#they are so obsessed with each other i can't

[marithlizard]

This post was a huge eye-opener for me when I first saw it years ago. Everything Klein says has only gotten more true since then. Obsessing about individual consumer behavior - both yours and other people's - uses up all our energy and pits us against each other, so that we can't act in a unified way to push for changes that _do_ make a difference. It's as true for our online lives as it is for our physical purchases.

“When I was 26, I went to Indonesia and the Philippines to do research for my first book, No Logo. I had a simple goal: to meet the workers making the clothes and electronics that my friends and I purchased. And I did. I spent evenings on concrete floors in squalid dorm rooms where teenage girls—sweet and giggly—spent their scarce nonworking hours. Eight or even 10 to a room. They told me stories about not being able to leave their machines to pee. About bosses who hit. About not having enough money to buy dried fish to go with their rice.

They knew they were being badly exploited—that the garments they were making were being sold for more than they would make in a month. One 17-year-old said to me: “We make computers, but we don’t know how to use them.”

So one thing I found slightly jarring was that some of these same workers wore clothing festooned with knockoff trademarks of the very multinationals that were responsible for these conditions: Disney characters or Nike check marks. At one point, I asked a local labor organizer about this. Wasn’t it strange—a contradiction?

It took a very long time for him to understand the question. When he finally did, he looked at me like I was nuts. You see, for him and his colleagues, individual consumption wasn’t considered to be in the realm of politics at all. Power rested not in what you did as one person, but what you did as many people, as one part of a large, organized, and focused movement. For him, this meant organizing workers to go on strike for better conditions, and eventually it meant winning the right to unionize. What you ate for lunch or happened to be wearing was of absolutely no concern whatsoever.

This was striking to me, because it was the mirror opposite of my culture back home in Canada. Where I came from, you expressed your political beliefs—firstly and very often lastly—through personal lifestyle choices. By loudly proclaiming your vegetarianism. By shopping fair trade and local and boycotting big, evil brands.

These very different understandings of social change came up again and again a couple of years later, once my book came out. I would give talks about the need for international protections for the right to unionize. About the need to change our global trading system so it didn’t encourage a race to the bottom. And yet at the end of those talks, the first question from the audience was: “What kind of sneakers are OK to buy?” “What brands are ethical?” “Where do you buy your clothes?” “What can I do, as an individual, to change the world?”

Fifteen years after I published No Logo, I still find myself facing very similar questions. These days, I give talks about how the same economic model that superpowered multinationals to seek out cheap labor in Indonesia and China also supercharged global greenhouse-gas emissions. And, invariably, the hand goes up: “Tell me what I can do as an individual.” Or maybe “as a business owner.”

The hard truth is that the answer to the question “What can I, as an individual, do to stop climate change?” is: nothing. You can’t do anything. In fact, the very idea that we—as atomized individuals, even lots of atomized individuals—could play a significant part in stabilizing the planet’s climate system, or changing the global economy, is objectively nuts. We can only meet this tremendous challenge together. As part of a massive and organized global movement.

The irony is that people with relatively little power tend to understand this far better than those with a great deal more power. The workers I met in Indonesia and the Philippines knew all too well that governments and corporations did not value their voice or even their lives as individuals. And because of this, they were driven to act not only together, but to act on a rather large political canvas. To try to change the policies in factories that employ thousands of workers, or in export zones that employ tens of thousands. Or the labor laws in an entire country of millions. Their sense of individual powerlessness pushed them to be politically ambitious, to demand structural changes.

In contrast, here in wealthy countries, we are told how powerful we are as individuals all the time. As consumers. Even individual activists. And the result is that, despite our power and privilege, we often end up acting on canvases that are unnecessarily small—the canvas of our own lifestyle, or maybe our neighborhood or town. Meanwhile, we abandon the structural changes—the policy and legal work— to others.”

- Naomi Klein

[nianeyemystic]

💦💖 Sexual & Physical Compatibility Synastry 🤤

Soooo this post was inspired by one of my close friends. She's in a long distance relationship & was explaining how different sex feels with her new man. Now let me preface this and say

*not everyone will experience this synastry the same, that's okay these are just MY OWN obseervations. Ive been studying this for a few years now and so far - it tracks lol*

❤️‍🔥Mars-Venus Aspects❤️‍🔥

✨ Conjunction, Trine, or Sextile: These aspects show natural attraction and sexual chemistry. Mars represents passion, while Venus represents love and desire. You can find yourself becoming so intensely attracted to your partner. It's something we astrologers always look for, if you have these, you most certainly will know it by how your body reacts to that person being around you.

✨ Square or Opposition: These can indicate tension that manifests as fiery, passionate attraction but may need effort to balance. So yes, you will want to tear their clothes off every time you interact, but it can also be like unnecessary fights & explosive fights. You will need a sexual outlet.

❇️Mars-Mars Aspects❇️

✨ If Mars in both charts forms a harmonious aspect (e.g., trine or sextile), you may share similar sexual energy levels and desires. Which can lead to wanting the sex at the same time or being on the same page about what makes you feel good in the bedroom.

😍 Mars-Pluto Aspects😍

✨ This is a powerful placement for deep, transformative, and intense sexual attraction. I looooooveeeee seeing this one in couples charts. If you've felt like you can't explain why your body tingles around them, why you can't stop thinking about them? Why you're always wanting to be near them. You possibly have Mars - Pluto. The connection can feel magnetic and almost fated.

💋 Venus-Pluto Aspects💋

✨These aspects create an obsessive, passionate attraction. I say obsessive bc Pluto is involved. It can be healthy though, depending on how you express your obsessions. Like....don't stalk them, but be open about how they make you crave the. There’s often a deep emotional and physical bond that feels irresistible.

🧡Moon-Mars Aspects🧡

✨ The Moon represents emotions and Mars represents physical drive, so these aspects indicate a connection that blends emotional intimacy with sexual passion. I already did an entire post describing this connection in detail, so make sure you visit that one here:

💙Venus-Mars in Each Other's Houses💙

✨ When one partner's Venus or Mars falls into the other's 5th (romance), 7th (partnership), or 8th (sexual intimacy) houses, it can signify strong attraction and sexual compatibility.

💕 Sun-Mars Aspects💕

✨ Harmonious aspects (e.g., trine or sextile) between the Sun and Mars often indicate a strong physical connection. Challenging aspects can create a dynamic but exciting sexual tension. I like Sun & Mars bc sometimes it can feel invigorating & exciting when relationships seem to get dull. You'll always find the other person just enough of a challenge to keep your enticed.

💋Moon-Pluto Aspects💋

✨ This aspect creates emotional intensity and a deep, transformative connection that often translates into a passionate physical bond. I have sen this play out several times and it can be a beautiful bond that only you two will understand. So much so that you may even be willing to try new sexual things w this person, taboo sexual exploration. As long as the emotional connection is being satisfied, you will do anything to please your partner sexually.

❤️‍🔥Eros and Psyche (433 & 16)❤️‍🔥

✨Eros (sexual desire) and Psyche (soulful love) aspects in synastry can reveal where deep sexual and emotional compatibility exists.

💛 North Node Conjunct Venus or Mars💛

✨This placement suggests a karmic or destined connection where the partners help each other grow, often through romantic or sexual experiences. The friend I was inspired to make this post bc of this has this with her man. His NN is conjunct her Venus. she's expressed many times how his love feels like it is healing her, forcing her to grow as a divine feminine. I love this one, it also leads to sexual healing.

��Bonus: 8th House Synastry💕

When one person’s planets fall into the other’s 8th house, it often triggers themes of intimacy, transformation, and sexual magnetism.

These placements and aspects don't guarantee compatibility, but they can highlight areas of potential connection and attraction. Always look at the full synastry chart for a holistic view!

Do you have any of these? Let me know below!

@nianeyemystic ✨❥

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I just imagined if batchild who favored Tim being Bruce bio-child. Damian so jealous and angry because his blood sibling chose Drake over him? This is too personal. Poor Tim will not have peace. I can imagine Damian trying to prove himself to his little sibling.

But the question is, does Damian even really give a flying fuck about this kid? Or does he just hate Tim and wants to destroy any ounce of happiness this boy has? Questions. Questions. Questions. lol.

Idk I love Damian being a little shit,,, he's something a little silly

Yes, Damian will terrorize Tim over this. He has such bad emotional regulation and he doesn't fully understand why he's so angry. He doesn't particularly like children and all their crying and babbling..they're stupid and useless...

But it peeves him so much seeing Tim take on such a prominent older brother role in their life. Tim is tainting the kid, he's not teaching them properly. A child should be held this way, it should be taught this, you need to do this. That is what his mother did to ensure his proper development so it must be right!

I can just imagine Damian cringing at all the baby talk and stupid games Tim plays with them. At first he's such a hate watcher of them. He'll be in the corner of the room, glaring daggers into them. "hmph they're perfect for each other. Dumb and even dumber. Guess which is which..." He snickers in his mind

Then he resorts to insulting Tim and micro-managing him. His baby siblings doesn't need to play with rattles, they need to be doing more intensive activities....Ughh.. They're being so stunned right now.

Then...slowly when no one is watching, he might speak to it. He doesn't get down on the floor with his sibling, he's just looking down at 'em and low-key shit talking. They piss him off so much but still he's at a lost for why?? Why does he seem to care about them and their upbringing so much when he hates them?

It isn't until Tim leaves for a mission or something when Damian *attempts* to hold and play with batchild. The child just looked so pitiful that he felt compelled to entertain them. Batchild starts to unexpectedly grow on him...eventually he starts kind of...loving them...? He feels warm when they smile at him...and an intense passion to protect them...

He's shy about it but Damian is obsessed with that damn baby. He won't try to draw attention to it but that is his baby now.

He can't help but to feel so possessive over them too, he'll cross his arms and huff when someone picks them up...he's stealing them back after five minutess...

But here's where the issue arises, Damian finally is feeling super close with batchild and has created this secret bond that no one else understands. He's done this oath with them in a pillow fort and everything, he's confidently believes that he's the new favorite sibling.

"Okay, Now we will drink this grape juice as we are solidified as true bloods of the Wayne bloodline..."

*intense babbles and clapping*

"Yes, our superior lineage is something to celebrate."

But then Tim comes back and batchild completely forgets about Damian and rushes to Tim. Even refusing to be held by Damian later on. His heart is crushed and to him this is the ultimate betrayal.

If Tim didn't have peace before, he really won't have it now. Like Damian wants to duel over this, it's that serious to him.

The pure venom that Damian spews is so fucked up that I cannot even repeat it. Like Tim is worried for his safety at this point.

Damien would definitely steal batchild out of their crib at night and take them into one of the unused rooms in another wing of the manor. It's fully decorated with tons of things batchild loves, all necessities...even has tons of snacks and a fridge with goodies. Damian is fully prepared to be the sole provider for this baby. lmaoo. He's hiding this kid out there for a good couple of hours before everyone realizes where the two of them are.

Damian is fighting hard to keep from them taking batchild...but is defeated when batchild sees Tim and goes

"Timmy!!" and tries running to him. It's so hilarious. Damian is at his wits end. He's never going to stop though until he's number one. Even if "Timmy" has to go.

Dami is the most un-serious-serious person on the planet.

[grimaldiapologist]

Writing on a blog dedicated, at least in spirit, to our dissociative identity disorder, this is something that fascinates me. For context - living with the poster child disorder of "that's not even real" and "you're just faking it to get out of jail" and "you're just histrionic with bpd I know this because I took a psych class once in uni", that some fucking airheads still make their paycheck "criticising" in the psychology field (and teaching), the fear of being declared a faker, an attention seeker, a liar, a self-centered and stage-obsessed criminal-until-proven-otherwise came as a free package with the diagnosis. Just the suspicion of the diagnosis was enough for all of those labels. From whom? Everyone.

The first time I dared to open my mouth to my psychiatric nurse, she was putting me against the wall for lying and omitting, because in her view, I was doing too well with no explanation. In reality, at that point, I'd spent some months after becoming aware of the system getting to know them and reading up on how to get the basics of communication together, and working through the first chapters of Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation, which helped us understand what we needed to do with one another in order to stabilise and feel safer in our everyday life. Things were actually going wonderfully, I wasn't lying, but I was omitting, yes. I was omitting, because even though at that point I knew nothing about DID beyond what I was learning from resources and my friend/now partner, who'd been in the community for a long time and gave us crucial peer support in terms of figuring our situation out, I knew extremely well the stigma associated with "split personality", and our first and primary instinct has always been to hide and cover the existence of the system.

But she was forcing it, so I told her. I was asking for help, yes, but with the context of doing so well - we were winning, and we wanted to keep winning.

She promptly told us we weren't allowed to leave, and started to set us up for involuntary inpatient stay. Exactly what we'd been afraid of the most: that "the psychiatric system" would imprison us and kill us, kill the parts of us who were vulnerable, with cocktails of medication in padded rooms and straitjackets and whatnot that we'd seen in the movies. (And, to a degree, during our actual inpatient stay years before.)

The resident psychiatrist did a quick evaluation of us and released us after, clearly annoyed at the nurse for overreacting and putting us in the extremely triggered and traumatised state that we were in, but it did permanent damage.

Very soon after, we discovered the online "discourse" on the validity of DID, and the "fake claiming" communities. This is all we inherited, first thing, with our diagnosis - which we did get after the above clusterfuck, within a year, with the aid of a specialising therapist and years of notes from our history, or so I assume. I can't remember, it's been years, and I have DID. The point is, even the DID community itself demands that you will never show a bright side to your disorder.

You either suffer all of the time, always, you hate yourself, you hate your other selves, you want to die, and you're forever a mess and you're in eternal war against yourself, or you're faking.

We are not this way and have never been. Prior to discovering the system, we were poorly. To spare the details, at 29 when we were diagnosed, we hadn't worked a day in our lives, dropped out of school at 12, and spent about a decade locked indoors with suicidal spirals being the expected main event of every three days or so. But our main strength has been our us, the family that we have, and the care that we've shown each other all along. Even if we can't love ourselves, we can love each other, and after learning communication - learning to listen, learning to talk - we've been doing phenomenally. Our condition has changed from treatment-resistant and debilitating to actually, we no longer need SSRI medication at all, after being on it for our whole lives. And luckily, this is enough proof for us, but not the world.

