. If you have a cold, you stay home, you also heal a broken arm. Today's generations have managed to break free from these shackles. The individual is becoming increasingly more important.

People are working through the things in their minds. And this bothers many people from generations who suppressed everything and unleashed their traumas onto others. I often think how unfortunate it is that we don’t practice everyday therapy in our surroundings. Everyone surely has someone whom they trust. We talk about all sorts of things, but we never ask each other how we are and share that honestly. Now, I do this with a few friends, and it’s really nice. I go to my friends for therapy. (smiles)

Nina also mentioned that patriarchy has wronged not only women but men too. It’s unfair that men couldn’t show emotions and always had to be strong. It always helps if you can share your feelings with someone. What do you think?

The Neanderthal perception of masculinity is passé. We can all first tell ourselves, and then tell others, how we feel and what’s going on in our heads.

This summer, you performed at festivals. Now you have a new album, and you’ll be performing at various venues again, with tickets quickly selling out. It's a carousel that never stops. You mentioned earlier that you caught yourself maybe not appreciating it anymore. What do you do now to keep that from happening?

For the tour that’s coming with the release of the new album, we consciously followed the motto, "I want less." Last year, we played in Stožice, before that in Križanke. This year, we toured Europe, and everyone was asking us what big thing we’re preparing next. But we were only talking about how nice it would be to play at Ljubljana's Cvetličarna again.

Pass by Maribor too, go a bit to the clubs in the Balkans, and that’s it. This is our home; this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We told ourselves that we need to find love in our base again. I’m glad we recognise this, that we’re not just banging our heads against a brick wall. The purpose of this tour is simply to enjoy it.

A few years ago, you told my colleague Robert Rebolj, my fellow journalist, and your fellow musician, that you’d like to have kids while still young. Yet you also say that you're in a period where several of your ideals have collapsed as you look at the world around you. Does the desire still remain?

When I said that, I was thinking I’d have my first child between the ages of 28 and 30. Then Robert told me that having a child young doesn’t necessarily mean that. (laughs) I see it now, too, as some of my friends already have children, and some even their second. My calendar no longer just has friends’ birthdays, but, for instance, the first birthday of a friend’s child. (laughs) Yes, I think a lot about how this world is in many ways not what I imagined it would be, but I guess it’s always been that way throughout history—things have never been ideal. I think everyone, in every era, has felt the world is going to- hmmm, well, that’s how it seems to me too. (laughs)

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #Spotify #jo: bojan solo #source: onaplus #year: 2024 #og language: slovenian #type: article #jos: podcast

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middlingmay · 2 days ago

Note

Hello 😌 for the late night call prompt:

"i know you didn't just hang up on me without saying 'i love you'."

This could be so sweet (or not). Would love to see your take on it!

Hello! I'm feeling the fluff today, so I hope you like it. Thanks for the ask :) <3

John's mouth had served him both well and ill in his life.

He was funny and he was charming. He was able to spin a story and keep a table entertained. He could cheer someone up easy, diffuse arguments if he chose to. And because he could read people quick sharp, he could either make fast friends with a few choice words, or could provoke or end a fight depending on which of his more mercurial moods he was looking to feed that night.

But his favourite thing, he'd come to find over the years, was talking in a constant, rhythmic roll and lulling Gale, a notoriously poor sleeper, to a good night's sleep.

John wasn't even going to let state lines keep him from that privilege.

Work had sent him away for a couple of nights to deal with an issue and another officer. It's what he got with his reputation for being able to influence and mediate with the best of them. And of course, just two days before he was due to go, Gale fell sick. Not sick enough to warrant John calling it off; but just sick enough to worry and stress him all the way out because he wouldn't be here to take care of his Gale.

Gale who had no sympathy for his plight whatsoever.

"It's two days. I can take care of myself; I'm a big boy."

John leered without intent and moseyed into Gale's personal space. "Oh, I know."

Gale spluttered a dry cough into John's chest and struggled to get his breath back and John whined.

"Come on, Gale. Just say the word and I'll cancel. You won't have to lift a finger until you're better."

Gale pushed him off and tugged the cover he had draped around him like a cape in tighter. "No, thank you," he grimaced. "You'll hover, you'll get sick, then I'll be taking care of the two of us. Get to stepping, John. Quicker you get there, quicker you get back."

So they'd said goodbye, Gale tolerating John's too-many long looks back with barely a roll of his eyes (and John knew that was just because even his eyes were hurting). But he could kick him out the house and force him to go to work and make fun of him as much as he liked, but Gale couldn't stop John from calling him for their regular night time chatterbox sessions.

"I thought you were working," Gale drawled raspy into the phone.

"At nine pm? Not enough overtime pay in the world, sweets. How you feeling?"

Gale's answers were brief and perfunctory, but John could hear the ever-present affection even through the brevity. And John was always happy to pick up the slack. He murmured to Gale about the trip, the shit show at the office, and the gossip he entirely made up about his colleagues in another state just to keep himself entertained. He spoke about the town and the hotel, and what he had to eat. He told him every tiny detail he could think of, until he heard Gale's breaths even out and the soft snore of the congested drift across the line.

Chuckling low so as not to wake Gale, he finally hung up, proud of himself for being able to fulfil his duties even if he wasn't there in person.

But it only lasted a few seconds before his phone screen lit up, and Doll flashed across the screen. John swiped and lifted the phone to his ear to hear Gale's thick, sleepy reprimand.

"I know you didn't just hang up on me without saying I love you."

John grinned wide and dimpled and all teeth and gum at Gale's grumpy complaint. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. How rude."

"Mmph." Offended. Like a puffed up cat. John could practically see the displeased frown in the centre of Gale's brow.

