#can’t I just be a bad person once in a while??

[pucksandpower]

Black Magic

Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader

Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse

Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.

He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”

“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.

Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”

Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.

There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”

“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”

You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”

“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”

Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”

Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”

“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”

You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”

A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.

Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.

Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”

Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”

And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.

You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”

Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”

“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”

A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”

Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”

You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”

He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”

Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”

A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.

Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.

“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”

“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”

You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”

A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”

You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”

Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.

But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.

His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”

And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.

After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”

You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”

Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”

A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”

“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”

You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”

Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”

A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”

Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”

“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.

It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.

Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.

As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”

Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”

You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”

Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”

You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”

He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.

The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...

Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.

“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”

“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”

A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.

Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”

An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”

With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.

As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...

With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.

Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.

This is it. His moment of truth.

Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.

“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”

You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.

“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”

Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”

You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”

“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”

He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.

By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.

As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.

A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.

And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...

And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.

***

As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.

He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.

“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”

“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”

“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”

At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.

“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”

Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.

“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”

The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”

“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”

A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.

Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”

Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”

The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”

“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”

He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”

The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”

“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”

The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”

A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”

He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.

Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”

The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”

Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”

Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.

As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.

“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”

Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”

“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”

Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.

But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.

He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”

You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”

Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”

He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.

“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.

Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”

You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.

Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”

You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”

He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”

Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”

Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.

There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.

He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.

Protected. Centered. Empowered.

Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.

As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.

So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.

As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.

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[tayytayy12]

Daisy | AA23 x Reader x Lily Muni He

Feels like series part two | Part one | Series Link

Series Summary - Lily and reader are childhood best friends, they’ve always been there for each other no matter what. So when reader has a bad brake up Lily and her boyfriend Alex step up and help reader get back on her feet, the last thing they all expect was them all mistakenly catch feelings for each other along the way.

Part Summary - Lily comes to get you after your rough fight with George.

Warnings - Breakup mentioned, swearing

Type - Written work

(Daisy is Lily’s nickname for reader!)

Not been proofread

“Oh, Daisy.” Lily muttered as she pulled her car to a stop where you was waiting for her on the pavement down the road from yours and George’s shared apartment, your best friend quickly jumping out of the vehicle to pull you into a warm high which you instantly returned of course. You couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your lips at the use of the nickname she had given you when the two of you were kids.

Lily had been your person for as long as you could remember, you couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t your best friend.

You had first met the girl when the two of you were in third-grade, you was new to the area, you and your parents having just moved, and you had joined halfway through the school year when everyone had already had established all of their friend groups, even in third grade people weren’t very open to opening their friend groups to new girls from halfway across the country such as yourself.

So, at lunch you was sitting by yourself in the corner, picking at the food your mum had packed you when you saw a person sit down in front of you, you looked up as saw a young Lily, her warm eyes looking welcoming as she had a smile on her face that could light up an entire town, you still remember the first interaction you two had to this day.

She introduced herself, her wide grin never once faltering as she asked for your name, but, you being a shy eight year old in a brand new place didn’t answer, but that didn’t make Lily give up, not at all. Instead, she looked at your lunchbox, the object having daisies printed all over the fabric, so she just said, “It’s okay, I get nervous sometimes too, for now I’m going to call you Daisy.” Eventually you told her your name of course, after a day of her wearing you down, but the nickname never dropped, so still to this day, you was her Daisy.

“Hey Lil.” You whispered into her shoulder as you tightened the hug, feeling good to finally be able to relax now that you were with her.

She pulled away slowly and tucked your hair behind your ears as she wiped a stray tear away that had managed to escape your eye, “I hate him Daisy,” she whispered slowly, “I really fucking hate him. I don’t care if he’s Alex’s friend okay, he can’t keep doing shit like this to you.” She said sternly, you knew she wasn’t angry at you. Jts just every time you and George had an argument she was always the one you would go to, to try and find some sort of comfort, that she always provided, but seeing you so upset this time really made her hate him.

“I know,” you said as you wiped another tear, “I know Lil. That’s why I ended it with him, for good.”

“Oh, Y/n.” She said as she pulled you to come sit in the car as she jogged back round to the drivers side, “I know this must hurt, Daisy, I know it will for a while. But you have me, and I will be your shoulder to cry in for however long you need me too, okay?”

“Are you sure Alex doesn’t mind me staying with you? I just dumped his best friend.” You said with a small laugh as you pulled your knees to your chest.

“Trust me baby, Alex would never be seen with anyone who treats a woman like that bastard treated you, he respects people too much,” she looked over at you from her spot in the drivers seat, “and for what it’s worth, Alex really likes you.”

You smiled and laughed lightly at her words, you had always gotten along well with Lily’s boyfriend Alex, you met George through him and Lily, he was your favourite boyfriend that your best friend had ever had.

“I like him too,” you said with a small laugh as Lily looked over at you once again, but the small smile she had in her face disappeared when she saw the dried blood from the small scratch on your hand, you had completely forgotten about it.

“What the hell did he do?” She asked as she gently grabbed your hand as she stopped at a red light, “my god I’m going to fucking murder him.”

“Lil it’s okay.”

“No it’s not fucking okay, Daisy. That asshole hurt you,” she said softer this time as she sighed, “god I should’ve convinced you to leave him sooner.”

“Hey,” you said as you gently pulled your hand away, “he dropped a glass and swim if it hit me,” you said, not including the part where he smashed the glass onto the ground, “nothing related to our argument, okay? Don’t blame yourself for anything at all because it’s not your fault.”

She nodded as she sighed, “I’m glad you finally left that bastard.”

“Me too, Lil. Me too.”

-

@marshmummy @nikfigueiredo @nichmeddar @thedudeusimpfor @iloveyou3000morgan @woozarts @samantha-chicago @revrse @jexxy04 @biancathecool @leilanixx @tellybearryyyy

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[attapullman]

Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert. 

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him. 

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it. 