No, we're now in that funny place where our partially treated trauma/dissociative disorder looks like too much fun to the world. We're fine and we love each other. We indulge in dressup, we have our own silly little blogs and journals each with their own specific equipment like fancy ink pens and wares of stickers and decor, we have galleries of fake Instagram pictures of ourselves, we use PluralKit on Discord and talk to ourselves like we own the chat - among friends, anyway, or just between ourselves in our private one. All of this means we're fake, fake, fake, fake. God forbid a man has fun. God forbid a woman takes an afternoon to herself to give herself a makeover and go on a date. God forbid a guy just wants to feel comfortable and laugh and express himself, or have a chat with his closest friends.

We're not in enough pain all of the time to be "true" DID anymore. If we were "true" DID then we'd still be in the untreated, pre-diagnosed state. This is a stagnant disorder of identities that may never experience growth or true humanity. All I am allowed to be is a filthy, incapable hikikomori afraid of the world, because anything else is fucking weird to people.

I'm sorry, but. None of your fucking business. I've spent 33 years of my life split squarely on a tightrope over the chasms of "I don't want to die" and "I want to kill myself now". I'm 33 fucking years old and I've earned my goddamn license to feel good, actually. I'm allowed to be fucking weird because I'm developmentally disabled. I will never not be the way that I am, and I also have no intentions to ever be anything but the way that I am, I'm just aiming to be better at it.

This now means that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my disorder... basically anywhere but here and in therapy. No matter where I go, people treat me like a criminal. People who don't have DID tell me I'm faking for clout and larping (LARPing is great by the way and you should absolutely try it out instead of using it as a weird slur online) and they're the champions of true sufferers who are there to nobly remind me that REAL people with DID are actually so in pain all of the time and dying unrecognised while freaks like me... post on Tumblr for attention or whatever I don't fucking know I'm still disabled and in chronic pain and I can't do shit with myself regardless of our overall improvement - and people with DID tell me what I have isn't real DID and I'm "anti-recovery" or whatever because I don't subscribe to their specific dogma of recovery (which, for the record, every single microcosm of the recovery community has their own version of, and they all hate each other for it). The latest edition of how this fucked us over was our choice to write frankly about the positive sides of how the often negatively portrayed coping mechanisms of DID can be turned to work for recovery, and how things like substitute beliefs (believing things that are factually untrue such as 'I am an actual dragon trapped in a human suit' when you're not) can be used not to distance one from reality to escape but help one adapt into it (because I am a dragon in a human suit, a dentist cannot scare me), and had the whole conversation just without warning or any sort of notice deleted from the community. Mods never replied to my request on clarity on what the fuck they were doing and why, and I haven't been back in the community since, either.

And it's hilarious. The whole fucking thing is hilarious. You're faking it if you've recovered too much, because a true sufferer of a severe mental health condition would never recover, but if you don't recover enough, you're anti-recovery, and therefore also faking. There's a slim venue of acceptable suffering in an eternal still-shot in the middle, but you're not actually allowed to exist beyond it or past it in any capacity.

The only true DID case is a non-person who is incapable of growth and change, for a disorder that is all about identity, which by definition is all about growth and change.

I'm so tired of it. Sorry, freaks, I'm gonna freak the way that I freak from now on. I'm too well-adjusted these days to be your perfectly martyred poster patient.

ive found that partially treated mental illness can sometimes look to uninvolved onlookers like faked mental illness.

[star2fishmeg]

need some luke x inexperienced reader PLEASE just too good

Luke's hand lay under your t-shirt, flat against your spine, his other cradling your nape with your pyjama shorts clad thighs straddling his lap and curls tugged by your fingers as lips move and lap in languid motions. Elongated moans muting any noise from beyond your bedroom door, volume increasing when his hand slides from your neck and over her breast, cupping and giving it a soft squeeze before you part, hot breaths panting onto the surface of your swollen lips and eyes flickering to each other. He can't begin to explain the heat that surges through him every time you kiss him, his head just floats straight to cloud nine and ears blocked everything but the sounds you make when you grind down on him experimentally.

His hands fall to the hem of your t-shirt, his old Michigan one that's you've been stealing since you met as freshman, fingers wrapping around the fabric.

Luke's voice drops low, raspy and still catching his breath slightly, "Can I?"

"Only if you will too..." you mumble, retracting your arms away from his hair.

He lets the fabric go and pulls his own shirt over his head first before removing yours. You think about looking away but it's Luke, his eyes are too soft and he's gently running his hands along your back so, when you go to meet his gaze, you're surprised to see him locked on your breasts. He licks his lips before pressing sweet kisses to the flesh, over the top and into the valley, hands finding their way to cup over the lacy bra and thumbs rubbing over your nipples. He can't help it, he's obsessed with them, they're the best pillows he's ever had and nuzzling his face in them is a past time, but without the barrier of a t-shirt, his hairs stand on end and his cock twitches.

"Look at you, beautiful." He groans deeply when his nose presses in the valley, pushing your breasts together to bury his face entirely. You feel his lips, his mouth trailing sloppy and wet kisses wherever he can, teeth grazing and buds pebbling under the padding.

"Lu," your hands find his hair again, nails massaging into his scalp as his teeth nip the flesh, "can...can we try something?"

He raises his head and kisses the corner of your lips, "What is it, baby? You sure?"

"I...fuck, this is hard...I want you, uh, to suck my tits. Please. Apparently, it's good and, uh, you like my tits a lot so, like..." you notice the way his eyes sparkle, elated that you've finally granted him full access to his favourite place to sleep.

"Yeah...oh yeah, I can do that, shit, baby." His lips quirk into a crooked smile, excitement fizzling in his chest and he plants both hands on your lower back, pulling you closer on his lap and sliding his palms up your spine. Freedom fills your back, the band of your bra unclasping and you can't bear watch it hit the floor, not that you get the chance before Luke's peppering your cheeks with kisses. "You sure you’re, okay? Just say so and I'll stop if you aren't diggin' it, okay?"

"Okay-oh!" you moan abruptly, it only taking him a split second to hear your consent before his warm mouth latches to your nipple, hand pushing against your spine and guiding you to arch into him.

Your eyes flutter close, jaw faltering open with shockwaves of euphoria as his tongue swirls around your bud, the tip flicking between phases swirling and suckling. Your hips buck into him when he groans, the vibration's a sweet, pleasurable paradise through your nerves and your fingers grip his hair harsher, keeping him into your chest.

When he pulls off with a wet 'pop', you whimper as the cold air brushes your nipple, now soaked with saliva and swollen but before the words leave your throat, he's taking your other breast into his mouth, hungrily. Sometimes you forget how strong he really is, but you're thankful he reminds you by pushing you backwards, your back hitting the mattress and situating his biceps either side of you, lips sucking firmly and tongue moving in circles around your nipple.

"Luke," you whine out with a smile, "oh, Lu."

His large palm encases your free breast, groping and taking the bud between his pointer and middle finger, rolling it to draw those high-pitched whimpers you love to torment him with so much. The sensations new, so new but tremendously stimulating with bursts of craving in your stomach, those tingles that feel like flips. You want him to touch you like this all the time, relish how he loves every part of you.

Pulling away again, Luke rasps, looking at you with his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, "Fucking love your tits, baby. Did I do okay?"

"I didn't say stop, do it again." You push his head back to your breast, his chuckle intoxicating but not as addicting as his tongue flicking over your nipple again, lips suctioning over the wet surface of your skin and your head tips back into the sheets, mewling out his name while his hand and mouth work in tandem.

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ Number of part: 18/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻From the author: ✊🏻✊🏻 Knock, knock… it's me again with my new chapter. I want to assure you right away that I'm not obsessed with sex in the car (after all, this is the third scene where they have sex in the car), it's just that this scene appeared in my head so suddenly, and they were in the car at that time... 🤭😁 Anyway, let me know if you liked this? And also, do you like the plot development?

⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad , @kelsyx33 (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 18. Dangerous.

Your eyes are closed, and there are thousands of thoughts in your head. All of them create chaos in your head and you can't understand what is important to think about now and what is not worth attention. This causes anxiety. You should be happy because you finally have a relationship. You have a loved one who is supposed to make you happy. Of course, you are sure that he will make you, but what is happening in your life right now makes you feel like you are in limbo.

Jungkook is your best friend who is now your boyfriend. He belongs to the mafia and does a pretty dangerous job. You imagine, just for a second, what he does and what he looks like, and you feel horror crawling through your body. You feel discomfort mixed with anxiety and open your eyes.

The Mercedes drives smoothly, but with its characteristic engine growl. The interior is warm and smells like unobtrusive citrus. Jungkook is watching the road, holding the steering wheel with one hand.

You look sideways at his profile without turning your head. His perfect face seems to be getting beautifully to you every day. You literally can't stop admiring him.

Jungkook looked calm, almost detached, focused on the road. His sharp features seemed to be carved by God himself: a strong jawline, a straight nose, perfect symmetry of his eyebrows, which moved slightly as he thought about something. His lips, slightly pursed but soft, beckoned to be touched and tasted.

His hand gripped the steering wheel. The tattoos were eye-catching. You looked at his long fingers and imagined them holding a gun. His index finger pulled the trigger and a shot rang out. Someone had died by his hand.

You shook your head slightly to clear away the horrific image you were sure had never happened. Jungkook would never kill a human. But you are saddened by the thought that you doubt. You can't say that you believe that Jungkook is not a murderer. But how can this gentle, caring person take someone's life? You are confused and completely disoriented. You just don't know what to believe.

Why are you thinking about all this while driving in the car? You know about the situation with the devices that Doohoon stole. You have a vague idea of what awaits Jungkook when you arrive in Seoul and he meets Namjoon. You're scared and nervous about revealing this to Jungkook so that he doesn't worry about you. Will Namjoon be really angry? Will he punish him in some mafia-style way or just tell you that another $50 million is added to the blog and let Jungkook go? What a lot of money!

Although everything is perfect between you and Jungkook right now, you can't keep thinking about who he really is. Knowing criminal world, the life will seem to you like a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later it will explode. However, your feelings for Jungkook are growing every day, and you think about how you can save him. What can you do to make him leave the mafia and finally live like a normal person?

You pick up your new phone and look at the time. It's eleven in the morning. It's only a thirty-minute drive to Seoul.

Jungkook notices that you are awake and looks over at you. A smile touches his lips and he reaches out to you. He places his hand on your thigh and squeezes it lightly.

"Did you doze off?" - He asks. His voice is hoarse and gentle at the same time. Your eyes instantly find his and you smile back. In fact, you were awake. You were trying to sort out the chaos in your head. But all you got were not clear thoughts but a headache.

"A little." - You lie. "I lost my sleep rhythm. It was hard for me to wake up at 7 a.m. to get ready for the trip." - You admit.

"How much sleep did you get?" - Jungkook asks looking ahead.

"Three hours." - You say. Jungkook's eyebrows fly up.

"Baby, you need to get more sleep. I'll take you home and you can go straight to bed." - Jungkook is worried. You struggle to smile.

"Okay." - You agree. After a moment, you speak again. "Your mom must have been sad that you had to leave in the morning, right? It would have been better if you hadn't stopped by your parents' house at all." - You say in a sad, slightly guilty voice. Jungkook could have stayed with his parents longer, but he spent a lot of time with you yesterday. And this morning he left because he had to meet Namjoon.

Jungkook heard what you said and laughed softly. He stroked your thigh as if to calm you down.

"That's what my mom said when I told my parents I was just passing through. I told my mother I was on business near Suwon so I came to see them because I was miss, even though I had important business in Seoul since morning. My mother was touched that I wasted time to coming to they and instantly melted." - Jungkook told you. You raised your eyebrows, unhappy that Jungkook was manipulating his mother's feelings with a lie.

"You lie to your mother and think it's okay?" - You asked, irritated. Jungkook gave you a quick glance and the smile disappeared from his lips.

"I wasn't lying. It was almost like that." - Jungkook defended himself. "If I had told her that I had come for a couple of days but had to leave in the morning, she would have been upset. Besides, I promised her I would come back after the new year."

"You've been lying a lot lately." - You complained, even though you knew Jungkook was right. The fact that he lied made sense. But he was really lying a lot, and you were nervous about it. He's the one who can lie to you easily!

"Only the last four years." - Jungkook says ironically, meaning that it started when he met Namjoon. You snort in displeasure.

"More. About six years." - You say. Jungkook raises his eyebrows, wondering why it took so long. He looks at you questioningly, and you stretch your lips into a luscious smile. "You wanted me all along and lied about me not being your type." - You explain. Jungkook smiles again, the smile of a man who has been exposed.

"Is it my fault that you didn't reciprocate for so long?" - Jungkook asks you. You're shocked. Meaning you didn't respond? Did he show any interest in you? He just liked to tease you and make you blush. He's been with a lot of girls, even though he says he's liked you since high school.

"Reciprocated on what? You never even hit on me like a normal guy." - Jungkook bursts out laughing.

"I'm sorry. I did it the best I could." - He says through his laughter.

"No. You didn’t do all the best that you could. You were just a playboy. Who thought, that his best friend wasn't going anywhere anyway." - You said it a little harshly. Jungkook didn't stop smiling, but he raised his eyebrows. It sounded like an accusation.

"Do you know me that well, baby?" - Jungkook jokes, trying to calm you down. Because he can already see you're getting annoyed.

"Yes. I know you very well. I just don't know why it took you so long to ask me out. Did you want to be free longer?" - You ask sharply, trying to be calm.

"I was in a relationship before you, so the 'free' theory isn't true, baby. I dated Minsoo at school for a year, and I dated Jayon for about a year too. And I dated Ha Young for a long time. But when I started working for Namjoon, it became difficult to have a girlfriend. I wasn't a playboy." - Jungkook explains indignantly. The mention of Jungkook's exes makes you even more irritated. You give him an angry look.

"You were!" - You growl. "Do you want me to recall all your passions that wrote to me to stay away from you? For some reason, your last one isn't there, although I'm sure she wanted to threaten me too. That's probably why you stopped talking to me during your first year at university." - Jungkook exhaled nervously. You were angry about this. You sat up straight and crossed your arms over your chest. Jungkook rubbed his palms on the steering wheel.

"Okay, if you think I'm a playboy, so be it. But what are we arguing about? You accuse me of not courted you well, but you've never even flirted with me as a joke. All I ever heard you say was, ‘I'm going to kill you, Jeon.’" - Jungkook imitated you. You choked on your anger and indignation.