"I love you. Now go to sleep."

"Mmph." Contented. Pleased. Maybe with that tiny little smile Gale had that pulled his apple cheeks up.

John stayed on the phone long past Gale's return to sleep. Just in case.

#fic requests #asks #ask me anything #clegan #buck x bucky #mini fic #my writing #mota

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nakylvr · 2 days ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/https-lvesick/765820605716152320/aespa-their-kinks-%E1%B6%BB-%F0%9D%98%87-%F0%90%B0%81-%F0%9D%92%A9-otes-aespa?source=share

it would be so sick if you made a katseye version of this post with their kinks

ask and you shall receive 😋🫶 this was actually super fun lowkey

— THE KATS & THEIR KINKS

minors do not interact

SOPHIA ⚓️

EDGING - whether she's giving or receiving, she is a sucker for edging, more specifically to do it to you. she loves the tears that fill your eyes as she does it over and over again, telling you that if you be good then maybe she'll let you cum. do it to her and she is a begging mess trying to get you to let her cum, what a taste of her own medicine

MOMMY - both in and out of the bedroom does sophia adore you calling her mommy. she just cares so much about you and literally goes crazy whenever you say it, it gives her a sense of dominance that she enjoys quite a bit

SENSORY DEPRIVATION - it may seem random, but put a blindfold or ribbon around her head covering her eyes and she is 10x more vocal than normal, the feeling intensifying not being able to see. she would make sure you're okay with it before doing it to you, always so caring like she usually is

MANON 👑

PRAISE - manon is so big on praise no matter whichever one of you is topping or bottoming. she will constantly murmur into your ear everything she loves about you and how she loves you so fucking much. you praise her even a little bit and she's on her knees for you, easily going into subspace with your loving words towards her

OVERSTIMULATION - she love love loves overstimulating you to the point you're crying and pushing her off. she could fuck you for hours if she could, and she only stops when she can tell you're nearing passing out, giving the best aftercare possible

VOYEURISM - this one came to me like a vision i can't explain it. she wouldn't verbally say she totally gets off to watching you touch yourself, but god does she want to just sit there with you watching you do all the work yourself, telling you that if you are able to make yourself cum that then she'll fuck you

DANIELA 🛡️

DEGRADATION - she is big on degrading you when she has control over you, calling you her dirty little slut amongst other names that would hurt in any other environment, but she's never serious about what she says. now, if you're the one degrading her, she's constantly denying everything you say but the way her body reacts says otherwise, secretly loving it

DUMBIFICATION - she is such a sucker for fucking you til the point you can barely do anything except moan her name, and it's so easy when she's so mean when she doms :( but being the switch she is, she almost loves it more when you're the one making her mind go blank and become a fucked out mess

MARKING - for dani, she needs people to know you're hers, and that always ends in you being covered in any type of markings whether it's bruising hickeys along your neck or scratches down your back, and she's always telling you to not cover them

LARA 🗝️

BRAT TAMING - lara is the certified brat tamer despite being one herself at times, she doesn't put up with your brattiness and won't hesitate to fuck it out of you, she's so rough when she does it too you can't even try to respond as she grins wickedly at you asking if you're gonna be a fucking brat again :(

DACRYPHILIA - seeing you so overwhelmed with pleasure that tears well in your eyes is one of the biggest things that turns her on even more than she already is, just the fact that she's the one making you feel so good you're gonna cry has her swelling with pride, always kissing away your tears as they fall

ORGASM DENIAL - a way to break you if you're being a brat, but also just something she loves doing is denying you of your orgasms, and she's so mean when she does it over and over again til you're begging and crying for some kind of release, loving the way your body squirms around as she denies it yet again

MEGAN 🍒

BEGGING - poor girl is such a beggar no matter what you do, whining so needy for something, anything. she'll do it without you even asking her to, she's so shameless and knows you'll easily give in if she begs just a little bit, looking at you with big eyes hoping you'll give her what she wants

THIGH RIDING - on the chance that either you're too tired to do anything or purely trying to torture her, she'll resort to riding your thigh, but rarely can she ever get herself off even with you flexing your thigh every now and then, your hands on her waist pulling her back and forth, whining for you to just help her out :( poor baby

FACE SITTING - for megan, it's the only time she has "control" in the situation, but she is far from domming, she is still your subby baby as she uses you solely for her own pleasure, the pillow princess in her giving up halfway through and just rocking against your face as you take over

#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza thoughts 💭#manon bannerman thoughts 💭#manon bannerman x reader #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela avanzini thoughts 💭#lara raj thoughts 💭#lara raj x reader #megan skiendiel thoughts 💭#megan skiendiel x reader #nsfw.

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minolikeswords · 2 days ago

Text

Perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone- Jing Yuan x GN! Reader

cw: death, sad Jing Yuan, Jing Yuan is a sweetie, mention of pet death, angst, marriage, hurt/mild comfort???? Lmk if I missed anything <3

wc: 873 words

Mino’s notes: willed this into existence while staring at my own worn rings in the shower lmao. I hope you like it <3

Jing Yuan was not a sentimental man. Throughout his very long life, he’d learned to let go of small attachments. He lived in the moment. The present and the present only, his past had haunted him for long and his future was in his palms. So there was just the present.

Besides, the general was often too tired to even pay mind to most matters of his past. Yet it slipped out sometimes, in small, barely noticeable items he had around him. Snowmoon’s red collar placed on a shelf by his desk, he’d rub the golden bell hanging from it every morning. A silent greeting to a pet (family) long gone. Pictures thrown deep within his closet he’d find maybe once a month while cleaning, letters and mementos from friends he’d lost and friends he rarely saw anymore.

