#when the brain forces you to think for 10 minutes about what you would do if your whole family was killed by an intruder

[keebwee]

every week or so i remember that things i experience are not normal and actually thats so funny to me. i go about my life doing these things daily and thinking about them constantly and that is not a normal thing

[fanfic-obsessed]

Knowing

I have just had the worst, or best, brainwave and I need to share it. 

Here is an AU for you.

Vader thinks that he killed his wife and child, right?

Right up until he meets little Leia Organa when she is 10 years old. Like his one brain cell woke the fuck up when he was confronted with a passionate, angry little girl with Padme’s eyes and his chin. This is maybe a month after she was kidnapped and returned to Alderaan. Leia decides that she would need to learn how to be a senator and insists that Bail takes her with him to the next session of the imperial senate.  

Bail does not want to bring her to the imperial senate. However he knows very well who her birth parents were, it is either Bail brings Leia to the Imperial Senate or Leia brings Leia to the Imperial Senate, probably bringing with her someone she really shouldn’t (Like actual Obi Wan Kenobi-I just want you to picture for a moment, because Bail certainly did, looking up and realizing that Leia is charging down the halls outside his office, dragging with her a bemused and sandy Obi Wan, both in badly conceived disguises).

Bail is super stressed as he tries to run a rebellion while riding herd on his well meaning but very direct 10 year old daughter on top of his normal duties as an imperial senator. Bail is also very afraid that the moment the Emperor sees Leia, he will make the connection between Leia and Padme Amidala (The emperor does not socialize with the senate any longer, thank the stars). He has no idea that Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, so has no cause to be more careful than normal (because Vader) about Vader seeing Leia. As such Bail does not even notice when Vader stops to consider them from the shadows. Leia is haranguing another planet’s senatorial aide who had chosen the wrong moment to make a bigoted joke. 

Vader is very abruptly, though mentally, thrown back to this very hallway 12 years earlier where he watched his wife do the same thing, for the same reason, possibly to this same aide. Though Leia is still a child and Padme was an adult, he can still see his wife in this little girl.

The realization that this is Padme’s child hits him with the force of a Ventanor. Followed immediately, before he even realized that this meant that his child was standing in front of him, by the soul deep knowledge that she must be protected from the Emperor at all costs. 

Vader had known for years that his suit had been designed to cause him more pain, he just thought he deserved it. The thought of Palpatine getting ahold of Padme’s daughter was abhorrent. Vader sticks to the shadows and watches, seeing how well Bail loved and protected Leia. 

While he is thinking(read Obsessing) about his daughter, the part of him that is always centered on Obi Wan points out that his old master had been one of the last people to see Padme after Vader choked her. But the little voice that spoke in Padme’s tones piped up, the shock of Leia living being enough to finally make this little voice loud enough to be heard, saying that until recently Obi Wan believed that Anakin Skywalker was all the way dead, he was protecting their child as best as he knew how. 

And Vader has issues with just about every choice Obi Wan Kenobi ever made. But he will admit that hiding Padme’s daughter was the best option. 

As Vader knows that paying too much attention to Leia would draw the Emperor’s attention, he would be willing to wait until the right moment to get his daughter back. His one concession to his need to protect her was taking one of his personal guard, one of the few units still made up almost entirely of clones, and assigning them to be Leia Organa’s bodyguard, her shadow (I also want you to take a moment to consider what that did for Bail’s stress level).  And then Vader gets to planning. 

With his one brain cell awake and focused on the Organa’s it takes Vader all of 15 minutes to realize that Bail Organa is running the Rebellion (I want it to be clear, this is not a slight on Bail at all, Anakin Skywalker was a war general, well educated through the Jedi on a number of subjects, and does have a fair measure of politics learning from both his former master and his dead wife).  However Vader is no more loyal to the Empire than Anakin was to the Republic.  In fact, upon realizing that Padme’s daughter had lived Vader firmly decided that he needed to find a way to kill Palpatine to crown Leia.  With the realization that Bail, and likely Leia (neither Vader nor Anakin have any idea what activities are appropriate for a 10 year old), are part of the Rebellion, Vader decides that The Rebellion would succeed (or everyone would die trying). 

Note: Vader only really gets away with no one realizing that he now supported the Rebellion because, well, no one can quite believe that Darth Vader supports the Rebellion. Most people think there is a new type of Space Madness, and that one of the symptoms is hallucinating Darth Vader giving you intel for the Rebellion.

By the time Leia was a teenager, rumors abound about the odd way that Vader acted around her. By sheer happenstance (and some judicial violence on Vader’s part) these rumors had never reached the Emperor. A good deal of these rumors implied that Vader was looking to the Princess of Alderaan as a wife.  The reaction Vader had, the only time it was brought up in front of him, was…impressive, even for the amount of violence he normally dealt out. Still there are members of Vader’s personal guard who watch over Leia whenever she is on Imperial Center, and no one wants to repeat the time when she was 12 when one of Bail enemies tried to kidnap her for ransom.  It took an entire corps of engineers to put those levels back to rights (after they scrubbed the blood off).  

So we get all the way up to the timeframe of ANH. The Death Star in this does not start out under the control of Darth Vader. It starts out under the control of Tarkin, it is important to note this. Leia still sends out R2D2 and C3P0 to find Obi Wan Kenobi, none of that part changes. 

It is after Leia is captured that Darth Vader shows up (does he lurk silently in any system that Leia is due to be in as often as he can get away with…why yes, yes he does). Tarkin had wanted Leia tortured, however no one wanted to find out how many decks Vader would spread their entrails across for touching her.  Vader arrives on the bridge just as Tarkin is threatening to blow up Alderaan. Tarkin orders the weapon to begin its charge. 

Leia, Leia who is so like her mother in that she will use every weapon in her arsenal, turns to Darth Vader and speaks to him for the first time. ‘Please’ she said, no effort to hide her distress, ‘please save my planet’

Something Leia had no cause to know-An angel who she resembled once thanked Anakin Skywalker for saving her planet. 

Tarkin is dead almost before she finishes speaking. Vader orders the DS weapons to power down and disengage, which is done post haste. Then announces that Leia Organa was now in control. 

So Leia now owns a Death Star (genuine article-never used). Leia is not sure if that is how this works, but no one is arguing with the tall man in black who has OPINIONS and will enforce them.  Leia manages to communicate this to her parents, who take a shuttle up to the space station to figure out what the fuck is going on, and what, if anything, they need to do next.

Two hours later: Obi Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, R2D2, C3P0, and Chewbacca have just been caught trying to sneak onto the Death Star. The Organas are still on board, trying to get answers (In that time Vader has said precisely five words to them ‘You have raised her well’).  It is to this room that the troopers manning the station (who are deeply confused and a bit conflicted because it seems like they may have all been forcibly defected from the Empire, but no one is willing to disobey Lord Vader) bring Obi Wan and co. and present them to Leia, as she is considered in command.  Somehow Luke’s full name (I kind of picture him still dumbly introducing himself to Leia, followed with ‘we’re here to rescue you’) gets used before the situation deteriorates. Which naturally causes everything to deteriorate further and faster than before.  

Far away on Imperial Center, the Emperor pauses in the middle of a hallway ‘I feel’ he says to no one ‘a disturbance in the Force.’ another pause ‘like some shit has just hit the fan’

Far away on Dagobah Yoda looks up, ‘weird, shit just got’

[s4ku-sh1ftz]

How to use loa to shift

I am aware there are many posts like this, and i read a lot of them and gathered my important points into this post:

So before starting i want to say that the info i’m about to give you may seem like too simple to believe but you need to understand shifting is not a process. Shifting is instant. The time you take to believe and feel that shifting is instant may take a while bc shifttok is so packed with different interpretations of how you should shift

1. Your imagination is the only reality. Your subconscious has no idea of the difference between imagination and real world thus why you feel real emotions when “imagining” your dr. But when you imagine it you say to urself “i’m only imagining my dr bc i’m not there” which reminds your subconscious that you are not in your dr. If you don’t tell urself “i’m not in my dr” while imagining your dr and instead tell urself “i am actually experiencing this, i am in my dr”, congrats you are in your desired reality

2. This means you need to stop giving power to your 3D or physical world (ur cr) you need to ignore it and feel indifferent to it because as i said, it’s not the real reality. This may be hard but you need to do it. Stop reacting to ur 3D (ofc that doesn’t mean act like it doesn’t exist. If you hurt yourself in ur 3D don’t ignore it but simply reming urself that it is not the real reality ) observe the unwanted (ur 3D ) but DO NOT ABSORB. Observe ur 3D with the knowledge that you have shifted

Now how to use this to shift?

3. To shift, and this has to be constant and presisted, simply decide to shift. You do not need a method. Just rn as ur reading or wtv go “i am now in my dr” and from now on i forbid you to think otherwise. If you have a doubt, simply remind urself that that doubt has no meaning bc you are in your dr. Now congrats you have shifted. DO NOT LOOK IN THE 3D for validation of this claim. You are the validation, u are the master shifter, you just shifted. Now, how do you feel? I mean this is great after 3 years you shifted! Feel the feeling of relief that you are in ur dr imagine it. You can close ur eyes or not. But do not force your dr onto your 3D ur subconscious will do that for you. Also. You have now shifted do not act in a way as if u didn’t shift. Why would you need to do a method tonight if you’re already in your dr?

Why should you even care about the 3D?? You shifted in your imagination or 4D so thats what’s important. Don’t wake uo everyday hoping your 3D changed bc this makes ur subconscious think that u haven’t shifted, therefore making you doubt. Just let it marinate in your brain. Every day few times a day take 5-10 minutes to yourself reminding urself that you are in fact in your dr and feel that there is nothing else for you to do now that you have shifted

The trick is to not think or do anything to contradict your claim. You are in your dr and thats that. Do not make videos about how you haven’t shifted bc you have do not feel sorry for urself bc your 3D hasn’t changed yet. DONT WORRY ABOUT HOW AND WHEN UR 3D SHIFTS I FORBID U TO DO IT. DO THIS FOR URSELF FOR A FEW DAYS step out of your comfort zone of negative thoughts. You are in your dr right now feel like it think like it

Stop looking for shifting advice on tiktok you don’t need it you have shifted. Stop looking at “i know why you haven’t shifted” posts those don’t refer to u

[gayphob1a]

STWG Daily Drabble 11/29/23

prompt: modern au

Eddie is harshly woken by his phone ringing at— JESUS christ, 4:30 AM.

The number isn’t saved in his contacts, and normally he would just let it ring or hang up the call so he could go back to sleep, but his brain is a little fried so early in the morning so he answers it like a reflex.

“Hello?” he asks. He can hear the sleep in his own voice and hopes to god this call isn’t something important that his slow, rough voice will make him look bad for.

“Robin!!”

A very loud, very drunk voice screams the name Eddie doesn’t recognize into the line. He lacks the wherewithal to really sus out what’s happening, so he summons every ounce of intelligence to the best of his ability to mutter: “huh?”

“Robbie I’m so drunk and my phone died. The bartender let me use his to call you. come pick me up.”

The guy is whining directly into Eddie’s ear. it should be annoying, should be grating to his sleep-addled brain, but he can’t help but think he sounds cute.

“Uh, hey man, this isn’t Robin. I think you got the wrong number,” Eddie says.

The guy on the other end of the line goes silent, and Eddie imagines he’s pouting over there, probably too drunk to remember he needs to speak into the phone.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay? Are you going to be able to call this Robin person?”

“I did,” the guy whines again. “You’re not Robin.”

“No, I definitely am not. I’m Eddie. And who are you?”

“I’m Steve. Will you please come pick me up?”

He considers this, chuckling lightly to himself. This Steve sure is trusting. Eddie could be a murderer just waiting for a cute boy like Steve to call him up, and he says as much, but apparently all Steve hears is:

“You think I'm cute? Wait, how can you tell? Are you in the walls or something?”

Is he in the walls? Jesus this guy really is ass blasted, huh. And Eddie can’t leave a fellow bad late night decision maker to fend for himself, can he?

“You sound cute enough sweetheart. sit tight, I'll be there in 15 minutes.”

“mmkay!” Steve sounds purely elated to have Eddie on the way, and hangs up before he has the chance to confirm where he is. It’s no matter really, there’s only one bar in the area that’s open this late, and it seems the bartender picked up on that lacking piece of information as his phone pings with a location pin a minute later.

It’s one of Eddie’s usual haunts so he gets there in 10, familiar with the route and aided by the complete lack of traffic at this hour.

He wonders if in the last 10 minutes Steve has forgotten all about him. He is just a stranger he drunk dialed after all, and Steve’s so far gone his short term memory must be nothing at this point.

But when he pulls up and enters the building, he sees the most beautiful face he’s ever seen alone at the bar. He hopes to any god that will listen that Steve at least remembers his enthusiasm about getting home so he can see the way that elation shows on his handsome features. The bartender who’s been babysitting, and appears to be forcing him to drink water, points to the door and Steve turns around, his face alighting with all the brilliance of precious gemstones.

“Eddie!” He shouts, throwing himself off the stool to stumble over to him. He nearly falls to the ground, but Eddie is there to hold him up.

Their faces are inches apart, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way his drunkenness flushes his cheeks, giving the scattering of moles across his cheeks a beautiful backdrop.

“Hey pretty boy. Let’s get you home, okay? Where do you live?”

“With Robin,” Steve says, his face betraying the fact that he really thinks that’s the answer Eddie needs.

“Mhm,” Eddie patiently hums. “And where does Robin live?”

“With me, silly.”

“Oh boy, you’re really out of it. Why don’t I take you back to my place, get some food in you, charge up your phone, and we’ll go from there.”

“Is food the only thing I'll get in me?” Steve asks, pressing in closer to Eddie’s grasp.

It startles a laugh out of him. One that starts deep in his chest and rolls through his body, throwing his head back and shaking his shoulders.

“Steve, you barely know me. You’re just lucky I happen to be a very nice, very respectful guy, who is going to

feed you and nothing. else.”

Steve pouts a little as Eddie puts an arm around his waist and pulls him out to the car, loading him in the passenger seat and buckling him in.

It seems Steve has zoned out on the ride, either lulled by the movements or, god forbid, incredibly carsick. Either way he sits in silence with his face pressed against the cool glass while Eddie lets him be alone with his thoughts for the short drive home.

Getting up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment is a challenge. It’s like Steve is doing his absolute best to go ass over tea kettle down them. Eddie braces himself behind him, hands on his waist to keep him steady, trying his absolute darndest to ignore the lines of hard muscle under his sweater.

Now is NOT the time.

They make it inside with little incident, Eddie plopping Steve down on the couch to disappear into the kitchen after fishing Steve’s phone out of his pocket and plugging it in next to him.

“So, I’m not much of a cook,” Eddie hollers. “But how do you feel about grilled cheese?”

No answer comes.

“Steve?”

Nothing.

Eddie peeks out of the kitchen to find a snoring Steve, sprawled out on the couch like a starfish. Somehow he’s even cuter like this. It brings a fond smile to Eddie’s face as he covers him in a blanket, tucks a pillow under his head and leaves a trash can by his side just in case.

It’s almost 5:30 now, and the exhaustion hits him all at once. Eddie gives the man sawing logs on his couch one last once over before going back to his own bed and crashing, hoping for at least another hour or two of sleep.

When he wakes, it’s with an unexpected sense of excitement, expecting Steve to be on his couch ready to have a coherent conversation and a real introduction, but when he makes his way out to the living room, Steve is gone, his pillow stacked on top of the neatly folded blanket.

He shouldn’t be sad about this. Steve is, after all, just a stranger who was drunk and couldn’t even remember his own address. He was probably embarrassed, confused, hell maybe even scared to be waking up in a stranger’s house with vague memories of how he got there. He tries to focus on that aspect of the situation, rather than his own disappointment. He does not succeed.