"Did I have to do that? I thought you were my friend, and I didn't think it was necessary. But you were flirting with everyone, you didn't miss a skirt. And it spread to me too because I have boobs. That's why I didn't react." - You snapped back.

"You liked me, you could have reciprocated." - Jungkook says lightly.

"No, I didn't. I didn't like you!" - You shouted. Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Jungkook gave you a look full incredulous. "I only started to like you when we started living together." - You lied.

"Are you answering for your words?" - Jungkook asks you in a serious tone. You can hear your heart beating desperately against your ribcage, and you delay your answer for a long few seconds.

"Yes. I'm telling you the truth." - You say with determination, but you're afraid you don't sound confident. "If I would like you, how I was okay with you fucking every girl in town?" - The muscles in his jaw are pulsing. He's irritated. He flicks his tongue against his cheek, and you never miss this gesture.

"You've dreamed of being in those girls' shoes, and don't tell me you haven't, baby." - Jungkook says slyly. Although you expected a more angry reaction, judging by the look on his face.

"Never. You're the one who must have wanted me to be in their shoes, because you've been wanting to fuck me for so long." - You reply defiantly. Jungkook snorts. You approach him, leaning over the armrest. You can clearly see the shine of his perfect skin. "You should have just confess to me instead of sticking your dick in everyone's." - You smile. Jungkook pulls off the road and parks on the side of the road. You fall back on the seat. You stare dumbfounded at the road, trying to understand why Jungkook stopped. Before you can say anything, you feel Jungkook's hand squeezing your cheeks. His face is just a few centimeters away and his eyes radiate something devilish.

"Your big mouth is too big sometimes. I can put my cock in your mouth. That you'd stop saying stupid things." - Jungkook says thoughtfully. He looks at you with authority. You feel a piercing sensation between your thighs, and you think you just wet your panties.

"Try your luck, Jeon." - You say through clenched cheeks. You feel Jungkook's fingernails digging into your skin. Jungkook laughs, but it's a laugh that sounds like something between mocking and maniacal.

"Why do you like provoking me so much? Do you get off on me being rude to you?" - Jungkook asks, and you feel him already undoing the button on your jeans. You get wet in anticipation of Jungkook's fingers on your pussy. He's right that you like his roughness and power. But you can't admit it. Of course you love it when he's gentle and caring, but those eyes, those eyes in front of you, they set your whole being on fire.

"Don't even touch me!" - You scream when you feel his hand slowly slide down your pants. Jungkook's eyes darken even more when you don't let him. His cock instantly hardens. Jungkook captures your lips and his fingers are already touching your folds. You grab his hand, but your strength is not enough, because you can't resist your desire to have him touch you.

Jungkook terrorizes your lips, his tongue literally fills your entire mouth. You return the kiss with the same passion. He caresses your clit and you can't help but moan into Jungkook's mouth.

"Take off your pants quickly and get on my lap." - Jungkook orders you. You are flushed from his kiss and touch. Jungkook pushes his seat back as far as it will go. He notices that you are sitting still. You don't listen to him right away, and he gets mad. "Baby, don't try my patience. Otherwise I will punish you severely." - Jungkook asks you. Although it sounds like a pure threat. You smile slyly. You wonder how he can punish you severely?

"Make me, Jeon. I wasn't planning on sitting on your such promiscuous cock tonight." - You say as if you're testing Jungkook's patience. He's horny and eager to get satisfaction, and you won't bite your cheeky tongue. Jungkook slowly approaches you. He doesn't touch you, he just moves a short distance away. You unconsciously squeeze into the seat.

"You have half a minute to take off your clothes and climb on my lap. Otherwise I'll climb on top of you and you'll choke on my cock. Choose, baby." - He says gently. You look at him and realize that you are too excited. The wetness between your legs and the aching more screaming at you to listen to Jungkook and do as he says. Without looking away from your boyfriend's black eyes, you take off your jeans. Jungkook leaned back a little and smiled victoriously, one corner of his lips quirking up. "What a good girl." - He says and returns to his seat. Jungkook lifts his hips and pulls down his sweatpants along with his boxers. He lowers them to his knees so they don't get in the way.

You see Jungkook's erect cock, eager for attention. The thick vein that runs along its length attracts your attention and you want to feel it with your tongue.

You quickly get rid of your jeans and thong. You don't take off your turtleneck, thinking that you don't need to undress completely for a quick fuck.

Jungkook is waiting for you. He pumps his cock several times, smearing his pre-cum. When you climb onto his lap, he smiles evilly. You don't even expect the punishment you're going to get for your long tongue.

You press your pussy against his aroused cock and bite your lip. Jungkook grabs your hips and lifts you up to enter you right away. He won't stretch you this time. You have to be punished today.

You will feel the head of his cock running over your clit. Jungkook uses it to rub your wetness. When he presses his cock against your entrance, you sigh with anticipation. He plunges into you and you think he's going to go slowly, but his hands on your hips jerk you around and he enters you abruptly. A cry of pain escapes your mouth. Jungkook admires you, his lips curved in a cocky smile. Your eyes are closed, your eyebrows are drawn together, and your mouth is open. This expression could easily pass for pleasure, but your face is pure pain.

"You didn't think I'd be gentle, did you? As I remember, you like me to be rough." - Jungkook says with difficulty. His voice is low and husky. He's trying to withstand the way your tight pussy is squeezing his cock.

"It hurts..." - You whimper. Jungkook squeezes your thighs with his fingers and gives a deep thrust. You scream again, but less painfully. Now it's more pleasant than painful.

"You're being punished, not having lovemaking." - Jungkook tells you. You open your eyes and see his face radiating lust and anger at the same time.

"Why are you punishing me? For I telling that you fucked everyone?" - You say slyly. Jungkook looks at you defiantly and slams his hips into you again, plunging his cock into you as much as possible. It's as if he's knocking all the air out of you when he does this. You forget how to breathe when he starts fucking you intensely. You moan in pleasure, moving your hips to meet Jungkook's.

"You need to be punished for running your mouth. What business is it of yours how many I've fucked?" - Jungkook asks, breathing heavily.

"Business?" - You gasp. "It’s my business, because you could have fucked me a long time ago instead of all those whores." - You say indignantly. You talk as if you're not sitting naked on Jungkook in the car right now, filled to the brim with his cock.

"I'm fucking you right now, and I started doing it when we were friends. Aren't you also my slut too?" - Jungkook asks, smiling. You moan as you bounce on him. Are you his whore? Only he and you can't be compared to them.

"No. I'm not..." - You want to tell him not to put you on the same level as those girls. But his cock pounding into you, making you feel incredible, silences you.

"Oh, yeah. Just look at you. You're sitting on my cock and you can't get enough. You love it when I'm rough with you, like a real whore." - Jungkook's voice is hot. Your head is spinning.

Jungkook catches a glimpse of your erect nipples, visible through your black turtleneck. He takes one hand off your hip to free your breasts from your clothes. Your tits fall out and move in time with your movements.

Jungkook doesn't like the way your clothes are in the way. He stops you and takes off the last thing you're wearing, over your head. He throws the turtleneck elsewhere and pounces on your attractive nipples.

Jungkook grabs one in his hand, kisses it gently at first, then swirls his tongue around it several times. He suddenly sucks on the nipple so hard that almost tears barely appear in your eyes. You hiss, just sitting on his cock. Your pussy is throbbing and you wouldn't mind if Jungkook paid attention to your clit. He sucks on your nipples, and it hurts a lot more than all the other times.

"Does it hurt?" - Jungkook asks, pulling away from your breast. You bite your lip so hard that it hurts too. You nod that it hurts, but that's not the right answer. Jungkook smiles with satisfaction. Your punishment continues as he begins to pound you with his hips again, ruthlessly pushing his cock into you. You are as close together as possible, so you can feel his pubic bone with your clit.

Your knees are getting tired of holding onto the narrow seat on the sides of Jungkook's thighs. But Jungkook doesn't care.

He looks down at your pussy and thinks that you must be finally punished. You continue to ride Jungkook's cock and suddenly you feel a blow to your pussy. It doesn't hurt too much. But fuck, it's so unusual. You stop and watch Jungkook's cruel smile in puzzlement.

"This pussy is responsible for your long tongue. You can apologize to her for your impudence." - Jungkook says sweetly. You want to protest, but another stroke silences you, almost choking. Jungkook touches your clit, just as you wanted him to, and he massages it, making you feel euphoric. But when he pinches your clit, you scream. And Jungkook giggles in amusement. You squeeze his shoulder with all your strength, and if he wasn't wearing a sweatshirt, you would have scratched him.

"But you were right, baby. When I was fucking all those girls, I was imagining you." - Jungkook confesses. His voice is still brutal with no hint of sweetness. "Because all I ever wanted was you. You're my cherished dream come true." - You open your eyes and finally see his loving smile. You feel like everything inside you is on fire. He lights you up with a fire that spreads throughout your body. Your soul trembles at his words, as do you. You lean into him and kiss him, putting all your feelings into this kiss. Jungkook responds. Your lips tell each other that you are in love.

Jungkook squeezes your buttocks as he moves you around on his lap. You lean on the seat with one hand to keep your balance. You speed up your movements. You feel Jungkook's cock grinding against your walls. He touches your G-spot, building up your orgasm. A wave of pleasant pleasure slowly covers you. One moment and the knot in the bottom of your stomach breaks, engulfing your body in blissful pleasure.

You moan into Jungkook's ear and he can't get enough of the sound. He keeps fucking you so he can come himself. He hardens to the maximum and lifts your juicy hips to get out of you. You get up and instantly fall back on his lap. His hot cum paints your pussy and his stomach. You watch his cock twitch, spewing white liquid. When it softens, you finally look up at Jungkook. You see him smiling with satisfaction. You reflexively lift your lips in a smile.

"You didn't come in me, so that's a big success." - You joke. Jungkook grabs your neck and pulls you gently.

"Is that mouth ever going to stop being so big?" - He asks before kissing you one last time. You taste your boyfriend's lips and can't get enough.

"Never. I was given to you so that you would never relax in your life." - You answer, pulling away from Jungkook's lips. Jungkook laughs and you get off his lap. You have to clean yourself up. Before you can make it home.

Jungkook dropped you off at house. He wanted to help you carry your things upstairs, but you assured him that you could do it yourself. You argued for a long few minutes and you convinced him. He kissed you goodbye and left for the main office of «Mono Corp».

Jungkook was almost calm. He could have been nervous. After all, Namjoon had found out about everything. But Jungkook had everything under control. He was in Japan those days while you were away, and he was able to return all the devices. And they in Korea by now. Hayato texted he last night and told him that he and the devices were in the port of Busan.

Jungkook parks the Mercedes and goes up to the top floor of the building. He doesn't meet any of his friends on the way and it's a little strange. Where did they all go? He approaches Namjoon's office and greets the secretary. The woman nods and invites him inside. Jungkook crosses the threshold and finds himself in the sacred place for the boss of an influential mafia clan.

He felt heavy, like a mountain pressing down on his chest. This happens every time he finds himself in this place.

Namjoon's office wasn't just a workspace - it was a zone of authority that Jungkook hated and respected at the same time.

Dark wood on the walls, a large panoramic window overlooking the masterpiece lights of Seoul. A huge ebony desk with papers and documents on it reflected the very essence of this place: everything is under control. Namjoon was sitting at the desk, leaning slightly forward, focused, but his expression was not stern. There was an invisible warmth in him, but it was all deliberate.

"Jungkook." - He said quietly, without the usual pressure and threats that accompanied normal meetings in the mafia world. "Have a seat." - He pointed to the couch, which was located away from the table.

"Hello." - Jungkook greeted, bowing him and sat down on the designated seat. Namjoon put some papers aside. He ordered coffee from his secretary for the two of them and stood up from the table.

Jungkook didn't look at Namjoon, but he knew exactly what he was doing. The sound of his expensive shoes broke the silence. Namjoon sat down across from Jungkook and stared at his subordinate.

Jungkook looked up at the leader and stared intently at his expression.

"What's up, kid?" - Namjoon asked with an uncharacteristic warmth in his voice. Jungkook pressed his lips together, showing off his mole under his lower lip.

"All is right." - Jungkook didn't lie. Namjoon lazily turned his head to the side, his gaze remaining calm but studying. His whole appearance was like a challenge, but not aggressive. It was an intellectual strength, a strength that didn't need to be brutal. He looked at Jungkook, and his eyes reflected a patience that could end at any time.

"Why did you hide everything from me?" - Namjoon asks. Jungkook knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Jimin had nothing to do with it. It's completely my fault. So please don't punish him." - Jungkook says at first. This brings a faint smile to Namjoon's lips. He's always so noble.

"Jimin knows me well, he should have foreseen that I would find out about your affairs anyway." - Namjoon said more coldly, showing that Jimin would not escape punishment for covering up for Jungkook. "It's so funny, kid, that you thought I wouldn't know that 50 million dollars disappeared from under my nose." - Namjoon let out a shrill laugh. The laughter echoed in Jungkook's ears like an intrusive fly.

"I didn't think you wouldn't find out, I just wanted to solve it on my own. Without bothering you." - Jungkook said in his defense.

"Solved it?" - Namjoon asked mockingly, raising his eyebrows. Jungkook wanted to answer, but the secretary came into the office with two cups of espresso. She silently put the coffee tray down, clearly sensing the tension around, and left as quickly as she could. Namjoon took the white, small cup with the black drink and took a sip. The aroma of coffee teased Jungkook's receptors. But he didn't want to drink coffee right now.

"Yes." - Jungkook replied, more firmly than he wanted to. Namjoon tasted the coffee and nodded his head.

"I like how you decided. You took almost a month to find out where the devices were. Beat that asshole to a pulp in front of our Japanese partner. And because of you, I wasted 10 minutes of my life listening to his father complain and demand compensation from me for some reason." - Namjoon said. He put the cup of coffee on the table and adjusted his expensive Rolexes.

"I'll explain..." - Jungkook said. He regretted answering so quickly. How could he explain if everything was tied to you?

"What exactly do you want to explain?" - Namjoon clarified. "Why did Doohoon, as soon as he got to Korea, immediately start make trouble to you? Or why did you beat him up and leave his blood all over the hallway? Or how did you manage to lose my 50 million dollars so easily?" - Jungkook exhaled a long breath. There were no answers to these questions, specifically for Namjoon.