But his favourite keepsake?

A shiny, golden, nearly perfect (though he’d agree it was already) ring that he kept around his neck. One he kissed many times while working. Polished every week. It lay directly over his heart most times. A reminder of who he once had and loved with all his being.

Jing Yuan liked you since you started working with him. Witty, smart, easy going, fun and always eager to learn. He found himself smitten in a few months alone, finding any excuse to keep you near him. You gave him hope.

It was great, you were both happy. He doesn’t know when it started, maybe he’d realized how fragile humans were? Maybe he’d realized how easy it was to hurt you, how easily you got sick. He didn’t know what to do, and it tore him apart.

“I already know I won’t live as long as you, ‘Yuan,” you murmured, your fingers rubbing his scalp as he sat between your legs in the shower. Jing Yuan let out a soft and irritated noise at that.

“It doesn’t bother you? You aren’t frightened?” Bright yellow eyes stared up at you and you smiled at him. He’s never seen a smile like yours since. Even then it made his chest tighten and his heart stutter. You lean down and kiss his forehead.

“It scares me every day, my love. But right now, I am here, and we are together. Is that not what matters?” You whisper against his hair, taking in his smell. Truth be told it terrified you. Jing Yuan knew it as well as you did, someone who lived as long as him was not ignorant to how death loomed over all.

But now, you were here, in his arms, where he could hold you and love you.

“I’ll love you always, you know that right?” He said suddenly, gazing at you as you read. Your head resting on his chest and his hands brushing through it. You smile amusedly, turning to look at your lover.

“I could never ask that of you. It is selfish.”

He hummed, the corners of his mouth turned upwards, “you’re the only one I get to be selfish with, so allow me to indulge, my dove.”

Jing yuan now rests against his chair in his office. Hands idly fidgeting with his own ring, the gold worn from the decades of use. He rarely ever took it off, a fear of losing it. He missed you, he couldn’t wait to visit you today.

It was your birthday. Normally he’d decorate your whole house to surprise you when you returned, set up candles, rose petals, set up a table for dinner and cook a meal for you both. Today? He was going to drop by the bakery and pick up your favourite sweets.

He didn’t like them very much, and you always insisted that you didn’t either. Yet, without fail, he’d get them for you every week, and yet, without fail, you’d wake up at night, slip out from besides him and eat as many as you could without getting sick. Never questioning where they kept coming from even when you both knew.

The bakery stood the same all the years you were together. The lady behind the counter smiling as he picked up a box, a flower taped to the top, “for the spouse, general?” She asked politely, and Jing Yuan nodded, “no one but.”

He walked to the cemetery that day. It was chilly out and you would’ve enjoyed the weather, grabbed his hand and laughed and pulled him along with you. Looking up at the sky and wondering if it would’ve rained. Oh how you loved the rain and how he loved watching you.

Your gravestone greeted him the same as it did everyday. Some people would say it was overkill to visit everyday, but it wasn’t. Not for Jing Yuan. He couldn’t get enough of you. He placed the box on your grave, fingers brushing against the cold stone, over your name. Eyes stinging with tears that your hands couldn’t wipe away. He smiled all the same and sat down on the dirt, opening the box and pulling a sweet out and taking a bite as he began to tell you about his day.

“I will see you soon, someday, Dove. Until then, allow me to be a little selfish for a while longer.”

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rispwr · 1 day ago

Text

Hate you - chapter 2 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : didn't get to do my word goal again:(( omg it's hard writing long chapters. thank you all so much for reading this story!!! please play mr perfectly fine by taylor for thiss

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

NSFW contents : a peck?

Need a break and a change

Seven months. It had been seven months without Jungkook, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could say with a degree of confidence that you were starting to move on. Or so you thought. The days no longer felt as heavy, and the nights didn’t drag on as painfully as before. You’d started therapy, and although at first, you were skeptical, it seemed to help—at least, it gave you something to look forward to, even if most of your sessions felt like venting to a paid story listener.

What did you talk about? Everything. The breakup, the pain, the endless nights replaying memories of him. The therapist always tried to reassure you, reminding you that there were plenty of other guys out there, which you were very much aware of. But no matter how many times you heard it, it didn’t make the ache go away. You told yourself that Jungkook probably moved on by now.

Maybe he was with someone else,

someone new,

someone better.

Maybe he never loved you,

maybe you were just another chapter in his story.

Or maybe he did love you but didn’t know how to show it the right way.

Regardless, deep down, you knew one thing for certain: if Jungkook texted you right now, asking for a second chance, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d go running back to him, even if you told yourself you wouldn’t. Even if you wanted to believe you were stronger than that.

It wasn’t easy admitting this to yourself, but you were trying. Every day, you made an effort to rebuild your life piece by piece. Namjoon and Sana, your constants, had been encouraging you for weeks to step outside your comfort zone. They’d been incredibly patient with you, but tonight, they weren’t taking no for an answer.

“Come on, Y/N,” Namjoon urged over the phone. His voice carried a mix of persuasion and excitement. “You’ve been hiding away for too long. Let’s just go out, have some fun, and forget about everything for a while.”

Sana chimed in from the background, her voice equally determined. “We’re not taking no for an answer! You need this. Trust us.”

After a long pause, you finally sighed in defeat. “Fine,” you said, your voice laced with mock reluctance. “I’ll go.”

Namjoon let out a triumphant cheer. “That’s the spirit! We’ll pick you up at eight.”