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea. 

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else? 

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night. 

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul. 

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread. 

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?” 

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath. 

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh. 

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust. 

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours. 

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic. 

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans. 

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock. 

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate. 

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him. 

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock. 

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm. 

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck. 

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming. 

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts. 

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes. 

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours. 

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.” 

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer. 

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

#imagines #stories #x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #tom felton x reader #soulmates meeting #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmate trope

[justnatoka]

The Lost Boys headcanons

How they would behave in a relationship

Warning: possessive behavior, some smut (mainly in Paul's and Marco's parts oops)

The reader is body and gender neutral.

David

He’s definitely the possessive type. You’re his and he lets everybody know it.

He either has his arm around your shoulder or his hands on your waist. He also probably gives you hickeys in very visible spots for the same reason ;)

Or he simply just hovers over you. Like all the time.

If someone tries flirting with you, he’s behind you in an instant, and all he has to do is look at them menacingly. You’re not even surprised anymore that every guy seem to run off scared after just a few words, even if they started talking to you for a completely innocent reason. Now you just turn around with a “really?”

I imagine him to be less into PDA. But when you’re just with the boys he sits you into his lap and rests his hand on your thigh while talking to the others.

He probably shows you more physical attention in front of them, because he’s more comfortable around them.

Even though he’s possessive, he doesn’t really get jealous, at least he tells himself he doesn’t. He trusts you and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, it’s other people he doesn’t trust. Scaring off guys is just him protecting what’s his.

I can imagine him trying to control you in some small ways, like not letting you wear stuff that shown too much skin in public or trying to keep you from hanging out alone with guy friends that he doesn’t know well. It comes from his protectiveness over you. But I also think that if you talk to him about these things bothering you, he will stop doing it.

You’re one of the few people who can get him relaxed when he feels stressed out. Like when he comes back frustrated from a meeting with Max, or when leading the group and keeping them in line (looking at you, Marko and Paul) gets to him after a long day.

He just walks over to you and sinks into your embrace, resting his forehead against yours with eyes closed and just listening to you breath for a few minutes.

He likes it when you give him shoulder massages when he’s feeling tense. He probably also likes in when you make him tea to relax (though he wouldn’t admit that one).

Types of kisses: on your knuckles when he holds your hands. On your forehead. More passionate kisses on the lips when you’re alone. You’re his queen/king/precious person, and he definitely treats you like one.

His nicknames for you: kitten, darling, love

Dwayne

He’s a man of few words, who shows his love through his actions.

He’s a very attentive partner, always notices when you’re feeling tired, sad, stressed or anxious. He immediately gives you a questioning look or a soft “are you okay?” and makes sure to make you more comfortable.

Like he lets you play with his hand, caress his palm or fingers when you’re anxious and fidgety and need something to ground yourself with.

He’s also a good listener. He will gladly listen to you complain when you have a bad day, even if he can’t really give any advice.

I feel like he would try to learn as much about you as he could, so he can take better care of you. This obviously includes stuff like your interests or dislikes, but also a lot of small things, for example how you behave when you’re feeling sad or anxious, what are some unconscious habits you do when you’re deep in thought. He stores all this information in the back of his mind so he can use it later.

Like he observes how your eyes light up and your features change when you’re excited or happy about something, remembers what caused you to make that lovely expression and then makes sure to present you with that exact same thing later again and again so he can see you glowing like that again. He surprised you more than once with gifting you little things you briefly mentioned liking or being interested in.

He’s the type of guy who looks out for you all the time when you’re out at the busy boardwalk. He makes sure you’re always in his sight, and if he loses you, he will scan his eyes through the crowd until he finds you. In turn, if you get separated from the guys, your first instinct is to search for him, cause he’s tall and stands out anyway, but also you know he feels calmer when he can see you, even if you’re out of reach. You both feel relieved when you’re eyes finally meet through the gaps between the bodies of other people.

He’s probably more casual about PDA. He will hold your hand, wrap an arm around your shoulder or give you small pecks on the top of your head, on your cheeks or your lips.

He gives the best hugs. I mean he’s a big guy who can envelop you in his arms. When you’re having a bad day, all you have to do is ask for a hug, and you immediately feel better. I imagine that he likes hugging you from behind, pulling you to his broad chest.

Slow and deep kisses are probably his favorite.

His nicknames for you: sweetheart, honey

Paul

He’s very vocal about his love for you, the man is a flirting machine.

He’s also like a lovesick puppy, always excited to see you, always hungry for attention, and starts pouting if you don’t give him enough. He can be a bit needy at times.

Even though he can seem like a dumb blonde to the casual observer, he’s actually more in tune with your emotions than most people think. He can immediately tell when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. You’re emotions also affect him a lot. When you’re sad, he’s also lethargic and does everything in his power to cheer you up, be it taking you out to have fun, staying at home and cuddle or shower you in small kisses until you start giggling.

On the positive side, when you feel happy, he’s absolutely in the clouds, and your giddiness feeds off of each other.

A LOT of PDA. He’s touching you all the time, holding your hand, pulling you into his side, hands on your legs if you sit next to him or in his lap, or quite literally draping himself all over you.

He also likes to use your legs as a pillow. Just imagine him totally high, babbling about random stuff that comes to his mind while laying his head on your lap, you running your hands through his hair.

Also, HIS HAIR. He loves it when you mess with it, doesn’t matter if it’s playing with the strands while listening to the others talk, or tugging on it in bed.

Yes, he’s an absolute manwhore in my humble opinion ;)

He’s definitely a switch in bed. Like he can be a dom and worship you, but he can also definitely be a sub and just fall apart under you, loving every second of it.

Ever since @sunkendreams said they think Paul likes it when you choke him, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I think he would also like it if you kiss his neck, or leave your mark on him by giving him hickeys. He would show off that shit so proud!