"I returned the devices." - Jungkook said, carefully avoiding the topic of Doohoon.

"So what? I don't want them, I want the money." - Namjoon says dryly, and now Jungkook hears the tone he's become accustomed to.

"I'll sell them personally, I already have a new client." - Jungkook says.

"Are you sure, that I have to give you another chance?" - Namjoon asks a rhetorical question. Jungkook looks him in the eye, not afraid of his boss for a second, even though he should be.

"I'll sell them for 100 million." - Jungkook replies, and a spark lights up in Namjoon's eyes.

"100 million." - Namjoon repeats. He is silent for a second and then answers. "Don't let me down, kid. If you don't sell it for 100 million, you know This amount will be added to your debt." - He says, and it's no surprise to Jungkook. It was expected.

"I won't let you down." - Jungkook says. Namjoon finally smiles. It seems that the sum of 100 million dollars has lifted Namjoon's spirits quite a bit. He is relaxing, his posture shows it, and Jungkook is also relieved.

"But the question of Doohoon is still open." - The clan leader speaks up about him.

"I will deal with him as well. Please give me some time." - Jungkook asks. Namjoon stares at him again with a long, piercing gaze.

"Go ahead. But really deal with this brat, because I have enough problems from his father. I have more important things to do." - Namjoon says and finishes his espresso.

"I'll take care of it." - Jungkook promises. Namjoon nods in acknowledgment.

"Why does that guy Doohoon hate you so much? I remember he didn't like you in high school or something." - Namjoon says. Jungkook doesn't want to talk about this topic at all. So he keeps his mouth shut. "But thanks to him, you work for me." - The clan leader suddenly says, and Jungkook looks up at him.

"I'm only working off my debt, no more. Since Doohoon is back in Korea, you could demand your money from him. He's the one who owes you." - Jungkook says a little sharply. Namjoon's face radiates disappointment. He doesn't like the way Jungkook is talking. He would rather have Jungkook work for him voluntarily. He sees Jungkook's essence, and this job he's doing is perfect for him.

"You'll work off his debt because you're just as involved in this." - Namjoon says coldly.

"I didn't turn you in to the police, and I told you that many times. I'm not the reason you lost the money." - Jungkook defends himself.

"I don't care. Whether you were involved or not, the two of you brought him to my club." - Namjoon cuts him off, referring to the police officer's son. Jungkook stops talking and decides that the conversation is over. He gets up from the couch.

"I have to go. I have things to do." - Jungkook bows and is about to leave when Namjoon's words make him freeze in horror.

"So you two became enemies because of your girl friend?" - Namjoon asks. He said he knew everything, didn't he? Jungkook turns and glares at Namjoon. "She's really pretty, I understand why there's a war. How long have you two been living together? Jimin says she has a temper." - He pauses, enjoying Jungkook's look, and continues. "But kid, lets you make sure that your girlfriend doesn't affect my company's income. Really handle everything yourself, so I don't have to interfere personally."

Jungkook has left and you are standing on the street. There is even more snow in Seoul than in Suwon, but all the roads are well plowed. Your hands are freezing from the slight frost, and so you want to get inside as soon as possible.

To get into the building, you have to cross the parking lot, because that's where Jungkook dropped you off. You wrap your jacket tighter because there is a terrible draft in the yard and grab the handle of your suitcase. You walk away thinking about a hot bath. You don't notice the gray Volvo parked in the parking lot, not far from the high-rise building. When you pass by and hear the horn honking, you jump in surprise.

You want to scold the person who honked the horn, but you drop your suitcase, which falls on the snow compacted by cars. Doohoon stands with his car door open and smiles at you with difficulty. He can't do it normally because his face is so beaten up.

His right eyebrow is cut, and it looks like there might even be stitches because he has a large bandage on it. His lip is split in two places. There are severe bruises under both eyes, purple and burgundy in color, which suggests that they are slowly coming off. Doohoon's appearance is horrifying. Only brown eyes, the color of the whiskey, remain of his handsome face.

"Hello, candy." - He greets you, and you just want to run. You instantly remember everything you've been told Jungkook about Doohoon and you want to made him another bruise. You come to your senses. You pick up your suitcase and walk as fast as you can without saying hello to Doohoon. He catches up with you, grabbing your arm. You pull your hand away.

"Don't touch me!" - You shout. Doohoon presses his lips into a line and almost immediately grimaces in pain. His acting is Oscar-worthy.

"Let's talk, candy..." - Doohoon asks you. You feel a kind of growing anxiety. With Doohoon, you felt this all the time.

"We have nothing to talk about with you. Just like all the times before." - You say angrily.

"You came together and you return to his apartment. I can see that my words about Jungkook didn't impress you at all, although you had a slightly different reaction at the party." - Doohoon says. You pierce him with a look worth a hundred knife cuts.

"What's your business with me and my reaction? Stop following me." - You ask. Doohoon smiles, restrained and almost sweet.

"Do you remember what I said to you that night?" - Doohoon asks, but you don't answer. "I told you that I like you. That's why I can't stand aside while Jungkook is with you. It's not stalking, it's caring." - You raise your eyebrows and get even angrier.

"I don't need your concern. I don't like you for the life of me. And your behavior scares me." - You confess. Doohoon laughs heartily.

"Scares you?" - He repeats mockingly. "Does my caring scare you more than Jungkook whose hands are up to their elbows in blood?" - You freeze with a shadow of fear on your face.

"He didn't kill anyone..." - You say quietly, not believing yourself.

"Candy." - Doohoon calls you gently. "He did. You're a smart girl, you should know that people connected to the mafia are not saints. If you knew what he was doing, you'd change your mind." - You stare at each other for a while. You don't know what to say in defense of Jungkook. But Doohoon is wrong. Jungkook is still a very good person who has been trapped. And it's all thanks to Doohoon.

"Whose fault is that?" - You ask. "It's your fault that Jungkook is working for Namjoon." - Your voice is laced with venom. Doohoon takes a step toward you and you can hear your heart pounding, but you remain unmoved.

"Maybe so. But I'm not the one who pulls the trigger on a gun and beats people to death." - Doohoon says looking down at you. You look bravely into his cold eyes. "He is dangerous to you and you realize it. One day you might get hurt because of Jungkook." - Doohoon reaches out and touches your cheek. "That's why I'm here, to save you." - You're not impressed by his words. You knock his hand away.

"Who gave you permission to touch me?" - You ask harshly. "Get off me. Leave me and Jungkook alone. I don't need your concern because I know who you really are." - You jab your finger at Doohoon's chest. "You envious piece of shit." - Doohoon laughs. His anger has been growing as fast as a fire burning through dry grass. Your stance of resistance only strengthened his desire to possess you. Are you deliberately making him obsessed with you?

You walk away and Doohoon doesn't stop you. He looks at you and thinks you just signed your own warrant. He was trying to persuade you to distance yourself from Jungkook in a nice way. It looks like he need to move on to more effective ways.

You disappear from Doohoon's sight and he walks back to the car. Once behind the wheel, he dials the number he needs. Several long beeps reach his ear.

"Hello?" - Doohoon hears on the other end of the phone.

"I need to hire some guys. Remember when we talked about this?" - Doohoon asks. He starts the car and hears the sound of the engine.

"Kidnapp some girl?"

"Yeah. Find those guys who have a beef with Jungkook. I'll come to you right away and we'll talk about it in detail." - Doohoon doesn't wait for an answer and turns off the phone. His Samsung flies to the seat next to him. Doohoon steps on the gas pedal and leaves the parking lot of your and Jungkook's house.

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[tizeline]

A few questions bc I can't sleep and am obsessed with your au

For the AU movie plot, would April, Splints, and Casey Jr's roles stay the same? Would Draxum be more involved?

Also, for the bad future, would Mikey be the reason they didn't get the key?

Would April be very involved in the bad future or would she die early on with Donnie?

Yeah April, Splinter and CJ have basically the same roles in the movie as they do in canon, at least from what I've planned so far. I don't think Draxum is gonna be around for the events of the movie? I did initally wanna involve him more, but a big part of the AU's events is Mikey freaking out about the entire situation, them being on the brink of an apocalyps, Donnie having captured and how Mikey's mistakes contributed to the terrible situation they've found themselves in. Mikey having his dad there would provide a source comfort and stability, but that would also remove some tension from the story, I think it's more interesting if Mikey has to deal with all of this mostly by himself. (Also it'll be pretty impactful when Draxum finally manages to meet back up with the rest of the family after the movie's events only to find out that his baby boy got turned into turtle pancake by the krang lmaooooo)

When it comes to the Key being fumbled, both Mikey and Donnie are honestly to blame for that. They're bickering constantly and instead of working together during missions they're constantly trying to out-do each other, which obviously just causes problems for everyone.

When it comes to the bad future, April dies pretty early on :( Since I'm keeping Casey Sr alive I gotta balance it out lmao. Also Donnie losing both April and Leo, the two people he's arguably closest to, kinda forces him to seek out comfort from Raph and Mikey which causes him to grow closer to them. Donnie also dies eventually of course, but it's several years into the apocalypse. I had initally planned for him to die either shortly before or after CJ was born, but I also want Donnie to have been the one who made CJ's prosthetic which means CJ had to have been a bit older, at earliest pre-teens of early teens or something idk.

[dissvicious]

Alone in Wano - 1 / 2

A/N: it's been an eternity since I posted a fanfic here & I deleted the last one I posted here because I was too self conscious so words can't fathom how much I'm nervous right now lmao. No much content warnings but contain Wano spoilers, canon violence & also apparently it makes people cry. thanks @a-killer-obsession for beta reading, & @wyvernslovecake for letting me play dolls with Shriek ♥

One month.

29 days.

690 hours or so.

Nina sighed, grunting as the baby kicks in her belly kept her from sleeping. She tried to change position in the uncomfortable futon discarded on the ground, to relieve the pressure her womb was applying on her guts - without any effect. She closed her eyes, and, as usual, images of what happened flashed in front of her eyes. Kaido falling in the ground at Ozzy’s birthday party, Kid refusing to submit, the beast pirates destroying the castle and locking everyone in the jails of their ships, sending them to Wano. Quincy, Heat, Wire, Hip, Papas…Thanks to gods, she didn’t see Shriek in the cramped cells. She must have locked herself in her room, just like Nina asked. She silently prayed for her safety and rolled on her back again, looking at the ceiling.

She hadn’t felt this lonely for a long time. Not since she joined the Kid pirates, in fact. She almost managed to believe that life was going to be ok, she almost touched that peace from the tip of her fingers, but Kaido took everything away from her. Nina rubbed her eyes, trying to chase the tears that threatened to flow on her cheeks. One month without Killer tenderly spooning her in her sleep. 29 days without Kid playfully grabbing her ass while passing by in the morning. 690 hours, or so, without passing her fingers through the soft fur of Shriek to untangle it.

"MAMAAAAAAA"

Ozzy’s tears took her out of her reverie. She sat up in the futon, and took the toddler on her lap, before opening her kimono to allow him to latch on her breast and take some milk. She passed her hand through her son’s pink hair, looking down at him tenderly. At least, Kaido didn’t separate them. She was so scared at first, when he discarded them to Orochi, saying that a pregnant chick and a toddler was no use for him. Nina wasn’t strong, she didn’t have any power, she didn’t have haki, and without her chainsaw, the only thing she could do to protect her heir would have been to run and sink her teeth into whatever neck presented to her. Thankfully, Komurasaki seemed to have pity for them and asked Orochi to keep her and Ozzy in her court, which Orochi accepted. Not that he seemed to be able to refuse anything to Komurasaki, though. Nina and Komurasaki immediately understood each other on this - Nina, too, had to pretend to like men for her safety in the past. And staying near the shogun, she could maybe learn a thing or two about Kid or Killer’s fate. Ozzy finished eating and she hugged him tight, seeking comfort in the scent of his hair. God, she missed her lovers so much. Ever since he helped her sober up, she had never been separated from Killer for this long. And as much as it cost her to admit, she missed Kid just as much. After years of being used and tossed away, she finally had a home, a family. She just wanted them back.

Loud screams coming from Orochi's banquet dragged her out of her spiraling. She put back her breast in her kimono and held Ozzy close to her chest, mother instinct going full mode as a little girl with a big grin and pink hair ran to her, crying, holding her close as to seek reassurance in her arms.

“Toko… ?” 

Nina bent down and managed with some effort to take Toko under the arm that wasn’t holding Ozzy, finding, by some miracle, space for the little girl, the toddler, and her big round belly.

“Toko… what happened?” 

Toko looked up at her, unable to answer, her breath cut by a burst of laughter. Nina bit her lip to restrain any reaction that could hurt the girl’s sensibility. Even if Komurasaki explained to her the whole shit about SMILE and its effects, she still needed to process that Toko could have a big grin or laugh, but still be sad, angry or scared. One thing for sure, the more she learned about Kaido, the more she wanted him dead.

As she was about to question Toko again, Komurasaki and Kyoshiro barged in the room. Nina's eyes went wide open and she stood up as she saw the blood on Komurasaki's clothes.

“The hell?” she asked. 

Komurasaki seemed to do great, though, and she walked in with a hurry to take Toko in her arms after changing into a discreet, more modest robe than her usual attire and throwing her jewelry on the ground. Nina turned an inquisitive glance to Kyoshiro who frowned at her.

“No time to explain. All of you need to leave the castle.”

“But…”

“NOW!” 

Nina frowned, sensing the urge in Kyoshiro’s voice. She nodded and, holding Ozzy close to her chest, she followed Komurasaki and Toko through a secret escape.

One month.

31 days.

738 hours or so. 

Nina’s eyes didn’t leave the hearth, fire crackling and flames casting a warm light through the little wood shed. Toko was sleeping peacefully next to her, holding Ozzy against her, her permanent grin not leaving her face. Nina looked up at the green haired  woman sitting across her, a protective hand on her belly.

“So what do I have to call you now?” Nina asked. 

“Hiyori.”

Nina studied her face. When they arrived at the secret hideout, Hiyori explained everything to her. How she was actually Oden’s daughter. How she was born on the Oro Jackson, a long time ago. How she had to watch her little brother jump forward in the future thanks to some time travel devil fruit, while her mother was dying in the flames. How a plan to take down Orochi and Kaido was in place, silently building in the shadows for the past 26 years. Once again, Nina met her eyes and a silent comprehension passed between the two women. They both experienced what true loneliness was, they both saw the ugliest face of men. At this exact moment, Nina understood why Hiyori took care of her. Seeing her alone with her baby, pregnant with the second, must have reminded her of her own family. 