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your decision. Maybe this could be good for you. Maybe you’d find someone new, someone who could make you forget about the lingering ghost of Jungkook. You knew it was a long shot, but you were willing to try.

at the club

“Babesss! You. Are. Sooooooo. Hot!!!” Sana practically screamed over the music, her eyes wide with admiration. She gave you a playful smack on the arm, her excitement infectious.

Namjoon, ever the protective one, gave you a once-over with a raised brow. “Don’t you think the dress is a little… over-revealing?” he asked, voice tinged with concern.

You smirked, ready to tease him. “Oh, quit being a dad, Namjoon. Unless…” you paused dramatically, leaning in with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Unless you’ve got a daddy kink?”

Namjoon’s face turned bright red almost instantly. “I DO NOT!” he fired back, his voice cracking slightly.

Sana, ever the chaos queen, burst out laughing. “Ohhh, Namdaddyyyy!” she joined in, dragging out the word and winking at him. Namjoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands as his ears burned.

“Alright, alright,” you said between laughs, deciding to give him a break. “I’ll get us some drinks. Try not to corrupt Namjoon too much while I’m gone.”

Sana gave you a mock salute. “No promises!” she shouted as you made your way to the bar.

“Uh… a vodka tonic, please,” you said, pausing for a moment to glance back toward your friends. “And a gin and tonic, plus a whiskey sour,” you added. The bartender nodded, swiftly preparing your order.

As you waited, a presence sidled up beside you—a man, tall and composed, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed sophistication. His dark hair was neatly styled, and a pair of sleek glasses rested on his nose. He looked older, but not in a way that felt unapproachable. No, he was HOT old. The kind of man who exuded confidence and charm effortlessly.

“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice was smooth, with a hint of playfulness.

You blinked, taken slightly off guard. Pointing to yourself, you asked, “Uh, me? You talking to me?”

He chuckled softly, a gummy smile breaking across his face. “Yes, you, silly,” he replied, his tone light and teasing.

You felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks, but you managed to keep your composure. “Oh, sure. Of course,” you said, flashing him a small smile.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his curiosity evident.

“Oh, um… Y/N. Kim Y/N,” you replied, your smile widening just a bit as you introduced yourself.

His eyes lit up with recognition. “Kim Y/N, as in the Kims?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue.

You tilted your head in confusion, not entirely sure what he was getting at. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“RNT Inc.?” he clarified, his expression softening into a knowing smile. “Rhythm and Tune Incorporation. Your family’s company, right?”

Your posture straightened slightly, the familiar pang of recognition hitting you. “Oh… yeah. ” you said, your hand coming up to scratch the back of your neck in an awkward gesture.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. “Cool. I’m Min Yoongi,” he added, extending a hand.

The name rang a faint bell in your mind, but it wasn’t until he added, “COO of Min Entertainment,” that everything clicked.

“Ohhh,” you said, your voice lilting with interest. “That’s cool.” You took his hand, shaking it firmly but warmly, offering him a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He returned the smile, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Likewise. So,” he began, leaning just a bit closer, “can I get your number? Maybe we could be friends... ”

The offer caught you slightly off guard, but you found yourself nodding. “Sure,” you said, glancing down, realizing you didn’t have your phone on you. “Oh, wait—sorry. I don’t have my phone right now,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He chuckled, unbothered. “No problem.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his own phone and handed it to you.

You took it, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before you keyed in your number. “There,” you said, handing it back to him.

Yoongi nodded, pocketing his phone. “You got it. I’ll reach out soon.”

You offered a small wave. “Alright, see you around, maybe?”

“Definitely,” he replied, his smile lingering as he turned back toward the crowd.

You grabbed the drinks, balancing them carefully as you made your way back to your table. Sana and Namjoon were deep in conversation, but their heads snapped up when they saw you approaching.

“Finally!” Sana exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” you said, placing the drinks on the table. “Met someone at the bar.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Met someone?”

You smirked, sliding into your seat. “Yeah. Min Yoongi. You know him?”

Sana nearly spat out her drink. “Min Yoongi? As in MCI Entertainment Min Yoongi?”

“Yep,” you said, sipping your drink casually. “He’s.... cool.”

Namjoon exchanged a look with Sana. “Cool? he's one of the hottest executives of that company girl.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “He just asked for my number.”

Sana gasped, grabbing your arm. “And you gave it to him, right?”

“Obviously.”

It had been a year since Jungkook. One long year of piecing yourself back together, learning to stand on your own again. Therapy sessions had helped, though you often questioned their worth. For what? For these paid story listeners to remind you there are still plenty of men out there? As if you didn’t already know. Still, despite the frustration, you knew healing wasn’t linear.

And then there was Yoongi.

You’d met him seven months ago—an unexpected encounter that had slowly turned into something... comforting. Yoongi was patient, understanding, and most importantly, he wasn’t rushing you into anything. He knew your heart wasn’t ready, and he respected that.

So when he called one day, asking for a favor, you weren’t entirely surprised.

"Hey," Yoongi's voice was soft but laced with urgency. "I know this is sudden, but would you consider being my date to the gala tomorrow? My usual partner bailed."

A long pause filled the line as you considered. You hadn’t been to any high-profile event since before Jungkook, and the thought of stepping back into that world felt overwhelming. But the sincerity in Yoongi’s voice gave you courage.

"Are you sure?" you asked, voice laced with hesitation. "I don’t want to cramp your style."

"I’m positive," Yoongi assured, his tone warm. "You’ll be great. And honestly, I’d feel more comfortable with you there."

You sighed, a small smile creeping onto your lips. "Alright. It’s been a while since I’ve attended a gala, but why not?"

"Perfect," he said, relief evident. "I’ll send over some dress options tonight. Thank you, Y/N."

