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kkanabel · 1 month ago

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co-pilot mischief ✫ both broken ✫ chapter tres ✫ finale

captain curly x teasing!reader

it’s been a month since your epiphany that Captain Curly has a sweet little crush on you, and you’ve been teasing him the entire time. what happens when you push him even closer to the edge? you asked that question, and here we are: Curly has officially broken.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

words: ~6.1k

t/w: sex, minors dni, overstimulation, fingering, REALLY OVERSTIMULATION, multiple orgasms, curly being a lil shit, so much yucky, gn!reader who wears a bra, no specific genitalia mentioned for reader (if i fucked up & did somewhere, pls lmk), any other things i should mention?

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~

~jeremy does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 342 Days

Since the incident, you’ve noticed Curly’s behavior shift from his usual awkward-but-adorable responses to something else entirely—avoidance. Every conversation with him feels clipped, every interaction rushed. This avoidance comes to a head when you have to discuss the ship's fuel readings.

“Captain, can you double-check the fuel calibration?” you ask, stepping into the cockpit with a tablet in hand.

Curly is already seated at the console, his back stiffening at the sound of your voice. “It’s fine,” he mutters without looking up, his fingers flying over the controls.

You narrow your eyes. “Fine? It’s been showing inconsistencies for two days now. Can we be sure it won’t cause an issue later?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I’ll… take care of it.” Still, he doesn’t glance at you, his gaze fixed on the screen as if the fuel levels are the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.

You step closer, placing the tablet on the console in front of him. “It’d be quicker if we checked it together,” you say, deliberately leaning over just slightly to try and catch his eyes.

But he shifts, pulling back as if your proximity physically burns. “I’ve got it,” he says tersely, still avoiding you.

The clipped tone stings more than you expect. You hesitate, studying him. His hands grip the edge of the console, the veins in his forearms standing out as though he’s using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. He looks tired—no, exhausted—but there’s something else in his expression, something tight and defensive.

You pull back, watching him with a frown. There’s an ache in your chest you weren’t prepared for—a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. You liked teasing him, pushing his buttons just enough to see the cracks in his armor, but this? This feels different. It’s like he’s shut a door between the two of you, and you can’t help but wonder if you pushed too far.

You bite your lip, torn. Was it the water incident? The shirt? Or maybe it’s been everything—the touches, the flirtation, the unspoken tension you’ve been toying with for weeks. Whatever it is, the wall he’s built feels higher than before, and it leaves you restless, your stomach knotting with something that feels a lot like regret.

That night, sleep refuses to come. You lie in your bunk, staring at the dim ceiling of your cabin, your mind replaying every moment from the cockpit earlier. His stiffness, his avoidance, the way he couldn’t even look at you—it all swirls together, making your chest feel heavy.

Was he angry with you? Embarrassed? Or worse—had you made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be around you anymore? The thought makes your throat tighten, and you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills the silence of your cabin, steady and soothing, but it does little to calm the turmoil in your chest. You’ve been lying there for hours, staring at the ceiling, your blanket pushed to the side as your mind cycles endlessly.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The look on Curly’s face earlier had been… different. It wasn’t just the usual exasperation you’d grown fond of teasing out of him. It was heavier, like he was carrying something you couldn’t quite name, something you weren’t sure you should have pulled at.

You close your eyes and groan quietly into the darkness, guilt and frustration twisting in equal measure. Sure, it’s fun to watch him squirm, to push his buttons just enough to see the cracks in that carefully constructed exterior. But you may have gone too far—even if the water spilling on your shirt was a complete accident. His jaw had set so tightly, his words clipped in a way that left no room for your usual playful retorts.

The memory sits heavy in your chest now, pressing down like a weight.

You roll over for the hundredth time, but the ache of regret and the nagging spark of curiosity keep you pinned wide awake. It’s not just the teasing, is it? Not really. It’s the way his silence speaks louder than his words, the way he looks at you like he’s bracing himself to lose something he doesn’t even have yet

You sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair. You know you should leave it alone, let him come to you when he’s ready, but patience has never been your strong suit.

Sliding out of the bunk, you glance at the reflection of your sleepwear in the metal panel across the room. The skimpy fabric makes you hesitate, but only for a moment. If you’re honest with yourself, part of you still wants to provoke him. But another part—the part twisting in your gut—just wants to be able to speak to him normally again.

The ship feels colder at night, the air biting against your bare skin as you make your way down the narrow corridor. The faint glow spilling from the cockpit confirms your suspicion: he’s there, just as you expected.

You pause in the doorway, your heart beating harder than you’d like. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His head is bowed, his fingers raking through his messy blond hair as he leans over the console. He looks… defeated. The sight sends a pang through you, sharp and unwelcome.

Taking a breath, you step inside, keeping your voice soft as you speak. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He straightens abruptly, his shoulders stiffening as his chair creaks under the sudden movement. His eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking downward and darting back up, his jaw clenching. You catch the faintest flush across his cheeks, but his expression is unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is flat, but there’s a strain beneath it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You try to smile, but it falters. Stepping closer, you cross your arms, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you expected. “I—” You stop, unsure of how to begin. “I just… I wanted to check on you.”

His brows furrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “Check on me?”

“Yeah.” You force a small laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. “You seemed… off earlier.” You hesitate, glancing at the console to avoid his gaze.

The silence that follows feels heavier than when the ship’s gravity went haywire and pushed down on you all. You risk a glance at him, only to find him watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His hands grip the armrests of his chair like they’re the only thing anchoring him, his knuckles pale.

“It’s fine,” he says finally, his voice tight, controlled. Too controlled. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

The way he says it makes something inside you crack. You know that tone, the one he uses to push people away, to keep himself locked behind walls you’ve only just started to glimpse behind. And it hurts.

“Curly…” You step closer. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his voice sharper now, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name.

But you don’t back down. Not this time.

“Don’t what?” you challenge, leaning closer to him. You keep your voice soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t worry about you? Don’t care?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. He just stares at you, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says, but there’s no conviction in the words. They’re a shield, flimsy and cracking.

You tilt your head, your voice dropping lower. “Why not?”

“Because…” He looks away, running a hand down his face, and you see the way his fingers tremble. When his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s fire in it, raw and unfiltered. “Because I can’t keep doing this, alright? I can’t—”

He stops himself, his voice breaking on the last word, and your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Can’t what?” you press, taking another step closer, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Your voice softens, and this time there’s no teasing, no game. “Curly, just tell me.”

He lets out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and rises abruptly from his chair. The suddenness of it makes you flinch, but you hold your ground.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is louder now, but it’s not anger—it’s desperation, raw and bleeding. “You waltz in here in your—” His eyes flick down to your barely-there pajamas before snapping back up, his expression torn. “—your… whatever that is, and you look at me like that, and you think it’s funny, don’t you? Messing with me, pushing me, like it’s all some game!”

You blink, stunned by the outpouring of words. “I—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying? Trying to keep this… whatever it is… locked down? To keep things professional, to not…” He trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought.

“To not what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“To not ruin everything!” he bursts out, and the words hang in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, waking up every damn day and seeing you, knowing I can’t—shouldn’t—feel this way?”

His chest heaves, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s closer now, the space between you shrinking with every ragged breath.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of hesitation before he barrels on. “Do you know what it’s like to sit next to you every day, to have you so close and know I can’t touch you? Can’t tell you?” His laugh is bitter, almost self-deprecating. “God, I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’ve got me walking into walls, screwing up flight routes, forgetting my own bloody name half the time.”

“Curly…” You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Don’t,” he says again, but this time it’s a plea, his voice breaking. His gaze locks on yours, his eyes glassy with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

And then, before you can say anything, he moves.

In one swift motion, he pushes you back against the console, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the unsteady rhythm of his breath.

“I can’t…” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, but you don’t move, don’t dare to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

“Then don’t,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes search yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then, with a groan that sounds like defeat, he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from your lungs.

The kiss is not soft or measured, but raw, desperate, and full of everything he’s been holding back for months. His lips crash against yours with an intensity that makes your knees go weak, and you gasp into him, feeling the weight of all his pent-up frustration pouring out into this moment.

His hands, rough and calloused, grip the edges of the console beside your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. You feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles cord and flex, the sheer power of him caging you in.

And then, suddenly, his hands shift. One moves to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down to your hip, pinning you firmly to the console beneath you. The cool surface bites against your skin, grounding you as his fingers wrap around you with just enough force to keep you there without hurting you.

He pulls away for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection, finding none.

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His lips crash back down onto yours, more insistent this time, as if he’s trying to erase every teasing word and playful glance you’ve ever thrown his way.