“That’s not everything.” Hiyori said, a serious glance on her face. She bent aside and grabbed a newspaper on the ground before giving it to Nina.

Nina frowned and took the journal, and her eyes went wide in shock as she read. The news was about a pirate captain sent to Udon jail, and even if the picture below was only an ink drawing, she couldn’t help the tears flooding down her cheeks when she recognized Kid.

“I need to go there.”

“Nina…” Hiyori started to sigh, but Nina cut her off.

“No, you don’t understand!” 

She looked at Ozzy, still peacefully asleep in Toko’s arms, occasionally twitching in his sleep.

“His father… Ozzy’s father. One of them. He’s maybe there, I can’t-”

“Nina.”

Hiyori's tone was stern now, and Nina sighed, knowing already where the conversation was landing. Since Hiyori saved her, they had it on a daily basis. Nina sat down, putting a hand on her belly.

“I know, I know. I’m pregnant. I have to be careful.” 

Hiyori smiled softly, looking up at her with her big, soft eyes, and Nina smiled back. Both women looked at the fire in silence for a moment.

“I hope they’re doing fine.” Nina whispered, caressing her belly softly, where her little one was giving high kicks again. “I can’t live without them.” She cursed herself mentally for being so sappy. 

When did she become so sensitive? After the whole Perona disaster, she thought she was done with romantic bullshit. She was a tough girl, picking up fights in bars and sailing alone, surviving out of thieving and brawlings. She sailed for months, years maybe even, alone, and she held herself alone, even if she had to rely on drugs or sell her body to keep on going. But destiny made her cross paths with Kid pirates, and Killer saved her, and she allowed herself to fall in love again, and then she fell for Kid as well, and the crew adopted her, and she adopted them. And then there were the children, and soon she was surrounded by more tenderness and affection than she could handle. She wiped her tears. Fucking mood swings.

Hiyori seemed to notice her demeanor change, because she moved ever so slightly to wrap an arm around her shoulders, slowly comforting her.

“They’re alive. I would have heard of it if they were dead,” She whispered. Nina nodded, nuzzling against Hiyori's shoulder, closing her eyes.

“I hope so.”

Nina woke up the next morning, snuggled against Hiyori. She sighed in relief. It was good to feel the warmth of another human being again - well, an adult one. With regret, she withdrew herself from the green haired woman's embrace. She stood up and took Ozzy in her arms, cradling him tenderly. Behind her, the fire was dying slowly. It was cold outside, they would need to light another one, and there was no more dry wood left. She wrapped Ozzy in his carrier and tied it on her back. Hiyori would scold her for not resting but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to feel like a burden. She didn't want to feel useless. Hiyori had saved their life, the least she could do was to ensure her a warm room to wake up in. She walked out of the small cabin and closed the door behind her.

Nina was out in the snow, gathering some dry wood, when a deafening scream pierced the ambient silence. She jolted her head as she recognized Hiyori's voice. Without thinking, she put Ozzy in safety next to the wood carrier, wrapping her vest around him to keep him warm and safe, and ran to Hiyori as fast as her round belly allowed her to. 

Her mind went blank at the scene she was witnessing. 

Hiyori was hidden behind a green haired samurai who looked a bit like the mugiwara sword guy… Roronoa? She was shaking, terrified, holding Toko close in her arms. And in front of them…

This laugh. 

This blonde mane. 

Those icy blue eyes. 

Nina eyes went wide and without thinking, she ran to them as Roronoa was about to attack.

“NO!!”

She yelled, throwing herself between Roronoa and his opponent. Hiyori screamed, but Nina couldn’t care less, her focus on the laughing figure in front of her. Tears perked at the corners of their eyes and she took a few steps forward. At this moment, Roronoa didn’t exist anymore, Hiyori didn’t exist anymore, even Ozzy was far away in her mind. The only thing that mattered for her were those beautiful icy blue eyes piercing through the bandages. So soft. So familiar. The eyes that looked at her with adoration every morning and always managed to make her feel safe.

 She took a few steps forwards, wiping her eyes with a relieved chuckle.

“Killer? My lion?”

The blonde looked down at her, a grin plastered on his face. Killer didn’t usually grin without his mask, but after a month without seeing each other, he was probably happy to see her too. She took another step forward, still chuckling in relief. Killer looked down at her, immobile. She looked up at him with pure adoration and sobbed. 

“Killer, I'm so…” 

She froze when he suddenly arched back, letting out a loud burst of laughter. He laughed. Loudly. Killer laughed. In front of perfect strangers. In front of an opponent. 

Puzzled and worried, she held a hand to caress his cheek, an attempted comforting gesture, but before she could touch his skin, she was violently thrown in the snow, kicked in her belly by the wood of his scythes. She felt an intense pain bowing her in half, then, nothing. 

The last thing she saw before passing out was Killer's frame passing by her side as if she was nothing but an insect he brushed off his shoulder. The last thing she heard was his laugh fading in the distance, and then everything went black.

[woozinhos]

I want to politely ask for a smut with hoshi where he’s obsessed with readers tits and can’t stop sucking them when he fingers and fucks the reader 🤤🥵

Hope you enjoy I think I’ve done a really good job keep requesting thank youuu <333

Hoshi had always been obsessed with your body, especially your chest. Whenever you were together, his hands were constantly wandering, exploring every inch of your skin with a desperate need.

He couldn't get enough of you, couldn't get enough of the feeling of your soft curves beneath his touch. As he lay you down on the bed, his eyes were glued to your chest, his gaze hungry and possessive. He trailed his hands up your sides, his touch feather-light as he teased you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "I could look at you all day."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.

"But I'd rather taste you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

He began to kiss his way up your chest, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your nipples, he wasted no time in taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, he slips a finger between your legs, teasing your entrance. He can feel how wet you are, and he lets out a low growl against your skin. He slides his finger inside you, slowly pumping it in and out as he continues to suck on your nipple.

He adds another finger, stretching you out as he prepares you for what's to come. He moves his mouth to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as he continues to finger you. He curls his fingers inside you, searching for that sweet spot that will drive you wild.

Hoshi is completely lost in the pleasure of your body, his focus solely on your chest. He releases your nipple with a soft pop, only to immediately switch to the other one, lavishing it with just as much attention as the first. He begins to move his fingers faster, his thrusts growing more insistent as he tries to bring you closer to the edge.

"You're so tight," he groans against your skin. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

"I can't hold back anymore," he whispers, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you. Now."

Hoshi pulls his fingers out of you, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he slowly pushes into you, savoring the feeling of being enveloped by your warmth. He pounds into you with abandon, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust.

He buries his face in your chest, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses and bites across your skin. He can't get enough of the way your body feels beneath him, the way you clench around him and moan his name. Hoshi's pace becomes more frantic, his movements growing sloppy as he chases his own release. He reaches down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles, determined to bring you to orgasm with him.

Hoshi continues to lavish attention on your chest, his tongue swirling around your nipples and his hands cupping your breasts. He's completely lost in the pleasure, his mind consumed by the feeling of your body and the sounds of your moans. Hoshi looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he continues to thrust into you.

"You're so beautiful like this," he groans, his voice hoarse with desire. "So perfect, taking me so well."

Hoshi's breathing grows more ragged, his hips stuttering as he nears his peak.

"I'm so close," he pants, his voice strained. "You feel so good, I can't hold back much longer."

Hoshi grits his teeth, his eyes darkening with lust as he slams into you even harder. He lifts one hand from your hip and brings it down on your breast, the impact sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He slaps your breast again, the sound echoing through the room.

"You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hand coming down once more. "You like it when I take control and make you mine."

Hoshi's grip on your breasts tightens as he feels his release approaching. His thrusts become more erratic, his body tensing as he nears the edge.

"I'm going to fill you up," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gonna make you mine in every way possible."

With one final, deep thrust, he lets out a guttural moan and spills himself inside you.

Hoshi collapses on top of you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He buries his face in your neck, his breathing ragged as he comes down from his high. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath.

"That was... incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

[coffeebanana]

cw: character death, grief/mourning

sometimes i think about alya and adrien running into each other years after marinette dies

adrien fled paris after the funeral; the city has too many memories. he moves to london, where he haunts feligami's spare room--because he doesn't trust himself to be alone. and of course he never moves on

most days, even though he can't stop thinking about marinette, he can't bear to talk about her--he feels like he's taking up too much space. that nobody cares to listen and that he's supposed to be over this by now. but he can't really imagine a future for himself anymore--not one that means anything to him

alya stayed in paris, but she couldn't move on either. she couldn't let go, couldn't stop thinking about how things might be different--how maybe she could have saved her best friend. she reaches marinette levels of obsessive over the whole thing, and god, the irony of that isn't lost on her

the topic even comes between her and nino--not because he doesn't make space for her grief--he would hear her out a thousand times over--but because alya stops sharing her feelings. nino just doesn't get it. which isn't his fault, and god alya feels guilty about holding it against him. but eventually she can't do it anymore. she's not the same person anymore. she ends things with nino and accepts a job in london

alya and adrien run into each other by accident, and adrien can barely breathe. he wants to flee, wants to pretend he doesn't recognize alya. because he can't do this. he can't handle this conversation where loss is the subtext of every petering sentence and every awkward brush of eye contact. he can't be faced with this living, breathing reminder of all things marinette

but alya can't let him go. she gives him her number, makes him promise to meet up with her. and she tells herself it's what marinette would want her to do. what nino would want, too. they'd want her to make sure adrien's okay, and it's not like alya doesn't want that too. but it's not the real reason she's so desperate to see him. it's not the real reason she feels like she finally can breathe for the first time in years

they meet for a drink. and of course it's painful at first, seeing the one other person alive who understands their loss. but it's also the one person who they can be honest with. they talk about marinette, obviously--how she made them laugh, what they miss most about her. even how she frustrated them sometimes. they talk about their guilt and their anger at the world. they share the memories they hold dearest and the ones they never got to make

in a way, it's like finally getting closure

of course they meet up again. and again and again, until it's a regular thing. until it's not about marinette every time, or even most of the time. because god, they make each other laugh. they have silly inside jokes and ridiculous adventures and a depth of understanding that they can't put into words

for adrien, falling for alya is something gradual. she's a brilliant, beautiful force of nature, how could he not fall for her? he can see it coming from a hundred miles away, and even if it terrifies him, he knows he'll take the leap. he knows marinette would want him too, even--and he prays that nino will understand, even though nino might not want to talk to him anyways, given the years adrien's been silent on him

meanwhile, alya's feelings hit her like a punch to the gut. because she never really got it--what marinette saw in adrien. like, sure, he was always a good guy. he was smart and kind and obviously easy on the eyes. but honestly, he'd never seemed like anything special. she hadn't known he could make her laugh so hard she snorted soda out her nose, or what he was like when he got mad--holding things in until they burst out of him, then yanking them all back like he was afraid he'd push her away. she never knew what it felt like to be the object of his unwavering confidence, or that that ridiculous doe-eyed look he had could feel so genuine

i just think their shared grief could help each other not only to heal, but to grow. i think it could be neat

[its-the-allure]

My year in review

Can't remember who tagged me, but thank you! I joined fandom in late 2023 and started writing just this year, so this is very resident for me. So grateful to be here, and so grateful to all the amazing folks I have collabed with, alpha/beta/cheergirled for and had A/B/C for me! It's the best. You are the best. ILY.

Hot Boy Summer

Explicit | 3.3k words

Art collab with @ree-dee-art, Gift for @edieblakee

Summary: A surprise visitor leads to more than Harry was expecting.

lost for you i am so lost

Explicit | 758 words

Gift for my first fandom bestie @phoenixortheflame, seven deadly sins challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry didn’t sleep well, and often came to bed late. Draco never minded being woken like this.

Worshipping at the altar of Harry James Potter

Explicit | 2.4k words

Inspired by art by @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for Harry's birthday!

Summary: “You had mentioned you were interested in adding a little play,” Draco said to Harry. “I thought you might enjoy giving it a go today, to celebrate your birthday.”

Down and (nearly) out

Explicit | 6.6k words

Art collab with an anon friend, Gift for my bestie @kamaela

Summary: A story told over several evenings out, during which Harry Potter rapidly becomes obsessed with Draco Malfoy for a whole new reason. In his defense, everyone loves a crop top.

Eyeliner!Harry, Part 1 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 3.5k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, gift for my bestie @jelliewrites

Summary: Draco Malfoy returns to a mandatory eighth year at Hogwarts with a massive crush on Harry Potter. Harry has returned wearing eyeliner and black nail polish. Draco never thought he’d be into this look on a man, but has to admit, it’s working for Potter. It’s also working for Draco.

Magie Noire

Pansmione | Mature | 7.2k words

Art collab with an anon pal, Gift for @sleepstxtic

Summary: Pansy is checking email on her mobile when another witch gets into the lift. Their eyes meet, Pansy’s shock mirrored on the face of Hermione Granger. Pansy’s wand slips from her sleeve without a thought, and suddenly she’s gripping it tightly, her heart hammering. “Hello, Granger. What are you doing in Paris?” Or, the time Pansy and Hermione keep running into each other. Mischief follows.

[podfic] The Scariest Witch by sweaters_in_the_summer

Gen | 0-10 min

My first podfic! Collab with @sweatersinthesummer (who wrote!), get outside your comfort zone challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry and Draco celebrate their first Halloween together with Harry’s babies.

Come As You Are

Explicit | 35k words

My first anon fest submission! For @hd-fan-fair. And my longest fic to date. Collab with the amazing and wonderful and supremely talented @itsphantasmagoria

Summary: When Harry Potter visits a sexy internet chatroom site, he does so with the hope of answering a niggling question: Am I interested in men? He finds more than he anticipated when he stumbles upon a free strip show starring a very familiar person. Just what is Draco Malfoy doing on a Muggle pay-per-view site? And when did he get so fucking fit?

[ART] HJP is the sun

A gift for the amazing peu_a_peu, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: A truly terrible comic, made with the utmost love and respect. Inspired by peu_a_peu’s The Sun (chapter 4 of the legendary Crack This Thing Wide Open).