Eddie sits down on the couch, in the very same spot Steve laid his head the night before and wraps himself up in the blanket. He buries his face in it, inhaling the faint scent Steve left on it and wonders why he even cares. It wasn’t as if they had some big whirlwind romance in the span of the hour they were together; but Steve was so sweet, so cute, so excited to see him after speaking on the phone for just a couple minutes. It wasn’t anything more than a random act of kindness, but maybe Eddie wanted it to be.

It’s as Eddie is thinking it over that his phone pings with a message. Eddie groans, it’s probably just Gareth, or maybe the bartender from last night checking that everyone is safe. Though even that is wishful thinking. He checks anyway, trying his best to tamp down any wishful thinking until he sees the unknown number on his screen with one simple word.

[463-291-8275]: Thanks.

Eddie feels a lump in his throat, his chest filling up like a balloon. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, doesn’t even know if it is Steve, but shit he fucking hopes so.

[Eddie]: Steve? How did you get my number again?

[463-291-8275]: Uhhh… i definitely didn’t try like 10 variations of Robin’s phone number to find the one number i mistyped when i accidentally called you last night

Eddie frantically adds the number to his contacts before texting back, thanking whatever powers that be for giving him another shot.

[Eddie]: Wow I must have left quite the impression on you Stevie 😏

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: you could say that

Eddie smirks to himself, trying to ignore the blush that warms his face at Steve’s words. He tries to come up with what to say next, how to segue into asking him out on a date, but before he can, his phone buzzes with more messages from Steve.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: so i know this might seem a little strange since we barely talked before i passed out in a drunk heap on your couch

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: thanks for not killing me btw

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: but um would you maybe want to hang out sometime?

Eddie jumps up from the couch, pumping his fist in the air like he just won the lottery. then, like he’s just remembering he lives alone, he yells at no one in particular: “FUCK! YES!” There’s an angry knock on the wall from his neighbor, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

[Eddie]: idk about that Stevie

He goes to reply in his typical teasing fashion, but Steve’s reply comes in immediately before he can finish the thought.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i totally get it

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: last night was probably weird for you

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: feel free to block my number i’m so sorry

[Eddie]: Woah, slow your roll there big boy!

[Eddie]: I said I'm not so sure about hanging out with you.

[Eddie]: But only because I’d rather take you out on a date

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: Oh!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: date! yes! date is good

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i’d love to go on a date!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: better even

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i was fighting demons trying not to kiss you in the car last night

Eddie has to set his phone down so he doesn’t throw it to the ground and shatter it, opting instead to fist his hands in the pillow Steve used last night and shove it in his face to scream. He has to regain his composure before he texts back, doing his best to keep cool.

[Eddie]: A date it is then. Can’t wait sweetheart ❤️

[kitkat13001]

☆⋆｡𖦹° 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝙻 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

>> l lawliet x reader

i feel like he’d thrive with a pet. he’s never had any exposure to animals so it’s definitely a new experience for him. i think the unpredictability of a cat would suit him. its irregular behavior keeps him on his toes, given his tendency to analyze patterns. he’d be very affectionate with a cuddly cat 

i think he would also like the loyalty of a dog. he needs stability in his life 🫶 and a cute little puppy that’ll grow w him is just perfect for him. plus, im sure it’d force him to exercise a little more (couldn’t hurt him tbh) w all the running after it he’d be doing

he watches true crime for background noise—if he actually sits down to watch it, he’ll figure it out in the first five minutes (if he didn’t already know the case outcome himself). he needs to multitask in order to genuinely enjoy it, so he usually puts it on while he cooks or cleans so he’s not dedicating his full focus to it and proceed to act like a mom watching a telenovela 

*gasp* “they found the body in the lake!”

“hmm…that was anticlimactic.”

“‘breaking news’? i had already figured that out three episodes ago.”

“oh, i worked this case!”

his cooking is shit at the beginning. you have to be patient with him. he goes in thinking bc he’s so smart it’ll come out good no matter what. (this is the case with a lot of activities he’s now discovering due to the new lifestyle). he is wrong. 

HOWEVER…he does improve with time. he’ll follow a recipe to perfection and study it until he gets it right. the only downside is his food tends to be on the more plain/bland side, so if you like strong flavors i’d keep seasonings handy. he grew up in england, what do you expect? he does excel at making sweets and baked goods though, those tend to come out more flavorful.

for all his previously normal ‘secrecy’ he’s actually a chronic oversharer. because you’re bonded for life now, he feels the need to tell you everything, all of the time. his brain runs a mile a minute and he voices pretty much every thought he has. 

“does the fan seem louder to you?”

”no, ryuzaki. go to bed.”

“but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, so we can sleep in. there’s no need to go to bed right this instant.”

“…”

“that won’t be the case next week, though, we’ve got that birthday dinner to attend.”

“…”

“dinner sounds nice enough, but i loathe the thought of shopping for a present. maybe—“

“ryuzaki. go. to. sleep.”

“hmph.”

similarly, he has a tendency to notice your patterns (he calls it a “detective’s habit”). he’s freakishly accurate with it too. sometimes it’s useful, like when he stops at the store to pick up your favorite snacks and hygiene products when he knows your time of the month is approaching. however, sometimes it’s…just weird

“darling, do you need to use the restroom?”

“um…no?”

“really? interesting. your diet hasn’t changed the last couple days, and you usually use the restroom at approximately this time for about 10 to 12 minutes every day.”

“…what the fuck?”

even though you’ve both changed your names in order to secure your identities and safety, he still calls you by your real name when it’s just the two of you. in public he prefers to call you pet names instead of your newfound aliases

he has no issues switching back n forth and he’d never slip up for fear of exposing you both, but he just tries to avoid calling you by your cover name. he feels a little guilty because if he was a ‘normal person’ you wouldn’t have had to undergo all these procedures just to be with him. he’s used to using different names for himself, but it makes him a little sour that you now have to do that too :(

speaking of sour, he’s a veeeryy jealous man. he’s not obnoxious or even outright about it, but he doesn’t like when other people get too close to you (physically and emotionally). part of it is him being paranoid that they “know something” about you, but part of it is just bc he’s just a clingy lil guy 🥺 and he just wants to be your only special guy

he’s like a territorial cat

he gets nightmares about the kira case and all of his other past cases. he doesn’t make a scene when he wakes up from them, but if you notice he’s awake don’t ask him about them. it’s unlikely he’ll answer you, and he’ll feel bad thinking he woke you up. just pretend to still be asleep and subtly cuddle closer

it coaxes him right back to sleep knowing you’re safe and sound beside him. if you’re brave you can ask in the morning, but it’s likely he’ll have forgotten the dream by then

pleeeeassee take up yoga with him. since he doesn’t need to be crouched in his heightened-deductive-skill position 24/7 anymore, it’s a worthwhile investment to fix his posture and his numerous back problems. he might enjoy the calmness and flexibility yoga provides

he might be open to the idea of children. according to canon, he only interacted with the wammy kids once very briefly, but i like to think he was fairly involved with the orphanages considering they were raising his successor. it only makes sense they’d need to get to know him at least a little—and it would explain why near’s mannerisms are so similar to his. 

i think contrary to popular opinion he would be good with kids—in his own special way. he’s not exceptionally cuddly, but he won’t reject affection either. and his intuition and reflexes are so keen that it’s not like the kid would ever be in danger. 

he’s such a homebody. i mean, we already knew that—but him being able to go out in public now has not changed his desire to want to be alone (w/ you)

he has mixed feelings about crowded places. on the one hand, the anonymity of it is kind of nice and it sets his mind at ease that no one will be able to recognize you two in such a swarm. but on the other, someone is touching him and all the noise n stuff sorta overstimulates his nervous system

the next best alternative? take him to places that are still public and out-and-about but a little more secluded. a corner booth in the back of a little restaurant, a sprawling botanical garden, an independent cafe that’s not overcrowded, etc 

HE CANT DRIVE LMAOOO. a helicopter is one thing but cars??? on the road??? with other cars?????!!! he cannot. he’s a MENACE. hopefully you can drive, but if not then it comes to public transportation 🤷‍♀️ 

[alessiasfreckles]

not good, not bad, just different (leah williamson x ADHD!reader)

disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience of ADHD. this is in no way saying that this is what adhd looks like for everyone!!

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it, i'm sorry it's so all over the place but that also felt pretty thematic so... hopefully it's okay. i'm planning on doing 1-2 more parts to this! the next part will be about the reader getting diagnosed and coming to terms with their diagnosis + telling the other lionesses about it. also if you're interested in more WLW football based fiction involving ADHD, read Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner!

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You had always felt… different. Not in a ‘not like other girls’ kind of way, more like an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. Things just seemed to be so much harder for you than for everybody else. 

As a teenager, you were constantly getting told off by your parents for your messy room and bad grades. You were a smart kid, they said, so why couldn’t you just do your homework and study for tests like everyone else?

You would ask yourself the same thing. Forcing yourself to sit at your desk, staring at your maths textbook, desperately begging your brain to just cooperate, just this once, not understanding why it was so hard to just do the work. 

When your parents would come into your room you would instantly feel a flash of white-hot shame at the state of it. Clothes everywhere, rubbish you’d forgotten about in corners, plates, cups, half empty water bottles. You couldn’t help it, it was like once something was out of your line of sight, you just forgot it existed, like the plate of half-eaten food that you’d put next to the bed at some point and then had absent-mindedly pushed under the bed to get it out of your way. When you found it weeks - okay, months - later, you were so embarrassed by the mould that you secretly threw it away rather than take it downstairs to the kitchen, where anyone could see it. 

You would forget things you knew you should remember, things that anyone else would have remembered, like weekly tutoring sessions that your parents paid for (something they reminded you of when you forgot, yet again). You felt so stupid. It was at the same time, every Wednesday after school, so why couldn’t you remember? 

Or doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, any kind of appointment really. You would write it into your calendar, set yourself a reminder on the day, set yourself another reminder 30 minutes before, and all that would happen is that you would swipe away the reminder thinking ‘oh, yeah’, and then you’d continue doing whatever you were doing before. It was only when you’d hear the phone ring that you’d instantly know it was about you, about the appointment you’d missed, or maybe it was from school, or maybe something else you’d just completely forgotten about.

And all of that wasn’t even taking your issues with human interaction into account. You’d always struggled to make friends, especially as a girl who liked football. When you hit 9 or 10, the other girls in your class started to grow more interested in talking about boys, or music, or tv. You couldn’t understand what they found so interesting, that they’d rather spend breaks just sitting around chatting to each other when they could be running around playing football, or some other game, or anything more exciting. 

As you got a little older, though, you realised that it was clearly a ‘you’ problem. People at your secondary school were nice, for the most part, but you still struggled to make friends. When you’d accidentally interrupt someone, or start talking too much and too loudly in excitement, or fidget a little too noisily, people would give you looks and whisper to each other about how weird you were. You learned to sit on your hands to stop yourself from clicking a pen or tapping your fingers, to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing or saying it the wrong way. 

Football was a good escape. It was fast-paced enough that you didn’t have time to think about other things, and there was enough going on that your brain wasn’t looking for external stimulation. You’d always been observant, noticing things most people wouldn’t notice, and you used it to your advantage. You were quick with the ball and you seemed to always know where everyone was around you. You were so good, in fact, that you made the England U17 squad - something you’d hoped would make you seem a little cooler at school, but just added to your ‘weirdness’. 

That time was far behind you now, though. Now you were in your twenties and not only played football professionally, having joined Arsenal when you were 19, but also played for the England senior squad, one of the Lionesses. 

That’s not to say that you didn’t still struggle with things. Your apartment was a mess, you lost things constantly, you would still interrupt people and fidget. You had friends though, at least. If anything, people knew what you were like and they loved you for it. It became a running joke on match days that you would inevitably lose your shoes, or your shin pads, or your phone, or that you’d need to borrow a hair bobble from someone. Everything would always show up right as you started to panic, though. Your shoes would be in the bathroom, because you’d been holding them when you went in to go to the toilet before the game like you always did. Your shin pads would be in the pockets of your jacket, one on each side, so you wouldn’t lose them. 

“Looking for this?” Leah would ask, pulling your phone out of her pocket and smiling at the look of relief on your face.

“Yes! Where was it?” 

“On the bus. You left it on your seat,” she explained.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like me,” you joked.

“Nah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you,” she would say with a wink.

So, yeah. Maybe you had a reputation as the forgetful one, and the messy one, and the chaotic one, and the distracted one. But that was just who you were, right?

---------

Okay, you knew you were here for a reason. There must have been something you were going to get from the prep room, that’s literally the only reason you were there. You mentally went through everything you needed; shoes, on your feet, jacket, wearing it, headphones, in your pocket, water bottle - fuck, that was it! Your bottle!

You grabbed it from the bench where you’d left it and headed back out. On the way you needed to pee, so you quickly went to the bathroom, washed your hands, and went back to the training pitch.

“Did you get your water bottle?” Leah asked, a quizzical look on her face as she looked at your empty hands.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “I had it. Where the fuckety fuck did I put it?”

“Y/n, come on! Training started 5 minutes ago!” one of the trainers called over. You felt a white hot flash of shame in your belly, heat rising to your face.

“Do you want me to help you look for it?” Leah asked.

You shook your head, looking down. “No, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Let’s just start training.”

After training, Kyra came over to you in the changing room. 

“Here,” she said, holding out your bottle. “I found it in the toilets, on the sink.” 

---------

After that you made a list. You stuck it to the inside of your cubby, and every day you would look through it, double checking everything before you left the room. It helped for a while, until you started seeing the list as part of the background and your brain started ignoring it.

When you went to international camp, it got worse. You were away from your routine, in an unfamiliar environment. At least the people you were with was pretty much the same as always. As nice as it was to see everyone though, it was draining, too.

“Y/n? What do you want?” Leah asked. You were on a rare night out, the whole team at a restaurant by the beach together.

“Huh?” you asked, frowning. At a table nearby, people were singing ‘Happy Birthday’, cheering, clapping. On the other side of you, someone was having a conversation - it sounded like they were on a first date, but that didn’t make sense, you were in Spain, they sounded English, why would they be on a first date here? 

“What do you want to order?” Leah asked again, prompting you. The waitress stood there, looking at you expectantly, notepad in her hand. A light flickered somewhere in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, um, I,” you stuttered, looking at the huge menu in front of you. The people on the date were talking about what kind of things they liked to do on holiday, she liked to go sightseeing, he just wanted to relax, at another table a baby started crying, the ice in people’s glasses was clinking, knives and forks were scraping against plates, that song you’d had stuck in your head for days now was still playing on a loop in the back of your head, your leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table, someone’s nails were tapping against their phone, the man was telling the woman that the whole point of holidays is to relax-

Leah’s hand on your knee made you look up from where you’d zoned out looking at the menu. The waitress was gone. Leah was looking at you with a concerned expression, her hand steady on your knee. 

“Do you want to go outside, get some fresh air?” she asked calmly. 

You nodded wordlessly. 

With a hand on your arm she guided you outside the restaurant, taking you to a nearby bench to sit down. The breeze cooled the sweat on the back of your neck, making you shiver. 

“Are you cold?” Leah asked, reaching for her jacket. 

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, breathing in deeply. You knew you should just go back inside, suck it up, smile at Leah and say everything was okay, but you just couldn’t yet. You just needed a few more minutes.

You sat there in silence for a minute. It wasn’t a bad silence, but you could tell Leah was giving you space to talk whenever you felt ready. You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened though, you felt too embarrassed about getting overwhelmed like that. Everyone else was fine, it was just you who couldn’t handle it.