His body presses closer, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him—the strength in his broad shoulders, the solid weight of his chest against yours, the way his body is being held between your thighs (which you’ve just realized that you wrapped around him), keeping you and him firmly in place. His free hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive.

“Curly,” you keen, eyes fogged from the kisses he just gave you.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice low and rough. “Not unless you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you meet his gaze, your breath catching at the unrestrained emotion in his expression—anger, yes, but also longing, vulnerability, and an aching kind of need that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m not sorry,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold his gaze.

His lips curl into a gentle smile, and he shakes his head, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours. “I expected such,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And then he kisses you again, slower this time, but just as overwhelming. It’s less about frustration now and more about everything else—the want, the need, the relief of finally letting it out. His hand slides from your hip to thread his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to soften the moment, to remind you that despite the force of it all, he’s still Curly.

Even then, as he pulls his lips away to trail his kisses down that delicious neck of yours that he’s been fantasizing about for the past couple months, he bucks his hips into yours subconsciously.

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did, and he’s just about to apologize when he hears your soft groan, your hips grinding back into his.

You’re going to be the end of him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his mind goes entirely blank while reaching his hands to grab onto the mounds of your chest as he places wet kisses all over your neck.

The sensation makes you gasp—his warm lips suckling all over the crook of your neck, trailing slightly further down as his large, warm hands grasp at you, fingers gliding against the thin fabric over to the tips of your nipples. He teases it over the fabric, each graze sending a jolt down your core as his pants get tighter.

You watch as Curly’s eyes glaze over while looking at the thin fabric of your shirt, watching your nipples peak and harden under his ministrations. One of his hands pulls away from a breast, brushing down your body until he pulls the skimpy fabric of your shorts and your underwear to the side and places his fingers right onto your heat at just the right spot, rubbing at it.

Your gasping, arms tightening around his neck, and your hands gripping at the hair on the base of his neck only serves to spur him on. His eyes are still hazy with a sheen of lust as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them lasciviously before easing a finger inside your hole, slowly massaging at your walls until he finds your most delicious spot.

When you tense up and you let out another gasp, his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, knowing that he’s found it. As you reach up to capture his lips with yours, he slips another finger in.

As you’re kissing, you let out a choked moan as he only rubs against that little spot more, fingers starting to curl up rougher and faster. His fingers filled you up so well—so thick and long, pressing your insides in all the right places.

When you clench and spasm around his fingers, you expect him to slow down, but his fingers only get faster through your orgasm. You squeak in response, and his eyes are hooded as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with frustration and something darker. His breath fans hot against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to speak, his eyes blazing as they meet yours. “To push me until I couldn’t take it anymore?”

His face is a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. His jaw is tight, clenched as though he was holding back. His lips are red and slightly swollen from the kiss, a stark contrast against the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline.

But it’s his eyes that leave you breathless—dark and blazing with an intensity that borders on feral. Those blue eyes, turbulent and unyielding, locking onto yours like they’re searching for every answer you’ve ever hidden. It combines with the feeling of his fingers pressing you in the right spot, making you see stars.

“You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?” he breathes, his voice rough and biting. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile—a shadow of one, edged with frustration and disbelief. “All those looks, those little comments. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand at the console shifts, and he presses a little closer, his body heat seeping into you. “God, do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you parade around like that? Laughing, teasing, pretending you don’t notice what you’re doing to me?” His words are a low snarl now, sharp with exasperation and tinged with lust as he drives his fingers deep into you, earning a squeal from your lips.

“Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d pull something new. A touch here. Showing off some skin there.” His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing deliberately across your cheekbone. His touch is gentle, almost a mockery of the fire behind his words and the intensity behind his fingers. “You really thought I would break eventually, didn’t you?”

His eyes flicker to your lips, and his fingers keep curling and thrusting inside you in a way that makes you squeak. The sound makes his gaze snap back to your eyes, his expression darkening further. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself from this onslaught of pleasure.

“Was this the plan all along?” he taunts, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “To push me so far I’d lose control? Or were you just so sure I’d never cross that line?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, congratulations. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So tell me,” he murmurs, his tone both a challenge and a warning, “what are you going to do now?” Your gummy walls clench on his fingers as he works you undone again—with both his fingers and his words.

“Please,” you keen, voice breathless. “Just fuck me, Captain.”

The use of his title in that pleasure-drenched voice of yours makes him sharply inhale. He leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to need to be ready for me. Really ready. So, I’m going to take my time." He knew the company regulations like the back of his hand—no personal items, especially not the kind that could be used for pleasure. And he knew you hadn't had anyone else in almost a year.

Your eyes go wide with shock as he speaks, and you realize what he meant. "But I... I've been... stretching," you protested, face heating up at the implication.

Curly's smile grows, and he leans down, his mouth hovering just above yours. "With your fingers?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. "That's not enough. Not for what I've got in store for you." You look up at him in shock.

"Trust me," he murmurs against your lips. "You'll thank me for it later. Especially when I break you like you tried to break me. I’ll have you begging, you little tease." His words send shivers of excitement up your spine.

With that, he slides his hand back down your body, his fingers slipping into you again. Your muscles are still contracting from the aftershocks of your two climaxes. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching your face contort with pleasure and overstimulation. But he knew he had to prepare you, had to make sure you could take him.

He leans in, whispering in your ear. "You're going to come again," he tells you, his voice a promise. "And then again. And each time, I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll forget your name."

Your eyes close, breath coming in short pants as you moan into his mouth. Curly revels in the feeling and the view of your hips moving in time with his touch.

Curly slides in a third finger, curling them gently, feeling the slickness of your arousal. Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of shock and need. "Curly," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand, hole stretching around his fingers. "Please..." He strokes you in a steady rhythm, watching your face contort with pleasure. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but the occasional whimper escapes.

He pushes your tiny tank top up, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it as he continues to play with you. Your hands pull him closer, urging him on. He can feel your body tightening, your legs starting to tremble. He knew you were close.

And then it happened. With a cry, you cum again, your muscles clenching around his fingers. He still doesn’t stop, though, instead curling his fingers deeper inside you, keeping the pressure on your sweet spot. Your orgasm went on and on, your body shaking with pleasure, legs giving out.

As the last of your tremors subside, he pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He tastes you, watching as your face heats up. "So good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to push you until you can’t take it anymore.”

Without warning, he slams his mouth onto your core, his tongue flicking you rapidly. You scream, hips jerking up. Your nails claw at the console, searching for any kind of purchase before gripping his blonde locks.

Curly feels the warmth of your orgasm wash over his hand and lips, juices coating his fingers and face as he watches you come apart in front of him. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a guttural cry, body arching.

He waits for you to open your eyes, to look at him with the same hunger he feels burning in his gut. When you do, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and you’re panting. "Please," you beg, voice a whimper. "Please, Curly. I need you inside me." Your vision was already starting to go blurry, and you felt a slight twinge of dizziness from all the mind-numbing orgasms.

His only response is a shit-eating grin and his fingers continuing to work you open. The sound of your wetness fills the cockpit, and he couldn't help but groan. You’re so tight, so perfect. And all his. He watches your face as he works into you, his tongue circling you in time with his fingers curling up and down, thrusting in and out. You’re close, so close to breaking altogether, and he can feel the tension building in your body.

“Curly, please, I-” And then, with a scream, you cum again, gushing wetness all over his hand and face. He pulls away, wiping it from his cheek with a grin.

"See?" he says, his voice filled with pride and eyes filled with darkness. "I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps. You stare up at him, eyes glazed. "Curly," you whisper with a needy voice. "Please... I need you."

He stood up, his cock straining against his pants. "Not yet," he said again, his voice firm. "We have all night."

He reaches down, helping you to your feet. You sway slightly, legs weak from the intense orgasms. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the Captain’s Quarters. The crew is asleep. The only sounds are the steady hum of the Tulpar's engines and your two footsteps.

Once inside, he places you down onto his bed gently, your legs still shaking. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and your desire. You moan, hands reaching up to tug at his shirt.

He breaks the kiss, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes scrape up and down the sight of his bare chest, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He leans back in, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles. You shiver, skin sensitive from the previous orgasms.

Curly slides his hand down to your hole again, his thumb pressing against you as he kisses his way down your body. You gasp, hips rising to meet his touch. He spread open your legs revealing you, all bare and wet. He took a moment to appreciate the view, your swollen hole and the glisten of your arousal—the glisten of your multiple orgasms.

With a groan, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking over you at the perfect spot. You almost scream, the sensation too much. He slides two fingers inside, desperate to continue stretching out your inner muscles.