Cease and Desist

Explicit | 1.2k words

A gift for @saijordison, inspired by his art, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: After the war Draco makes a fortune selling Potter fan merch, and Harry Potter wants to shut it down. He sends a cease-and-desist letter. What's Draco to do but show up to court wearing their bestselling "Future Mrs. Potter" jumper?

Little Black Dress, Part 2 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 4.9k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for @tessacrowley, for the @hd-tarot fest

Summary: Returning for a mandatory eighth year and secretly dating Harry Potter, Draco is a bit of a mess. Harry wants to go public with their relationship, but the last thing Draco needs is another reason for people to hate him. As they work on their Tarot assignment for Advanced Divination, could a change of heart be in the cards?

Oroboros

Mature | 558 words

Gift for @thisbloodycat, for the DCC Holiday Exchange

Summary: Through eight years at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy cannot keep his eyes off Harry Potter.

Leather Cheerio

Explicit | 2.2k words

Gift for @itsphantasmagoria, for HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: I hate writing summaries. Just fucking read it. 😈

Or, when Allure wrote crack smut for Phanta's birthday, using the worst words from the Lewd Vocabulary in Erotic Fiction survey results.

Tagging @kamaela @dodgerkedavra @itsphantasmagoria @sweatersinthesummer @cailynwrites @phoenixortheflame @jelliewrites @smehur @sleepstxtic @pl0tty @fastbrother @faiell @drwhoisginnyholmes @thusspoketrish and everyone else who sees this and wants to! Let's celebrate!!!

[redvexillum]

Fifth Kiss: Endearing

A/N: Bro. I can't write RadioApple. I'm sorry. I suck at writing this ship //don't perceive me!

SUMMARY: A drunken showdown between Lucifer and Alastor spirals into something messy and impulsive—one filled with tension, stubborn pride, and lingering questions neither is ready to answer.

The hotel gleamed with festivity, gold and black streamers curled from the ceiling like gilded tendrils, shimmering in the soft glow of twinkling lights. Balloons bobbed gently in the air, brushing against a bold, loopy-lettered banner that proclaimed “Happy New Year!” with a cheerfulness Lucifer found difficult to match. 

Charlie’s voice floated through the lobby—a sweet, hopeful tune carrying the innocence of someone untouched by the weight of eons. She twirled through the crowd of sinners, bright-eyed and beaming, her very presence a beacon of joy. 

Lucifer stood apart, forcing a smile to curve his lips, though it felt unnatural. His posture was regal, his tailored suit immaculate, but his fingers curled into tight fists, betraying the serenity he was trying to portray. He took a steadying breath, letting the bubbling laughter of the crowd wash over him, though it did little to ease the tightening in his chest. 

It had been centuries since he allowed himself to be surrounded by this many souls—this many sinners. He had grown used to the isolation of his estate, cocooned in the quiet gloom of his own thoughts. 

But here… Here he stood, watching them laugh, mingle, and toast to a future that none of them deserved. 

Charlie’s smile caught his eye again, radiant and carefree. Her happiness was genuine, untainted by the darkness surrounding her. It made his heart ache with a feeling he couldn’t name. 

Conflict. 

For all her joy, for all her kindness, Charlie’s dream clashed with the immutable truth etched into Lucifer’s very being. These sinners—these wretched souls—had squandered his gift of freedom, twisting it into unspeakable acts of cruelty, selfishness, and destruction. 

And yet… 

His gaze swept across the room, catching fleeting moments of tenderness and camaraderie. Sinners offering each other drinks. Laughing. Dancing. Holding hands. 

The longer he stood in the Hazbin Hotel—the hotel his daughter had built, with a certain insufferable demon at her side—the more his certainty began to erode. That bedrock of disdain he had clung to for millennia softened, crumbling into something far more dangerous. 

Warmth. 

And fear. 

For even now, deep within him, that small flicker of reverence for the Lord’s judgment remained. And if the Lord had deemed these souls unworthy—if they were cast into Hell for their sins—then who was Lucifer to question that divine decree? 

“Hahahaha! Oh, Charlie!” 

The voice rang out, sharp and lilting, slicing through the festive air like a knife. 

Lucifer’s jaw clenched. 

Alastor. 

His eyes flicked to the source of the sound, his expression cooling into a mask of indifference, though every fibre of his being bristled at the sight of the Radio Demon. 

Alastor stood by Charlie’s side, grinning with that perpetual, unnerving smile that Lucifer despised. He hated the way the demon’s presence filled the room, commanding attention without even trying. He hated the way Alastor’s voice carried—warm and charming, yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of menace. 

Most of all, he hated the way Charlie looked at him. 

Her arms were wrapped around Alastor’s middle in a warm hug, her face alight with gratitude as she thanked him for helping with the decorations. And for a brief, fleeting moment, Lucifer caught a shift in Alastor’s expression—a softening of his crimson eyes, a gentleness that didn’t belong in someone so steeped in human greed and depravity. 

That was the problem. 

The thorn buried deep in Lucifer’s mind. 

Charlie adored him. She trusted him. And try as he might, Lucifer could not understand why. 

He had spent countless hours pondering it, obsessing over the enigma that was Alastor. He observed him from afar, dissecting his every action, every word, searching for the sinister ulterior motive that surely lurked beneath the surface. 

But the more he watched, the more that motive eluded him. 

It was maddening. 

“Want a drink?” 

A gravelly voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

Lucifer turned, his gaze landing on a feline demon with dark fur and bright, mischievous eyes. The sinner—was his name Dusk? Musk?—tilted his head, offering a glass of something dark and potent. 

Lucifer blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the unexpected offer. 

He glanced around the room, taking in the lively scene once more. The sinners danced and drank, sharing laughter and joy with one another.

For all his power, Lucifer suddenly felt like an outsider—a relic of an ancient past that no longer fit in this strange new world his daughter was trying to create. 

With a soft sigh, he accepted the drink. 

Perhaps… blending in wouldn’t hurt. 

“Y-Yeah…” Lucifer’s voice cracked, rasping out with a dryness that betrayed his discomfort. His shoulders twitched upward, hitching in embarrassment as he coughed to clear his throat. Straightening his posture, he tried again, forcing his lips into a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I mean… Yeah! Hit on me, bad boy!” he added, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, hoping the humour would ease the awkward tension creeping up his spine. 

The response was less than enthusiastic. 

Husk, perched behind the bar with his perpetual deadpan expression, barely blinked. With a sigh that carried the weight of someone who had long since stopped caring about life’s absurdities, the cat demon grabbed a bottle from the shelf. Without a word, he poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a glass and slid it toward Lucifer. 

The glass made a soft clink as it hit the bar, and Lucifer stared at it for a long moment. He took a breath—deep, steadying—before lowering himself onto the barstool with an air of forced nonchalance. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he could trick himself into believing he belonged here. That he was part of the scene. 

He tried to look comfortable, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the restless tapping of his fingers against the bar betrayed him. 

Lifting the glass, he swirled the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips. But before he could take that first sip, a familiar and grating sound sliced through the air. 

Static. 

That telltale crackle of a radio tuning in, followed by a voice as smooth as honey and twice as poisonous. 

“My, my, my…” 

Lucifer didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

Alastor appeared beside him, his ever-present grin stretched wide across his face. Those crimson eyes—bright and unrelenting—immediately flicked to the glass in Lucifer’s hand. 

The Radio Demon chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on Lucifer’s nerves. 

“Indulging in spirits alone? How very… tragic.” Alastor pressed a clawed hand to his chest, tilting his head as if he were genuinely saddened by the sight. But his eyes gleamed with amusement, the downturn of his brows exaggerated to the point of mockery. 

Lucifer clenched his jaw, forcing a tight laugh. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a loud, deliberate sip, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him from the irritation bubbling beneath his skin. 

Setting the glass down with a soft thunk, he smirked, gesturing toward Husk with a flourish of his hand. 

“I’m not alone,” Lucifer declared. “I’m drinking with my good friend, Dusk!” 

But as his gaze flicked toward Husk, his smirk faltered. 

The cat demon was gone. 

Lucifer’s eyes scanned the bar, spotting Husk on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with that obnoxious spider sinner. 

Damn it. 

“Ohhh, I see,” Alastor drawled, his tone dripping with faux understanding. His eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he leaned in, his elbows resting on the bar. “Why, I must join you two! What a charming little gathering this will be!” 

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor conjured a glass of his own—dark, swirling liquid just two fingers width. He plucked the glass from the air, holding it delicately between his fingers as if it were the finest wine. 

Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced back toward Husk, silently willing the cat to return. Husk didn’t even glance his way. 

Damn it all. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Lucifer muttered, pushing back from the bar. He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his suit as he straightened his bow tie. “Actually, I’m going to drink with Char-Char.” His voice took on a haughty tone as he lifted his chin. 

He turned on his heel, fully prepared to march across the room and join his daughter. 

But he only made it a few steps before Alastor’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Oh, my dear king, of course! Charlie would absolutely love that.” 

Lucifer froze. 

There was something in Alastor’s tone—a sly, knowing edge that sent a prickle of unease down his spine. 

“Surely, she would want to drink with her dear old dad… in front of all her friends. You wouldn’t embarrass her at all, now, would you?” 

Lucifer turned slowly, his gaze locking with Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s grin was insufferable, his legs pressed neatly together, his posture prim and poised. One hand rested lightly against his chest, claws tapping rhythmically as he batted his lashes in mock innocence. 

Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to wipe that smug expression off Alastor’s face. 

This was what the bastard was good at—digging under his skin, twisting the knife with precise, calculated jabs. 

Because that was the one thing Lucifer could never fully shake. 

That lingering doubt. 

His relationship with Charlie had been reforged, rebuilt from the ruins of past mistakes. But there was still a gap between them—a fragile, unspoken tension that neither of them could fully bridge. 

And Alastor knew it. 

He knew. 

Lucifer’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he forced a smile onto his face. 

“I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind,” he said, his voice steady but tight. 

Alastor’s grin widened, and his eyes glinted with triumph. 

“Of course not,” Alastor purred. “After all, she adores you… doesn’t she?” 

The words hung in the air like a challenge. 

Lucifer swallowed the retort burning on his tongue, his gaze narrowing. 

This was their dance—a delicate, dangerous game of push and pull. 

And tonight, Lucifer wasn’t sure who was winning. 

“I’m the King of Hell. If anything—” Lucifer slammed the empty glass down on the bar with a satisfying clink after draining the rest of his drink, his glare sharp despite the creeping warmth in his cheeks. “I’m a cool dad.” 

The bitter burn of the liquor scorched his throat on the way down, but he fought the wince threatening to crack his mask. 

Alastor’s brow arched in amusement. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the empty glass refilled itself, the liquid sloshing inside with a rich amber glow. He lifted his own glass to his lips, sipping delicately, crimson eyes watching Lucifer over the rim. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.” His voice was sweet poison, smooth and mocking. As he set his glass down, his lips curled into that insufferable grin. “I understand now. Well, hurry along then.” 

He turned his back, but Lucifer didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his ears—the faintest flicker of anticipation. 

Lucifer knew he was being baited. He knew. But something about Alastor’s smug confidence gnawed at him. The unspoken implication that Lucifer was weaker, lesser, somehow beneath him—it stung more than it should have. 

With a low growl, Lucifer plopped back onto the barstool, crossing his arms as he leaned forward. 

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Look at you, Bambi. Probably can’t hold your own liquor. What’s the matter? Worried I’ll out drink you, and you’ll have to stumble your way back to your room?” He drained his second cup with a flourish, slamming it down dramatically. 

Alastor’s forced laugh echoed between them, his ears flicking downward for a moment before springing back up. 

“Fuck you,” he muttered, and with a smooth flick of his wrist, he drained his glass in one long gulp. He slammed it down next to Lucifer’s, the sound ringing out like a challenge. Without hesitation, he refilled both glasses. 

And so it began—a quiet war of stubborn pride. 

They drank. 

And drank. 

Somewhere along the way, their barbs blurred into slurred insults and lazy grins. At one point, Lucifer declared with a grand sweep of his arms that their drinks were child’s play and produced a bottle of Hell’s finest liquor—the kind that made even the most hardened demons wince. 

Alastor’s grin faltered for the briefest second. 

“Want to stick to your rye, or are you man enough for a real drink?” Lucifer taunted, his words slurring just slightly. 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed to slits. Without a word, he shoved his glass toward Lucifer, the demand clear. 

The first sip hit like fire, burning all the way down. Lucifer gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness. 

Cup after cup, they kept going. 

Time slipped away, the world softening at the edges. Sounds blurred, the buzz of conversation fading into the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. Lights danced across Lucifer’s vision, bright and hazy. 

Somewhere in the haze, he heard the countdown begin. 

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” 

The crowd’s voices rose in unison, laughter and excitement filling the air. Lucifer blinked, his gaze drifting toward the centre of the room where Charlie stood, radiant as ever, her hands cupping Maggie’s face as they shared a tender kiss. Their joy was infectious, their love shining bright amidst the darkness of Hell. 

Around them, couples leaned into each other—smiles, laughter, kisses shared beneath the glittering fireworks bursting overhead. Even Dusk and Angel Dust were entwined in a shadowed corner, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light. 

Lucifer glanced to his side. 

Alastor sat impassively, watching the scene unfold with a distant expression. His glass dangled from his fingers, untouched, his gaze flickering from couple to couple. 

For once, the smile on his face seemed… softer. 

Before Lucifer could think better of it, his hand shot out, grabbing Alastor by the lapels. 

“What are you—” 

Lucifer crushed their lips together. 

The kiss was sudden, clumsy, tasting of alcohol and bitterness. 

Alastor’s muscles tensed beneath Lucifer’s grip, his entire body going rigid. For a moment, he didn’t move—didn’t react. But then, slowly, his fingers curled around Lucifer’s wrist, holding him in place. 

And Alastor leaned in. 

There was a strange desperation to the way their lips pressed together—a messy, unspoken challenge. Lucifer felt the sharp scrape of teeth as Alastor nipped at his lower lip, drawing blood. 

He hissed, pulling back with a glare. 

“You’re a… you’re a…” Lucifer’s voice slurred, the words tumbling over each other as the room tilted around him. He hiccuped, his vision swimming. “God, you’re a shit kisser.” 

Alastor snorted, his grin twisting into something more genuine—more amused. 