“The people at the table next to us, I think they were on a first date,” you said instead, looking at your hands. 

“Yeah?” Leah laughed. 

“Yeah. But, like, why would they be on a first date here? They sounded English, why are they on a first date at a restaurant in Spain?” you asked.

“Huh, I dunno,” Leah mused. “Maybe they’re both on holiday and happened to meet and decided to go on a date?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. After a few seconds of quiet, you sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I just got… there was just a lot going on.”

Leah squeezed your knee. “It’s okay. It was busy in there, wasn’t it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. My brain just couldn’t handle it all. All the noises, and the menu- oh, fuck, I didn’t order anything!”

“It’s okay,” Leah chuckled. “I ordered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A sandwich and chips. If you don’t want it I’m sure someone else will eat it,” she shrugged. 

“I didn’t even notice you ordering for me,” you frowned. “I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I feel like something is wrong with my brain,” you tried to explain, not knowing how to put it into words.

Leah frowned. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone is probably wondering where we are.”

“Wait, y/n, we can stay outside for a little bit longer,” Leah said.

“No, no,” you stood up quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m okay, I promise.”

———

It didn’t take long for Leah to corner you the next day, determined to talk to you..

“You seem distracted,” Leah said, sitting down next to you on the bench. “More distracted than usual, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah,” you said. “It’s kind of ironic, actually. I’m distracted because I’m distracted.”

“Right…” she said, frowning. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about why you’re distracted?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying to think of how to word it. “We all know I get distracted easily, right?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’re like a magpie or something. You see something shiny, you gotta pick it up. Except the shiny thing is literally anything that catches your attention,” she laughed. 

“Exactly! Well, I was looking some stuff up online, or, no, I saw some stuff online, wait, let me start again,” you said. “My thoughts are moving faster than my mouth. Okay, so, when I was a teenager, I was on tumblr a lot. It was the only social media I really had. And on tumblr I’d see a lot about people with ADHD and autism and about hyperfixating on things. And I’ve always kind of hyperfixated on stuff - I mean, football, obviously, but other stuff too, like how on my days off I’ll binge watch an entire season of a TV show and then not shut up about it for like, a month straight, and then I’ll lose interest and basically never mention it again.”

“Or like when you decided to start playing guitar and bought a guitar and had 2 lessons and then stopped, or like when you got really into gardening for a few weeks and bought all those plants and seeds and books about gardening and then realised it was the wrong time of year for half the things you wanted to plant?” Leah asked, an amused look in her eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess those count too,” you said, frowning. “So, yeah, I hyperfixate on things. And I’ve only ever seen it mentioned together with ADHD and autism. But I always thought wow, that’s so crazy that I do that but I don’t have either of those!”

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Leah smiled. 

“Leah, what if I do have ADHD? I don’t think I have autism, I mean, I might, but I haven’t really looked into it yet, maybe I should-”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she laughed, putting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, we both know I am in no way qualified to tell you if you have ADHD or not. But I know you very well. We’ve known each other for what, 5, 6 years now? And it would not surprise me in the slightest if you have ADHD.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean, aside from what I just mentioned?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Last night? At the restaurant?” she gently reminded you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I may have also read up on the topic a bit. I kind of suspected you might have ADHD, but I didn’t want to bring it up until you did,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. You felt something flutter in your stomach at her confession. “Anyway, one of the things I read was that people with ADHD also struggle with overstimulation and sensory issues. Do you think that could be what happened last night?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quiet. “Maybe?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s just a lot to take in.” you told her. Your mind was racing, thoughts splitting off into dozens of other thoughts, some fully formed and some nothing more than singular words or phrases. 

You sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“What do I do now?” you asked Leah, your voice small. “I, um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I kind of expected you to tell me I’m being silly.”

“I would never say that,” she said, turning to look at you, her eyes fixed on yours. “I wouldn’t say that about something important to you, I promise. And as for what to do now, well, I guess you have a few options. You can keep going as you have been, and do some more research, if you want, and try to figure it out alone. Well, not alone. You’ve got me. Or you could speak to someone, a professional. See if your hunch is right.”

“And then?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s up to you. I suppose they’d be able to help you with coping mechanisms, or put you on medication, if that’s what you wanted,” she shrugs. 

“Medication?” you asked. Your mind was full of pictures of hyperactive kids, bouncing off the walls. You propped your feet up on the bench, pulling your knees in close to your chest. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m just being dramatic?”

“Then that’s okay, too,” Leah said firmly. “Then you’re just dramatic, but that’s okay, too. I promise.”

You nodded, resting your chin on your knees.

"Would you be able to help me find someone to talk to? I don't know how, or where, or, anything, really," you asked.

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "I'll help in any way I can."

[eveningepiphany]

tease | H.S oneshot

summary: seeing harry tonguing his guitar last night has you finally admitting the state he puts you in. and that’s never good when you’re a tour photographer. especially now you have photographic evidence of the moment.

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, praise, swearing

a/n: can’t stop thinking about that fucking video? like it’s on loop in my head I can’t. he was so slutty last night it’s illegal. also this isn’t 100% proofread so enjoy I hope it’s okay!

———

Some days at work are harder than others for you.

Today, you knew was going to be rough the second Harry walked out in single-handedly the most revealing outfit he could have. Borderlining absolutely slutty.

And as his tour photographer, that is quite a bold statement to make when you’ve seen every single outfit— and when his top half is often found shirtless up on stage.

But tonight, out backstage when you were prepping your SD cards and ordering your camera lenses, he walked out of his dressing room adorning his stage outfit to show you, and your stomach dropped the sight of him.

It was a new style, something he hadn’t worn before. A cropped, tasseled blue vest, paired with low rise pants that looked like they were clinging onto his hips for dear life.

“Alrighty, what d’ya think?” He asked, doing a little spin to shake the tassels.

Your mouth opened and words struggled to form as your head fogged over from just seeing his body. And the way his ferns were fully out— along with almost all of his other ink on display. Arms, chest and all.

You had sworn this, many times, was just your eye for art. For people like him who made photography electric. But as time and the tour progressed on from its earlier start in 2021, it was getting harder to convince yourself. Because even if you didn’t acknowledge it, there was no way to justify the heat that stirred in your stomach as just admiration.

“Oh— wow— I like the tassels,” you paused, tongue swiping over your lips, “they’ll be really fun in the photos, I’ll try to get some motion blur type shots with them.”

Your hand reached out before your brain even computed what it was doing, grabbing one of the rhinestoned threads at the base of his vest and running down it. Knuckles brushing the side of his chest.

“Excited to see them as always, m’lovely.” He smiles, the pet name making you flush.

“10 minutes till you’re on, H!” Someone called out.

You laughed at the panicked expression on his face as he realised he was probably dawdling, and in fact behind on his own schedule.

“Alright!” He confirmed back, then chuckling as he whispered to you, “I still gotta brush m’teeth.”

“Well, cmon let’s go, I’ll see what behind the scene shots I can get.”

And you thought that the time spent with him pre-show would ease your racing mind a little, but now that you’re out on the floor you’re almost jittering.

He looks fucking delectable. And by the sound of the stadium around you, they notice it too.

As he steps out you have to force your camera up to your face, which is something you never have to do? But looking at him through your viewfinder is hardly enough to satiate you.

Especially a little later in the show, when your camera is aimed to the back of him— and he’s squated down to get a drink of water…

His pants slipping so far down his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Kleins are easily visible.

Some girls on barricade behind you are going feral simply at the sight. And you can hardly blame them, because the sight of them makes you a little light headed too. Tonight he’s really not leaving much to the imagination.

You feel obliged to take a photo of it, lens aiming up to him— hearing the girls from behind you as your cameras shutters open to capture the moment. They’re shouting clearly, “Y/N, you get that pic girl!”

Another one yelling from your left, “SHES ONE OF US!”

You laugh at them. The fans are always an amazing part of the show. You leave with an array of adorable bracelets, funny shirts, and always lovely compliments.

You snap a few more photos before someone calls your name again, and you turn. A brunette girl, in an incredible replica of his recent purple and black heart overalls from the recent Wembley show, is standing.

“Y/N!” She reaffirms when you’re looking at her.

“Hi lovely, your outfit is amazing.” You smile, and she has fresh tears streaming down her face— a common love on tour occurrence.

“Ohmygod, thank you so much. I made you this tshirt, i wanted to give it to you!” She pulled a white shirt from her feet, presumably from a bag.

She held it out, unfolding it to show off the print on the front.

You immediately couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at it. A big pink shaded heart, with 2 also heart-shaped photos on each side of it— of you and Harry. But the best bit was the bubble written font, “my favourite parents!” that is above it.

“I— can I please take a photo of you with it first.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, “No way, of course you fucking can.”

You take a few photos of her posing with the shirt, “I have 2, please feel free take them both!”

You can only assume one of them is intended for Harry. And even if it’s a little weird of you to take them, you do anyway because the girl was too lovely to even consider denying them.

“Thank you so much.” You chuckle as you hang them over your elbow. She still looks starstruck at the interaction that just occurred and you’re overly excited to edit the photos later on.

In the time of the short interaction, you turned to find Harry. He’s about to transition into she, and is over on the main stage.

You hustle to get yourself up from the floor and onto the stage area. Moving to chuck the shirts on the bench, where most of the bands essentials are for easy access.

Harry sees you over there and you decide to show him the design on the front before you can overthink it.

He’s beginning to sing the intro, and he chuckles the lyrics into the mic as he sees it. And fans around the whole arena scream at the shirt— which you didn’t realise was being displayed on the big screens.

You shake your head, struggling not to admire the tone of his laugh that just echoed around the stadium.

Also blushing a little at the fact you did genuinely just show him a shirt with both of your faces of it, deeming you both as a fans ‘parents’.

You go back to doing your actual job, moving to get a good angle, aiming to blend back into the background as you take more photos for the night.

Capturing the sway and jolts of his tassels as he sings. Getting a few shots that not only capture his energy but also his outfit perfectly.

You smile at yourself and at your work.

And you glance up as Harry joins in with Mitch while he absolutely shreds his guitar solo.

Sweat is beading on Harry’s chest and you’re all too aware how much money people would pay to see it from your angle. Thank god for Barcelona’s heat.

And, fuck, not only is it that. His arms look perfect as well. This outfit is really just showing as much of himself off as possible.

You change the settings on your camera hastily to alter the outcome of these next few shots.

He’d stepped away from the mic, turning to look at the band, mouthing something you couldn’t decipher.

He starts to lean down head getting closer to guitar. His tongue juts out…

Your eyes immediately pull back a little from your camera because, there no fucking way he’s about to let some kind of intrusive thought win here.

Time seems to slow. But not the movement of his tongue. It’s flicking fast, as if to mimic it playing the strings of his guitar. Or something like that anyway, because all you can think of is… well… something too inappropriate to even be entertaining in your head given he’s literally your boss.

You can hear the piercing screams around you, someone in the front shouting what the fuck loud enough you swear someone in the back of the stadium could’ve heard it.

You’re not even aware you bought your camera back up to your face and that you’d clicked the button a few times until it’s done and the moments over.

Harry’s laughing at himself, and Sarah is face palming at his lewd action. His smug smile after solidifies the fact he knows what the fuck he just did. And exactly the kind of effect it’s left on some people.

Just not aware you’re one of them…

Because you can’t deny the way you spent rest of the night with a nagging warmth between your legs. One that festered long after the moment was over.

After the show came to a close and you eventually ended up in your hotel room, freshly showered as you edited some of your favourite photos. Including the shots you’d captured of him and his guitar.

Which were fucking insane. You had just the right amount of contrast going on in them, and a certain degree of motion blur that indicated the movement his tongue was making.

The final product was amazing once you had edited it on photoshop. But you spent the remainder of the night in your hotel room ridiculously worked up. Left in bed toying with your clit lazily as you stared at the celling, acting like you didn’t have a specific person in your thoughts.

It got to the point in the next day where you stressed about what photos to show him. And whether or not that included the one you literally came to the thought of last night?

Usually you wouldn’t hesitate, especially since it looked incredible. But you were embarrassed internally. What would he think, or say? And could you even play off your sheer attraction to the image.

You placed your head in your hands with a groan, sat in the chair over by the window. You’re tired, and swear on your life your decision making is going to be impaired when he walks into your room.

Which you didn’t have much more time to stress much about it as a knock came to your door that you knew was him.

You rushed over to open it, finding him standing there, hair freshly washed and clad in much more clothing then you last saw him in. A plain white shirt and some gym shorts— that still made him look hot as fuck, without even trying?

He greets you with a good morning, voice a tad hoarse from last nights show. And he’s smiling as he hands you a cup, one you know is filled with hot chocolate. Just for you.

“I owe you like 100 hot chocolates for how many you’ve bought me just in this leg of the tour alone.” You laugh, letting him past you.

He glances at the unmade bed— you stopped making it a while after he started to come visit your room the morning after the show to pick which photos he liked best, and ones he also wanted edited. Sometimes he’d settle himself on it, legs crossed like a cute little kid.

“Think of it as a gift for all your talent. And putting up with me.” He chuckles, and plops himself down on the chair that’s opposite to the one you were sitting in.

So you follow suit, walking back over the your chair. Taking a small sip of the sweet liquid in your hands.

“Have any favourites so far?” He asks, taking a quick swig of his own drink— which you can only assume is hot tea.

Yes, you think, the one where you’re about to practically fuck your guitar strings with your tongue.

You substitute that for, “A few! The tassels were so fun to try and capture.”

You rotated the laptop screen to show him a cool shot you edited of him. It was a front on photo, his arms extended and washboard abs in their full fucking glory along with his tattoos.

He nods, a smile coming across his lips, crinkling the corners of his slightly tired eyes.

You showcase him a couple, all that he gives relentless praise on— regardless of if they had been edited or not. But you just want to show him your favourite.

You swallow as you stare at it on the screen of your macbook. Working up the courage to turn the screen to him as he waits cluelessly. Does he even know you took this?

“This one too…” you hesitate a little as you swivel the laptop around on your lap.

“Oh. I like this one a lot.” He says, nodding and then glancing up from the screen to your semi-flushed face.

“Didn’t know you took that.” He chuckles, shrugging and almost seeming… like he has more to say about this situation.

Like something is laying on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

You think he’s not going to though, after a beat of silence, you nod.

“Yea… what actually are you doing in this photo?” You nervous laugh, and wonder what kind of answer he’s going to provide.

He runs a hand through his curls, brows raised a little at your question.

“What did you think I was doing?” He quizzes, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“I- well it looked quite… everyone in the audience was going wild. Were you trying to be a tease?”

“I wasn’t! I swear. I was playing the guitar.” He confirmed, yet smirking like he knew there was a two-way perception of the event.

“With your tongue?” You sighed out a laugh.

“You still didn’t answer me. What did you think I was doing?” He backtracks, eyes watching you intensely as you’re both entering some rather dangerous, untouched territory.

You’re quiet again, and he raises his brows still expecting a response.

You flush under his gaze, hand coming to cover your eyes. “It just looked very…”

“Very…?”

“Inappropriate.” You laughed, feeling like you were emotionally torturing yourself by letting this situation happen.

“How so?” He continues to push, wanting to hear more. Secretly adoring the way you get all flustered about it. How badly he wants you to tell him exactly what the movement of his tongue reminded you of.

“It just— you know what I mean, Harry!” You say, now being the one trying to backtrack out of this entire situation. That in the end is still technically your own fault.

You distract yourself with other photos, going in and trying to find another possible contender for his new post on instagram.

“Don’t try and avoid the conversation, love.” He chuckles at your sudden shy demeanour.

“Harry.” You place your hand over your face again trying to mentally reset yourself. Put your thinking back in line.