He licks and sucks, his mouth a symphony of pleasure. You cum again, body bowing off the bed, hands tangling in his hair. He doesn’t let up, his tongue relentless, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you to the edge once more. Your cries grow louder, more frantic, until you’re almost screaming. And then, just as suddenly, you go quiet.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you go limp beneath him as your body refuses to stop twitching. Curly pulls back, panting, his mouth wet with your essence. He watches your chest heave, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He knows you’re on the edge, just about to shatter into pieces.

He slides his fingers out of you, watching the way you quiver.

He stands, his own desire clear in the bulge in his pants. "You’re doing so good," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now you're ready." Curly chuckles as he watches your muscles twitch. “So cute,” he mumbles as he zips his jumpsuit down all the way and pulls his boxers down. It's massive, thick and long, standing erect and flushed with arousal.

You’re still unable to form words, eyes blank as you come down from the onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him getting back onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare up at him. "Curly," you breathe, voice shaky. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can take it anymore."

He leans over you, eyes dark with need. "You can," he says, his voice firm. "You will. And you're the one who begged for it."

Curly lines up his cock with your slick entrance, the tip kissing you lightly. It's hot, and you can feel the pulse of his excitement. His reddened tip is so much larger than what you've felt before, veins standing out. Your eyes widen, looking at the size of him, and you feel your stomach flip.

Slowly, with a look of absolute focus, he starts to push in, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The head of his cock, that angry red tip, breaches your entrance, and you can feel your body stretching around its thickness. He goes so slowly, so carefully, that you can't help but trust him. The veins on his shaft stand out like roads on a map, and they feel like they're carving into you as he slides in inch by inch.

The pressure is intense, but you’re so wet, so ready for him. He slides in deeper, feeling you stretch around him. Your walls cling to him, and he knows he'd never felt anything so amazing. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And to his surprise, you cum again, walls tightening around his cock. A keening sound tears from your throat, and you buck your hips against him, trying to push him deeper. He holds you still, watching your face, feeling your walls pulse around him.

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a wave of pleasure so intense it almost brought him to his knees. “Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut, voice hoarse.

But he doesn’t stop. He couldn't. He pushes in further, feeling you tighten even more. You were whining now, a high-pitched sound that seemed to echo through the room. He knows he’s hitting all the right spots, that you were on the edge again. And he was going to make sure you fell over it.

You're so wet, so ready for him, that he's able to ease into you with surprising ease, despite his size. Each time he pushes in, you feel your muscles resisting before giving way, your body adapting to his thickness. Your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full, so claimed. It's as if every part of you is being rewritten, every nerve ending remapped to accommodate his size.

His thumbs press gently against your pulse points, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. “You’ve been in my head for months. Twisting me up so bad I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Hell, I can’t even close my eyes without seeing you.” His voice has dropped lower, huskier, the edges roughened by emotion and strain.

The feeling of fullness is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's mixed with an aching need for more. You can feel your body stretching, adjusting to his size, and it's both slightly painful and incredibly arousing. He's so much larger than any toy you've ever used, and the thought of taking all of him sends a fresh wave of desire through you.

You glance up at his form, the dim artificial lights overhead casting a faint, bluish hue across his bare chest. His skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his muscles—the curve of his shoulders, the sharp planes of his chest, and the ripple of his abdomen. Shadows deepen in the grooves between his ribs and along the flex of his arms as he shifts, his every movement purposeful, almost mesmerizing. There’s faint golden hair dusting his chest and trailing down his stomach.

The sight of him makes you coo, “Curly, you’re so perfect.”

His eyes never leave yours, and in them you now see a fierce concentration, a hunger that's been building for a long time. The head of his cock reaches deep into you, and you arch your back, the sensation overwhelming. You're so full you feel like you might burst. But then he pulls out slightly, only to push back in even deeper, and it's as if you've been hit by a bolt of lightning.

With one final, powerful thrust, he's all the way in, and you let out a cry that echoes through the cabin. Your nails dig into his back, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. His cock is so big, so hard, that you feel it in every part of you, filling you up in a way you never knew was possible.

Your hips are moving, rutting against him, urging him deeper.

He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole. You moan, the feeling so intense that you don’t know if you can handle it. Orgasms roll through you, one after another, each one more powerful than the last. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, they just blended together into a never-ending crescendo of pleasure.

Curly's movements then become more forceful, his thrusts deeper and faster. Each time he fills you, you can feel your inner muscles clench around him, trying to hold onto that delicious feeling of fullness. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to pick up the pace.

Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. Your eyes are now squeezed shut, and all you can see was the bright white light of pure ecstasy. You don’t know if you can take it, don’t know if you could handle his size, his strength. But you don’t want him to stop.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. It's primal, animalistic, and you can't help but get lost in it—in the feeling of his body pressing into yours, in the heat of his breath against your neck, in the way your orgasms build and crash over you like waves.

Your body starts to shake, your muscles tensing as you feel another climax building. You look up at him, eyes pleading, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. It's as if he knows exactly what you need, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Curly starts to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You moan into his mouth, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. Fuck, but you don’t know if you can take it anymore. He's relentless, his cock driving into you, stretching you further and further until you think you'll shatter into a million pieces.

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you do.

You push him away, just enough for his cock to pop out of you, and you squeal. “‘Curly,” you keen, twitching all over as you release all over yourself, him, and his sheets. His dick twitches as he watches you spasm all over his bed, coating both of you in your cum and slick.

The corners of your eyes sting with tears of pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Curly’s gaze doesn’t waver, his lips slightly parted as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breaths.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse and rough. Then, without hesitation, he flips you over with a strength that sends your pulse racing all over again. His hands are firm yet careful, a mix of desperation and reverence in the way he touches you.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The weight of his words settles over you, and you know this is far from over. His frustration, his need, his months of pent-up tension—all of it is unraveling here and now, and you’re the one holding the thread.

And with those words, you know it’s going to be a long, unforgettable night. The thought crosses your mind in a brief, hazy moment of clarity: How are you supposed to walk tomorrow? But the question is quickly swept away, drowned in the whirlwind of Curly’s relentless thrusting and the electric heat between you.

Hours later, when the two of you finally collapse into each other, exhausted and sated, there’s a rare, blissful quiet in the air. His arm drapes over you after he cleans you up, heavy and warm, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into a peace you haven’t felt in ages.

For the first time in years, Curly sleeps soundly. No tossing, no turning, no restless hours spent staring at the ceiling. In his dreams, as in reality, you’re there with him. And ever since then, he hasn’t had any insomnia.

And you? You have no regrets.

a/n: the finale~~ let me know what y'all think!

oh yeah.. smut.. neverending smut..

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you’re reading this super late. don’t be a curly. take care of yourself!)

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing game #Captain curly #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader smut #captain curly smut #curly fluff #mouthwashing fluff #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #grant curly #curly smut

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jihyoruri · 3 months ago

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❚ ❚ 𓍢 JIHYORURI 106 FM | jihyoruri 106 FM catalog for today brought to you by your very own jihyoruri! new music by hong eunchae will follow up next ; idol!au, chaewon and yn need to work on some stuff , illit!yn, cuteness, angst

now playing : somethin’ stupid; hong eunchae x reader 1:35 ━━○───── 3:47 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

over the past year, eunchae had gotten pretty close with the members of illit. they spent so much time together, it was only natural they'd become close.

she loved interacting with the members, they were all so sweet to her. well, not all of them. yn wasn’t exactly the nicest.

yn was never outright mean to eunchae, but she never talked to her either. there were moments when eunchae would join the group, and she'd notice yn quietly drift away or act like she wasn’t even there.

as much as she hated to admit it, it hurt, a lot. who wouldn’t feel a little crushed when the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen seems like she can’t stand you?

she can’t believe she spent almost everyday voting for a girl would end up hating her.

eunchae’s biggest problem with yn was that she couldn’t figure out why yn didn’t like her. she’d never done anything to her, so the coldness didn’t make any sense.

that was until, at 2 a.m., there was a knock on the dorm door. when eunchae opened it, she was met with a blank faced yn standing in the hallway.

chaewon never really talked about her family. maybe she'd mention her mom every once in a while, but that was it.

eunchae had never heard her say much else, never even seen her family. all the other girls' families had shown up to events and shows, but never chaewon’s, which always left eunchae wondering.

she was starting to think that it was just chaewon and her mom and nobody else.

"uh, hello?" eunchae greeted, confused, stifling a yawn. she’d fallen asleep on the couch, so the knocks had easily woken her while the others slept, she took notice that it kind of looked yn like had been crying, “are you okay?”

yn said nothing, just slipped past eunchae and headed down the hall. eunchae quickly shut the door and hurried after her, mind racing.