Lucifer took one stumbling step backward, the world spinning beneath his feet. 

Then he crumpled. 

The floor was cold against his cheek, the distant sounds of laughter and celebration fading into a dull hum. His body felt heavy, warmth spreading through his veins as the alcohol took its toll. 

As his eyes fluttered shut, the edges of consciousness slipping away, he heard a voice—soft, almost gentle. 

“You’re a terrible kisser too.” 

Lucifer’s breath hitched. 

“But maybe…” 

Fingers brushed against his hair, light as a feather. 

“We could fix that.” 

Darkness pulled him under, but the faint echo of Alastor’s voice lingered in his mind, teasing and...

Endearing.  

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!

[sofiadragon]

Let me tell you a true story about... let's call her Lily to protect the guilty. I'm using this in a current 70's era WIP so if you read my fic you are going to know where this is going real fast. For the rest of you, it goes a bit like...

Consider this an AU, since there is 100% less murderous Dark Lords here:

Lily had this enormous crush on a guy, absolutely crazy about him. They'd been friends because their moms were friends, then drifted apart around 6 or 7 because cooties, then got over that to be friends in middle school (American, so 12/13.) At age 14, she was so happy that they made a promise to get married.

She told all of us (neighbors) and it was big deal because they ate lunch together at school and had 'dates' where their moms would drop them off at the library or the mall while they hit the salon for their "mom time."

He'd asked her if they would always have each other's backs and support each other, no matter what, and she took that to mean some kind of promise ring situation. For clarity, it had been in the news as a thing back then (I might be dating myself) so this wasn't as off the wall as it might seem today. It sounded a bit like the "practice" marriage vows from some purity nonsense from back then. This was the misunderstanding of the decade.

And she was that preppy kind of girl, you know? Cheerleader material. In the 90's.

He was blindsided by jealous rants about how he shouldn't be hanging out with certain people - mostly other girls but sometimes people who had been mean to Lily - and told he was disloyal if he complimented someone else. She'd changed how she talked to him and he didn't like it. Their casual conversations seemed so serious all the sudden. She talked so much about what she wanted in the future and her goals in life that she'd never been so obsessed with before, and if he said something contradictory she'd try to talk him into some middle ground.

He had asked for that promise because he was gathering the courage to come out. Turns out they both had a bit of a crush on the same Backstreet Boy. I can't make a better plot than this, and it happened right in front of me. I was one of the "girl_friends" he had to stop talking to. He never thought of the library thing as dates. He didn't think their parents were setting them up or approving of their relationship by having him over so much or leaving them to roam the mall. They were just friends, like their moms.

The fallout was... it felt epic at the time but honestly a boring story. TL;DR they stopped talking and pretended each other didn't exist for about ten years. Now they live next door to each other - completely by accident - and picked up a friendship as if all that didn't happen.

She's got kids and a husband now, he's got a partner, and nobody dares mention promise rings or puppy love when the pair of them are both in the room.

“The intensity of his gaze made her blush.” — Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter: The Prince’s Tale, Lily and Snape looking at one another. Nothing further, your honor.

[scenetocause]

I am very excited that you are writing again because I hunger for the snippets.

I would love to read any of your thoughts on how the post WCC celebrations might have gone?

OH. well. i have been consumed with thoughts about how fond andrea was of his boys and while zak's shmoozing the bahraini royals who's to say a team principal and his drivers can't have a more private celebration.

(landoscar, with andrea in the cuck chair)

If Lando's absolutely honest with himself, which he tries to be, he knows what a catastrophically bad idea it is to be shoving his tongue down Oscar's throat in the Bahraini royal palace. But then, Oscar's s'posed to be the sensible one, isn't he? And he's just pushing his tongue right back into Lando's mouth and moaning and stuff, so.

It's all very distracting because Oscar gets a bit desperate, a bit teenage still, does all this grinding and putting his thigh between Lando's. It's a good job they didn't bother to change into suits, still in team gear because this'd cause Lando's tailor a right headache,

Having drunk their combined bodyweight in champagne is maybe making them a bit stupid. Having made it to the end of the season even moreso. Having won. Having done it together.

If Lando's absolutely honest with himself about that last bit, there's something different about doing it with Oscar. Not how obsessed he is, there's plenty of the internet willing to remind him he was that way about fucking Carlos but how good they are together. How they're perfectly in sync, always a counterweight to each other to get the right balance. How Oscar makes him feel a bit crazy sometimes and think about soulmates and so on.

The guy in question makes a soft "oof" noise and Lando realises he must have shoved Oscar into the wall a bit forcefully or something, getting too into it. Sometimes he wants too much, needs to climb inside Oscar or something.

It only becomes apparent Oscar was reacting to something else when someone clears their throat right behind Lando, making him jump forward and actually push Oscar into the wall.

"Mate, careful on the ribs." Oscar puts his arms around him, protective, anyway.

"Who's-" Oscar's being astonishingly chill about being caught humping each other, even by his standards. It takes Lando a second to twist round enough he spots it's Andrea who's interrupted them.

"Don't let me stop you, boys." It's weird how Andrea drunk sounds a lot like regular Andrea, not the way Lando turns all gargly and can't get his words out. "It's good to see you working together, still."

"Yeah but," Oscar pulls Lando closer again. "Probably shouldn't do it like, out here."

"No, that is true." Andrea steps back a little. "But there are plenty of rooms that are more private."

There's some of Oscar's saliva still on Lando's lips. It's a bit different to his own, somehow, when he has to lick it off. Has to drag his feet out of where they're tangled with Oscar's to follow Andrea and like, maybe this is weird?

A glance at Oscar shows him looking nonchalent enough, like heading off to let their team principal watch them make out with each other is normal. Maybe it is. Maybe this is just what happens when you win the constructors' and Lando just didn't know about it.

The thought of Mark and Sebastian making out for Christian is horrible but very believable, after all.

"Osc," he's trying to be quiet, have a quick chat before they get to - wherever they're going - and work out what the gameplan is, here. Problem is, he's had a lot of champagne so it comes out louder and squeakier than he expected when Lando manages to choke out "what are we gonna do, then?"

"Dunno mate, probably the usual." That could be anything. Literally fucking anything. Oscar tied Lando up and ate him out until he cried, in Brazil.

"Nothing wild," Oscar reassures, tangling their fingers together. It's nice, safe. Bit romantic. Oscar's a bit that way, likes to buy silly little things to tell Lando he loves him and things like that.

"And he'll just... be there?"

Oscar squeezes his fingers. "Guess so. He's got us a good car, mate. Good team. Think it's fair."

That's reassuring, somehow. That this is McLaren business. Just team stuff. That's alright, safe, whatever passes as normal for them.

"Hmm, here looks good." Andrea pushes open a door. "Easy to lock and there is space for you."

It's a big room. Not really a bedroom, maybe a lounge or something - there's a big sofa with two armchairs facing it, across a coffee table.

Lando has the mad thought that Zak could have been in the other one. Is suddenly very glad he isn't.

"C'mon," Oscar pulls them down onto the couch while Andrea's still checking the door. It's one of those fancy sort of velvet and gold things, in dark green. Jizz will stain like a crime scene on it but that's probably someone else's problem.

Oscar's hand is in Lando's jeans almost unnaturally fast, where he's lying back with Oscar propped above him. It's nice, always nice when Oscar uses his hand on him but Lando'd got a bit worked up earlier, wants something else.

"Let me," he flips them over, so he's on top of Oscar. "On your thigh, yeah?"

"Oh, alright." Maybe Oscar assumed Lando wouldn't do anything as pathetic as rub off on his thigh in front of Andrea but, well, in for a long contract. They can try and be more impressive next year.

Not that Oscar's much better. They both just about have the presence of mind and coordination to get their shorts and jeans off, boxers too and then it's just their warm skin against each other. Both their dicks rubbing a bit, like a hug. They kind of both smell but in a nice, human sort of way.

Oscar's dick is velvety against Lando's. It's such a good cock, Lando loves putting it everywhere. Wants to have it inside him for at least a day in the off season - mouth, arse, everywhere. Joined to Oscar so he can't leave, won't fuck off to Red Bull because Lando's a mardy bitch or whatever the media's saying this week.

It makes him whimper a bit, thinking about not having Oscar. Has to lean down and kiss him and claw at his biceps, try to find a nipple through his team shirt. Oscar's are kind of hidden, never standing up like Lando's always are but when he rubs them Oscar makes his noise and shudders, every time. Leaks a bit, if they're far enough along. It's so hot.

Oscar's so hot, really. Lando's aware the bloke's obsessed with him, which is kind of weird of Oscar, really but he can't pretend he's not the same. It's just that he's so interesting. All these specific bits, like his fat arse and his big, hairy thighs and the calves Lando presses up against when he's blowing him, all strong and things.

His tiny waist, the way his pecs are almost like boobs and Lando can properly get comfy to sleep on them. His big, strong arms and his delicate hands, long nails that feel good when he taps them on the head of Lando's dick. The way his core's so strong he's moving them even while Lando's getting uncoordinated, distracted.

Oscar holds him so easily, hand on Lando's arse to keep him where he wants him and the other on his thigh, helping the rhythm of where they're rubbing off on each other. It's so nice, feeling so supported, so he can relax against Oscar and make out with him like he's trying to get the air out of Oscar's lungs.

Oscar'd let him. Lets Lando do anything, really. Even the time he'd taken so long opening him up Oscar was wet and easy to fuck all day, loose from four of Lando's fingers.

It's a good memory, makes him hiss into Oscar's mouth. Bending Oscar over on the kitchen counter just so Lando could look at what he'd done to him. Not letting him put on boxers all day, just one of Lando's t-shirts so his hole was like, all exposed to the air and stuff. So fucking hot, Lando's going to-

"Mmf," Oscar doesn't, like, bite Lando's tongue or something but it was probably a near miss. Then he's coming, too, though, so that's alright - they're always close together.

It's so good, holding each other, after. Oscar kisses Lando's forehead and Lando strokes the tingly bits on Oscar's neck that always seem to draw it out a bit for him, make him go all floaty. Especially if Lando kisses them, puts his mouth just below Oscar's ear and even just breathes on the soft skin there.

"Well done, boys-" fucking hell, he forgot Andrea was even there. "You perform so well together, as always."

"Fuck," Oscar tilts his head back, panting, like he'd forgotten Andrea was there, too. "Err, thank you?"

"I will leave you to it." Andrea stands up, brushes down his chinos. There's an unmistable tent in them. "You should find some time to relax, it has been a long day."

Oscar properly laughs at that, scrunching his face up before flopping back into the cushioning. It's cute, makes his chin stand out somehow. Lando wants to bite it.

"Let's - let's just. Clothes, yeah?"

"In a minute." Lando does bite his chin, just a little bit. "Boss said we've got to relax, mate. Don't wanna start doing bad teamwork now."

Lando's pulled closer to Oscar's chest, soft and easy to go. "No, wouldn't want that."

[volturissideslut]

can you do nsfw alphabets for volturi kings? sorry if this too much😭

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

The NSFW alphabet is longggg, so im going to do it for one character at a time. I span a wheel and got Marcus, will do the other two in another post if someone requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Marcus is a love bug at heart we all know this, he almost appreciates giving aftercare just as much as sex in the first place. He definitely need to hold you close while you both come down from your highs. He'll stroke your hair and melt if you stroke his, and you'll whisper giggly little things to each other. He's also the type to trace his finger around your skin and just stare at you in love.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his own hands, that would be his favourite on himself. Just the way his hands look when his grabbing at you. When he gently hold at your jaw to look you in the eyes. When his hands grasp your own, or play with your pretty pussy. As for his favourite on you it's a tough choice but i'm going to say thighs. Marcus likes someone who has a bit of chub on them. Plush cheeks, a soft tummy, and thighs he can grip into a kneed. If you're turned expect to have many bite marks on your inner thighs. He loves them and just can't resist. And if you're still human he loves the warmth on his mouth when he trails kisses up your inner thighs before eating you out.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Speaking of thighs, he'd love to watch his cum dripping down them. He lives for it, anywhere soft he can smear it just leaves him in awe. Some of his personal favourites include your thighs, tummy, or breasts. Something about the way it drips down you, the way you get covered, practically marked as his drives him crazy. It's relatively thin but theres a lot. Go ahead and scoop some onto your fingers and smear it on your lips or in your mouth, he'll go crazy if you don't let him fuck you again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's obsessed with you, that's no secret, but something that i personally think is that this feral man loves to sniff you. More so, your panties. That right ladies and gentlemen you heard it here first. Marcus Volturi is a secret panty sniffer.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The only real experience he has is Didyme, but we all know what happened to her. Marcus is a sentimental man so I can imagine that between her and you he didn't sleep with anybody. He seems like the type to be incapable of casual and wants sex within a relationship rather than affairs or hookups.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary (i know i know, boring) but the way he could push down on your abdomen and feel the pressure on his cock, or the sight of his own bulge through your skin drives him crazy. He's grabbing and grasping and pinching at whatever he can on you. Even if he was eating you out he's love his head squeezed between your. thighs and his forehead resting on your tummy. Also face sitting. He loves you sat on his face and being smothered by you. He never wants it to end and its not like vampires need air.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To him theres in nothing better than giggly romantic sex. No, he isn't going to be pulling out jokes but if something happens he's content to give a little chuckle and keep on going.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has hair there, thats for sure, he just keeps it trimmed short and nice. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's the most romantic person possible i think. Whispering little compliments, telling you how much he loves you, peppering your face with kisses, the whole lot. He loves setting the mood too with some candle lights and fresh flowers for you. He'll pull out all the stops, he loves how special these moments between you are.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

Not really. It's not that he's opposed to it or anything he just prefers being with you. It's never the same and when it's comparing his hand to you?? No contest there. Also i dont see him having that high of a libido, it's you that spurs him on whether that be on purpose or him just being turned on by your existence.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking. Marking. Marking. He lives for it. To watch his cum dripping off your body, to see bite marks on you that he knows came from him, or any mark in general really. His gripped your thigh too hard while fucking and now theres a big purple bruise? He's sorry baby :( he didn't mean to hurt you, how about he kiss it better? Then a little higher, and a little higher again? How about you sit on his face and he makes it up to you :( He also likes using restraints, like tying you to the bedpost with some cloth. You don't need your hands darling he's going yo make you feel good. You can give him one more right? Oh, yeah, right, overstimulation too. He wants to make you orgasm so may times you forget your own name, your mind goes hazy and tears bead at your eyes. All that exists in your mind is you, him, and the next orgasm he's going to rip from you. In Marcus' personal opinion: fuck edging, overstim is the way to go.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

It may seem a little unoriginal but he likes the safety of your own shared room, the walls feel like a bubble of security, the doors shut out the cold world from this warmth - but this doesn't mean he's not open to other places. One of his favourite memories is the two of you gently fucking in a lagoon. You had gone for a little wonder in nature and found a reserve, somehow ended up skinny dipping and making out in the water. One thing led to another and now he gets turned on anytime you mention going for a swim somewhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Just you. You bend over and he gets a great view of your ass and he's turned on. You look up at him with a little smile and he's going to die if you don't fuck right now. Your wearing a tank top because its hot but your breasts look good and he's revving to go. You give him a kiss in passing and it's not enough anymore. You're laid on top of him cuddling and theres a boner poking into your front. He's just a guy who is obsessed with his love.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates the idea of hurting you. While you're human he is ever so careful to not be too rough but still give you the ride of your life. He's not going to pull an Edward and run with his tail tucked between his legs but you're his reason for existence and he wants to keep you around. Even when you are turned and he knows you can keep up a part of his shrivels up inside and dies when he hears your marble skin cracking. Doesn't care if its the other way around, and will literally beg you to ride him so hard he breaks but it's a no go for him the other way around.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves oral. Especially giving, but he's never ever going to refuse receiving. If he does, have him beheaded because that's not him, he's crazy, or is no longer fit to exist - let alone be king. And as for skill? He's masters it. This man can find the clit and knows how to use it well. Not only that but he enjoys it too. Would genuinely rather spend the rest of his existence with his head between your legs than any other way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood really. If he's feeling happy and in love then its going o be a sensual pace. Not necessarily slow but not fast either. But if he' s feeling a little frustrated or angry he changes it up completely. Its fast and rough. Its sloppy and messy. It's dirty and kinky. He's biting your lip and bruising your thigh. He's getting his frustrations happy, and who's going to complain about that?