Lots if kisses all the time. He wouldn’t start making out with you in the middle of the boardwalk like Marko, but he would pepper small kisses all over your face, pecks on your lips. I feel like he’s the type who randomly starts kissing your neck while you lean on him regardless of the setting.

His nicknames for you: babe, dollface, beautiful

Marko

This guy is a fierce protector who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I mean it’s known that most times he’s the first to jump into action when there’s a fight.

He can be a knight in shining patchwork jacket, but he can also be a little demon with the most angelic face when it comes to show you just how much he loves you.

He protects your honor then when you get back to somewhere private he doesn’t hesitate to absolutely ruin said honor, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

I’m sorry, but I’m just obsessed with the thought that he’s an absolute beast in bed.

But I think he’s also such a dork. I can imagine him grabbing your hand and pulling you into a dance in the middle of the boardwalk if he likes the music they play that night. And at the end he dips you back, his hand firmly holding your back, with the widest playful grin on his face, making you break out in giggles. Then he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

He’s not the jealous type, he has absolute confidence in himself and in your loyalty.

He’s big on PDA: holding hands, hand around your waist, probably groping your thighs or butt once or twice. He’s also not shy to kiss you in public. You’ve definitely had a few heated makeout sessions before against the railing of the boardwalk.

I think he also like catcalling you or whistling at you, but only if you’re also comfortable with it.

He basically loves to let everyone know that you’re his gorgeous partner as loudly and as visibly as he can get away with. He would shout his love to you on the top of his lungs if you hadn’t scolded him for it before.

But other than that time, you love it that he’s not shy about showing you his love.

Just like David, he would also definitely like giving you hickeys in very visibly places. I also imagine him to be a bit of a biter during sex, leaving small and harmless ones all over your skin that doesn’t even leave a mark, or ever getting a bit rougher and giving you ones that do. It all depends on what you like.

Cursing in bed in Italian ;)

His nicknames for you: sugar, baby

#the lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys headcanon #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hiya hiya! Once again congratulations on 500! I was wondering if I could request a fic with Isagi and handholding! Idk hand holding sounds very romantic so I would love to see how you’ll write it!

── PATHWAYS

Synopsis: You go on a walk with your boyfriend while he’s on a break from the intense training of Blue Lock.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.1k

Content Warnings: fluff, isagi is lowkey a simp, slight rin and nagi slander (i love them though i promise)

A/N: EEK i’m sorry this took me a sec anon!! i’ve never written for isagi before so this was def smth new which is why it took me a bit to get in the right headspace. i hope it’s okay for you <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It was colder outside than you had expected. Isagi, who was wearing a coat and had a scarf wrapped around his neck, didn’t seem bothered by the temperature, but as for you, you were miserably trying to hide your shivers, pulling your sweater tighter around yourself to disguise it. He had told you that it was chilly, and you had ignored his warning, so it was now your burden to bear.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Isagi said, white clouds forming in the air from the heat of his breath. “I missed you a lot the entire time I was there.”

“I missed you, too,” you said. “I know we were able to talk a few times on your one friend’s phone, but it wasn’t the same.”

Isagi wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get my own back. I really tried my best. I wanted to talk to you as much as I could, to make up for our physical distance.”

“It’s okay. The fact that you were willing to take care of all of your teammate’s sweaty, gross laundry just to get the chance to call me for a couple of minutes means more to me than anything,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked along the side of the dirt path connecting your house to the nearest park.

“That was definitely a sacrifice,” he said, gagging from just the memory. “I’d do it again for you, but it was really horrible, Y/N. It’s bad enough dealing with my own clothes after matches, but adding Nagi’s to the mix…it was brutal, to say the least.”

“My poor boyfriend,” you said. “I’m so lucky to have someone who’s willing to endure so much for me. I must’ve been a really good person in my last life.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “To be honest, I was kind of scared you’d find someone else while I was gone. It would only make sense, right? How could a girl as beautiful as you not have a million other options? It would be pretty easy for you to forget about me and move on.”

“Would you forget about me and move on if the roles were reversed?” you said, your teeth chattering. Isagi’s eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing behind his dark hair.

“No way!” he said, shrugging off his coat and draping it around your shoulders. “I’d never, ever do that. I still can’t believe I’m dating you at all!”

“You’re so goofy,” you said. “Hey, don’t give me this. Won’t you get cold?”

“Nah, I’m tough. What kind of number-one striker gets defeated by some wind?” he said. You hummed appreciatively, zipping up the large jacket and rejoicing in the warmth it instantly provided you with.

“Number-one striker, and the hero of Blue Lock, I’m told,” you said. His cheeks turned pink.

“That, too,” he said.

“It’s all everyone at school talks about. One day, you just randomly disappeared, and no one but me knew where you had gone. Then suddenly, you were on TV, making the winning goal in one of the most exciting matches of soccer any of us had ever seen! I feel like the girlfriend of a celebrity,” you said.

“You should get used to it,” he said. “I’m only going to get better from here. I’ll be a World Cup winner next, and since you’re stuck with me, you’re going to have to deal with everything that that entails.”

“Stuck with you?” you said. He reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly, holding up your interlaced fingers so that he could admire them.

“Do you see your hand?” he said, very seriously. 

“I see it,” you said.

“And you see mine?” he continued.

“Mhm,” you said. As always, his were warm, compared to the iciness of your extremities. He liked to joke that it meant the two of you were made for each other, only able to reach the perfect temperature when you were together.

“That’s us,” he said. “We’re going to be like that forever.”

“Goofy and cheesy? What a lethal combination,” you said, shaking your head.

His palm was callused and rough against yours, a proof of how hard he worked. He was always like that, you had noticed even upon first meeting him, always doing the best he could in any given situation, making up for any disadvantages with the sheer force of his will alone. It was nice to have that tangible reminder of who he was pressed against you, so you made no move to let go of his hand even after his little demonstration had concluded.