“Cmon! I’m just curious.” He tries to brush it off, but if he has to resort to begging, he honestly wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know you are, but— it’s weird!” You whine, wanting to die at the fact you had let this happen in the first place.

“I promise I won’t judge.” He places his hand over his heart, face serious, like he was swearing it on his bloodline.

You thought about it a little longer. He clearly was not going to leave you alone if he didn’t get an answer. You could try and lie, but he already knows anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“You know, Harry. You just want to hear me say it.” You murmur, bringing up the chocolaty drink to your lips to distract yourself.

“Sure, maybe I do. I wanna confirm my suspicions.” He proposes, a small shrug of his shoulders. You place the drink back on the coaster, staring at him. Eventually caving.

“It— everyone definitely thought it looked like you were, uh, giving oral.” You rushed out, trying to now act as nonchalant as possible to avoid further questioning.

I didn’t work.

“So everyone including you?” He asked.

“Well… yea.” Your cheeks were pink, and he smiled at your flustered voice.

“Dirty thing.” He chuckled, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe you could move on and pretend as if this never happened, but he continues on.

“Had you a little worked up, did I?”

“May I touch on how unprofessional this conversation is?” You bring up, trying to save yourself. But it’s evident in your voice you hardly mean it. You are admittedly a little curious as to where he’s going with this. Equally, if not more embarrassed than anything, but still curious.

“I suppose you can, yes.” He nods.

“But may I bring up how you undressing me with your eyes yesterday was unprofessional? Because unless I’m insane, you definitely were.” He’s cocky, and overconfident with his accusation.

Not that it can be really labelled as an accusation, given he’s not wrong at all.

“I—“ you swallow, “Okay. Whatever. Point proven.”

He laughs at your surrender, shuffling forward on the chair.

“So you were— that’s the kind of stuff you were thinking about me?” He rests his elbows on his knees, watching you intently.

“You are really trying to get something out of me aren’t you? What do you want to hear me say?” You raise your brows, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Just want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, since we’re talking about being professional. I think that’s a good start.” He sounds so gentle yet firm, and your devouring this dominant kind of trait he’s showing you.

“Communication and honesty is very important when it comes to professionalism.”

Pleasure has been simmering in your stomach since he walked through the door, and his persistence is beginning to pay off, since you’re starting to let your guard down.

“So you want me to tell you how wet I got after your little stunt last night? That if I wasn’t your employee, after the show you would have found me in your dressing room bent over on the table.”

“Waiting for you to come in there, all sweaty and ready to strip that teeny fucking vest off, and put your mouth to use.”

He’s got a dusting of red over his own cheeks now, blood rushing to his cock as he realised he cracked you open now. Your dirty words spilling out of your mouth after holding back seemingly since last night.

“That what you would’ve done? Bent yourself over my dressing room table waiting for me like a pretty little post-show gift?”

“Maybe so.” You feed into it, watching as his eyes darken with desire.

He sighs out, standing up promptly, “Alright, darling. I’m gonna offer you something. You don’t have to agree, but if you do we can stop at any time. Okay?”

“What exactly are you offering?” You ask as leans his tall frame down to you, hands bracketed on your hips.

“For me to pick you up, put you on that bed and strip you until I can bury my head between your legs.” He stated, matter of factly.

Your thighs are shaking so hard you’re clenching them together— clit throbbing at the pressure.

You can only look up at him and nod, to which he doesn’t take as an answer.

“Baby, need you to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Harry. Want that please.” You whine, very quickly becoming delusional at his close proximity.

He grunts as he picks you up, his arms firm around your body and he carry’s you the few feet to the bed. His lips hot as they suddenly come in contact with your jaw.

He pushes your legs open with his thigh, making you moan and push your hips forward.

“Needy girl.” He whispers, voice dirty and hot near your ear as he sucks on the skin below it.

His hands cascade down your body, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging it down.

“Please, please touch me.” You’re wild, bucking your hips up. Wanting to get his tongue on you so bad.

He chuckles at your sudden spiral, how quickly you’ve unravelled before him. Truly like a present, all laid out waiting just for him.

He palms his hand over your damp front, “Soaking through already, fuckin’ hell.”

You groan as he rubs a pressured circle on your fabric-covered clit.

“Want to tell me who got you so wet?” He coos, slowly moving his fingers over you as he waits for an answer.

You give it to him shamelessly, “You. Want you so badly.”

He’s over the moon to finally have you like this. Because it became apparent rather quickly the crush he’d developed on you since you were hired. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist at the thought of getting to touch you.

“Oh, you’re being so good for me now. Because I’ve got my hand between your pretty legs I bet.”

You cant even respond as he slides your drenched underwear down away from your tingling core.

He audibly groans at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy. Watching as you squirm under his stare.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N. How long have you been hiding this gorgeous cunt from me?”

“Too long.” You whimper.

His fingers slid through you, and he gathered up your arousal to play with your clit. Relishing the way it slides under his fingertips.

You were clenching around nothing as he gently rolled your clit between calloused fingers. Playing with it until you were a mess. Moaning and grinding up against his fingers. Begging for what he’d promised earlier.

“Your mouth, Harry. Need it. Anywhere.”

“S’that why your little hole is clenching so hard? Like it’s begging for me.” He watched, mesmerised as your hole pulsed around nothing, and leaked more clear arousal.

You look so delicious to him. And he took a moment to appreciate the fact you were about to let him clean up all that arousal pooling at your hole

He sunk down between your legs very slowly. Distracting himself a few times with mouthing over your fabric covered breasts.

Eventually making it there, so he could blow over your clit, letting you squirm at the teasing stimulation. You smelt amazing too, your sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

He was grabbing at his cock, pushing at it trying to relieve pressure down there as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

“Stop teasing, H. Please I— fuck.” You hissed as he bit the seam of skin of your thigh.

“Cant handle it huh? Are you gonna come before I even get my tongue on you.”

“Want to finish around your mouth.” You plead with him. And he shakes his head with a laugh, anticipating your reaction as he leans forward to drag a long stroke through your slit.

Your whole body shakes with a moan. His velvety, hot tongue immediately leaving you a wreck.

“Harryyy…” You cry out, bucking your hips into his face.

“Gonna ruin your cunt, darling.” He murmurs into you, and you know it’s true with the way your hole is clenching.

He sucks your clit into his mouth before placing fast strokes over it. Flicking and rolling it between his tongue and lips.

The sounds of him lapping up your pussy are echoing through the room, further fuelling the fire that’s started in you.

Your whole jaw goes lax as he moves further down, gliding over your hole— pushing his tongue past your entrance.

“Fuck!” You moan, hips jolting, causing his hands to slide up and hold them into place.

He slides it into you as far as he can, nose bumping your clit. Making you realise very quickly that you’re going to finish around his mouth.

He moans into you, again the vibrations makes you writhe in his tight grip. “I- Harry- more!”

It’s making your whole body shake, and he’s pressed so far into you that it’s all you can feel. And it’s obvious that you’re about to come, just with the way your cunt is pulsing around his mouth.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Harry, please, I’m gonna come!” You felt the burning spark fly through you, hitting you like a truck when his tongue curled and rocked inside you.

He’s humming and pressing himself so close you genuinely think he can’t breathe. And you realise immediately when the rubber band in snapped inside of you.

It gushed through your whole body, making you moan and cry in his grip. He couldn’t even explain the feeling of having you clenching around his tongue. It almost made him finish in his pants.

He lapped up every single drop he could. But he didn’t stop.

Your clit was so sensitive as he came back up to it with the same intensive pace.

You tried to push him off, “be a good girl, baby, give me another one.”

“So sensitive, Harry.” You whined, hand threading into his soft hair.

“Y’can take it.” He states, going back to sucking on your clit, and the outside of your entrance.

It made you a mess. A proper fucking mess.

You legs were being spread wide by the palm of his hands, and you were almost crying at how sensitive your pussy was.

You were always a five-minute-scroll-break kind of girl when it came to masturbation. So this came as a whole shock to your body. And it was so fucking hot from his perspective.

All he could hear was your filthy fucking whines, begging him one minute to stop and the next to go faster. And he was going insane at how sensitive your little hole was.

That was all he could feel. The clenching of your cunt, the absolute shaking mess your body was becoming.

His tongue flicked over your clit, just as you imagined he would after seeing him last night. And it was getting to messy, your arousal absolutely coating his mouth and chin.

“I-“ a deep suck of your clit, “I’m gonna fucking come!”

You writhed the whole way through your orgasm. Fucking into his face like it was a toy, grinding into it so hard your sure he was completely consumed by you.

And as you came down from the high, still shaking, he cleaned up down there again. Too good to waste, was his thought process. ‘You tasted like a dream’ you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter against you at some point.

His thumbs run over the dips of your hips to bring you back down to earth.

“Good girl, Baby. Took my mouth so fucking well.” He presses a final kiss on your clit as he stood up, your hands dragging up his back did.

“Feeling a little better too, i hope.”

“Yes. So good. H.” You panted, still in a bit of a daze.

“Next time,” he peppered a kiss on you shoulder, “tell me when you’re feeling all worked up okay.”

You nodded, hands sliding to rest in his hair.

“Or by all means, lay yourself out in my dressing room so I can make make come like you deserve.” He smiles at your little nod, still so out of it.

“My little gift, hm?” He coos, stroking a gentle hand down your face.

And he knows he’d do this moment a thousand times over with you. Just to see that smile flash over your lips.

———

[kjupchurch-xx]

Conflicted Feelings Part 8

Ryan was silent for a moment, as was I. Finally, I heard his voice. For once, he wasn't being the classic Ryan Reynolds, he was being the concerned friend, Ryan. "What do you mean you're not happy?" He asked, a bit confused by my admission. 

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, "I don't know. I just- I mean shit, I just had a part in the biggest film of my career. I'm getting calls from my agent to audition for major roles in upcoming films. This is just not the right time." I exhaled deeply as I thought about how my career would come to a screeching halt. 

I heard him sigh over the phone, "The films will still be here. Probably not the ones you're being asked to audition for, but there will be more films. I'm guessing you haven't told him?" 

I chuckled, "I literally just took a test before I called you."

I could hear him begin fake hyperventilating over the phone as he used an over-dramatic voice, "You mean...you mean...I'm the chosen one?" He asked, causing me to laugh. 

"Goodbye, Ryan." I said jokingly. 

He chuckled, "Just tell him. He loves Oscar and Ava, but I can promise you, he'll be stoked to have his first biological offspring." 

With that, we ended our phone call as I continued pacing the NYC penthouse waiting for Hugh to return from his morning bike ride through the city. Being a mother was not exactly something I wanted. I love kids, sure but I love other people's children, especially when I can give them back once I'm tired of them. This would be different. Not to mention my career being halted, but the fucking media and Deb are going to have a fucking frenzy whenever this comes out. 

20 minutes, or for me what seemed like an eternity had gone by. I heard the lock on the penthouse door turn, which meant Hugh had finally returned. He walked in and smiled at me as he approached me, quickly pecking my lips. 

"Morning, Love. I didn't want to wake you." He said softly as he walked towards the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge. 

I forced a smile, "Thank you." I said softly. 

He gave me a curious glance, "Are you feeling any better?" 

I shrugged, "I don't know. I think I'm going to lay back down for a bit." I said as I turned towards the bedroom. 

He gave me a half-smile as I turned, disappearing into the bedroom we shared. He knew something was up, but I was hoping he'd just pushed it off on the fact that I'd been feeling like shit. It had been 10-11 months since he showed up to my hotel room in LA to tell me that he and Deb had split up. We'd been having unprotected sex for months, I don't know why I was surprised to see a positive pregnancy test this morning. 

As I laid in our bed, a million thoughts ran through my brain...How I'd tell him, how he'd react, how I'd react to his reaction. I was shaken from my thoughts as I heard him walk past me and walk into the master bath. He looked at himself in the mirror, brushing over his stubble with his fingertips. He glanced down, spotting something on the bathroom counter and stared at it for a moment. 

Shit. I realized being in a panic when I saw the test, I must've forgotten to discard it before I called Ryan and spent 30 minutes pacing the fucking floor. I nervously bit my lip as I scratched my forearm anxiously, nervously awaiting his response to the small stick he was holding and had his gaze locked on. He looked up at me, eyes not completely wide, but they were definitely wider than usual. 

"Are you..." He managed to say while looking at me to make sure what he was seeing was accurate. 

I slowly nodded, it was all I could manage to do at this point in time. My words were completely failing me and even if they weren't, what the hell would I actually say? He sat the test down on the bathroom counter and quickly walked over to me, sitting in front of me on the bed. I could see his eyes glossy as if tears had begun forming in them. 

"Baby, this is incredible." He said softly, with a trembling voice. I sat silent, which he quickly noticed, "Don't you think so, love?" He asked me softly. 

I sighed, taking a deep breath, "I..." was all I could manage to choke out. 

He grabbed my hand, interlocking it with his, "What's wrong, babe?" He asked softly, his expression a mix of worry and anxiety. 

I shrugged, shaking my head slightly as I exhaled deeply, "I've worked so hard, busting my ass to pave a career for myself, Hugh." Tears were beginning to threaten to spill over my face, "I'm finally getting offers for major roles. My career is finally starting to blossom the way I'd always hoped it would...Now that's over for me." 

He shook his head, pulling me into his arms, "Baby, no. Don't say that. Your career is not over, love. You may have to take a hiatus in a few months, but you can pick up right where you left off." He said reassuringly. 

I nuzzled my head into his chest, sighing again, "It's been so hard to get where I'm at. I can't just come back months later and demand bigger films." 

He chuckled as he ran his fingers through my hair, "Babe, I can always help with that. There are loads of MCU movies that always want lead roles for developing characters." 

This was so easy for him. He had a massive career. He wouldn't be the one out of action due to a big pregnant belly. He didn't have to fight as hard as I did for a major role, spending years as an extra or a small role. I knew he was only trying to be supportive, but it was irritating me that he made this sound so easy to just get back into like I hadn't skipped a beat. 

He rested his chin on top of my head, "You're not even the slightest bit happy about this, are you?..." He asked, barely above a whisper. 

His voice was full of emotion and it broke my heart. He and Deb tried for biological children, which resulted in two miscarriages. That's when they adopted Oscar and Ava. He was no doubt their father, but I knew the feeling of having a child that shared his DNA and was biologically his, would be a big deal for him. I felt guilty for not being as ecstatic as he was. 

I shook my head, "In a perfect world, this would be maybe the best thing that had ever happened to me." I said softly, "But I'm selfish and my career comes first..." I continued, almost instantly regretting the words that had left my mouth. I knew they were a low blow. 

I heard him take a deep breath as I felt his body stiffen while the sound of him sniffling went through my ears. I looked up at him, seeing the heartbreak my words had caused him and I instantly felt two feet tall. The last thing I'd meant to ever do was to hurt him. 

I sighed, "Honey, I love you. I'm sorry." I said softly as I caressed his cheek. "I'm just in shock." I shook my head as I huffed, "I know that once the shock of it passes, I'll feel differently. Right now, I'm just heartbroken." 

He looked at me as he let himself give in to my hand on his cheek, nuzzling it. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I know that regardless of what happens with my career, I will love this child. I just have to... fully accept that things will be different." I said softly, still caressing his cheek. "Everything will be okay." I said as I kissed his forehead. 

He gave me a small smile as he turned his head, placing a soft kiss on my palm that was still caressing his cheek, "I love you, gorgeous." 

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.3 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. switch!hobie. switch!reader. missionary. save a horse ride a cowboy. using cum as lube. hobie being a tease. after your time in the bathroom, it's hard to deny your feelings for hobie. it's even harder to deny when hobie shows up on your doorstep.