The call ended, and you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves.

Before the Gala

As promised, Yoongi called, his deep voice filling the quiet of your apartment. "I’m on my way. I’ll pick you up in a few."

You quickly hummed in response, glancing at your reflection one last time. Your stylist had done an incredible job—your makeup was flawless, and your hair fell in soft waves.

"Alright, Ms. Y/N, you're all set," your stylist said with a proud smile. Just as she finished, a knock came at the door.

"Ms. Y/N, your date is waiting in the lounge," the assistant informed you.

Taking a deep breath, you thanked your stylist and made your way out. As you entered the lounge, your eyes immediately found Yoongi. He stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, adjusting his cufflinks. His dark hair was styled neatly, and the moment he saw you, his eyes softened.

"Wow," he breathed out, his gaze trailing over you.

"What?" you asked with a small laugh, feeling your cheeks heat.

He stepped closer, offering you his hand. "I’m so lucky to have you by my side tonight."

Your heart fluttered at his words. You placed your hand in his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Of course," you replied, letting him lead you out.

At the Gala

The night had barely started, but you were already reminded why you had avoided events like this for so long.

As soon as you and Yoongi stepped out of the sleek black car, camera flashes erupted around you like a relentless storm. Paparazzi swarmed, their voices loud and persistent.

"Yoongi, is she your girlfriend?" "Ms. Kim, how do you feel about breaking up with Jeon Jungkook?" "Is this the start of a new power couple?" "Are you two together?"

The barrage of questions felt suffocating. You clutched Yoongi’s arm tighter, grateful for his calm demeanor as he guided you inside. He didn’t respond to the questions, instead keeping his focus on you, shielding you from the chaos.

Once inside, the lavish setting did little to ease your nerves. The grand ballroom was filled with influential figures, CEOs, artists, and politicians. You and Yoongi found your seats at a table among other high-profile individuals. The conversation flowed easily, but your mind wandered as you sipped your martini.

Your eyes caught on a figure across the room. A tall, broad-shouldered man with familiar brown hair. His back was to you, but you knew that stance anywhere.

Jungkook.

He turned slightly, his hand intertwined with a woman’s. His signature smile, the one you once knew so well, was directed at her. They seemed happy, lost in their own world.

Your heart clenched involuntarily.

Before he could notice you, you leaned closer to Yoongi and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He froze for a moment, eyes widening slightly, then turned to you with a flustered smile.

"Are you alright, pretty?" Yoongi asked, his voice gentle but concerned.

You glanced back across the room. Jungkook was gone. You exhaled, trying to steady your breathing. "Mhmm," you murmured. "Just... tipsy, that’s all."

Yoongi didn’t look convinced. "Wanna head back?" he offered, leaning closer.

"We just got here, Yoonzz," you whined lightly, managing a small smile.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Alright. But if you want to go home at any point, just say the word, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his patience. "I will. Promise."

Still, the question lingered in your mind: Who was she?

You didn’t think Yoongi would stay. Not after everything you’d been through, after all the baggage you carried with you. Yet, here he was—a constant presence in your life, steady and unwavering. A year had passed with him by your side, and while the wounds Jungkook left behind hadn’t fully healed, Yoongi had somehow made the pain more bearable.

You told yourself you liked Yoongi. It wasn’t hard to do; he was thoughtful, kind, and endlessly patient. He had seen you at your lowest and never once flinched. He took you to therapy sessions when you couldn’t face them alone, drove you to Jeju Island for peaceful getaways, and showed you places you love.

But deep down, you knew the truth. If someone were to ask, Do you still love Jungkook? the answer would come without hesitation. Yes. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a part of your heart still belonged to him.

And yet, Yoongi was different. He was like an angel, falling into your life at a time when you thought you didn’t deserve someone like him. His love wasn’t loud or overwhelming; it was quiet, tender, and constant, like a soft breeze on a summer day. He didn’t try to replace Jungkook; he simply stayed, filling the empty spaces with his warmth.

Sometimes, when you looked at him, you wondered what he saw in you. Why he chose to stay when he could’ve easily walked away. But Yoongi never asked for more than you could give. He understood your hesitation, your lingering feelings, and still, he chose you.

And for that, you were grateful. you were always grateful

It was an unusually quiet morning when your mom called you. Her voice was calm, but there was a weight to it, a seriousness that immediately made your stomach twist. “Y/N, we’re having a family meeting later today. Please don’t be late,” she said, then hung up before you could ask any questions.

When you arrived at the family estate, the large, ornate doors of the meeting room loomed before you. This room had witnessed countless important decisions over the years, and now it was your turn to step inside. As you pushed open the heavy doors, you were greeted by the sight of your family seated around the grand oak table. Your mom was at the head, her presence commanding as always.

Your cousins were there, whispering amongst themselves, their sharp features and expensive suits a reminder of the high expectations within your family. there was Jin, your cousin, sitting calmly, his hands clasped on the table.

You took a seat, trying to ignore the growing anxiety clawing at your chest.

Once everyone had settled, Jennie, your sister, stood up. Her poise and elegance were undeniable; she was the embodiment of what everyone expected in the next CEO. The company had been preparing her for this role for years. So, what she said next completely blindsided you.

“Y/N, everyone,” Jennie began, her tone even but resolute. “I’ve decided to step down from becoming the CEO of our family company.”

The room fell silent. You could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. You blinked, sure you’d misheard. “What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. “What are you talking about?” you blurted out, not even bothering to hide your shock. Jennie was the golden child of the family, groomed for this role since the day she could walk.