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not often, only sometimes. He much prefers longer sessions in your own privacy but he does get excited by the occasional quickie. Risky fucks getting ridden by you on his throne when anybody could walk in at any moment and catch you. His sense of professionalism flew straight out the window when you walked into his life

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Any risk to you? Absolutely not. If someone walks in during a semi public quickie he'll gauge there eyes out if they saw you. Any risk you you physically is demolished too - not that much can harm you once you're turned anyway. Any risk to him? Go ahead. Ride him so hard his legs dislocate. With your newborn strength take out you emotions on him, choke him so hard you nearly behead him. It just drives him on more. Give him a blow job while he sits in the library. He has little to no shame, doesn't even really want to be in the volturi anymore anyway but he stays out of his own choice because it benefits you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hello? He's a vampire with inhuman capabilities so he could gor for days. Throw into the mix that you're you and he's so in love and so obsessed?? You're lucky its weeks not years. Realistically the rounds don't last that long because just looking at you sets his off as it is

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't necessarily use toys but he's open to trying them if you ask. What he does have is handcuffs and belts and that type of thing to tie you up. He's also not opposed to being the one tied up. Had the shock of his life when you blindfolded him once, he almost came untouched. That was definitely tries again after

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

While he would like to tease you he is physically incapable of doing it. It feels like he's torturing himself almost because he can't have you how he wants right then and there. He likes the idea of teasing though, so it will last a couple seconds before he gives in. No need to beg - he'd love to hear you of course but its amusing how quickly he gives into your every whim and spoils you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not a grunter, yiu make him feel good and he isn't ashamed to let you hear that. But he also isn't naturally overly loud either. Ladies and gentlemen i present to you Marcus Volturi, whiner and whimperer.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There has been multiple occasions we are not supposed to speak of when Marcus has cum untouched by you because you've teased him or overexcited him. He's got the stamina of a racehorse anyway and would rather be buried alive than leave you unsatisfied so you still get a good fuck. He's not even ashamed of it, it's just what you do to him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He isn't small my any means, round 6 inches i'd say. His base is thick with a mushroom tip. Every inch feels good.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When he's going about his business it's the last thing that crosses his mind, but he catches eye of you and suddenly he's an insatiable dog. He's in your shared room and sees your underwear on the floor and suddenly if your not here in the next five seconds he's going to combust. Does it really count as jerking off if he used your panties and not his hand?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

vampires don't really sleep, but he's so content to just lay there in bliss with you for hours afterwards.

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 3

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)

Masterlist

“Inés, did you just giggle?”

“No.”

“Inés, I know you, and you just giggled. Who is the lucky one who has managed that?” Carla says. “Maybe the tall guy we met the other night?”

“The one who thought I was a lesbian because I played football?” I snort. 

“What?”

“Men” I shrug.

“That's… nevermind. If it isn't him, then who is it?” she asks again, raising her eyebrows up and down like that Milhouse gif.

“No one.”

“I don't believe you” she says, snatching my phone from my hands before I can hide it in my bag. 

“Carla!” 

“You seriously need to put a password, Inés. What if someone steals your phone and sees all your sexy photos?” she smirks.

“I don't have sexy photos” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Why? You are sexy and… Why is Pedri sending you a photo of him eating churros?”

“It's an inside joke” I say, taking advantage of her shock to get my phone back. Maybe I do need a password on it, but to avoid having her lurking.

“An inside joke? Since when do you have inside jokes with him? And that was WhatsApp, Inés. Not Instagram. I thought you only followed each other there.”

“Not anymore” I say. 

It had happened the day after our churros date or whatever you want to call it. We had spent the night chatting on Instagram, Pedri asking me about how meeting my grandparents had gone, and telling me that his hungover had come back with violence once he had made it home. And the morning after, he had asked me for my number because he liked chatting on WhatsApp better, the “oh my God” I screamed when I saw that message being heard by the whole building. Like I already said, I'm stupid and I like getting my hopes up too fast and too much.

Though it's been a week, and we've been texting daily and very often. Very often. 

“Inés…” Carla sighs. “He has a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because this totally looks like flirting.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Having inside jokes about churros of all things? Texting on WhatsApp? The fact that he has made you giggle?” 

“Carla, we are just friends.”

“No, you aren't. You fancy him, Inés!”

“Who do you fancy?” Aitana says, sitting next to me.

“No one” I quickly say, focusing on tying up my boots to hide the colour of my face.

“Who does she fancy?” she asks Carla.

“Someone she shouldn't.”

“Víctor?”

“What?” Carla and I say at the same time.

Víctor is one of the men's team stars, another young player from the academy like myself who made it to the first team at the same time I did. And since we both also play in the same position, everyone has always joked that we are destined to end up together, himself included. But the thing is, that I can't stand him. I've never have.

As a kid his ego already was too big for someone so young, and now it is even worse. The fact that once the awkward teenage years passed he turned out to be quite hot, girls all over the world being so obsessed with him that it sometimes is scary, hasn't helped. 

“I don't know. Since he is someone she shouldn't fancy and you've always said that you can't stand him…” Aitana shrugs. “We are filming some stuff with the boys after training, by the way. He'll probably be there.”

“Urgh, don't remind me of it” I say. “They'll probably put us together again.”

“They have to give the shippers their monthly content, Inés” Aitana teases me.

“Idiot” I reply, giving her a little push. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” she laughs. “But you know it's true.”

“Whatever. Let's go training and stop talking about men” I say, standing up.

“Yeah, let's go avoid thinking about the mess we may be getting ourselves into” Carla says behind me before following us. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And Inés, you will be filming a guess who with Víctor.”

“Great” I sigh.

“Did you say anything, Inés?”

“I was just wondering where he is” I quickly say. 

“Were you missing me, my love?” someone says behind me.

“Jesus Christ!” 

“Almost as famous” Víctor laughs. “Looking beautiful today” he smirks, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Thank you” I reply, moving to be in front of him so he stops touching me. “Where were you? You are late.”

“Is that jealousy, Inés? Are you worried I may be seeing someone else?”

“What?” I laugh.

“You look really cute when you are jealous” he smirks, closing the space between us so he can caress my cheek. But I'm faster, and take a step back just in time to make him miss. 

“I'm not jealous, Víctor.”

“Of course not, my love.”

“I'm not your love either.”

“Yet” he winks. “Anyway, should we start filming this thing? If we finish early we can go grab something to eat… or whatever you fancy.”

“What I fancy, is to go home. Alone” I add when he is about to say another of his stupid flirty sentences.

“Always so harsh, my love.”

“I'm not your… urgh” I groan. Lord, grant me patience, because if he says another my love, I'm gonna end up committing murder.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And now who is calling… me” I say after finally making it home and checking my phone. 

This can't be real. It has to be a mistake. He's trying to call someone else and dialed my number because we had been texting earlier. Or maybe not. Maybe he actually is calling me. Maybe something happened. Maybe he needs my help. Maybe he is in danger! If he is, I should probably answer and stop with my internal dialogue, shouldn't I? Ok, you can do this, Inés.

“Pedri, why are you video calling me? Is everything ok?”

“Hello to you too” he chuckles.

“Hi, sorry. But is everything ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because my head is about to explode after being in front of my laptop working on an assignment for the past few hours, and I needed a distraction.”

“And I am a distraction?” I laugh.

“You have no idea” Pedri smirks. He… umm… what? “Anyway, are you free? Do you want to go out for a walk? I seriously need to leave my room and have some fresh air.”

“I just made it home, but… Yeah, why not?”

“Great!” he says with a smile that makes me feel all fuzzy inside. “I'll call an Uber and pick you up. See you in a bit, Inés.”

“Bye” I smile back before he hangs up. 

Did I just agree to go out with Pedri? As in some kind of… date? But it is a friends date, of course. Because that's what we are. Just friends. Though one of the friends is completely infatuated with the other, and for the past week may have been dreaming about very steamy cooking dates and other things that involve his churro. But my period just left and the days after I'm horny, ok? Ok.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe that as someone born and raised in Barcelona, I had no idea this place existed.”

“That's because you are a mountain girl, Inés. The sea doesn't call you the same way it calls me, an island boy” Pedri says.

“What?” I laugh, taking the hand he is offering me to help me jump from the rocks we just walked down to make it to the beach. I could very well do it myself, but letting him be a gentleman and help me won't hurt anybody, will it? Unless you ask Carla, of course.

She would probably say that us touching like this would cause a tsunami that would destroy the city. Though maybe the sea starting to boil due to the heat that is going through my body and coming from it right now, would be more likely to happen. Dear Lord, Inés. He's just holding your hand! Stop being so lame and… horny!

“You don't like the sea” Pedri says.

“I do.”

“But not as much as you like the mountain” he says while we walk, still holding hands. “When you have some free time, you always go hiking or for a walk around the woods, you don't come to the beach to have a swim like I do.”

“How do you know that?”

“I've seen it on your Instagram” he smiles. Wait a second… Pedri has been paying attention to what I post? What? And more importantly… why? “You are a mountain girl, and that's ok. Next time you have to take me to one of your favourite spots.”

“Next time?”

“Today I think this is the perfect one for us” he says, putting down the backpack he was carrying and completely ignoring my question, which only means one thing: I will be thinking about it and what he meant with next time for the rest of my life. “Fancy a beer?”

“What?” I say, my brain working again and making me sit down on the sand next to him.

“You can drink beer, can't you? Or is that something you are not allowed to anymore?”

“Oh, no, we can. They just suggest us to not drink too much.”

“I'm not planning on getting you drunk, don't worry” Pedri winks before opening one bottle and passing it to me. How did I manage to take it from his hand and not let it fall after that wink and our fingers touching again? Nobody knows. “So, what should we toast to?” he asks after opening one for himself. “This place?”

“Nah, that's too boring. What about… to getting distracted?”

“I like that. To getting distracted” he says, raising his bottle.

“To getting distracted” I reply, doing the same with mine before drinking. “Urgh, I had forgotten how good this beer is.”

“It is your favourite, isn't it?”

“It is, yes. How do you know? My Instagram again?” I ask with a teasing smile. Wow, Inés. Bold move there.

“No, not this time” he laughs, the sound making me feel funny things on my stomach. “I know it is your favourite because you mentioned it the last time we all went out together after class.”

“How can you remember that? I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday” I chuckle.

“I just do” he shrugs, taking a sip from his beer. 

After that, we both stay in silence, neither of us saying a word while we drink and watch the sun set behind the waves. But it isn't an awkward silence. It is one of the most comfortable and nice ones I've ever experienced. Nice, until the worst thing ever happens.

“Oh my God, Inés!” Pedri laughs while I cover my face with my hands and wish the sand would open and swallow me whole. “What was that noise? A dinosaur?”

“I'm so sorry you had to hear that” I say from behind my hands. “But I haven't eaten anything since before training and…”

“And you are starving. Big time” he laughs again.

“Yeah.”

“Should we go grab something to eat? After hearing that, I'm afraid you may try to eat me.”

“What?” I say, daring to look at him. Which is the biggest mistake ever, because he is: one, smirking, and two, way closer to my face than I had expected him to be.

“Are you going to eat me, Inés?” 

“What?” I repeat with a nervous laugh, my eyes moving from his to his lips. Have I said yet that they are the most kissable lips ever? Kissable, and edible too. 

“I fear you might” he says, closing the space between us a bit more.

“Pedri…” 

“Inés…” he whispers, his face now so close to mine that I've felt him saying my name on my skin. 

He is going to kiss me. He is, isn't he? Why else would he be so close to my face right now? There is no other explanation, is it? He is going to kiss me. He… 

“Inés!” he laughs again when my stomach makes another horrible noise, sending to hell my hopes for that kiss. “C'mon, let's get you some food before you actually eat me.”

“I was about to” I say, speaking before thinking.

“I know” he smirks, getting up from the sand. “But there is a really good restaurant close by, and their food tastes way better than I do.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Uh?”

“Nothing, nothing” I say, quickly standing up. I think I'm so hungry it has started to affect my brain. “Sorry about the dinosaur in my stomach.”

“You don't need to apologize, Inés. I actually am quite hungry too. Shall we?” Pedri says after putting our empty beer bottles back on his backpack. 

“Let's go” I reply, forcing myself to smile and to ignore the fact that we, as in Pedri and yours truly, almost kissed. I think.