Hobie Brown liked you.

He liked you from the very moment he met you. You were responsible, respectable, with enough sense in that brain of yours to last the both of you. You were quiet yet not shy and willing to speak your mind when need be. You were mean but in a nice way, in a way that really showed you cared more than you ever wanted to let on. He might have liked that most about you. Or it would be your lips that he liked the most. After all, he’s finally gotten a taste of them twice now.

You and Hobie met at a party through Riri. She had introduced you two and you had given him a once over and, looking rather unimpressed, dismissed him in the most polite way you possibly could. Hobie thought you to be prissy and stuck up and was ready to dismiss you as well as just that until he saw you glancing at him throughout the night, always within view of him. He knew you liked him right away, simply playing, or convincing yourself, that you didn’t. He thought it was cute. 

You were avoiding him again. More so than before. According to your other shared friends, you weren’t even leaving your apartment. You didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Hobie on the street and being forced to confront your undeniable feelings right then and there.

But you had to talk about what happened eventually…right? You would have to talk to him eventually.

Would flowers be appropriate? Would they make you more upset? Imply something that was never there in the first place? Or would they soothe the undoubted rage you would feel upon seeing Hobie at your door when all you wanted was to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn't need him coming in and stirring shit up but Hobie wouldn't be himself if he didn't stir the pot just a little.

Hobie decided no flowers, not yet, you weren't ready for something like that. It would send you into a spiral, turn you off to any idea of simply talking to him.

He stood at your door for approximately 10 minutes, simply debating if disturbing you would be worth it. Hobie had the chance to make things a whole lot worse but also the chance to remedy your pain and confusion. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to make things better between the two of you. So he knocked, nervous for one of the few times in his life.

It was clear you didn't expect him to be at your doorstep when you opened the door. Your bored gaze widened into something of surprise, or maybe that’s fear he was seeing. You didn't hesitate to try and close the door on him but Hobie stuck his boot between the door and the frame to stop you. “Wai’, wai’, sunshine please, hol’ on.” He pleaded softly, sticking his hand through the crack to pry the door open but you had a surprising amount of strength.

“Could you stop fucking calling me that? It’s stupid and annoying.” Your words hold a bitter taste to them. Your lips are pressed into a firm scowl as you look at him. Your hands balled into fist pinned to your sides. “Why are you here, Hobie? I’m not feeling well” You let out a feeble cough to punctuate your point. It’s unconvincing even to you.

Hobie leaned against your doorframe and looked at you with those heavy-set eyes you found yourself thinking about far too often. “Ya haven’ been answerin’ ma calls.” His voice was soft compared to yours. It makes you feel a bit ridiculous for being so angry. But your anger was righteous; you had every justifiable reason to be upset.

“When do I ever answer your calls?”

“Touché.” Hobie tried to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, shifting his gaze to the side. But — God — if only you knew how anxious he was to speak to you. His mouth ran dry and his palms, usually cool, where now hot and clammy. “But we still need t’ chat. Don' wan’cha goin’ ‘round thinkin’ I was just tryna get off or somethin’.” 

You’re colder than usual to him, scoffing at his every word. Hobie was starting to think you might actually hate him. But if he’s right, and he nearly always is, you like him far more than you want to let on, you always have. This was all denial, a front, a way to protect your fragile world view and delicate self-image.

You turn yourself away from him, eyes shifting, head low. You don’t want to talk. Is it so hard to just be left alone?

Hobie could see you were shutting down. “Look– I’m no’ ‘ere to tell ya who ya are and who ya aren'. ‘M jus’ here fo’ support.” He was gentle, his lips twitched into a half-hearted smile, trying to be friendly and cordial. As much as someone like him can be.

Maybe it’s then that you realized the fact that he was just trying to offer you some kindness at a point in your life where you might have needed it most. You were so unsure of yourself, who you were, what you did. You always knew Hobie wasn’t a bad person, but you never knew he could be so tender.

You pursed your lips and sighed with defeat before opening the door a little more to let him through. His boots made your floorboards creak under the weight of them as he walked into your flat, his hand shoved into the pockets of his spiked and studded leather jacket. He was too comfortable, too cool for your liking. Or maybe you were too tense for his.

You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself. Your body language screamed defensive, closed, unwilling to listen. Your eyes shifted from side to side but never linger on Hobie for long. Back against the door, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, heel to toe. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, what you think we share, but I’m not interested. It shouldn’t have happened.” You spat out, more at yourself than at him. “It was a mistake.”

Hobie grunted. “Way t’make a guy feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” He wasn’t hurt about it. You were going through a lot right now. And your words said more than you ever cared to say. 

“I’m not gay, Hobie.” You say a little forcefully, watching with a sort of meticulousness as Hobie wandered his way closer to you. You watched him shrug as if it didn’t matter. “So wha’? I wouldn’ call myself gay either, I jus’ like who I like.” He slid his hands from his pockets, his approach still slow and steady. You didn’t dare look away from him or make a motion in any other direction.

“‘M no askin’ you t’be gay, sunshine.”

You swallowed as Hobie reached out and placed his large hand on your hip and closed the space between your bodies. This was the very reason why you didn’t want to be around him, because you knew that if he made a motion for you, you wouldn’t have the strength to pull away.

You wanted him. You wanted him carnally, wanted him the way one being always longs for another. You wanted his hands, his lips, his cock. You wanted all of him and more. Just one more time, one more time and you’d expel him from your mind and you’d be done with it all together.

You looked at him, desperation filling your glossy eyes like tears. “Then what do you want from me, Hobie? I don’t understand.” You don’t understand yourself anymore. You don’t know yourself. All you know is that you're wildly and completely, head over heels, desperately fiending to have him again and you didn't know what that meant about yourself.

Hobie stroked your hip tenderly with his thumb. “I jus’ wan’cha t’like me back. Is tha’ so hard?”

You turned your head away, lips pursed to stop them from trembling. You were utterly terrified. Terrified because you do like him back. You like him more than you ever wanted to let on. Everything you despise about him, his saunter, his carelessness, his full laughter, his smile, is truly everything you adored about him and he had seen right through you the entire time.

“I do like you.” It feels so good to get off your chest, to finally say it out loud. You look at Hobie, eyes hard yet glassy. Your lips are pressed firmly.

Hobie didn't understand. “Then wha’s the problem?” If he liked you and you liked him, why were you so against being with him? It wasn't like you’d lose your friends, they were totally accepting of queerness if not queer themselves. And so what if anyone else judged you? You never cared about anyone’s opinion before.

“I thought you were the most annoying person in the world just a few weeks ago. I still do. So what if we like each other? That doesn't mean we’re meant to be together. I’ve known myself well all my life. I’ve known what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted to be-”

“This is ‘bout’cha feelin’ like ya don' know yerself anymore?” Hobie scoffed. “Things change, sunshine. Life happens. Grow up.” It was harsh, but you needed to hear it. You liked men, Hobie specifically, men generally. Who cares? Not him, not your friends, not the people that matter in your life. “If I like you and you like me, wouldn' i’ make the most sense for us to at least try to make sometin’ outta this?”

You were silent. Utterly and terribly silent. You didn't know what else to say. You felt ridiculous for holding on to this idea of yourself that you’d never live up to. You couldn’t believe you were admitting this but Hobie was making sense. Who cares if you like men, like him. Sure, it might come as a shock to everyone but in the end, what does it truly matter?

You look at Hobie with big eyes and your hands reached out to pull him a little closer. Who cares, you told yourself. The guilt still ate away at you but with time, you knew it would go away.

Hobie deemed it safe to kiss you. He was cautious, easing his lips onto yours, tender and innocent until it wasn’t. It was all the sum of their parts. Lips, teeth, tongue, passion, drowning desire. You reciprocated with the same timid carefulness of someone unsure of how to be gentle, how to be intimate without being aggressive.

Hobie’s fingers curled into the fabric of your shorts, pulling you closer until your body was flush with his. Your arms fell over his shoulders, fingers mindlessly scratching at the nape of his neck while your teeth nip softly at his lip piercing. He pressed you to the wall much like you had done to him that night in the bathroom and pressed his body closer to yours. You didn’t mind that all his spikes in studs were digging into your flesh. You welcomed his sharp abrasiveness.

You guided Hobie to the couch, where the two of you fell into a tangle of limbs and caressing touches. Hobie was on top of you, his large hands still on your hips but slowly beginning to roam about your body while the two of you kissed. 

Fuck, he was hard already but so were you so it made the matter all the less embarrassing. Your arousal only made him harder, more desperate for you. Hobie’s hands grasped at your hips and waist in an act of worship, before sliding between your legs to palm at your aching cock pressing against the front of your underwear.

“Hobie~” you whined softly, moaning onto the fullness of his lips before your tongue sought out his once more. “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” You should be embarrassed by how desperate you are, you both should. Your hands ferally tug at each other's clothing, just enough to get your cocks out and rutting against each other. His was bigger than yours, thicker, with veins running along the sides. He was uncut and pretty. And the direct comparison of your sizes made your cock twitch and leak onto your stomach. His precum dripped down and mingled with yours.

Hobie was not shy about rutting his hips and rubbing his length against yours. Your hands continued to pull off clothing after clothing. His vest, your shirt, his pants then yours. Until you both were totally nude, minus the spiked collar Hobie still wore.

“I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You said between bated breaths and eager kisses. Hobie pressed his hips down against yours and you whimpered just slightly. You felt his smooth yet scarred skin under your palms and felt at ease. You looked at him almost pathetically and felt your face grow hot as Hobie rolled his hips into yours and chuckled at you. The leaky tip of his cock rubbed the underside of your mushroom head and you shivered.

Hobie’s lovely lips kissed your cheek and began to hover over your jaw and down your neck. “I’ll show ya, sunshine. We’ll take turns, yeah?” He suddenly became as sweet as sugar, so sweet you could taste it on your tongue when he kissed you again. “I’ll show ya how t’do i’, then you can do i’ t’me.”

He was so gentle when he touched you, but you writhed and squirmed with every trace of his fingers along your body. “Do ya have lube?” He murmured against your flesh as he kissed a small sweet spot at the base of your neck. You nodded, a bit slowly. “I think… It’s somewhere in my room. I never needed to — fuck — use it before.” For the life of you, you couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Your brain was too fuzzy, Hobie was starting to move his hips faster and the way his cockhead rubbed yours was starting to make you delirious. “I can’t remember,” you murmur hazily. “I can’t remember, I can’t remember. God, please don’t stop.”

“Yer actin’ like this ‘n ‘m not even fuckin’ ya yet.” Hobie chuckled lowly into your ear. It tickled and you weren’t sure if that’s what made you shiver or the way he wrapped his lithe fingers around your cocks and squeezed just enough to apply a perfectly delicious amount of pressure.

You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand while Hobie thrusted his forward. He watched the way you huffed and whimpered, almost whining. You squeezed your eyes shut and simply let yourself feel his length against yours. His tip rubbed yours, precum leaking onto your slit. It was just enough to make you come undone.

You didn’t even know you came until you felt it pool all over your tummy. Your eyes opened, bleary and out of focus as your cock twitched. You reached down, looking up at Hobie who was pushing his hips in shallow thrusts. He was close, you could tell just by the way he moaned, deep and pretty like he was singing just for you.

You reached down and dragged your thumb over his dark tip, pressing against his slit and rubbing in short, tender strokes. Hobie’s hips shuddered and his lips parted just enough to let out something of a guttural groan. “Fuck– ‘m close, sunshine. Yer doin’ so good.”

Hobie came soon after you, with a few more short rubs of his tip, he spilled out all over your hand and tummy, his cum pooling in with yours into a large, milky puddle. It was warm, a bit more viscous than yours, came out in globs that landed on your abdomen.

Hobie leaned in and kissed you once again. You melted into him, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Hobie.” You plead with him, panting into his mouth with a desperation you’ve never before known. You parted your legs wider, exposing yourself to him, offering yourself to him. You looked so handsome like that, legs spread and cum on your belly. “Use our cum if you have to. Please, I need it.”

He was taken aback by your eagerness to be fucked. “This’ll be ya first time bottoming, yeah?” You nod sheepishly. Hobie smiles that smile you’d usually scoff at but now, all you could do is marvel at it. You swooned at it, your lips pulling into the smallest smile of its own. “Will you let me fuck you after?” You ask in the smallest voice as if you were almost embarrassed by your request. But you couldn’t help it. “Please, I really wanna fuck you.”

“Awww ya wanna fuck me, sunshine?” Hobie crooned at you. He laughed robustly as you slapped his shoulder and turned your face away. “You can always leave, dickhead.” He kissed at your neck and chest, nipping slightly at your skin. “You don’ wan’ me t’do tha’.” Hobie continued to kiss at your neck while dragging his fingers through the puddle of cum on your tummy.

Your lips parted and a small gasp left you as the pad of his fingers circled over the tight rim of your puckered hole.

“Ya wanna prep first, jus’ tease i’ open.” Hobie pressed a singer against your hole, listening to your soft whines as his finger eased into you. The intrusion felt odd, but not bad. He whispered for you to relax. “‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha.” He gathered more cum and made sure his path was nice and slick. “‘M gonna add another finger.”

“Just do it— please.”

Hobie wasted no time sliding another slickened finger into your taut hole, his eyes watching the way you bite your lip and stifle a whimper. His fingers didn’t search for your prostate, his cock would do that work for him. He was just focused on opening you up and ensuring that you’d be ready to take him. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Your face twisted, not exactly with discomfort. It was a feeling you could get used to with time.

Hobie and that dimpled smile that grove you mad. You almost wanted to say something but every time you opened your mouth, you simply cried out. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You were desperate, every desire you’ve ever had spilling out of your mouth, every fantasy you’ve had about him since that night in your closet. You wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him, you wanted you bodies to melt into one another.

And when Hobie pulled his fingers from your wanton hole and gathered more cum to spread down his length, you prepared yourself for an unbearable pain. You’ve seen porn like this but no one has ever been nearly as big as him. 

He placed his tip against your wet hole, looked at your face for any sign of pain, and slowly eased himself in.

Your mouth fell open and your back arched as you whimpered. You could feel him splitting you open, parting your tight walls to make space for him. Your walls were molded to his cock. Hobie groaned above you, hands gripping at your hips and thighs to ground himself. “Ya feel so good, sunshine. Bloody hell. Stay still f’me.”

But you couldn't, you wiggled and writhed with something of discomfort and pleasure. His intrusion was not exactly welcome but certainly not discouraged. The sounds that left you were ones you’ve never heard before. They were new and unknown, whiny and loud as Hobie pressed against something soft and sensitive inside you. Suddenly discomfort was welcome and you needed more.

He pressed his hips flush to yours, rolling his hips and offering shallow thrusts that made him poke and prod at that spot that made your toes curl. You tossed your head back, eyes rolling back into your head, fingernails sinking into his flesh. “Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You whimpered as he buckled down and pulled out only to fuck himself back into you.

Hobie was desperate, ravenous, trying so hard not to hurt you while also satisfying his need to have you. He loved the way you sang for him, your whiny moans growing higher with each thrust into your hole. You trembled and you sang and you opened your legs wider to feel him deeper if such a thing was really possible. You could feel him in your throat, choking.

Your orgasm came so quick you hardly had the chance to say anything before you were squealing, your cock leaking more cum onto your tummy with a few hard twitches. Your mind was so hazy, but you had enough sense to hide your face in the bend of your elbow to hide from the embarrassment of coming so swiftly.

You expected Hobie to laugh at you, tease you for it. But he gently took your arm from you face and leaned down to pepper kisses across your heated face. “I’s okay, sunshine. I’s ya first time. Only right you’d be sensitive.” His fingers traced up and down your side as he placed his lips on yours and kissed you with a tenderness you still couldn’t believe he was capable of.