Jennie leaned back in her chair, a calm but determined expression on her face. “I’ve thought long and hard about this,” she said. “I realized I didn't want it anymore. I want to be a model and start my own company without needing moms or dads help. I'm done handling all the pressure. It's better off with it being you, y/n”

The words hit you like a freight train. “Jennie, I—” You stumbled over your words, your mind racing. “I don’t know… I don’t think I can do it.”

Your mom, seated at the head of the table, leaned forward, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Honey, it’s for the best,” she said softly, her voice laced with encouragement. “You’re capable, and we all believe in you.”

You glanced over at Jin, hoping for some kind of lifeline. He was always the voice of reason, the one who could find a way out of any situation. “Jin…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Y/N, everyone would kill for that position” he said. “ you shouldn't waste an opportunity that big”

“But Jin, I majored in literature,” you protested, your voice cracking. “I don’t know anything about running a company. I’ll fail, and I’ll bring the whole company down with me.”

Your mom reached out, taking your hand in hers. “You won’t fail, sweetheart. You have a natural talent for leadership, and with the right guidance, you’ll thrive,” she said. “How about this? I’ll personally mentor you. We’ll set up a comprehensive training program, and by the end of the year... december, you can decide whether or not this is the path you want to take.”

You hesitated, the weight of her words settling over you. Could you really do this? Could you step into a role that had seemed so far removed from your reality, from your dreams? But then you thought about your family, about the legacy they’d built and the trust they were placing in you.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice steady but your heart pounding. “I’ll give it a try.”

The room erupted in supportive smiles and nods. Your mom squeezed your hand, and Jin gave you an approving nod. Even Jennie looked relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Good,” your mom said, her voice filled with pride. “We’ll start your training tomorrow.”

"I can't believe this," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You felt suffocated by the weight of it all

You walked out of the meeting room, your mind a mix of confusion, anger, and frustration. Everything had been thrown at you all at once, and now you were expected to just take it and be okay with it.

As you walked down the hallway, hoping to get a moment of peace, you were met with jin, your cousin.

He was leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, looking like he had all the time in the world. "You know, this position was my dream," he said, scoffing as he eyed you. "But look at me now. I’m just a CMO," he added, chuckling bitterly.

You stopped in your tracks, an eyebrow raised. "What are you trying to say, Jin?" you asked, already sensing the underlying tone in his words.

He gave you a knowing look. "Everyone would die for the position you were offered, Y/N," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But here you are, acting like it's some huge burden. You're being handed the keys to the kingdom, and you're just going to throw it away."

You couldn’t help but feel your frustration rise. "I don’t want this, Seokjin. You think I can just take over and magically become CEO? I’m a writer! I know how to make books, not run a multimillion-dollar company!" you fired back, your voice steady but sharp.

Jin rolled his eyes at your response. "You always have an excuse. You’re just making it harder for yourself." He scoffed again, his tone dismissive. "Can you stop being the shadow of the family for once? It’s honestly embarrassing. Everyone is waiting for you to step up, but you keep hiding behind your little books and stories."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, your heart tightened. "I don’t want to ruin the family’s reputation," you said, your voice faltering for just a moment. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to run a company. What if I mess up? What if I fail and get everything bankrupt?"

Jin's expression hardened, and his voice turned cold. "That’s why Auntie is giving you training, right?" he said with a sneer. "But let’s be real. You’re just delaying the inevitable. You’re not cut out for this. Maybe that’s why Jungkook dumped you," he added, his words slicing through the air. "He knew you didn’t value the wealth and power you were given."

You froze, your mind momentarily going blank. The words stung more than you cared to admit. "What?" Your voice was quiet, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Jin shrugged, walking past you with a smirk on his face. "You heard me," he muttered under his breath as his shoulder brushed against yours.

The anger inside you flared up, but you couldn’t find the words to express it. You stood there, staring after him, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his words seemed to settle into your bones, and for the first time in a long time, you felt small.

It wasn’t about the company, or the position, or even your family’s expectations. It was about the things you’d never said out loud—the guilt, the fear, the uncertainty. Was he right? Were you failing the family, failing yourself? Were you not cut out for any of this?

You stood there for a moment longer, the sound of Jin’s footsteps fading away as the hallway grew eerily silent. All you wanted to do was scream, but instead, you stood still, a single tear slipping down your cheek, before quickly wiping it away.

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john--cncena · 2 days ago

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You give me the key to your place and your schedule for the month, you agree I can let myself in when ever I like as long as the calender says you won't have company. You've been wanting to experiment with CNC and especially the somno element. A few days pass and I don't even make the trip to your house. It's not until the third day that I decide to see what I can get away. In the dead of night I sneak in, watch you sleep for a while, grope and molest you, I then stroke myself while I slowly finger you, making sure not to wake you. I cum on the floor and clean it up before I leave.

A few more days pass and you message me asking why I haven't taken advantage of the situation yet, I quickly reply with a video of me stroking my cock while two of my fingers are deep in your sleeping body. "FUCK" is the only reply you can muster before you're edging yourself stupid to the thought of what else I'll be able to do to you.

A few days later you wake up with cum on your face, you can't believe you slept through my visit again, you end up late to start your day as your hand won't leave your clit alone, your tounge desperately trying to savour any lingering taste of me. And that very same night it finally happens, you wake up with my cock buried deep inside you. I'm slowly but forcefully pumping into your soaked hole as I softly tell you it's ok, that I needed your pretty body and you should just let it happen "don't try and fight or I'll have to hurt you" I snarl in your ear as your cunt spasms uncontrollably and you cum like you never thought possible.