"um, you know, walking into someone’s place without permission is kinda weird," eunchae called out, trying to keep up with yn’s long strides

still, yn stayed silent until she suddenly stopped, causing eunchae to nearly bump into her. it was then that she realized they were standing right in front of sakura’s room.

eunchae's jaw dropped as yn didn't bother knocking, she just opened the door and slammed it right in her face.

okay, what is going on?

is it bad to say eunchae was secretly hoping yn would end up on her knees, begging for forgiveness and confessing she was in love with her?

what confused eunchae even more was that sakura didn’t scream or react at all to a random junior idol walking into her room like it was nothing.

eunchae brought her ear to the door.

"yn?" she heard sakura’s groggy voice, "what are you doing here? and why do you look like you’ve been crying?"

there was a shuffle on the bed. "i’m sleeping here tonight," yn replied softly. since when did sakura unnie know yn?

"what’s wrong?" sakura’s concern was clear. "you shouldn’t be up this late, you have a comeback to prepare for."

"there’s just too much going on," yn admitted. "being at the dorms is so stressful right now. i couldn’t sleep ‘cause i’ve been worrying about if my members are sleeping."

"don’t you have older members to take care of stuff like that? you’re one of the youngest."

"it’s not about age, unnie. it’s about how we’re feeling."

sakura sighs, “alright, sleep here, do you want to leave before cha-”

eunchae was so caught up in the conversation, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“what are you doing?”

she flinched, turning to see chaewon staring at her in confusion.

“nothing.”

“why are you at sakura unnie’s door… did something happen? all I heard was you talking.”

“uh…kinda?” eunchae said avoiding eye contact, “there’s someone in there with her.”

“what?! and she didn’t tell us?”

chaewon clearly took eunchae’s words a different way.

chaewon opened the door wide only to come sakura sitting at her desk setting up her humidifier and then her little sister laying on the bed quietly.

all four girls just stare at each other.

eunchae watches in confusion as chaewon walks up to the bed.

“what are you doing here?” chaewon asked, earning a sharp glare from yn but no response

“there’s a lot going on, and her dorm’s been too stressful, so she’s sleeping here,” sakura answered for yn, “the plan was for her to leave before you woke up.”

chaewon turned back to yn, eyebrows furrowed. “and you didn’t think to tell me? or come to my room? how many times has this happened?”

“why would I?” yn shot back. “what would you even do? suddenly start acting like an older sister because you saw me cry? I don’t want your pity, chaewon.”

chaewon’s jaw tightened at the lack of "unnie" in yn's words. “I’m your sister, yn, not sakura unnie. you should come to me, not her.

“I’ll go to whoever treats me better,” yn snapped, “and doesn’t act like some stranger you met a couple of years ago is more of a little sister than your real one, you can’t even be open about us being related? I can’t even bring up my family with my group because of you.”

that’s when it hit eunchae, yn was talking about her. or maybe wonyoung. either way, she was definitely part of the equation, especially with the way yn shot a glare in her direction.

“I did that for you!” chaewon snapped. “do you have any idea how much hate you’d get if people found out you were related to me? especially during a survival show? you shouldn’t have even been on that show, or a trainee, for that matter! I told you I didn’t want you becoming an idol.”

“it’s not just the public,” yn shot back. “who besides sakura unnie even knows I’m your little sister? not even the iz*one members knew me. and why would I listen to you? you barely show you care unless it’s about your career. sakura unnie’s been more of a sister to me than you ever have.”

“that’s not true!” chaewon argued.

“it is! we’ve both been going through so much this year, and I needed my sister,” yn replied, shooting another glare at eunchae.

“but every time I came by, sakura said you were too busy making sure she was okay. you never called me once. I showed up multiple times, but you know who did check on me? sakura unnie. she took me to her room and made sure I was alright. the only thing sisterly about you is our blood, and that’s it.”

eunchae looked at chaewon who looked like she had tears developing in her eyes, her chest felt heavy finally understanding why yn doesn’t like her.

“you know what? whatever, I’m leaving.” yn snatched her phone off the bed and headed for sakura’s door.

“yn, it’s late,” sakura voiced her concerns, standing up from her desk. “just spend the night.”

“I’ll be okay I’m texting yunah unnie right now,”

“it’s late, yn,” chaewon said, her tone defeated. “please, just stay. you can’t leave at this hour.”

sakura grabbed yn’s arm and pulled her back into the room. “you’re sleeping here. we’re not letting you leave now.”

she nudged yn further inside and ushered chaewon and eunchae out. “eunchae, can you grab some comfortable clothes for yn? I don’t know why she thought those would be cozy.”

sakura then glanced at chaewon, who was trying to peek her head back in for another look at yn.

“they might be a little big,” eunchae replied softly.

“that’s okay, just bring them quickly.”

eunchae sat at the kitchen island, her mind racing. she had woken up not too long ago, but yn was still consuming her thoughts.

now that she understood why yn seemed to dislike her, she knew she had to fix it, not the mess between yn and chaewon, but the one between yn and herself

having your crush hate you was never on her bucket list, but having your crush like you definitely was.

speaking of which…

eunchae glanced up to see yn shuffling into the kitchen with one of sakura’s blankets wrapped around her.

she couldn’t help her face from heating up at yn wearing her clothes, that could be a regular thing if her plans to make yn her girlfriend works.

yes she knows she’s delusional.

she watched as yn pulled a banana milk juice box from the fridge and settled beside her at the island.

the soft sound of yn sipping through the straw broke the silence, filling the room with an oddly comforting noise.

“uh, is that your favourite drink?”

yn glanced at eunchae, her expression mirroring one that she had only ever seen on chaewon. how had she not noticed it before?

“i guess you could say that,” yn replied.

there was more silence.

“I’m sorry about you and chaewon unnie,” eunchae said softly.

yn let’s put a sigh, “it’s not your fault.”

eunchae felt her heart race at the soft tone, it genuine, “I kind of feel like it is. now that I understand why you dislike me, I mean, I would probably hate me too if I were in your shoes.”

yn looked at eunchae with a surprisingly soft gaze, “I don’t hate you…”

eunchae watched as yn turned to face her fully. “I was just jealous. I still am, but it’s not your fault that my relationship with my sister is… complicated.”

eunchae's face flushed at the sight of yn’s apologetic pout.

and then she blurted out something incredibly stupid..

“I like you.”

an awkward silence hung in the air as yn stared at her with wide eyes before bursting into a quiet laugh.

“you’re weird.”

“good morning!” yunjin’s loud voice fills the kitchen, “I feel like making fren-”

“why is yn from illit in our kitchen?”

#le sserafim x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #eunchae x reader #eunchae #hong eunchae #hong eunchae x reader #kim chaewon #chaewon lesserafim #illit #girl group imagines

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thatbadadvice · 1 year ago

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Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

#good advice #good advice interlude #socializing #awkward #introvert problems #shy #shyness #get out there we're all fucking squares

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leahsgf · 6 months ago

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FUSSY EATER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | bubba masterlist

"come on bubba. can you try some broccoli for mumma?" leah cooed, desperately trying to slip the little plastic spoon past your lips which had of course remained glued shut in refusal.

you simply turned your head away in response, like you had done every single other time she had tried - settling for staring at beth and alessia from across the canteen, a much more interesting option in your opinion.

you were leah's mini, in every single way - and always had been, but the older you got the more this had began to show, mimicking everything she did from simply kicking a ball, to her signature frown, and even babbling certain words in that dreaded roadman accent that sometimes slipped out of the blonde's mouth for no apparent reason. even when you wouldn’t stop referring to everyone as ‘darlin’ for weeks on end, your want to be just like her was something that your mother adored beyond words, usually.

your recent thing however? she wasn't such a fan of.

you were finally at the stage where you could confidently eat solid foods and start having meals like leah, and she hadn't put any thought into just how fussy she herself was until she had you mirroring everything she did - including devouring absolutely anything that was beige and not giving anything else as much as a look.

which is what had landed you both in this situation, you sat in a highchair and leah sat across from you, spoon still loaded with the dreaded green stuff that you had yet to be convinced to try.

you were quite content with the bits of bread and plain pasta that were sat on your tray, and were suspicious of the piece of broccoli held in front of you, not knowing why you were being expected to try it when you had never seen your mumma eat it.

"come on sweetheart. if you try this little bit for me i'll get you some chocolate, yeah? just one little bit. i know you love chocolate"

"bribing the baby now are we williamson?" tooney cackled, walking past with her own food - not before snapping a picture of the sight before her to update her very amused followers, who had over time become invested in leah’s ‘dead’ meals.

“shut up man, she’s so stubborn i can’t! i have so much more respect for my mum now but surely even i wasn’t this bad”

“of course you were lee! you still are, are you forgetting that you called chicken slices ‘white ham’ until we were 23 cause you were convinced you hated chicken!” keira giggled, joining in on the conversation and lightly shoving her best friend as she slipped into the seat next to her.