“I know,” he said. “And my jokes are really bad. But you like that about me, right?”

“I do,” you said. “Your jokes aren’t terrible, though. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“They make you laugh, so I guess they can’t be that bad,” he said. “Although everyone in Blue Lock hated them. One time, my friend Bachira threw a shoe at me for being unfunny, and Rin Itoshi called me a lukewarm NPC for trying to cheer him up with a pun.”

“If anyone is an NPC, it’s him, just for unironically calling someone that,” you said. “They just don’t understand you, Isagi. It’s okay; true art is never appreciated by the masses.”

“That’s right. As long as you’re happy, I don’t mind if they detest me,” he said. You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Should we get sour gummies at the convenience store? It’s been forever since I had some,” he said, his entire face turning red. It was funny — he would declare his love to you in the most cliched of ways and entirely on a whim, but if you ever reciprocated, he would shut down entirely. Like he said, he really still couldn’t believe that you both were actually together, that in fact you had been together for months now, and so he often acted like a little kid with his first crush whenever he was around you.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ve been craving some myself,” you said.

“Okay! Let’s go. I’ll race you!” he said, taking off at a run, though contrary to his challenging words, he pulled you along, careful to keep your hands connected as you giggled and stumbled after him.

You had missed him, so much more than you could ever verbalize. You had spent every day that he was gone thinking about him, his spontaneity, his wide smile and his kindness, the gentle way he always spoke to you, how easily taking care of you came to him.

Running towards the convenience store alongside him, you held onto his hand tightly, as much for balance as because you couldn’t imagine letting go. 

#isagi x reader #isagi x y/n #isagi x you #isagi yoichi #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[screampied]

Wowaloo Vegas, feeling kinda angsty tonight. Any thoughts about Jjk characters x reader ANGST🙂‍↕️?

oh angst, oh. 🙂‍↕️

gojo — waking up from a bad dream that he died, but once you wake up, it wasn’t a dream and he’s actually been dead for years. you’re a widow, still wearing your ring and the two of you both vowed to never take it off. gojo was last seen wearing his ring before he died and you’re still wearing yours. even till the end, the two of you will always be together. even if the strongest isn’t with you, he’s with you in spirit

choso — choso wanting to confess his feelings to you but it’s too late. he’s just to shy and scared that you’ll reject him, so he doesn’t say anything. but the day he finally gets the courage, you’re on a date. his heart breaks, and he tosses his roses in the trash once he sees you with someone that should have been him. walking away and accepting defeat, he feels a few tears stream down his face. he had a whole speech he spent hours reciting, starting off by complimenting your outfit, telling a cheesy joke he found online, and then handing you your gifted roses. but he couldn’t, you found someone else. he was too late

nanami — spending your final moments with him while he’s slowing passing away right before your eyes. “baby, i can’t feel anything,” he’d say to you in a hoarse voice, still attempting to force out one last smile for you. you think that’s a good thing, that he can’t feel any pain. but it’s not, he repeats himself, “no, i really can’t feel anything.” he’s paralyzed, he can’t move. nanami can’t move and you can’t do anything about it. he dies right in front of your eyes, straining out his final breaths before he wearily brings your hand up to his mouth. he kisses it, speaking in a tired voice. his final words were a sweet, “i love you.”

sukuna — he swore he wouldn’t fall in love with a human. on his life, but you were just infuriating. you stole his heart and he hated you for it. but he’s in love with you even more. sukuna gets too attached though, he promises nothing will ever happen to you, but one day, you die. you end up sacrificing yourself for him, taking a brutal hit for him which ends up costing your life. stupid, as you’re laying in his arms, his eyes swell up with tears. sukuna never cries, but now you gave him an excuse to. the last words you heard before you go into the light was, “foolish woman, i love you. don’t go. i can’t lose you too, please.”

geto — geto who’s too scared of commitment. he loves you with all of his heart but there’s just something living within him that’s whispering to him that he doesn’t deserve you. his past makes him feel guilty. the voice gets louder overtime until it’s a constant ringing in his ears. the two of you end up getting hitched as the years pass, life is beautiful—until your official wedding day comes. you’re so pretty, walking down the aisle and he’s staring at you with the most loving gaze. but he can’t, once it’s asked if he’ll be your lawfully wedded husband, he says “i can’t, i’m sorry.” and he leaves you standing there. shocked, confused, and most importantly heartbroken.

toji — once he meets you, life is worth living again. it’s been hard for him losing his first love, his wife. he thought he’d never love again. toji’s entire personality changed after that part of his life. but it all changed once he met you. you were his saving grace, he didn’t like being attatched and clingy but he just couldn’t help it. toji promised he’d change and be a better man for you. but it’s a particular day where he gets a phone call from a detective. “what?” was all he would utter out in a shaky voice, hearing the voice explain that his fiancé was pronounced dead. it’s as if time stood still. his first thought, not again. you were his second chance, and now you were gone. life wasn’t worth it anymore, and toji didn’t know what to do without you. back to square one

#꒰ 👤 ꒱ؘ 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐍𝑶𝐖𝐍 𝐂𝑨𝐋𝐋𝐄𝑹. #LMAO man i love angst #im gonna write these 🫦 #maybe 🫦 #isn’t this a lovely fandom

[blatantlynotokay]

Being An @na Mom

I feel like having Anna has not changed me much as a mom. Many a therapist and mutuals have always been worried about how my @na affects my children.