“Y’want me t’keep goin’ or do y’want yer turn?”

He made you feel safe and comfortable. As comfortable you could be having sex with another man.

“Can you ride me? I wanna look at you.” 

Hobie chuckled, slowly pulling out of you with a pop that made you shiver. “So obsessed with me.” Your lips tugged into a lighthearted scowl that soon faded as Hobie scooped up your cum from your abdomen and reached back to prep himself, slowly sinking a finger into his ass, soon followed by another.

You watched, dazed and amazed, admiring the contours of his face as he let out a breathy little moan. Hobie smirked at you, “like what’cha see?” You didn’t have enough sass left in you to pretend that you didn’t. You just wanted him, to feel him, to make him cum like he made you cum. You wanted his pleasure, wanted him.

You sat up into a sitting position and watched as Hobie came and straddled your lap. Your hands found purchase on his boney hips and he looked into your eyes as he stroked your cock with his cum-covered hand. “Le’s see how fast I can get’cha t’cum this time.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“No’ rubbin’ i’ ya face, sunshine. I jus’ think i’s cute.” Hobie leaned down and kissed you again, just a peck that left you wanting more. He settled down and positioned your cock against his hole before slowly and carefully sinking down onto you.

It felt different than being with a woman, tighter, warmer, less wet. A moan ripped from your throat, your mouth falling open to gasp and shudder. Your hands stroked Hobie’s sides to soothe yourself. “Fuck– Hobie~ God, you feel so good.” You were gasping for air, breathless. Your cock was still sensitive. You’d cum in no time.

Hobie grinned, settling into your lap, rolling his slender hips into yours. He rode you slowly at first, drawing out noises no other person has ever made you vocalize before. He cooed at you, his lips on yours, his tongue in your open mouth. Then he rode you hard and fast, with the skill of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You were borderline pathetic. Rendered down to nothing more but a gasping, whimpering, drooling mess. You should have more self-respect, but Hobie was taking any semblance of it from you. His hole squeezed you tight, a vice grip that left your eyes rolling. “Ngh, mmh~” You were writhing beneath him, hands gripping, nails sinking into flesh.

You held Hobie close. His chest to yours, his cock slapping against your wet abdomen, his fingers laced into your hair. There was something so terribly intimate about it, how close you two were. The desperation on both parts was thick in the air, hot with the smell of sweat and sex. When Hobie stopped kissing you, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You two looked at each other and you felt as though your face had been shoved into lava.

Hobie grinded his hips down and his head lulled back. You had touched his soft spot and he let out a pretty, baritone moan. He squeezed you tight and stroked your cock softly and just as Hobie had suspected, you came, without warning. You had meant to cum on the outside, your hands attempting to push Hobie off of you when your cock began to twitch, but he seemed intent on staying.

You came inside, nice and deep, your hips shuddering. Hobie groaned, low and loud, and came onto you stomach and chest.

You both were left panting, tired and suddenly sore. Hobie looked at you, waiting for that moment where it all switches and you realize that you’ve made another mistake– where you suddenly become cold again. You looked up at him, eyes unsure but softly pleading for reassurance. “Please tell me this wasn’t a mistake.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Hobie got up off of you and sat on his heels beside you. His hands traced imaginary shapes into your cum-covered chest before leaning in to litter pecks across your face. “I’ wasn’ a mistake, sunshine. Nothin’ we did was a mistake.” His lips finally found yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His lips soothed you.

“Le’s see where this takes us. We don’ have t’put a label on i’ righ’ now.”

You looked rather sheepish, turning your head away from him. “What if I want to put a label on it?” If you were going to do this, you wanted to do it right. You wanted Hobie to belong to you and you to belong to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you still annoy the hell out of me and sometimes I want to knock you over the head with a frying pan, but I want us to be something.”

There was that smile, that gorgeous, charming, irritating smile. It was so cocky, so arrogant, so Hobie. You adored it.

“Then le’s be something’.”

[girlgenius1111]

i can take care of myself

barca femeni x reader hiding an injury

got a little stuck on the next part of pop back up, so enjoy this and tell me what you want to see in that :)

If you were to find a positive in the situation, it would be that there was too much noise from the crowd for anyone to hear the crack your ribs made as they broke. You'd been trying to block a shot, but your opponent hadn't seemed too worried about taking a high kick, and had slammed her foot, full force, into your abdomen.

You'd crumpled almost immediately, but the ball wasn't cleared well, so you staggered back to your feet, breathing hard. The pain felt like it was splitting you in half, every inhale agony, and you wrapped one arm around your stomach, trying not to double over. You were having a hard time concentrating, but suddenly the ball was back at your feet, and without taking the time to consider that you might be doing more damage, you lept forward, sprinting down the field. Adrenaline had taken over, and the pain in your side dulled briefly.

You were fast, passing several defenders who were caught off guard by the change of possession. There were still a few left, though, and you knew you needed to pass. You found Ona on the overlap, and cut in towards the box. She hit a perfect cross, and you launched yourself into the air, just barely getting your head on it. It was enough, though, and it sailed just passed the opposing goalkeeper, into the back of the net.

When your feet hit the ground again, your ribs erupted in pain, the temporary relief gone.

"Fuck," you groaned, collapsing to your knees. Your teammates were running to your side to celebrate, but were startled at your collapse.

"What is it? What hurts?" Ona questioned, the first to reach you. You reached out, grasping onto her forearm, and taking a throbbing deep breath.

"Ribs, just a bit. I'm fine," you gasped, rising to your feet just in time to catch an uncertain look on Ona's face, before your teammates were tackling you with hugs. You gritted your teeth as every touch to you sent a jolt through your body; you couldn't go off. There was no doubt in your mind that at least one of your ribs was broken, but the team was out of subs. You needed to win this game, and trying to beat another champions league team with only 10 players left for 15 minutes didn't seem so doable.

"Vamos chica!" Aitana shouted in your ear, as she jumped on your back. You bit back a groan, and mustered up a smile as Pina and Patri appeared at your side. Alexia and Irene were there too, but they were both looking at you much more sharply, eyes clocking your every movement.

As you and the girls let go and began to jog back to your positions, your captains stopped you.

"Are you okay? That was a hard hit," Alexia said, looking down at you.

"You look like something hurts," Irene continued.

You knew that if you told the truth, they'd make you go off. If you lied, and they found out, they'd be furious. You're only choice was to lie, and make sure they didn't find out, not even after the game.

"All good!" You said, shooting them both smiles before pushing past them to return to your position. They must have believed you, because they let you go, and you were able to finish the remaining 15 minutes.

It was agonizing, and you were close to tears by the end of the game, but you held it together until the final whistle. Instead of staying on the pitch after the game like you normally did, you were the first in the locker room, showering fast and changing before any of your teammates made it back.

Everyone was celebrating the win, talking and joking loudly, so they didn't notice when you slipped out, heading to your car. All you had to do was get back to your apartment, throw some ice on your ribs, and rest.

In the back of your mind, you knew everyone would find out eventually; there was no way to hide this for the entirety of the healing process. You weren't really thinking clearly though, brain muddled with pain

You took off your shirt when you got inside your apartment, allowing yourself to look at your abdomen closely for the first time. The left side was already bruising, a purple tint to the skin clearly visible. You experimentally pressed a finger to the area, letting out a hiss of pain, and immediately pulling your hand away. Definitely broken.

You got some ice, and laid on the couch, placing it as gently as you could over the contusion. You weren't really sure what to do now. It wasn't feeling any better; if anything, it was getting worse, every inhale, every small twist was uncomfortable.

As the discomfort grew, your resolve to keep this a secret weakened. Really, you just wanted someone to come and take care of you, not that you’d ever admit to that, or ask for it. It was lonely in your apartment, all alone, and the pain wasn't helping. You fought back tears, knowing that crying would only make it hurt worse.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you pulled your phone out of your pants pocket, intending to scroll through tiktok until you could move better. Instead, you unlocked your phone to several missed calls from about half your team. You were fucked.

Ignoring them further would only prompt them to come over, so you bit the bullet, and called Alexia back.

"Pequeña, where did you go?" She questioned upon answering, completely forgoing a greeting. She sounded mad.

"I went home," you replied.

"Why did you leave so fast?"

"I was tired. Long day," you said lamely.

"No, something is going on. What's wrong?" Alexia insisted. Her ability to read you was infuriating.

"Nothing is wrong, Ale, I promise," you told her.

"Then you won't mind if I come over to make sure?" She asked, frustration clear in her tone.

"I really want to go to bed, Capi," you started, but she interrupted.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes," she said, before hanging up the phone. 5 minutes. She must have already been on her way before you'd even called her back.

There wasn't much you could do. Alexia had a key, you knew she wasn't afraid to use it, and you also weren't sure if you could get up off the couch. So, you awaited your captain, knowing that she would figure out that you were hurt the minute she laid eyes on you. All the fight had gone out of you, and you had no energy left to convincingly hide your injury.

When Alexia knocked on the door, you sighed, before calling out to her.

"Use your key," you instructed. You heard her fumble with her keys as she responded.

"Why can't you let me in?" She questioned.

"I can't really get up," you told her. She cursed quietly in response, before the door swung open. She was wearing her Barca sweats, and she looked furious. She walked in, pausing to shut the door and take her shoes off, before making her way to the couch.

Stopping in her tracks, her jaw dropped at the state of your ribs.

"Dios mío, eres estúpido? Why didn't you tell anyone about this?" Alexia questioned, dropping to her knees next to the couch. You looked at her pathetically, shrinking under her hardened gaze.

"I didn't want you guys to have to play 15 minutes with only 10 players, we were out of subs," you argued, shutting your mouth when your words only seemed to aggravate her more.

"This happened then? Before your goal? And you played the rest of the game?" She asked incredulously, reaching out to run her fingers over your rib, her gentle touch starkly different than her tone. Still, you shied away from her hand, whimpering in pain at the movement.

"Stop moving," she told you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I don't even know what to say. How could you put yourself in danger like this? You could have gotten hurt even worse. You don't even know what is wrong, you need scans and a doctor," she ranted, closely examining the fast forming bruise.

"Ale,"

"No. You complain all the time about us treating you like a child, yet you do something so reckless, make such an immature decision, I don't know what you expect."

You'd never really seen Alexia this mad, not at you. She had a soft spot for you, as most of the girls did, and normally you only saw her anger directed at people who'd been too rough with you. You knew that everything she was saying was true, but her words still stung, and you blinked back tears, staring hard at the ceiling.

She wasn't paying attention though, pulling out her phone and typing quickly. It rang in her hands, and she answered. You could hear Lucy on the other end, and you cringed, knowing that if Alexia was this mad, Lucy wouldn't be very much fun either. Alexia spoke quietly to Lucy, telling her that she needed help getting you to the hospital for scans, and that Irene and Mapi were already on their way. At this, you groaned, and Alexia shot you a look. She hung up, then, and you avoided her gaze.

"The girls will be here soon, and they'll help me get you to the hospital. I don't want to hear a single complaint, pequeña, not even one," she informed you. Her tone was still so upset, and you hated it. "How much does it hurt?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at you as if daring you to lie to her.

"A lot," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Well, you probably have several broken ribs, so I'm not surprised. What were you thinking, y/n, honestly?" Now, she sounded disappointed, which was worse than angry, worse than upset. Your lower lip trembled, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

"I'm sorry. I know you're mad but can you yell at me later?" you asked, voice cracking. When you opened your eyes to look at Alexia, her expression had softened completely.

"I'm sorry, pequeña, you're right, I can absolutely yell at you later," she said, and you huffed out a laugh before crying out as your diaphragm jumped, jostling your injury.

"No no, don't move, don't laugh... don't cry, pequeña" she said, panicking slightly as you began to cry; it was a nasty cycle, crying because it hurt, and it hurting because you were crying.

Alexia stood, sliding onto the couch as gently as she could, pulling your head into your lap.

"Hurts, Ale," you whined at the movement.

"I know, I know, just try to relax your upper body, take slow breaths," she instructed, hand running through your wet hair. She was amazed at how fast her anger with you had disappeared; the minute you'd started to cry, it had evaporated, and all she wanted to do was wrap you in a hug. Unfortunately, that would probably only make you hurt worse, so she settled for laying a hand on your forehead, thumb moving back and forth rhythmically.

"I'm sorry," you cried, overcome with emotion at your own stupidity.

"Alright, y/n, it's okay, focus on breathing. I'm not mad anymore, okay?" she assured you, and you blinked up at her, not sure if you believed her words.

"Idiota, y/n," a voice called, as your front door swung open once again. You didn't have to look to recognize Mapi's voice, and as you heard multiple pairs of footsteps entering the room, you figured the other girls had arrived as well.

"Cállate María," Alexia snapped, glaring at Mapi before her attention refocused on you. Mapi grumbled, but listened. The faces of Irene, Lucy, and Mapi appeared above you, looking down with varying levels of anger and concern.

"Everyone be nice, she's in pain," Alexia scolded, seeing how you cowered under the glares of your teammates.

"Count on Alexia to let y/n off the hook," Mapi said under her breath, rolling her eyes, but softening her expression. You were only half paying attention as Irene and Lucy inspected your ribs, their faces pinched with worry.

"She's not off the hook, but yelling at her now isn't going to do anything," Alexia defended.

"She needs to go to the hospital," Irene said quietly, and Lucy nodded in agreement. You didn't appreciate being spoken about like you weren't there.

"Do I get any say in this?" you tried, but when everyone turned to stare at you in disbelief, you folded quickly. "Hospital sounds good," you revised.

"That's what I thought," Lucy replied harshly. You glared at the wall behind her, not quite brave enough to glare right at her.

"Pequeña," Alexia called, drawing your attention back to her worried green eyes. "Can you walk?"

You hesitated. You were sure you could, but it would hurt. You didn't really feel like giving anyone anymore reason to be mad at you, though, so you nodded your head.

"Yeah, just help me get up," you responded. It took all 4 girls to get you standing, trying to move your upper body as little as possible. By the time you were on your feet, you were sweating, and your jaw was clenched.

"Y/n," Irene started, exchanging looks with the other girls.

"I'm fine, let's just get this over with," you cut her off. She nodded uneasily, and her and Mapi began to walk you towards the door.

"I wouldn't want to rush this too much, y/n, the sooner you get home, the sooner Alexia goes back to being mad at you," Mapi teased.

You winced, knowing she was completely correct.

-----

2 uncomfortable car rides, several scans, and a multitude of scoldings from different doctors, later, you arrived back at your apartment. You were feeling much better now, the drugs the hospital had given you working wonders.

You'd settled on your bed, propped up against the pillows, eyes drifting open and closed. Irene and Lucy made sure you were settled before leaving. Alexia still didn't let them yell at you, claiming you were "too high to really appreciate it," but you knew she just felt guilty for being too harsh earlier.

"You can go too, guys, I'm fine," you tried to tell Mapi and Alexia. Mapi was perched on the edge of your bed, watching amusedly as Alexia hovered over you.

"Oh, you're fine. Did you hear that, Ale? She's fine," Mapi mocked, and you groaned.

"I don't want to hear that phrase leave your mouth again for a while pequeña, because you clearly aren't," Alexia responded, not finding Mapi's comment as funny as Mapi herself did.

"This is exactly what I didn't want," you cried, shifting uncomfortably.

"What is?" Mapi questioned, suddenly more serious than she was a few minutes ago.

"This, you guys," you mumbled, clearly feeling the effects of the pain relief. "You shouldn't need to take care of me, I can take care of myself,"

"Si, because not seeking medical attention for multilpe broken bones definitely fills us with confidence in your ability to take care of yourself," Mapi replied, rolling her eyes.