“oi! not helping!” leah grumbled, the frown lines on her forehead that may as well be permanent only deepening as your refusal continued.

“maybe you should eat some and show her, she copies everything you do.” georgia chimed in this time, grinning as she already know what the answer would be.

“but i hate broccoli”

just a small little thing i’ve had in my drafts that makes so much sense in my head, bubba is 100% a picky eater like leah is

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #lionesses x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x platonic reader #leah williamson x child reader #keira walsh x child reader #georgia stanway x child reader #lionesses x child reader #arsenal wfc x child reader

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

3K notes · View notes

thatdesigirl17 · 1 month ago

Text

late night talking

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

part 2 is out

warnings: smoking, out of character mattheo maybe, language, reader has family issues (slight)

just finished deadly class now that my finals are over and I'm absolutely obsessed with benjamin, so had to write for mattheo.

there will be a part 2 to this. requests are open. hope you like it.

Y/N hurried up the stairs of the astronomy tower. It had been a very stressful day with firstly her being late for class due to an assignment that she had completed after staying up almost the entire night. Still, she had forgotten it in her dorm which made her lose her marks as well as house points which led to her housemates getting annoyed with her. To top it off, she had just received a letter from her mother which made things worse. She had been requested to come home, to a place which didn’t feel like one. Ever since her father's death, the relationship between Y/N and her mother had been fractured. She felt like an outsider in her own family and preferred to stay at Hogwarts with her friends, who made her feel more at home. The request to go home and face whatever shit her mother was about to throw on her, annoyed her further.

All she wanted was to have a temporary escape from the day and the answer for her was to smoke a joint and get high. Unluckily for her, the stash that she owned had just finished leaving her to make do with cigarettes.

She reached the top of the astronomy tower, the cold air of the night welcoming her. She fished out her cigarette from the pocket of her jacket. She searched for the lighter in her pockets, she sighed, not being able to find it. She then searched for her wand, trying every pocket of her clothes. ‘Fucking hell! Just what I needed!’, she mumbled under her breath frustrated, she had forgotten her lighter and her wand in her dorm.

She turned around to the sound of footsteps shuffling. She walked to the other side of the tower and discovered a figure in the dark. With the help of the moonlight, she could make out his frame and the dark curls that graced his head. She noticed the smoke that surrounded him and decided to approach him for help, ‘Hey? Do you happen to have a lighter?’

The figure blew out smoke as he slowly turned to face her and reveal himself. Mattheo Riddle, a Slytherin in the same batch. Y/N was slightly taken aback, she had never really seen Riddle without any of his friends. He was always surrounded by people and his reputation preceded him.

‘Don’t you have your wand?’, he questioned as he reached into his pocket and handed out a lighter to her. ‘Forgot it in my dorm.’, she explained as she quickly took the lighter from his hand and lit up her cigarette. She sighed taking in a drag, her stress relieving slowly as she leaned against the railing, placing the lighter on the edge of the railing.

‘Out so late in the night without a wand, how very careless of you.’, Mattheo remarked taking another drag. ‘Well I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into Mattheo Riddle in the middle of the night.’, she said, making Mattheo chuckle. Y/N was shocked, she had managed to make the cold, brooding Slytherin chuckle, and not in a mocking way.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Do you carry your wand around me? Cause I’m the Dark Lord’s son?’, he asked, in an almost teasing way. Y/N stiffened, she didn’t mean it like that, ‘No, I-, I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘It’s alright. I’m accustomed to it by now. It’s what everyone does.’, he said smirking. Y/N turned to face him. His soft features were highlighted in the moonlight, his eyes were red, and he was high from the joint he had been smoking. Y/N was caught off guard by the vulnerability and truth in his eyes, his voice laced with the slightest bit of hurt.

‘I just meant you’re always surrounded by your friends. I don’t think I’ve hardly seen you alone.’, she explained, taking a drag. ‘Friends?’, he said, his tone showing the disgust he felt for the word, ‘That’s what you think they are?’

She nods slowly, ‘Aren’t they? You always hang around with them. You laugh and joke around with them.’ ‘Oh, love, if only. They’re just fulfilling their families’ wishes. They’re not friends, they are just people who are made to stay around me to gain certain, well, um…benefits for their families.’, he explains, leaning back on the railing as he looks at her.

‘That must suck. Having people around only because they want something in return.’, she says, tossing her cigarette butt on the floor. ‘You get used to it.’, he says, shrugging, brushing it off. ‘What brings you out here to smoke in the middle of the night?’, he asks, changing the topic. ‘Had a bad day, got terrible news, wanted to not feel anything for a while but with my luck I had just run out of anything strong so here I am smoking a cigarette.’, she explains. ‘Here.’, Mattheo says as he hands out a joint to her. ‘Do you even know me? Or are you just that high?’, I chuckle. ‘I know we have a few classes together and it seems you don’t care for my reputation, that’s enough.’, he explains. I nod slowly as I take the joint and light it. I sit down on the floor of the tower, crossing my legs as I let the smoke out, looking up at the sky. I see Mattheo looking down and smirking at me. ‘What?’, I ask. ‘Nothing.’, he shrugs.

I hum as I take another drag, feeling the drug taking its effect. ‘What’s it like?’, I ask, looking up at him. ‘What’s what like?’, he questions. ‘Being who you are.’, I say as I hand out the joint to him. He huffs, sitting down right across from me, our knees touching as he takes the joint from my hand and smokes. ‘Terrible.’, he answers. ‘Money, power and influence doesn’t cut it out, huh?’, she remarks, taking the joint from his hands. He scoffs and chuckles, another genuine chuckle. ‘You’re high. By tomorrow, you’re gonna regret talking to me like that.’, he smirks. ‘No, I won’t. I thought you’d have been asked this question thousands of times.’, she explains, as she tucks her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of it, looking earnestly at the boy in front of her, who was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined him to be.

‘No one’s ever talked to me like that. Maybe they’re scared, or maybe they just don’t care. Times like that I yearn for the normal things in life.’, he says, looking up at the sky. ‘God, why am I even telling you this? I’ve never talked to anyone like this before.’

‘How would I know? You’ve never even said so much as a hey to me before this.’, Y/N says jokingly, sitting up a bit straighter. ‘Huh.’, he huffs, smirking, in a teasing tone, he continues, ‘Well I guess it’s never too late. Hey Y/N.’

‘Hey Mattheo.’, she chuckles, rolling her eyes.

They sit for a few moments in silence, comfortable in each other's presence. ‘Do you come here often?’, he asks. ‘Only when I need to clear my mind.’, she answers, ‘There are only a few places in this castle with peace and quiet.’

He hums in agreement, nodding slowly, ‘This feels nice.’ She smiles softly, ‘Hanging out with friends always does.’

‘Friends?’, he asks, his brows furrowed and his eyes widened. ‘Yeah, friends. I’m honoured to be your first real friend, Mattheo.’, she grins and for the first time, Y/N sees him smile. His brown eyes sparkle and he looks breathtaking. That’s when Y/N realises how truly beautiful Mattheo Riddle is.

They sit together in silence again before he gets up, ‘I should go. I hope to see you around Y/N. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Mattheo.’, she smiles up at him. Her eyes trail behind his retreating figure as she sighs. Her mind was processing and wondering how I was in the world did she just manage to befriend Mattheo Riddle?

Maybe it’s just because he was high and alone. It was just a one-time coincidence. She thought as she sighed and got up, ready to leave. The shining metal on the railing caught her eye. She picked it up and caressed the initial M.R. engraved on the lighter. Maybe they were meant to meet again.

#fanfic #writing #harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #hpimagines #hogwarts #wizardblr #mattheo riddle imagine

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munsonsmixtapes · 8 months ago

Text

Just Like That

virgin!Eddie x experienced!reader

summary: you teach Eddie how to give you a hickey

cw: MDNI (18+) heavy petting, both Eddie and reader receive hickeys, shoulder kisses, grinding, Eddie sucks on reader’s tits

You sat next to Eddie on your couch while a movie neither of you had seen played on the TV. It was your first date as a couple and as much as you were enjoying it, something felt off. You were just sitting there when you were usually tangled up in each other in some way. You could definitely be in each other’s company without fucking, but neither of you liked it very much.

You slowly reached for Eddie’s hand and he let you take it. You pulled his up to your mouth a pressed a sweet kiss to it before letting it fall back between you. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your eyes on the TV, trying not to think about how he was staring at your lips which was causing them to tingle.

You slowly turned to him and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, desperate and hungry. His hand cradled your jaw while the other gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him, your thighs pressing together at your close proximity. Eddie licked into your mouth and you moaned as your hands wound into his hair, pressing into his scalp.