Yes I keep snacks in the house (see photo) my children have their own access to the snacks and are able to get snacks at anytime with the day they wish to. Majority of the snacks are organic or relatively healthy such as chips, organic fruit bars, and organic applesauce pouches. As for their meals, I typically hand make all of their meals. Breakfast can look like pancakes and eggs or maybe turkey bacon and oatmeal. Lunch can be a homemade non-processed peanut butter and homemade jelly sandwich. And typically for dinner we have some sort of chicken and veggies or fish and veggies. Dinner is usually the only meal that I eat the food with, but I don’t think they’ve ever thought that was strange that mommy doesn’t eat exactly what they eat because they never really eat the same thing anyways. I know this can seem like a lot that I make three different dishes for every meal But I never really find it tedious and everything’s quite easy to make.

I tried to make sure that my children have a very healthy relationship with food. I never try to restrict in anyway, shape or form. Some days they want fast food or pizza for dinner and I never really tell them no unless we’ve had that the day before. I still let them. Typically, I do not eat what they eat for dinner. I will just make something else and I don’t think that they’ve ever thought that it was weird or strange that mommy doesn’t eat pizza or McDonald with them. They’ve always just accepted that that’s how things are. And my oldest knows that I have various health concerns and can’t eat typical foods. I have a gluten intolerance and pcos. Which, even if I wasn’t, Anna would stop me from eating certain foods.

I tried to create a different environment then what I grew up. My entire life my parents had always been obese. Not just slightly overweight, but medically considered obese. it was always so interesting though because my parents would never let me eat snacks or sugary cereal and essentially we had an ingredient household. my parents were never home once I started elementary school. They would often tell me to feed myself, but in an ingredient household as a five-year-old I would typically just end up eating a slice of bread. They wouldn’t come home for dinner often so I would end up eating very little throughout the day. They never packed my lunch or gave me money for lunch so I typically never ate at school (this was a time before school had free lunch). Not eating was just a normal thing for me in my childhood so I always try to make sure that my children always have access to food and are well cared for.

Another angle that people often attack me from is if I would become like Mrs. Hadid and her handful of almond. And personally, I don’t think that I ever would. I know that children will eat exactly how much they need to eat in order to fuel their body. I try to teach them healthy eating habits, such as if they’re bored to lean towards fruit or vegetable over processed food. While they are still very young 6 & 3 I don’t see myself changing this mindset. I grew up starving I know what it’s like to starve. I know what it’s like to cry yourself to sleep because your stomach hurts so bad. I never want that for my children. I honestly never want that for any of you reading this. But here we are.

I’m always pro recovery. Block don’t report

#thinspø #tw ana rant #ana is my friend #tw ana bløg #ana y mia #tw 3d shit #3d not sheeran #ed relapse #tw ed but not sheeran #education #tw ed sheeran #tw eating issues #tw thinspi #tw 3d vent #light as a feather #motherhood #3dtumblr #3ating d1sorder #low cal restriction #recovery

[mulloey]

Hey babe! I came from your yungi fic and..PHEW. Melting into the floor type shit. So I need an opinion: dom and absolute perv Yeosang. Like we all know he’s so so sweet and kind and (truthfully) babygirlcore. BUT I think there’s something goin on similar to Yunho, like Yeo is a FREAAAAK. I imagine him being into controlling kinks such as choking/restraining, maybe some type of scent/sweat/spit kink with him, he loves all the fluids and he likes giving/receiving them. He would have such a dirty mouth, but say it in the sweetest tone, probably degrades you and then laughs when you cry. I think you would fuckin body this idea for a request, I’m sorry I kinda rambled lmao. Hope you have a great day love <3

hii !! hope u loved d the yungi filth lol :3

yea imo yeosang is definitely my fav type of person: babygirl in streets, completely dominant and borderline sadistic in the sheets. he has an angelic and like…calming face?? and can appear quite quiet and thoughtful most times, which actually imo makes him more intimidating but also makes me think he’d be so good at degrading you. he knows exactly what to say to pack a punch, knows exactly what to call you make you feel as small and pathetic as possible. i think all of ateez are switches at the very least, and all of them are definitely capable of being quite dominant on good days, but yeosang is a different kind. he’s so unassuming and harmless looking and he knows how to use it to his advantage. he treats training and conditioning you as a procedure and will completely humiliate you with a totally straight face. he’s the one person in ateez who i think could send you fully into subspace without even touching you. his words are definitely his strong suit. he says the most vile, disgusting, demeaning things to you but manages to do it without making you feel bad about yourself in general. he can make you feel utterly pathetic, naked and crying, on your knees and clinging to his legs while he degrades you, but even while he stares down with you, totally emotionless, looking at you like you’re nothing, you know you’re safe and loved and he’s going to treat you exactly how you deserve. like hes such an expert at dirty talk and humiliation that you wonder if he’s somehow been professionally trained for it.

physically he’s definitely in total control still but he’s just so good at verbal stuff that its definitely the greatest weapon in his arsenal. if he’s trying to ease you into subspace but you’re taking too long to go under, he’ll just crouch down to your level, grab your chin and force you to keep eye contact with him as he starts speaking to you and within minutes you’ll be a whining, desperate mess ready to please him just like he wants.

once he’s coaxed (or forced, depending on the occasion) you into subspace, that’s when he gets physical. when he carries you to the bed or couch or wherever he holds you like you’re precious and breakable, but he quickly shifts to more brutal treatment. he loves slapping you around, leaving red marks across your face, ass and thighs. he’ll slap your face then spit on it, then slap you again in the same spot, stroking the red mark on your cheek and smearing his spit across your face. sometimes he forces your mouth open so he can spit into it, ordering you to swallow and pushing his fingers into your mouth so can’t spit it out, but he prefers to spit on your face because then he can see it afterwards and it makes you look pathetic.

like you mentioned he’s a big choker too but he prefers to use his arms rather than his hands. he’ll wrap a strong arm around your neck while he hits it from behind, cutting off the blood flow with his bicep while his other hand grips your hip tightly. he’ll keep his face next to yours because he loves the sound of you struggling to breathe, your little gasps for breath until you’re right on the edge of passing out and then he releases you, kissing the back of your neck and telling you what a good girl you are for letting him hold your life in his hands like that.