"Is that why you hid it? You didn't want us to take care of you?" Alexia asked quietly, eyes searching yours.

"Didn't want to be a bother," you replied, seeming suddenly more alert than you had been a few seconds ago.

"Estúpida," Mapi stated, very matter of factly.

"María!" Alexia scolded again, but Mapi cut her off.

"You couldn't be a bother. You're just a kid," she said, and your lips pursed unhappily at that. "Si, you are, you are only 19. Asking for help doesn't make you a bother."

"Mapi's right, we're here because we want to be, we want to help you, y/n. You don't need to do everything yourself." Alexia insisted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You didn't look very persuaded. "Just try to let us help, please?"

At this, you nodded hesitantly. Somewhat satisfied, Alexia carefully tucked you in.

"Sleep. We'll wake you up in a couple hours for more medicine." Your eyes widened.

"You're staying?" You asked, voice unmistakably vulnerable. Both girls smiled reassuringly at you.

"Of course we are," Mapi said, tone leaving no room for doubt or argument.

"Okay," you stated, body relaxing against the pillows, eyes already sliding shut.

Alexia and Mapi exchanged triumphant looks. It was a step for you, clearly. They weren't even sure they'd still need to yell at you tomorrow.

-----

:)

[amphibiahawks321]

Can we get a Mereoleona with a Shy male S/O that everyone thinks is just a follower of hers or someone she forces to be around her and when she reveals he's her husband/Boyfriend everyone is super shocked

[Asta viciously staring at mereoleona and Y/N chatting]

Asta : .......That's it I'm gonna ask him–

Yuno : Please don't....

Asta : I can't help myself okay! Seriously who is that guy? And WHY would he want to be around someone like HER? Out of all people!

Noelle : It's none of our business! also do you WANT to anger her?!

Asta : is he a follower of her? Or maybe... Do you think she forces him to be around her?!

Yuno : ......Okay the second one could actually be a possibility

[Mereoleona leaves Y/N for a moment]

Asta : ......My chance

Noelle : i swear if you–

[Within a second Asta immediately starts running up to Y/N making Noelle face palms herself and yuno sighs]

Asta : Hello there!

M!Reader : !!!?!?

Asta : Sorry to bother you! But you mind if I ask you just a small tiny little question?

M!Reader : Well... I suppose i–

Asta : Why are you following her? Did she pay you to be around her? Are you like a follower of hers? If so WHY HER OF ALL PEOPLE?!

M!Reader : i-i well it's that–

Asta : Did she win you at a contest? Or maybe–

Noelle : Shut up! Stop asking him nonsense brainless questions! Your brain is already empty as it is!

Yuno : Sighs I'm sorry for my.... Friend....

M!Reader : don't worry about it's no big deal

Asta : But please just answer ONE question of mine! Are you actually not bruised up when you're around her–

[Noelle immediately bonks asta on the head]

Asta : Ow! Hey!

M!Reader : Not at all! she's very sweet!

Asta : ......are you sure you're talking about the right person–

[Noelle bonks asta on the head again]

Asta : Ow!

M!Reader : Absolutely! Well.... chuckles it's probably because I'm her boyfriend/husband but who knows

Noelle : Are you happy now Asta? His her–.....

Noelle : .......

Yuno : .....

Asta : .......

Asta : Did...... Did you just say.... Boyfriend/husband.....

M!Reader : Yeah!

Yuno : What–

Asta/Noelle : WHAAT!!?

Asta : Why would you pick.... SUCH a barbarian As your–........

[Asta, Noella and yuno felt a giant flaming paws clinging onto their heads]

Asta : ......

Yuno : ......

Noelle : ......

[Asta and yuno thought 💭]

AGAIN?!!/not again....

[The three slowly turn their heads slowly to reveal mereoleona staring down at the three of them absolutely pissed]

Mereoleona : You three....

10 Minutes later

[Noelle, Yuno and Noelle on their knees still having mereoleona's paws still on them while Y/N trying to convince her not to punish them]

M!Reader : My dear... Please calm down... Asta just wanted me to answer a couple of questions....

Mereoleona : I heard a certain someone... Called me a barbarian now I wonder who that would be....

[Mereoleona narrows her eyes at Asta which makes Asta instantly screaming in his mind]

M!Reader : Baby calm down, I promise they weren't a bother

Mereoleona : ........Sighs fine....

[Y/N starts smiling and kiss her cheek]

Asta : Thank you for having Mercy!✨–

Mereoleona : The only reason why your mouth isn't tapped onto the wall right now is because of Y/N....

Asta : yes ma'am....

[kpop---scenarios]

Misery Loves Company (3)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Warning: Smut [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Word Count: 1.8k

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon

@dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97 @1810cl

@lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands

@jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan

@skzooluvr

@jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13

@stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez

ONE | TWO |

Just as Minho leans in, his plump lips almost touching yours, your body begins to shake. Your eyes shoot open, sitting up with a gasp. You look around and see yourself still in the car, Minho glancing between you and looking at the road with a confused face.

“Are you okay?” He laughs. “It sounded like you were having either a scary dream, or a very sexual one.” He says.

“I- um, yeah. It was uh, scary.” You mumble, trying to compose yourself. You weren't quite sure how you felt about the dream you'd just had.

You and Minho? Maybe it was just because the two of you had been traveling for two days alone, and sharing a bed. Yeah, that was it. You didn't want him, it was just your brain going somewhere that you wouldn't go with him.

But if that was the case, why couldn't you stop thinking about him in a completely different way now?

“Okay.” He laughs. “Well we're about 10 minutes from the hotel. Hopefully they have more than one room this time.” He says.

“Yeah.” You say, forcing yourself to chuckle. “Hopefully.” Secretly you hoped they didn't, but you'd never tell him that.

A few minutes later, Minho pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. You both get out, stretching before grabbing your bags and heading inside. You both go up to the desk, each of you speaking to your own front desk agent.

“One room, one bed please.” You smile, sliding your credit card across the desk. You hear Minho mumble the same thing, and notice both the desk agents looking at each other.

“You guys came in together…right?” The woman asks, looking between you both.

“Yes, but we're not…together.” You mumble.

“Ah, well unfortunately, we only have one room left. With a king size bed.” She tells you both.

Fuck.

“That's fine.” Minho smiles. “I'll book that.” He finishes, sliding his own credit card over to his clerk.

Once he's finished checking in, you drag your bag behind you as you follow behind him to the elevator. The two of you step on, the door closing quickly. “We're not having very good luck with hotel rooms.” He laughs.

“We definitely are not.” You laugh, waiting for him to unlock the door. The two of you go inside, setting down your luggage, when he looks at you.

“Should we go grab some dinner?” he smiles, motioning towards the front door of the room. You nod your head, walking towards the door before you begin to remember your dream. You try to shake it out of your head, following Minho out of the room and back towards the elevator. You take a deep breath, trying to contain your thoughts, trying to make them a lot less dirty than they currently were.

You and Minho are sitting at a nice but small table, with menus placed in front of you.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Your waiter asks, smiling down at you both.

“Double vodka cran please.” You smile.

“Beer for me.” Minho replies. Your body freezes. This is exactly what happened in your dream in the car. You try to shake off the lust you were currently feeling but you couldn't help it. You sat there watching Minho scan the menu, licking his lips.

Fuck.

It seemed as if everything you had dreamt about it the car was beginning to come true. Does this mean he was going to kiss you when you got back to the room? Did you want that? Would you accept it? Well, look at him, of course you would. Your palms begin to sweat, making your glass slip in your hands. You quickly place it on the table, leaning forward to sip from the straw instead.

When you were finished with that drink, you ordered another double, and you knew by the end of the evening you were going to be drunk.

And you were. Even after eating dinner, you had 2 more double drinks and the room was spinning. Luckily for you, Minhi paid for dinner, and you followed him to the elevator, doing your best to keep up with him as you tried not to trip over your own feet or bump into anything. Thankfully you successfully made it to your shared room. And you went straight for your tank top and shorts, getting your toiletries as well before turning to look at Minho.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” You ask. “I was gonna shower.” Now was the time. Was your dream gonna come true?

“No, I'm all good, go ahead.” He smiles, sliding his belt out of his jeans.

You were a little disappointed that it didn't happen. You turned around and walked towards the bathroom with your shoulders slightly slumped. You took your time in the shower, hoping that maybe he would be asleep by the time you got out. A while later you got out of the shower, dried yourself off and slipped on your shorts and tank top. You crept out into the bedroom, Minho slightly snoring with the TV still on.

Thank fuck.

You set your clothes in your bag, trying your hardest to be quiet as you sneak into the bed, doing your best not to disturb Minho. You gently grab the remote from beside him, turning off the TV. You laid there in the dark, everything still spinning because despite your shower, you were still drunk. You closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep but you just kept thinking about Minho, his hands all over your body, the way his tongue would feel on you, the way he tasted, the way his cock felt inside you. Your eyes shoot open, your clit throbbing. You look over at him again, softly snoring. You slowly slip your hand into your shorts, closing your eyes as your fingertips touch your clit. You try to control your breathing as you gently rub, imagining it was Minho touching you, imagining him doing all sorts of things to you, and fuck was it ever hot.

Until he rolled over. Your stop, frozen in your position. He clears his throat, adjusting his position in bed and you can't tell if he's still asleep. You can feel your heart racing as you wait, hoping to hear those soft snores once again. But they don't come.

“Y/N.” He says, his voice low and hoarse. A knot forms in your stomach, as you wait for him to continue speaking. “Are you touching yourself right now?” He asks.

You didn't know how to answer. If you said yes would he be upset? If you said no would he even believe you?

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Were you thinking about me?” He asks. “Don't lie to me, either.”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Are you wet right now?”

“So wet.” You say.

Minho let out a low groan. “Fuck.” he hisses. “If you're gonna make a mess, at least do it on my face.”

Your own breath hitches. “You want to help me out?” You ask.

“Please ride my fucking face.” He groans. You must have been drunker than you thought, because you weren't sure sober you would ever do this. You got up, shimmying your shorts down and discarding them before you crawl back on the bed, straddling Minho's chest.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask.

“If you don't sit on my fucking face…” He begins to say but you cut him off, by sitting on his face. You feel his tongue swirl around your clit, lapping up your juices from playing with yourself. You lean forward, gripping the headboard as Minho sticks out his tongue and you begin to ride his face. You can feel your juices spilling out of you as you moan loudly, each movement bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Oh my fucking god.” You groan, moving faster on his tongue. “Fuck, Minho.” You cry, suddenly cumming all over his face.

You get off, laying down next to him as you try to catch your breath. Minho climbs out of the bed, moving around to your side of the bed. He drops his boxers to the floor, his cock standing tall. You look over at him, smiling as he grabs onto your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed but keeping your legs in the air. You watch as he spits into his hand, stroking his cock before he shoves himself inside of you, and it was better than you fucking imagined. Minho moves slowly, pulling out, before slowly pushing himself back in as far as he can and holds himself there for just a moment. Until he pulls out and does the same thing over and over again, driving you fucking crazy.

“Minho…” you gasp. “Please.”

“Please what?” Minho asks.

“Fuck me harder.” You groan.

Minho doesn't say anything, Instead picks up his pace, ramming his cock deep inside your wet cunt, making you scream. “It feels so good.” You cry out.

“Such a tight fucking pussy.” Minho moans, wrapping his hand around your leg, holding you closer as he fucks you. He moves his other hand between your legs, rubbing your already sensitive clit, desperately wanting to make you cum all over his cock.

You arch your back as Minho slams into you, his fingers moving just right against your clit. You tighten your pussy around his cock as he pumps into you. Your orgasm building so quickly, you don't even have time to warn him. It takes over your body, making you scream again as your eyes roll back. Minho's grunting, his fingers digging into your thighs as he desperately yearns to reach his own orgasm. He thrusts a few more times, the sound of you moaning from his cock threw him over the edge. He groans loudly as he pulls his cock out, stroking it fast, his head thrown back as he cums, right on your lower stomach, his chest heaving.

He takes a few deep breaths, laughing at the sight of you. “I'll get you a towel.” He chuckles.

“That's so nice of you, thank you.” You yell back, sarcastically. Minho comes back into the room, handing you a towel to clean yourself up with. When you're done, you put it in a dirty laundry bag near the door and crawl back into bed.

“That was fun.” He laughs.

“That was so much fun.” You breathe, laying under the covers. “But um…” you pause. “What does this mean now?” You ask. You kinda hoped he'd ask you on a date or something.

“Maybe…” he starts. The anticipation was killing you. What was he going to say?

“Let's just play this by ear.” He says, clearing his throat. “And maybe don't tell anyone about it.”

[harlowhockeystick]

9 and 18 with coach!sid please <3

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin?" & "i can tell when someone wants me" | poetic prompts | warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, i can redo if you don't want smut with these prompts!)

takes place after this fic.

"girl, quit eye fucking and leave some room for the rest of us. i can tell your fantasizing, but i don't blame you."

"i'm not touching him, so how can i be guilty of anything?" y/n co-workers words snap her out of her daze as she teases back. it was the beginning of an emergency staff meeting, the meaning was unknown and it was causing quite the buzz around the gymnasium. teachers, admin, and athletic staff alike were sitting together asking each other what they'd heard, known, or if they were getting fired. there was a heavy level of anxiety sitting in the room amongst them.

"sorry," y/n mumbled and sitting up straight. her friend chuckled beside her. but she couldn't help but stare, it had been a week since their dinner together, and it was all she could think about. she'd had trouble teaching, would zone out when talking to carter, their scandalous encounter was taking over her life.

"what do you think they're gonna talk about?" the other teacher asked sitting next to her, sipping coffee out of her tumbler and scrolling through emails looking for clues. "i think they're gonna talk about staff relationships."

her words made y/n's stomach drop. did it get out? did someone see her car at his house? did carter say something? did carter find out? it's amazing how many questions can run through the brain in just two seconds.

"i heard that the boys tennis coach, thomas, is having an affair with the girls tennis coach. i think one of the players caught them in the athletic offices but they did something to keep the kid quiet." y/n feels her nerves calm down, but not all that much. her eyes met with sidney's and she felt like he was trying to silently tell her something but she couldn't pick up on it. they weren't that connected.

yet.

moments later the superintendent gets on the mic and announces to faculty that in fact, both the girls and boys tennis coach were let go due to their actions. the boys coach resigned, and the girls coach was fired due to threatening the school district since she didn't do anything wrong and she was a single woman.

she felt a ball coil up inside her stomach as the staff were reminded of the policy: relationships among staff must be brought before the board if they occur within the school year. it was a district policy, to keep drama out of the way, and to keep relationships private to the parties benefit. at least, that was the way it was explained.

-

that meeting was bullshit. sent 10:45 am

y/n's phone pings signaling a text from sidney. she reads it as her students are taking their test. she feels butterflies and anxiety at the same time. her leg bouncing underneath her desk as she plans a reply.

...but what did he mean? was he against the rule, meaning he wanted a relationship? or was it just a waste of time? yes, it was a waste of time.

i know, it could have just been an email. sent 10:48

he never responds, but she gets too busy with other class periods. she gets lost back in time once more, fantasizing about that night. during lunch break spent in her darkened classroom, a bowl of warmed up soup in front of her as she grades papers until the next class comes through.

but she gets lost, in the deep trance of the memory of him. if she thinks really hard she can still feel his tongue sliding against her slick core, she can feel herself coming undone again at the force of his skilled and talented body.

she can feel his calloused but soft hands sliding down her body, grasping at her breasts while he sucks all of the sweet juice that flows out of her. she remembers her back arching off his wooden dinner table while he lapped at her for at least ten minutes straight, before he slid his thick cock inside of her for another ten.

she's taken out of her daydream by the sound of the school bell. she has three minutes to get herself back in order to teach again. she considers assigning today a reading and catch up day...so she can continue to reminisce.

dinner at my place? sent 1:23 pm

hell yes sent 1:24 pm

-

"you're bad at hiding your feelings, y/n." sidney stated, flipping over the steak on the grill and setting his wine glass down on the granite countertop. y/n sat on the barstool across from him, drinking a cocktail she made herself.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she took a bigger swig of the alcohol this time, holding eye contact with him as he leaned onto the countertop with his hands, making himself appear bigger in front of her. it worked.