You pulled away before Eddie was ready and licked your lips which only made them look more inviting to him.

“Can I get on top of you?” What kind of question was that? Of course you could get on top of him.

“Yes,” he replied, his breathing more labored than your own. You took no time to straddle his waist and settle yourself down on his lap before pressing your lips to his once again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, caging his hair between your arms and his neck while his hands wrapped around your waist, resting right above your ass.

Eddie brought your bottom lip between his and gave it a little suck, causing you to mewl. He nibbled and sucked on your lip, loving the response you were giving him which only made him do it more. You let out another moan and wondered if could do to the same thing to your neck. You knew for a fact that he could scandalize the skin, giving it a nice bruise that you could show off to everyone to show that he was yours.

“Do you want to give me a hickey?” You asked, pulling away again and you could see Eddie’s cheeks go pink.

“I’ve never given one before.” That didn’t bother you. Eddie had experienced so many firsts with you so what was another one?

“Do you want to?”

“I really do, but do you think you could show me?” You would have been happy to. But it was also just a great excuse to mark him up.

“Of course, baby. Gonna warm you up first, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Your lips were on his once again but just as he was getting into it, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and moved your way down until you got to his neck. You started off with a few pecks but eventually pressed open mouthed kisses to the skin while swiping your tongue along it. Eddie knew that wasn’t what a hickey was, but damn did it feel good.

He closed his eyes as you worked your magic and you eventually began to suck on the skin, Eddie letting out a whimper at the foreign feeling. You had heard that sound so many times before, but you never quite got used to it.

You continued to suck in the sensitive spot and Eddie swore that he could let you do it for hours. The way you were licking and sucking on his skin was driving him wild. He never knew that he could feel pleasure in that way without the both of you not having to get naked. Maybe if he asked nicely, you’d mark him up again.

His hands cradled the back of your head and you felt his fingers press into your scalp in response and you tried not to make any noise at the feeling.

Just as he was getting used to it, you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, causing Eddie to let out a full on moan. That sounded like an invitation to continue and you did, scraping your teeth against the forming bruise once again.

“God,” Eddie moaned. “Love the way that feels.” If you felt the tent forming in his pants, you didn’t say anything.

“More?” You asked. You knew what the answer would be, but you just wanted to tease him.

“Fuck yes,” he responded, breathless. You were on him again, this time, giving the side of his neck a full on bite, which he seemed to love by the sound that he made.

You diffused the sting with your tongue by licking a stripe across the spot; giving it a few more sucks before pulling away. You reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head before you were back to that spot, moving your way down to his shoulder.

“Want one here?” You pointed to the very center of his shoulder and he whimpered in response.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Please mark me up.” With that, you moved your lips to his shoulder, kissing it as you slowly introduced your tongue. You weren’t as quick to scandalize him this time, taking your time with just kisses to the skin. Eventually, you began to suck on the spot and Eddie mewled once again. You grazed the skin quicker that time since you knew that he liked it and he let out another moan.

“So good, doll,” he whined and you scraped your teeth along the spot again, causing his hands dropped to your waist, digging his fingers into the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, leaving crescent shapes along it.

Once you finished up, you pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand to get rid of the spit. You thought that you had scandalized him enough to where he was ready to do the same to you.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, both of your pupils blown from the pleasure you had just experienced. His gaze moved to your lips that were pretty and pink from all of the things you had just done to him and he had to have a taste for himself.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, his hands flattening against your waist and rubbing along the spot the had caused damage to. This one was nothing like the others. It was gentle and full of what could have only been described as love.

“Ready to show me what I taught you?” You asked and Eddie nodded eagerly. He wanted to make you feel as good as he did when you were marking him up.

He slowly inched his face closer to the side of your neck and you moved your head to give him more access. His lips met the spot right above your ear and he started off with soft pecks just as you had done before eventually introducing open mouthed kisses with his tongue. You felt yourself getting wet and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

He then began to suck on the skin, slowly, almost as if he was unsure of what he was doing, but he eventually got into it, doing it just hard enough to get a whine from you. You could feel his boner through his jeans and began grinding against him, your underwear getting soaked at the thought of riding him but also at the absolute pleasure you were experiencing.

“Just like that,” you told him, absolutely breathless. “Sure you haven’t done this before?”

“No,” he mumbled against your skin. “You’re just a really good teacher.” His teeth scraped along the spot and you continued to grind against him in response, harder this time. The scraping eventually turned into a full on bite and that completely undid you, making you go limp in his arms.

He did just as you had and diffused the sting with a couple of licks before he began to suck again, your moans getting louder as he sucked harder.

“Fuck,” you whined. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” You leaned your head back and Eddie caught it, cradling it gently as he continued to scandalize you, giving you one last graze with his teeth before finishing it off with a few kisses peppered to your neck.

“Need more,” you whined and took your shirt off as you did so. You were wearing a pretty, lacy bra that you had put on just for him and Eddie was getting hard just thinking about having his mouth on your tits.

“Wanna have your way with these?” You asked and Eddie just nodded, unblinking, like he was hypnotized. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your chest, his tongue lightly moving across the spot as he did so, his hand slowly moving up your back. He gave the spot a rough suck before moving to the other side to give it the same mark.

As he was doing that, he slowly unhooked your bra and moved back so it could fall between you and he let out a gasp as if he had never seen your tits before. He threw the bra aside and pulled you into his arms before sucking right on the top of your tit. Your back arched at the feeling, causing your stomach to touch his.

You wound your fingers into his hair as he licked and sucked and gave his hair a yank when he did something you particularly liked, causing him to whimper at the feeling each time. He left hickeys all over your chest and tit, leaving your nipple for last. Eddie licked a stripe across it before bringing the whole thing into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could while he simultaneously made the stinging sensation go away with his tongue.

You threw your head back and shut your eyes tight as you moaned and moaned at the feeling. How was it that he had never done this before? Sure, you had taught him, but he was a natural, knowing exactly what you liked without even having to ask. That couldn’t be taught. He was just that good.

Once you thought it was over, he brought the thing between his teeth and gave it a tug, causing you to pull on his hair the hardest you ever had, your vision going slightly hazy as you reached your peak in your absolute euphoria.

“Eddie,” you moaned the loudest you had that night and he took that as an invitation to continue, biting down as hard as he could without actually hurting you and you went limp in his arms once again but still wanting him to have his way with you despite how depleted you were.

“Love the way you look with my marks, honey,” he said. “Want me to do the other side?” He asked, his mouth hovering over your other tit that had not gotten the same treatment.

“God, yes please,” you begged, your voice whiny just the way he liked. He did the exact same thing to your other tit, licking and sucking all over it until it was the color he liked before moving on to the main event. He brought your entire nipple into his mouth and licked and suck before giving it a tug with his teeth, your back arching even more as he gave it one more bite.

You completely sunk into him and that was when he knew it was time to call it quits. Your eyes were glazed over and you looked liked you were close to falling asleep, the night of euphoria completely wearing you out. Eddie carried you to your room and helped you change into your pajamas before getting you into bed where he joined you, pulling you into his arms before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You both drifted off to sleep, your mind replaying his mouth on your tits over and over until the next morning when you let him do the exact same thing again.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #virgin!eddie munson #experienced!reader #virgin!eddie munson x experienced!reader

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darnell-la · 3 months ago

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heyyy :3 I was thinking too much about the patch variant!logan, All I can think of is reader getting fucked on a poker table, something with degradation and choking 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

note: Logan would’ve dealt with a thief in a different way then tonight, but he couldn’t resist y/n. He never could, and tonight was a perfect night to do what he’s been dying to do.

———

“What made you think you could still from me, Bub?” Logan asked as his guard brought her over to the man who hadn’t looked at her yet. He was busy counting money with the rest of the table.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I just needed extra money for rent this month,” y/n said, eyes stinging and heart raising. She swore she was careful, but now she was in front of her boss she had only seen a few times.

“Rent? I don’t pay you enough to cover that, hun?” The man asked. She was afraid to answer, but she had to. She didn’t know what he was capable of, but by how his work looked and how many stories she’d heard of people being terrified of him, she was terrified too.

“Yes — My rent went up a couple of months ago, and I don’t have time to work another job,” y/n explained herself, but he looked up phased by her son's story.

“And you ain’t care to ask me to raise your pay?” Logan asked, and she had, but she couldn’t dare ask. “I-I didn’t think of it,” y/n liked, and the man could tell. Hearing the way her heart stuttered was all he needed.

“Oh, but I think you did. You ain’t no dumb girl, now. I know that by how you tried to steal from me,” Logan said before he snapped his fingers, making the guard kick the back of her knees to force her to the ground.