yeosang has such a clean, pristine appearance which is why i agree that he likes sex that’s the opposite; in his mind nothing can beat dirty, messy, sweaty sex that leaves you both exhausted by the end.

on the final note, i think yeosang would occasionally like to punish you. not in an actual disciplinary way but as a type of play. for example sometimes he’d tell you that you’re not to touch yourself for the next week and when he walks into your room one day to find your fingers stuffed in your pussy, he’d angrily yank you towards the end of the bed and bend you over his lap to slap your already swollen pussy until it’s red and painful and you’re screaming your apologies and begging him to stop. if you’re hanging out with the members and you really piss him off, for example by flirting continuously with another member (i don’t think he’s a PARTICULARLY jealous person (just a bit) but it’s more about you deliberately testing him and making him look like a chump in front of his friends) he’d excuse the two of you for a minutes and drag you to a spare room so he can bend you over, yank down your panties and hit your bare ass with his belt until he knows you’re really sorry. of course that would be followed by hours more torture at home, usually in the form of overstimulation. i could talk a lot about yeosang and overstim bc i think he’s one of the biggest culprits of it in ateez but this is getting a bit long and im working myself up thinking about this💀

so yeah, my impression of yeosang is bang on with yours. i’ve posted one yeosang fic already and while nothing actually happened, i think it gave a good impression of yeosang as the skilled and completely dominant person ive talked about here (he’s a professional dom after all). i’d also be happy to write a full fic based on this if people are interested, so comment your thoughts or send an ask if you have any more requests!! love🖤🖤

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #kpop smut #yeosang smut #yeosang hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard asks #yeosang hard thoughts

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Is it normal to feel the need to actively support causes you believe in and the desire to actively support causes you believe in but also being too fucking tired and frustrated and mentally unsound to be up for it

#like why does everything have to be a moral struggle #can’t I just fucking enjoy things #like I want to I would love to I’m just too fucking depressed and anxiety-ridden for all this shit #I can’t go certain places I can’t buy certain things I can’t watch certain movies I can’t listen to certain music #like I can’t keep track of this shit #I’m sorry I’m adding to this but Jesus it’s still eating at me #because THEN comes my whole thing of how I have the privilege to even be able to pick and choose like this #like I just don’t. want. to think. about all. of this. #why do I always have to be good and upstanding and always active #can’t I just be a bad person once in a while?? #is this normal??? I feel like this isn’t normal #and I hate that I feel so frustrated over not being able to enjoy shit #it feels petty and stupid #I’m sorry I’m not a better person #but I just want to enjoy things without feeling bad about it why is that so HARD #fuck ignore me i don’t even know what this is #just a big stupid rant that probably makes me sound awful

[laniemae]

I am going to take a break from milgramblr

[important please read]

ok now how do I start. Im going to take a break from tumblr for about a week. Things have been absolutely awful for me here since the very beginning of 2024, even if it may not look that way at times.

to retell the situation it happened with the new years gartic phone game, where someone made a prompt about a ship that made me heavily uncomfortable. To put it loosely it reminded me of an extremely bad experience with a fandom a few years ago when I called out a ship for being creepy and having a huge age gap but I was constantly dogpiled and harassed. It was probably the worst experience I’ve had on the internet and to this day I get really scared of people hating on me and I apologise for everything likely stemming back from the situation.

I tried to persist with the game but I got really upset and left. I expressed on my blog how uncomfortable I felt about the whole situation. Then this one person, who’s a prominent figure in the Milgramblr community, I won’t name them but I think you’ll know who, replied on my post saying that “it’s ok because…” in such an awful tone. It’s hard to explain but basically it felt really bad as they completely dismissed my feelings about the situation just to justify their creepy ship. And even worse, they way they responded was EXACTLY the same way that everyone else responded back in to at old fandom. At the point to I’d much prefer hate and harassment over that false positive attitude.

I freaked out and immediately blocked them and basically went into a panic attack. I was freaking out on my blog and just to make things worse I saw a post praising them and things got so bad. It was the start of the new year and I was on holiday and was supposed to do a bunch of things but because of that situation I was bedridden and couldn’t stop crying. I had so many nightmares about everyone here turning on me and the original incident and I still have them.

the way the person reacted to my situation was absolutely awful. After my breakdown they immediately went to their blog and started posting about how the ships good and you should praise it completely disregarding everything that happened. I’ve always been uncomfortable with them but this pushed me over the edge. And later on I got in contact with someone who was (presumably) trying to help me and we decided to see if that person could make an apology. But they took way to long to even think they gave any attention to the situation and the apology itself didn’t feel that genuine.

This person was still posting about it and didn’t change their pfp and title despite how bad it was to me and they did not do anything at all. Again I’m not naming anyone but I highly recommend you do not support them anymore. I said I’m going to be leaving for a while but if you want clarification on who it is you can just ask, I’ll check my stuff tomorrow morning before I completely shut off for the week.

I don’t know who it was but there was even a throwaway account hating on me and saying awful things. I didn’t care that much as things had already gotten so bad for me that I didn’t care about the opinion of an anon. But like I said, the sickly positive response that person gave was way worse than actual hate.

and that’s only one part of the story. Another thing happened much more recently with the person I mentioned who was trying to help me. They were the first person I followed on Milgramblr and the person who inspired me to join and make all these theories, so with this and them helping me I really looked up to them. It was a few days ago I think but they posted something on their account about that person and wanting attention to them. I expressed my uncomfortable feelings about the situation and they didn’t do anything about it. Instead they decided to KEEP POSTING about it, like constantly and me getting more upset at the situation and how they responded made it clear that they didn’t care at all. I blocked them and we were mutuals for a while.