I sneak out once you're back asleep and you wake up slightly confused to weather or not it happened or not, until your hand once again heads down to your slick hole and realises it's more than just your juices that are making you so wet. A few nights pass and I don't visit again, letting the anticipation build. Then it comes to Friday and you feel for sure I'll be making use of not having to be up early in the morning. You arrive home and immediately jump in the shower, you want to be a fresh little victim after all.

With steam filling the bathroom and music blaring you don't hear the slight creak of the bathroom door, you don't feel my eyes watching you, you don't have any clue I've been in your home for hours, waiting on you, edging my cock in your bed while I sniff on a pair of your worn panties, my cock throbbing and leaking at the though of how much fun I'm goin to have, imagining the noises you'll make, the fear that will take over you, the pain im going to inflict as i use you exactly how I need to.

As I hear the front door open, I pull down my mask, pull up my pants and hide by the side of your bed, pulling on my black gloves as I hear your footsteps heading down the hall. Once I realise you've gone straight to the shower, I can't help but sneak a peak. It was so hot creeping around while you were sleeping, but to know that even when you're awake, you're nothing more than an easy victim, well that makes my heart race, I'm about to give you the best night of your life and you're so fucking oblivious... Aren't you my pretty, helpless, perv bait?

#cnctw #my writing

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my-male-my-fucktoy · 21 hours ago

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Hello Y’all,

Remember I said I was gonna get back to you and tell you about my Halloween with my Bitch. Here it is.

So, this is what I had in mind for him, this picture. So I told him that Halloween was gonna be fun for me for sure but for him I had my doubts. The preparation part might be fun for him, the result of the preparation might not be and the consequences of the end result could be fun or not, that I really didn’t know what to tell him. Before we started, I told him to do some exercice to stretch is body. Like when you do sports. I can honestly say that Dave is in good shape. He plays hockey on a regular basis, a few time a week, yes still. I’m sure he’s in a better shape than many of you young boys out there. I also made sure he didn’t need to go to the bathroom. Told him he was gonna be put in some heavy bondage.

So to help the preparation, I bought a big box of transparent Saran Wrap. I bought a lot of black electrical tape. This is the one I wanna have because it’s shinny. Also, I had to call Mistress Kim, to see if it was ok with her that I use her piggy mask. My goal is to have him wear the mask, roll up some Saran Wrap over his mask and then some electrical tape. In his mouth I have some sort of a gag to keep the Bitch mouth open and to avoid him from talking. Mistress Kim told me it was ok. She also said she would have wanted to see this but couldn’t because she had her own Halloween party. But we set up a meeting for next year. The four of us, would do a fetish Halloween party of our own, and maybe invite others. Anyway, I’m a little bit off the subject.

So, I started with his arm, bend one arm, close his fist together, wrapped some Saran Wrap around his fist, his elbow and arm. In no time one arm was done. Then I did the same thing with his other arm. You see, the reason why I don’t put my Bitch in a chastity cage is exactly for that. By only wrapping his two arms like this, he was having a hard on. Well I have to be honest with you. When we started dating and playing, I often wrapped him up with Saran Wrap. But it was always in a standing position, with his arm by his side, then had him lay down on his back, used, delicately scissors to cut the wrap around his dick and then played with it for a while. So this was, for both of us, a déjà vu thing. Now both arms are done. For my own amusement I put the piggy mask on his Slutty head. That looked nice on him. I’m so thankful for this mask Mistress Kim gave me. My little pink piggy pet was mines to observe and love. Yes, I may love humiliating him, but this Bitch is still mine.

Now the legs. Well, this ain’t as easy as it was with the arms. Legs don’t bend that easily and especially not in that position. So I was not able to bend the leg and apply the Saran Wrap. I didn’t want to use the tape because that ment directly on his skin and that is not good. (When you play, make sure you always play fair and secure. You don’t want to hurt the slave in front of you. Some people may have harsh reaction to the contact of the tape on their skin. That would also mean the tape being on the hair of his legs which mean, hurting him when I remove the tape. That’s not the type of pain we like and/or the type of humiliation. He may be my fucking Bitch, but he’s still my husband. And I wanna keep him. I still have some respect for him). So, for his legs, I used a two sided tape, one that doesn’t stick to his leg. (You can find this kinda tape in any sex shop. It’s widely used for the same effect, it doesn’t hurt the slave and give this same shiny look). It was my plan b. I thought I might need to use it. With that tape, I was able to wrap him up. So I did his second leg, with the same tape and the Saran Wrap. I took pictures along the way, I wanted to have them for me but also for him to see in what predicament he was in. But I don’t really need to film it since I have my cameras filming everything.

Now the funny part started, and I mean, the funny part! 😂. I rolled him on his side, inserted a small vibrator in his a slutty ass, rolled him back on his back and open the vibrator to a medium vibration. He started moving and moaning. My Bitch loved it. Then I used the gag piece in his mouth to keep it open, and wrapped his head in Saran Wrap. Of course I made sure he was able to breath. He was still moaning.

(That’s one thing ladies, I would recommend you to do with your slave. Teach him to moan the way you like it. I like to hear him moan like this….ahhhhh. Some will prefer like this …ohhhhh, and others like this….argggggg. I prefer moaning than groaning. It’s better music to my ear. So, since we are together he now only moan my way.)

So, my Bitch is now in complete bondage. Now all I have to do is apply the black electrical tape on him. But before I did that, I decided to have some fun with him. I insert a small dildo in his mouth, also put two nipple clamp on his nipples, not to hurt him, not at this point. Right now, my slave is in heaven. I know it by his breathing and moaning. He twist his body with pleasure and moan loudly. I then took a piece of fake fur and started masturbating him. I thought he was in heaven before, now hes even more. I go slowly, and with every stroke I feel he’s ready to jerk off. So I whispered in his ear: « don’t you dare cum you fucking stupid cunt. I’m the one having pleasure here, not you ». That meant more control for him, and I knew this was gonna be it, the way he was gonna cum after almost two months. I then removed the clamp on his nipple and started licking, kissing and nibbling his nipples. My Slut was moaning very loudly. So I decided that the black tape was not gonna be put on him, at least not now. This was way too much fun for both of us.