“I just think you didn’t want to ask. Maybe too scared. Think I’d turn you down, which I would’ve, but I still would’ve taken care of you,”

Logan knows everyone who works for him, whether they know it or not. Y/n has been the only loyal and consistent one yet, and he admired that.

What he didn’t admire was how she thought she could take his money and live with life. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he had to teach her something.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again. I-I promise,” y/n said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll make sure of it,” was all Logan said before he clapped his hands, causing everyone at the table to get up and make their way out.

“Leave her here — I’ve got her,” Logan said speaking to the guards, still not taking his eyes off the money he was counting. When the guard let y/n go, she rubbed her arm and shoulder where the guard at probably bruised her from how tight he had her in his grip.

“Stand up, you look ridiculous,” Logan said to the young girl, making her do as told. “When I hired you, I expected you to be more feisty,” Logan admitted, making her shake her head slowly.

“You’re my boss, sir,” y/n said, not wanting to get fired from the only job that pays her decently. “Do you have respect for me, princess?” Logan asked the girl as he got up. The way he towered over her, made her legs shake.

“Y-Yes, of course, I do, sir,” Y/n said, barely being able to keep eye contact. Any time she saw him, he looked good. She swore he gets more attractive with every interaction.

“Well, ain’t that so,” Logan stepped closer to y/n their bodies touched. “I like a girl who looks up to me. Don’t get much of them around these days — Especially a pretty little thing like you,”

Y/n looked down, too anxious to make eye contact, but that only egged his mind on further.

Logan lifted Y/n’s head with his finger under her chin until her eyes locked in his. She’s never been looked at like this before. She had no clue what to do.

“But taking my money wasn’t so respectful of you, princess. Might show you the consequences that come with disrespect,”

Logan’s other hand slightly gripped y/n’s waist, only making it more obvious how anxious she was. The shivering wasn’t hard to miss or feel from her.

“I’m sorry-“Y/n tried apologizing again, but this time, Logan shushed her as he placed a finger on her lips. “You’ll show me how sorry you are, Bub, don’t worry,” Logan spoke as he revoked his finger.

Y/n wanted to speak and ask the man what she had to do to show him how sorry she was, but she saw how the man leaned toward her before she could speak.

She pulled back, only a couple of inches by the time Logan’s hand wrapped around the back of her head just to grip and tug.

Y/n let out a small yell before her boss's lips fell onto her neck, licking and sucking in a spot she didn’t know could make her mind blank.

Logan groaned into the girl's neck as his hand on her hip pulled her body into his. Y/n wanted to push the man away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Instead, she moaned.

With that, Logan’s lips stopped on her skin. She felt the smirk he had across his lips. He had her within seconds, and she didn’t know it yet.

Before she knew it, Logan turned her around and forced her down on his poker table that he was just counting money on. The man moved all of his money out of the way before tracing his hands up and down her body.

“Gotta keep you to myself after this one, Bub?” Logan said as he touched every inch of her body that he could. “To damn pretty to ignore,”

Logan tugged on y/n’s waistband until he got her dance panties off. She was already exposed before, but now, he could see everything he was going to destroy.

Logan wasted no time sucking on his fingers, coating them in spit before sliding them past her folds. He curled instantly, making her feel a small purr in the lower end of her stomach.

“Wet little things been waitin’ for me, huh? What do you say?” Logan asked y/n, making her whine before she answered. “T-Thank you,”

“As much as I love the submission, I’m still upset about your actions,” Logan pulled out of y/n and forced her around and on her back. Y/n watched as he fumbled with his belt and pulled himself out.

“Sir-“ Before she could speak and tell him he would be too huge for her, he pushed her body back down by her neck, gripping hard and pinning her back onto the table.

“Don’t glätte me angry, Bub. You don’t wanna see that side of me,” Logan said as he shifted in between her legs. Y/n stayed silent since she in fact did not want to see him that way.

“Good girl — So damn obedient,” the man praised before his tip slipped past her folds. Y/n’s walls instantly clenched around him, making it hard for him to go further, but he managed.

“S-Sir,” y/n’s voice cracked as he broke completely past her folds, allowing his tip to graze her g-spot. “Don’t wanna hear it, Bub. I know for a fact you’ve taken cock before — Just look at you. Too pretty to not be a slut,”

Logan placed his free on y/n’s waist to grip down hard. He wanted to earn every noise possible out of her mouth tonight.

“You’re always the best-dressed dancer — You ain’t foolin’ me, Bub,” Logan said as he pounded into her cunt repeatedly. Y/n tapped on his wrist that was closest to her neck to tell him to loosen up, but there was no way he would. Why would he? She belonged to him, so he’d do whatever he pleased with her.

“Cunts so fuckin’ wet, I just know you fuck rich men in your job. Do you? C’mon, baby, I don’t get mad,” Logan lied, knowing he’d flip her right over and abuse her other hole.

“N-No, sir, I swear,” y/n choked on her whine. “Sure you don’t. Sure you don’t spread your legs just like this for a man with a bit of extra cash for you,” Logan kept going, but Logan knew she wouldn’t. He’s watched her private dances plenty of times to make sure of it.

“N-No, I don’t, sir,” y/n’s hands grabbed the man’s arms, trying to brace herself for what was about to come. “Such a good little thing,” Logan’s voice echoed through her head before she let loose all around him.

“That’s it, keep it comin’ and I might let you stay with me,” Logan said, knowing he was going to keep her whether she wanted to stay or not. Deep down, he knew she needed him in ways she hadn’t thought of yet.

“Gonna get this pussy every day after work, do you understand me? That’s all you’ll do. Please and sit on my lap like a pretty piece of candy,”

“O-Okay,” was all y/n could say. Her voice was low and broken. The way his grip tightened around her neck and his thrust sped up, made everything so much harder for her to do.

“Fuck, Bub,” was the last thing Logan before he felt his knees bucking. He wanted to last longer, but it was impossible with how good she looked, sound, and felt. He was keeping her with no doubt.

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no1ryomafan · 11 months ago

Text

My brain has gone back and forth on between which anime if arma or new is my favorite. Cause even with all its issues Arma means a lot to me, it’s the reason I got into getter and helped me through one of the worst times of my life- But then new is objectively better written and it drives me nuts compared to arma it’s not talked about ENOUGH despite all the stuff you can poke at from it’s plot and I’m trying to pinpoint that reason since the general consensus is “no one hates new and it gets a lot of fanart in the Japanese community yet it’s never deeply acknowledged so it feels unpopular”

So my standpoint is “do I keep investing into the popular iteration despite its issues or do I invested into the less flawed unpopular iteration when it comes to introducing getter to new people?” cause man as much as I’m a critical person of media I still can forgive some messy writing if I have a good time with it and can clearly tell the staff had fun making it, which is definitely armas case. (Though they absolutely had fun with new too)

#meg text #getter robo #this general philosophy I have is why im not harshly critical on SVN next to “I think it fulfills it’s purpose”#and a few other mechas I’ve seen but not gonna tag because I don’t wanna put them in their tag when this is just getter #I was tempted to make a post asking about what people don’t find appealing about new but it be on twit and blegh #I’d ask it here and if anyone has input feel FREE to put but my following is way to small to generate the feedback I want #but on Twitter people are dumb and I’m not taking the “new has bad animation” take any longer bc it’s cherry picked #next to “we all know this is better animation then arc LOL” even if that whole debate as stupid #but past that point I’m trying to understand what people don’t like to find new unappealing when it’s flaws aren’t turn offs #like Musashibo not having a proper character arc and the villains not being consistent is a big one but doesn’t make the show bad #especially because there’s still good from those issues being Musashibo still a fun character and the villains don’t ruin the pacing #you could maybe make the argument new starts off slow but also all of the introduction episodes are engaging??#there’s not a single thing about new-let alone getter when it’s paced right-that feels sluggish #Also for a 13 ep show picking up in the middle makes the MOST sense in comparison to a longer ep series #the middle is when shit hits the fan tbh #im gonna be at war until I hear someone’s in depth opinion but I just WANNA figure out what turns off people from new #cause when I also watched it in a group I had irls drop out of it midway through but I could chalk it up to they weren’t huge on mecha #Even if I argue new is the PERFECT mecha show to recommend to someone who’s skeptical of the genre but I digress

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blablablayup · 22 days ago

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Holy shit I’m not alone. All the things I’ve thought up and recognized on my own about misogyny… other people have noticed them too. I have looked before but never found anyone who understood, who saw the same things I see. Turns out it was the “evil TERFs” all along who are exactly like me. Who actually care about women.

I am terrified to post here beyond this (even this little post feels risky) / do anything other than lurk. But it’s just so validating to even see other people say the same things I’ve always been saying.