It’s been a month and I’m still suffering very badly. I’m not constantly crying as I was when it first happened but it still pains me. I’ve been feeling incredibly distressed on this sight knowing that the original person hasn’t done anything about it and they’re still very close. No matter how much I block them or blog tags I still see them in reblogs or bought up. I had to exclude anything relating to the earbuds collab from my milgram archives as it gives me back really bad memories to the pfps involved. I just can’t feel safe in this place anymore and especially that no matter how I feel, nothing has changed since when it happened and no one’s even actually trying to help me or change things.

I’ve just been feeling so bad that I’ve been going days without eating. Just because I can’t be bothered to get out of bed. The only solace for me is sleep but even that’s not good enough as I might have nightmares and I often feel much more tired afterwards. Things are changing for me as I actually have to get up and do something now and it’s surprisingly going kinda well, but that has nothing to do with this situation.

just to note I will be continuing my milgram archives series, I’ve scheduled quite a few posts for this week so they’ll keep going. For me I’ll completely cut off all activity for this week, and may return on Wednesday.

it’s just. I hate how nothings changed. I want something to happen but no one’s helping

#I don’t know how many people will see this #i don’t even know if people will care about this #perhaps I just come back and everything’s the fucking same #I’ve been considering leaving the fandom because of this and I guess this would be to see what’s it’s like #If it’s better to stay or to leave #I’ve blocked so many people from this situation it’s hard to believe #people I thought I could trust… #To say it once again #If you know the person I’m referring to please unfollow them and don’t support them #I can tell you if you ask for a while #And just seeing all the praise the fandom got with people saying the fandom is such a nice and wholesome space is sickening #It was right after what happened and it’s just awful seeing people say that like they don’t care about what happened #They even started a minecraft server which I wanted to join #But avoided like the plague when I realised it was the person who started the original prompt #There was also a thing that happened recently where someone drew all their mutuals as cats #I ended up seeing that person in one of the cats and knowing that they followed them I instantly unfollowed #The cat pfps just make me so uncomfortable as it constantly reminds of the situation #It sounds stupid because it is but I’m at the point where any little reminder can set me off #But it’s not as bad as the collab pfps which I just can’t look at anymore #Although it’s only with a few characters that really make me feel that the art style in general just gives bad memories #To what I said earlier I don’t know anything about the person the originally made the prompts stand on this #I don’t know if they’re purposely ignoring me I don’t know if they even have no idea this is happening but I’m worried #I’ve also had experiences with a bunch of people I used to follow blocking me #And I’ve talked about it here but no one pays attention

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

#‘out of nowhere’ she says like she hasn’t been doing a lot of reading/thinking recently about various tragic messy breakups #and the later regrets of the parties involved #anyway. tell me not to text her #it’s been over two years since the last time we talked… absolutely no reason to break that streak now. lord give me strength #she was really fucking mean to me! like objectively intentionally unwarrantedly cruel! it ruined an entire year of my life #and fundamentally changed me as a person on a deep level! there’s a lot of things i used to like about myself that i don’t think i’m ever #going to get back #and yet every once in a while we have to do the whole ‘maybe i could make things right’ song and dance 😔 #the thing is most of the time i’m not even really angry with her anymore like enough time has passed since all the shit went down that #really i just sort of look at her behavior and feel sad. both because of the impact on me but also because of the ‘that’s really how you #felt you needed to act towards someone who cared about you? you couldn’t have just expressed your feelings in an honest and productive way #instead of just lashing out in the cruelest possible way and ruining the entire relationship beyond hope of repair?’ #and i feel bad and sorry that it went that way and honestly i kind of pity her and hope she’s gotten some of her shit worked out #so i’m not like. actively pissed off at her anymore. but also i can’t think about her without thinking about the worst year of my life so 🙃 #i don’t actually feel that trying to reopen that door would be very healthy for me at least #we did try a Reconciliation of sorts a couple of months after the initial falling-out and while it was kind of helpful for me in that she #like. apologized lmao. and affirmed that i wasn’t crazy and she did in fact On Purpose say the most hurtful things she possibly could have #said to me given the information she had at her disposal. and that i really had not done anything to her that could warrant that. etc. #it also left a sour enough taste in my mouth that i just don’t see a future where the two of us spending time together is enjoyable for me #and yet… the regret will always live inside me i think. maybe if i were a stronger person… #caseyposting

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

#Worst emoji combo ever but it’s gon be such big depression hours down here so scroll if you want im on the brink of throwing up #don’t you just bloody love it how over the past 3 years you’ve only seen people the large total of…. 4 times!!! An average of seeing someon #outside of school 1.3 times per year!! What a bloody fantastic way to spend your teenage years! #Don’t you also just love it when people talk right to you about how they all went out together over the weekend and like did some stupid #shit like your average high schooler would do and you’re just like “oh. I went to my 1 and a half hour long dance class and got ignored the #entire time and when you did try to talk they just spoke over you” oh my fucking god I hate that place so much even the teacher fucking #ignores me once we were going in a circle and she was asking everyone what they got for Christmas and I was in the middle of the circle so #thought hey maybe someone will actually acknowledge my existence but she fucking ignored me and went to next person like why the fuck #And now I’m debating staying in that shithole bc I was invited to a gc for that class and I stupidly thought that someone might want me #There. I wasn’t even invited I secretly scanned the qr code to join over someone else’s shoulder #everyone else there is the best of bloody friends and I’m just there talking to one friend who I don’t even think is my friend #“Hey man I’m really fucking sad rn can I talk to you” “womp womp have you heard stupid fact no.3848594 about my ocs while I ignore you when #you talk about anything else about me” oh my god shut up literally no one else sane would see someone like that their closest friend rn #At least someone wants to talk to me #Like what is it that makes people not want to see my please just tell me I’ll change I’m amazing at changing my personality to fit others #promise me on that I’ve done it my entire life #Even just messaging me more than once every year and I’d consider you my best friend this is how bad I’m getting #What is so bloody bad about me that no one else likes I don’t care how badly you fucking word it just something #It shouldn’t be normal to wish death on people you call your mates bc you heard about them all going out together without you #Oh dear did the gc’s without me in it there’s one for every friend group I’ve ever been in why isn’t there one for the main group I’m in rn #Idfc anymore just tell me what I’m doing wrong I keep asking people if they want to go out or how far away they live from some place #And it’s always met with ignoring me talking over me or immediately changing the subject #Please if you’re someone I know irl what the fuck am I doing fucking wrong I can’t fucking do this anymore be as mean as you like #Why the fuck does no one ever want to be around me why do I hear so much about stuff others are doing together but never me #It shouldn’t be normal to prefer being in a toxic relationship than what I’m in rn #I fucking hate everything

[jemmo]

.