I’m having a blast. Seeing my Bitch like this, feeling his pleasure, earring it even, his full body and mind in convulsions. I mean, what can I ask more? So I continu masturbating my pig. I continued licking his nipples and with the other hand, I made him suck the dildo. Of course, along with that I humiliated him non stop. Plus, not to forget, he had a vibrator in his Slutty ass I was playing with, switching from medium to high to extreme high to different level not always in a continuous level of speed. This was one of our best sexual session we never had in a long time.

Did I say the funny part?

Well, my slave was having convulsion, his body was jumping each time I turn the vibrator to high and extreme high position. Then I brought it back to medium, then high, and so on. As his body was jumping, his moaning slowly shifted to groaning, that’s when I know he’s about to cum. I gave him my ok to cum, but my humiliation turned into degradation and insults. Then I turned the vibrator to high and that when he started twisting his body in a weird way. But the groaning changed to some kind of pain groaning. It was the first time I heard him like this. His body was twisting and I felt he was moving a feet more than usual. That’s when I knew something was wrong. So I quickly removed the dildo in his mouth. But the poor guy was still not able to speak. So I teared the Saran Wrap, pulled on the gag, thank god it was not tied up behind his head, and removed the gag.

But what a good boy I have. Even in pain, he ask, with difficulty, perm…..ishhh….ion to ssss…peack… Mis…..arggg….tress……ahhhh? So of course I said yes. He said….huge cramp…on …..my left….arrggg…..foot 😬. He was saying that while twisting his body and with a vibrator on high up his ass! I start laughing 😂, probably from relief it was only that. But it was not funny for him 😰. For me, his left foot meant the opposite leg, which also meant more difficult for me to reach. So I leaned over him, my weight on him, forgetting about the vibrator but because of my weight on him, the vibrator was sliding deeper inside him. His body was twisting in every direction not helping me. So I was able to remove the Saran Wrap, then I cut the tape with much difficulties because he was moving, even if I asked him not to and because I had to use scissors. When I released his leg, I moved up from his body. He tried to stretch his leg but couldn’t. (Well, here’s the thing. I have my slave sleep in a cage in a small bedroom in the basement. I gave him a single size bed, because I know winter is coming and I don’t want him to sleep on the floor. He could sleep on the floor of his cage, because I arranged it so it could be possible, but at the same time, it’s no big deal to me if he sleeps on the bed. So that single bed is a pushed on the wall because that room is very small and the cage takes some place in the room). So he was not able to stretch his leg because of the wall. So now, I have to roll him my way to able him to stretch his leg, which he was finally able to do. But you probably know, that one of the best way to remove a cramp from a feet or a leg, is to stand up on it, but that was gonna be very difficult. So I pushed on his feet to try to do what the standing position would have done on him. But that didn’t work. He was in heavy pain. I could see the stretch tendon under his feet. So I rolled him, pulled him, pushed him so that his body was now perpendicular to the bed. He was finally able to put his foot on the ground. It helped but not entirely. So I pulled him and tried to hold him in a standing position. On any normal situation, I would have been able to hold him from under his arm, but not this time! So he was standing on one foot, with me holding him anyway I could. And the cramped slowly went away. When it was all over, he turned around at looked at me, thanking me a lot and then said: Mistress, would it be ok for you to stop the vibrator in my ass? I stood there two seconds, just looking at him and tried to stop it, but the remote control was too far away on the floor for me to reach it. So I removed it with my fingers and dropped it on the floor as it was vibrating on high position and jumping on the floor. We both start laughing hard 😂🤣😂. The situation was rather unique and bizarre🤷‍♀️. I then helped him lay down on his back to relaxe. He was in so much sweat 😰. So we stopped the session right there. I remove everything as he was getting a second cramp in his second leg. In no time he was up on his legs. We are no longer in our twenties or thirties, it shows!

We sat down, and laughed some more 😂🤣😂. I kissed him on the mouth, like a real kiss, something I didn’t do with him for the last two months. Well I cannot just do a normal kiss like a regular couple, so as I kissed him in a very romantic way, and I pinched his nipple. He started laughing. He said, of course you’ll be you for ever! I told him I was sorry he didn’t cum. But it was not my fault and he had to wait some other time. I saw the deception in his face. But he knew better not to argue. Don’t worry friends, I have an idea for him to cum.

Although, I have to say, I’ve been nice to him by allowing him to sleep in my bedroom, on the floor of course but next to my king size bed. I don’t remember if I told you my slave is a fur fetishist. We have a king size fur blanket. I gave him the fur to sleep in it. He rolled himself in it and fell asleep right away. The next day, I’ll spare the details, I allowed him to see the video of the camera in his room. He knows it’s there, he saw it, but he never saw the vision it has. So we watched the video and laughed some more.

Hope you liked my true story. As always, all my stories are real, nothing fake.

Please comment my story if liked it and do not hesitate to message me in private, male or female. Of course I prefer chatting with Mistresses. But for now, I allow everyone.

Take care y’all.

Jill

#female led husband #female led relationship #female led marriage #female led house #beta boi #beta bitch #beta sub #beta slave #beta husband #humiliation kink #humilated slave #loser humiliation #degrade and humiliate him #alpha female

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