If anyone knows like, a discord or something, or wants to talk via texting maybe, idk, I really want to be able to have community and talk with people who Get It. It’s so hard to find any stuff about radical feminism online bc it’s been so thoroughly destroyed by misogynist hate campaigns and stuff.

Idk just. Thank you, you all, for existing. For showing me that I’m not alone. For showing me that when I’m too tired to go on doing activism, as has been the case recently, people are out there noticing the things I notice, calling out the things I call out, fighting for the causes I fight for. I have long worried that some of my thoughts would die with me, since radical feminists have been so deplatformed that I didn’t know anyone else thought these things.

There are definitely some things where I highly disagree with people I’ve seen here. But it feels like a space that’s maybe safer, where people can focus on uplifting women even if others sometimes say things we think are wrong or bad? You know what I mean?

Anyway. Thank you.

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extinctlesspains · 1 month ago

Note

Can you pls maybe write something about kwon secretly being with chozen’s daughter who is in miyagi do. I got this idea cause of chosen and sensei Kim lol

(also I love your fanfics thanks for feeding us kwon fans 🙏)

A/n: AHHAHAHAH YES

𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑒

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑧𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝—𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝐾𝑖𝑚.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑘𝑒𝑦? 𝐼𝑑𝑘...

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

The moon hangs high over the Sekai Taikai training grounds, its pale light casting long shadows across the dojo's courtyard. You stand silently by the wooden gate, heart pounding—not from fear of discovery, but from anticipation. Moments later, soft footsteps approach, and Kwon Jae-sung steps out from the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the area before landing on you.

“You’re late,” he smirks, arms crossed.

You roll your eyes, slipping through the gate and closing it softly behind you. “Do you know how hard it is to sneak out when your dad is Chozen Toguchi?”

His expression softens as he reaches for your hand, pulling you close. “I know. But I’m starting to think you like the danger.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you rest your head against his chest. “Maybe I do. Or maybe I just like you.”

For a moment, the world fades away. There are no rival dojos, no looming tournaments, no senseis watching your every move—just the quiet night and the warmth of being together. But reality crashes back in as quickly as it fades.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” you whisper, pulling away to look into his eyes. “If my father finds out…”

His jaw clenches. “I know. He’d never forgive you.”

“He’d never forgive you,” you correct. “He hates Cobra Kai. He thinks you’re all poison.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And what do you think?”

You gaze into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability he rarely shows. “I think you’re different. I’ve seen the real you, Kwon. Not the fighter in the dojo, not the soldier under Kim Da-eun or Kreese's command—the person you are when it’s just us.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I’ve seen you. The fire you hide, the strength you carry. You’re not just Chozen’s daughter. You’re... you.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. Before either of you can say anything more, the distant sound of footsteps makes you both freeze.

“Someone’s coming,” you whisper urgently.

Without thinking, Kwon pulls you back into the shadows, pressing you against the wooden wall of the dojo. You hold your breath as two Miyagi-Do students, Sam and Devon, walk past, deep in conversation, oblivious to the hidden figures just feet away.

As soon as they’re gone, you exhale, looking up at Kwon. “This is insane.”

He smirks. “You knew that the first time we met.”

You punch his shoulder lightly. “You were a jerk the first time we met.”

“I still am,” he teases, catching your hand. “But you’re stuck with me.”

Your expression softens. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The Next Day

Training is brutal, as always. Your father runs the Miyagi-Do students through endless katas, drills designed to sharpen technique and test endurance. You move through the motions with precision, feeling Chozen’s watchful eyes on you. But your mind isn’t on the training—it’s on Kwon, on the way his eyes softened the night before, on the way his touch lingered as if he was afraid to let you go.

“Focus,” your father’s voice cuts through your thoughts, sharp and commanding.

“Yes, Father,” you respond quickly, forcing your attention back to the present.

Across the training ground, Kwon and the other Cobra Kai students are practicing under Sensei Kim’s strict supervision. He moves with lethal grace, every strike and block executed with perfect precision. But even as he trains, you notice his gaze drifting to the Miyagi-Do side of the courtyard, searching for you.

Sensei Kim notices.

“Your focus is slipping, Kwon,” she snaps, her voice like a whip. “Is there something distracting you?”

“No, Sensei,” he replies quickly, forcing his gaze back to the task at hand.

But the warning lingers. Sensei Kim isn’t stupid. And neither is your father.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

That night, you decide to meet Kwon in the small grove behind the training grounds again. The air is thick with tension, but you need to see him.

“She suspects something,” Kwon says, pacing. “Sensei Kim. She’s watching me.”

“She’s always watching everyone,” you reply, trying to sound calm. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He stops, turning to face you. “It means everything. If she finds out about us—”

“She won’t,” you interrupt. “We’ve been careful.”

“Not careful enough.” His voice is low, almost desperate. “This... us... it’s dangerous.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his face. “But worth it.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “What if it’s not?”

“Don’t say that.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze intense. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” Your voice is steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Suddenly, a sound in the distance makes both of you freeze. Footsteps again, but these are different—deliberate, heavier. You both press into the shadows, holding your breath. But as the figures come into view, your eyes widen in shock.

It’s your father, Chozen, and Sensei Kim.

You watch, stunned, as they move closer. At first, you think it’s just a serious conversation—two senseis discussing strategy. But then you see it—the way his hand lingers on her arm, the way she leans into him. And then, he pulls her close, their lips meeting in a kiss.

Your breath catches in your throat. No way. This can’t be happening.

Kwon’s eyes meet yours, equally stunned. He mouths, “What the hell?”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Here you were, terrified of being caught, of your father finding out about you and Kwon—while he was sneaking around with Sensei Kim the entire time.

When they finally walk away, you turn to Kwon, still processing what you just saw.

“Well,” you whisper, a mix of disbelief and amusement in your voice. “Looks like we’re not the only ones with secrets.”

Kwon lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Guess the danger runs in the family.”

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #kwon cobra kai #kwon jae sung #kwon jae sung x reader #kwon #ck #ckxreader #cobra kai fanfiction

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arioko · 6 months ago

Text

aizawa experienced a quirk awakening, specifically during shirakumo’s death.

analysis? insane ramblings?? me looking too deep into things??? these all can be true. let’s just get into the meat and potatoes of this first and foremost.

quirk awakenings in my hero academia are usually defined by a quirk either gaining new abilities or going beyond the original scope of the quirk. an example of this is when toga found out she could use the quirks of people she transformed into, or dabi finding out he also had an ice aspect to his quirk similar to shoto. these awakenings are extremely rare, are only seem to happen during traumatic, life threatening circumstances.

one of the most recognizable things about aizawa is how his hair and capture weapon will float whenever he uses his quirk, and something i don’t think i’ve seen anyone else point out is the fact that in vigilantes, during the school days arc, teen aizawa’s erasure doesn’t do this at all.

these are two of the instances where we see teen aizawa use his quirk, and his hair and capture weapon don’t levitate like they usually do. “maybe they forgot,” and here’s the thing, i don’t think that’s the case? like i said earlier, aizawa’s floating hair and scarf are one of the most recognizable aspects of his design, to the point that in universe deku even points it out. betten court, the artist of vigilantes, had been drawing aizawa for 50+ chapters at this point, so i sincerely doubt he genuinely forgot to add this.

even here, for a second you think that his hair is floating here, but then you see that he’s actively moving and that’s why he’s hair is flowing backwards. almost like they’re tricking you into thinking that it’s floating before showing you what’s actually happening.

so, basically, back when aizawa was a teenager, his quirk didn’t do any sort of levitation effect. which, eventually, leads to this.

the first time we ever see aizawa’s quirk do the levitation effect, it’s during one of the most traumatic moments of his life, the garvey fight. this was specifically after he had witnessed shirakumo’s death.

and when do quirk awakenings usually happen? after extremely traumatic experiences. which was what aizawa had experienced just seconds before. keep in mind that aizawa was so on edge during the fight that he (supposedly) hallucinated shirakumo’s voice cheering him on. there was most likely multiple other physical things going on as a result of the stress and adrenaline rush, so a quirk awakening isn’t exactly too extreme here.

how does this aid his quirk? i dunno, but it falls into the quirk awakening category by virtue of the fact that it wasn’t something his quirk was thought to be capable of doing prior to the event. we aren’t sure if erasure worked differently when aizawa was younger.

so, tl:dr, teen aizawa’s erasure didn’t cause a levitation effect, however, after witnessing shirakumo’s death, it caused a quirk awakening which created the levitation effect we see in the present.

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

Note

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

#platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous #I hope this is okay!#as I said earlier this week; I would definitely like to continue that idea I'm just still kinda working out how...

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