#can i just rant for a second pls #about life #I hate to be the kind of person to do this I don’t want ppl to worry or just be nice to me I’m not doing this to get anything in return on #I’m just doing this bc I need to get it out somehow and feel like its at least been said #bc I have no one I can say it to #I just really don’t know how to hold myself together at the moment #I don’t know how to have the strength to push to do all these things I need to do and want to do while still holding together every other #single fucking person in my life and being the person that gets all their stress loaded onto while not knowing how to fix any of it #I wanna be that person I wanna be someone you can go to but when it’s everyone all at once and it’s all these people around me that can’t #seem to communicate and make bad situations worse and I get they don’t have the strength to keep themselves together and face things with at #least a bit of a better mindset but god I can’t do that for everyone #it feels like everyone is falling apart and I’m the person in everyone’s life that’s trying to hold them together #and I really care about these people but I can’t seem to find the space for it all #not when on top of everyone having things that are shifting their life for me then to have my own life shifting too #all I wanted was peace just some rest before it all started happening I just wanted the summer to be easy and it’s not #I wanted this summer to be normal to be that last summer of family and it feels like I can’t have that anymore and I hate it #I hate that I feel alone #and I hate feeling like I can’t fall apart or put myself first bc I’m always gonna need to and want to be there for everyone else #I hate that I can’t cope #I hate that I can’t seem to live #that I can never muster up the energy or strength to do the things I want bc it feels like every force in my life is just pushing me back #down and I hate saying this bc it’s so selfish and mean but I hate being here sometimes #I’m so afraid and nervous to leave but at the same time I think about being out of here and only having to hold myself up for once #and to not be surrounded by this atmosphere that feels impossible to be in #I just need things to stop but they won’t and I literally feel like I’m out in the middle of the ocean with absolutely no idea of what to do #to save myself and I feel like I need to actually do something about it instead of just moving on and forgetting about it bc what if I just #drown what the fuck then #and yet I feel the overwhelming need to say at the end don’t worry it ain’t that deep tho I’m sure I’ll be fine just gonna keep going #lol just gotta get back on being that person with their shit together right fake it till you make it and all that #anyway bye sorry for just dropping this idk when I’ll be back on tumblr thank you to everyone that sent nice messages before they meant alot

[transphilza]

fuuuck i miss techno

#i can honestly never really tell how much is my own grief and how much is the grief i absorb from other people bc of my hyperempathy #but fuck if it doesn’t all hurt the same #there’s like so many nice positive and sentimental things i could say about the server and the community and how good this vid was #but it’s kind of all smearing together into me crying about techno again #all the feelings are just kind of bundled up together in this mess of tears #i’m grateful #dunno what else to say #great work tommy i love that kid so much i can’t wait to see what he does next #personal #cw grief #fuck it i’m just gonna keep talking here #grief is like confusing and complicated but the more i grieve the more simple it feels #like it seems obvious but like. it’s just so upsetting that someone so wonderful isn’t around to be wonderful anymore #like that’s all #obviously that’s why grief hurts like obviously but idk i overthink things and the feelings are so all consuming it’s hard to word it well #it’s so debilitating i just think about how bad i feel and i think less about the simplicity of why #techno was an amazing person and now he’s gone and that’s awful #loved ones are little beacons of light yknow. and when one is gone you can tell because everything is dimmer without them #and your eyes can adjust but every once in a while you’ll remember the light that used to be there and it’s like you never adjusted at all #it’s all dim again #i miss him cause he’s gone. it’s different to missing him when he was still alive maybe that’s why saying it in such simple terms feels odd #i am sad because someone good is gone and can no longer be good #his legacy is and his memory is. and that helps #but he’s…. finite now. does that make sense? #obviously we’re all finite like mortality but you don’t think about it because it’s an awful thing to think about #as a creator i admired i was always looking forward to something new. and now there can never be anything new again #it’s obvious but i don’t think about it in such simple terms. because it’s awful to think about #but probably important in terms of like processing and all that #i continue to love him despite that he’s gone #but it’s different and i can’t deny that i can’t pretend it’s not

[larphis]

I really want to get into drawing again but I’m such a perfectionist that I just can’t do it because if it doesn’t immediately look perfect I just feel the need to give up, which I know is stupid - my mental health is great enough for me to know that - but still even knowing the problem it’s so hard to fight it.

#personal #me #drawing #art #artist struggles #I started a painting of Ed in June and it was going really great until I fucked up the face so I tried to start it over again #but for some reason - whether it is drawing or painting Taika Waititi’s face - I just can’t seem to do it #he has such a unique beautiful face and while the original version of the face wasn’t bad: #it just wasn’t him #and so I tried to correct it but it never worked out and now this unfinished painting is lying around causing me a migraine #at this point I just wanna give it up but I’m too proud of the parts that I DID make to do so #still maybe a fresh start would be great? #thought about repainting Ed from the trailer… but I’ll see #still this is mostly about drawing not painting #I suck at anatomy and proportions and I hate it #still the only way of making progress is practising #now if only I would internalize that for once 🙄