"i can tell when someone wants me. half the women in that school want me, but you're the only one who went for it." she feels like a crook who was caught. "i know you act like last week didn't happen, but it's all i've been thinking about." now he's standing just inches from her on his back patio, the smell of grilled steak and vegetables filling her brain and the firm but agonizing touch making her go weak.

"it's all i can think about too." his thumb glides across her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes staring into her soul, what it feels like for hours. he bites his lip and she thinks she's gonna pass out.

"tell me what you thought about, maybe we'll reenact it after dinner. can't have you eating cold steak, can i?"

[octopotto]

Brain Rot: TWST Cast with Saitama! Reader

OCTO NOTE: College has been absolutely brutal. These headcanons were worked on bit by bit these past few months :(

I saw some TWST fics that used pre-exsiting characters to based the MC off of and I wanted to try w/ one of my favourite characters.

WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, OOC Behaviour, this is so cringe but very self-indulgent, mc is the most sane person in this universe, you decide if mc is bald or not, yandere if you squint hard enough.

SPOILERS FOR: TWISTED WONDERLAND

**The reader will ALWAYS be Gender-Neutral! 

———————————-••———————————

Life at Night Raven College would be much more peaceful if MC had Saitama’s strength lol

Problems would've been solved quicker as well.

At first glance, you don’t seem to be a threat.

To most, you look like a regular, magic-less human on the outside.

And that’s what makes you so dangerous.

Don’t fuck around and overblot unless you have a death wish.

The Overblot crew definitely had one when MC swung their fist at them.

The whole prologue would be shortened.

Fun fact: You accidentally put too much force on the coffin door to get out, thus smashing Grim in the process while he was prying it open :D

Grim, the Ramshackle ghost, and Crowley were the first group to witness your impressive strength.

And by impressive, they mean terrifying.

To Crowley and Grim at least.

The ghost were shocked but very much amused after a couple moments.

God knows how the Ramshackle Dorm was still in one piece after that.

Grim is very happy to have a strong minion to protect him

Just don’t hurt him like you did with the ghost pls. And the door lol

Crowley would be most likely absolutely be afraid and made a mental note to keep track of you. 

Especially since you were almost successful to killing him in his ghost form. He’s making sure that Ramshackle gets fixed quicker.

Crowley: “Great Sevens… How do they have such monstrous strength... This stowaway is just a magicaless human! My…what have I gotten myself into?? *sobs* OH IF I WASN’T SUCH A KIND AND GENEROUS SOUL I WOULD NOT LET THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOUR BE PRESENT ON MY CAMPUS” *more obnoxious sobbing*

You and Grim: 😶😐????

Despite scaring and almost killing the shit out of the Headmaster, you still start off as a janitor lol.

Fast forward to the Mine Incident with Ace, Deuce, and Grim—

You basically massacred that monster.

A monster that probably injured many Mages and Wizards

You destroyed it in one punch.

On that day, Ace reminded himself to never piss you off again. Ever.

He loves cherry pie, but would rather not become the filling itself, thanks.

Deuce probably was gawking at you after the shock.

Not in a bad way

But in a good way y'know?

But he’s too shy to ask for advice for now.

This is basically the start of Deuce idolizing you and your strength.

Brain Rot:

Ace, Deuce and Grim are your self-proclaimed bodyguards.

At least THEY like to think that they are.

Listen, they know that you are MORE THE CAPABLE protecting yourself in fights or in any physical confrontations.

But that’s it.

You’re basically shit at everything else.

From completing your assignments to even showing up to class, it seems like in the trio's eyes that you NEED THEM to take care of you. You all are like family now!

So they all make an effort to help you out when you need it.

No really, if you keep forgetting to submit that one potion essay that Crewel keeps smacking your shiny ass head to complete, you’re going to get left behind.

 They’re more like secretaries than bodyguards lol.

The post-overblot Spelldrive tournament was an absolute nightmare.

Well, at least for everyone but Ace, Deuce, and Grim.

They were GLOATING about how they were in the lead and challenged anyone to try and top them like the smug, over-confident assholes they are.

The only reason why they were in the lead was because of you. Simple as that.

The Savannaclaw gang put up a good fight

For the first 10 minutes in the match.

All Leona could do at that moment was strategize how not to get his and his teammate’s heads chopped off by the disc you kept throwing at them.

You are quite fond of Ruggie

More specifically: you were fond of Ruggie’s haggling skills.

If were had a choice to trade your god-like strength for his haggling skills and techniques, you wouldn’t hesitate one bit.

And y’know it wouldn’t be Ruggie if he didn’t take advantage of this. He would offer you advice and tell you if theres a huge sale going on at a near-by grocery store if you promise to lend him a hand whenever he needed it.

You were so tempted to say no

Not because he was shady and overall untrustworthy

You’re just lazy

This is his way to spend more time with you but he would never admit that out-loud.

If your MC is bald, instead of Floyd squeezing you, he will smack and ‘dribble’ your head as if it was basketball.

Jamil and Ace especially are amused.

God forbid you ever get a bad tan on the top of your scalp

You will NEVER hear to end of it.

Floyd also is your biggest bully.

jk but not really

Yeah he knows that you could probably kill him with a gentle tap

But when did that ever stop him?

He mainly does it because he wants to see your reactions

You’re so plain looking and your nonchalant voice and facial expressions do not help as well.

But remember only Floyd HIMSELF can do those things to you, okay? Only him.

If he ever finds out that some random NPC student was doing the same thing to you, You’re going to be finding that NPC tossed in a corner somewhere with almost all their joints mangled.

You like how generous Kalim is.

You probably helped him fan the fire off his ass in the ceremony

He’s was incredibly thankful and was able to remember what you looked like.

I mean, you literally saved him!

How could he not remember you?

You don't remember him but let’s not go there lol

Because you saved Kalim from being cooked, he always makes sure that you had enough food for the month!

He would practically beg, like BEG Jamil to make extras so you won’t go hungry.

Especially after experiencing what type of living conditions you were dealing with in Book 5.

Poor Jamil, not only is he working overtime for Kalim, but technically serving food for the person who ruined his plans back in Book 4.

Jamil packing food for you by Kalim’s request: 😡😡😡

totally did not try to poison your food on several occasions

Kalim also begs Jamil to let him deliver the food to you.

He can’t help it! He really enjoys seeing you happy when you receive something from him and Jamil.

You never complain about.

Free food = Saving money.

I mean, if you're being gifted something, why be rude and deny it?

Some students say that you were taking advantage of Kalim because of how easily you accept his gifts without anything in return.

And y'know they could be right

But Kalim doesn't mind.

As long as you're happy, he's happy :)

In Vil’s eyes, you are an enigma. 

It’s like he can’t wrap his pretty little head around on how he feels about you.

On one hand, other than your god-like strength, you’re nothing special. When he first saw you he only disregarded you as another potato that’s not worth his precious time and effort on.

But on the other hand, Vil sees you as a blank slate. Something that ASKING for him to put his smooth and perfectly manicured fingers on. Someone that needs his guidance and skills. 

He doesn’t care if you’re bald or have hair, it doesn’t derail him from the fact that despite you sticking out like a sore-thumb, you’re still so…plain looking.

You probably said some off-hand comment about how ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ to Vil and just walked off.

It might not meant anything to you

But it meant a lot to Vil.

When it came to the overblots and eventually Book 5, he felt as though he was in a spiral of questions that he himself must find the answers for.

And what were the questions that caused Vil’s current state of disarray about? You obviously.

He’s going mad

He can’t stand it.

You said that beauty is in the eye of the holder? Fine then.

He knows that he could do something for you. 

Something marvellous, something beautiful.

For you and himself. 

You had a new nickname for Malleus every time you guys end up running into eachother.

Malleus would always look forward to meeting you solely for the nicknames.

I believe that Saitama genuinely does not care enough to remember other people’s names that much

So that will be a trait for MC in this.

Malleus probably thinks this is a way humans show affection to each other.

In reality, you cannot for the life of you remember that weirdo's name.

Malleus: *Appears out of thin air in front of the MC*

Malleus: Greetings, Child of Man *smiles*

MC Thinking: ‘Why does this rando keep coming back? What was his name again?’

Malleus: *Anticipating their response with excitement*

MC: Uhhhh..

MC: Wassup…Horton? :D

Malleus: *Smiles at his new nickname*

It took a while for you to come up with a permanent nickname for him but he doesn't mind

In his eyes, it's your way of showing him how much you wanted to become closer companions.

Jack and Epel are always on your ass about “How to become stronger” and when you actually tell them the routine that you did at the beginning of your journey, they literally fell in disbelief.

They couldn’t believe it.

It was basically a simple workout routine 

Both still believe that you’re hiding the secret of how you got to your level of strength.

Thus, joint workouts became also a thing within the NRC Campus and you are the leader.

Not by choice however.

Jack, Epel, and everyone else involved were really curious as to how you train.

I mean, look at what you can do! And you’re not even a Mage!

The first meeting was terrible due to the fact you almost obliterated the school.

One flick and the gym could’ve been in shambles.

That’s why Jack and Epel made sure to do it somewhere far and secluded.

And even then, you still created a lot of damage with minimal effort.

It’s incredible to those who look up to you.

Throughout the story, you gained some admiration and recognition along the way.

From Heartslaybul to Diasomnia, you unknowingly grab the admiration of those who either want to become stronger or see you as a hero. 

Some might say that they see you as the messiah who was sent to protect the school.

But let’s not go that far.

You wouldn’t notice anyways

In your eyes they're all a bunch of weirdos.

———————————-••———————————

OCTO NOTE: Hopefully you guys enjoyed these very terrible brain-rot headcanons. I always found Saitama’s character interesting so I wanted to try out something new. 

Again, I’ve been very busy so I can’t promise anything BUT I can say that there will be more Yandere FF7 fics coming soon! ;)

Thank you to everyone who enjoys my low-quality works! Hope you look forward to my new ones ❤️❤️

[willowser-but-nsfw]

now we're partners in crime—

gojo x f!reader wc: 4k+ tags: modern au, no smut but it is a mentioned subject throughout, intoxication to the point of slight memory loss (referenced), gojo being gojo, f!reader (referred to as 'wife' and 'bride', etc.) takes place in you guessed it las vegas, so there's some american stuff in here inspired by the katy perry song 'waking up in vegas'

many things are immediately concerning when you wake up.

the first being that you're laid up in a bathtub and not entirely naked, wearing some ridiculously scandalous lingerie you would never buy for yourself while in your right mind — though you think that might be precisely the problem. that you weren't.

you have no recollection of getting into this...outfit, which is little more than too-tight ribbons and misplaced pasties and strips of crotchless, white material. it's so open and exposing that you are horrifyingly embarrassed, hands clumsily rushing to cover the bits of you that are all out even if you are in a hotel bathroom by yourself.

the thought of anyone seeing you in this nonsense nearly has you sinking further down into the tub and turning the faucet on high until the water runs up and over your head, but someone would come to find you eventually, and they would catch just as much of an eyeful as whoever tied you into this crap.

and someone certainly did, because there's no way you could have gotten into this alone, either stone-cold sober or sloshed out of your mind. which you're quite sure you were. had to have been.

there are faint and distorted memories tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, of cherry-stained lips and rushed, slurred whispers. "y'look so sexy," he says, and the little giggle pressed into your neck is innocent, childish compared to the wide hand gripping your ass cheek too hard.

the terribly concerning thing about this isn't that you don't know who that man is, but rather that you do. all too well. and now your head is pounding and your stomach is turning and your hangover is coming in full force at the realization that you may have, in fact, fucked your best friend.

but even that isn't the most concerning thing. no, waking up in a bathtub with few memories of your wild, first night in las vegas has nothing on the glittering, heavy diamond ring on your finger.

you don't know anything about carats but someone — that you hope and pray is not gojo satoru — has bought you a whole crop of them.

it seems as if an eternity passes before you can haul yourself up and over the edge of the tub, though it probably only takes about 10 minutes in total. on all fours, you feel like a little show cow, with fabric everywhere except for where it should be, and you're almost so overcome by your embarrassment that you turn back for the tub.

but there's a faint ringing coming from outside the door. an annoying, too-cheerful noise that you realize is what's woken you up in the first place, because it hasn't stopped for ages. a ring-tone that, again, has your stomach dropping from the familiarity.

maybe it's getou, you try to tell yourself, come to find gojo's phone because the clown ran off without it too late last night and is now panicking. maybe shoko and suguru and satoru are all sober as can be and you've just made a big fool of yourself, all by yourself, and everything is totally fine; you'd happily be labeled a sloppy drunk rather than...whatever it is your brain is trying to piece together right now.

you're not actually any more covered on the ground like this, but it gives you some semblance of comfort as you open the bathroom door and peer out down the hall — which is made of marble flooring and a crumpled-up white, mink rug, gold picture frames lining the pristine white walls. you can see clear across the room, and the floor-to-ceiling windows are all city skyline and a cloudless blue day.

and this is absolutely not the room the four of you booked.

not that it was some backwater, mysteriously-stained-carpet-esque motel room, but it was a bottom-floor rental, and definitely not on the strip, as this king-fucking-suite seems to be. definitely not littered with rose petals and pictures of greek goddesses (?) and a cardboard cut out of elvis presley.

the first piece of real clothing you come across while crawling along the floor is a black blazer that had clearly been tossed into a haphazard clump last night; you hate to imagine why. you yank it on as quickly as your lead-heavy limbs will let you and button it up as far as it will go. a good portion of your chest is exposed, still, but it goes to nearly your knees, because it's fitted for some stupid, tall idiot.

— and said stupid idiot is passed out in the middle of the hotel room, half of one leg kicked up on the couch. there's a sticky, splotchy puddle — of old champagne, you guess, if the empty bottle in his hand is anything to go by — right next to his stupid idiot head, and if he were to only turn his face a little, it'd get all in his hair. you wish it would.

satoru is also entirely shirtless, with the button of his slacks undone and a peek of his black, expensive briefs staring you in the face.

for a moment, you're surprised; all his dumb designer clothes make him seem too slinky, like a limp string-bean, and you didn't expect him to be as...thick as he is. still lean, moreso than even suguru, but there's a soft roundness to his shoulders, which have never looked so wide beneath his fancy shirts.

he has pecs. smooth abs that you want to poke, maybe bite. you're also trying not to care about the snow-white happy trail underneath his belly button.

the first thing you do is whack him in the head.

"gojo!" you hiss, hugging the blazer closer to your body as he whines and, unfortunately, turns further from the mess on the floor. "wake up!"

his glasses are nowhere to be seen, hopefully broken or lost for good, and he only manages to crack a single baby-blue open before covering his face with his hands and groaning out in pain. "did you hit me?" he asks, muffled and delayed, so you do it again to be more clear. "ah!" he cries, "why are you hitting me?"

"b-because! where are my clothes?"

you can see the brush of his light eyelashes against his fingers as his eyes open beneath his hands, and then he's sitting straight up, interested, smile growing at the sight of your bare legs.

gojo has the nerve the laugh, infuriatingly similar to the one haunting your memories. "noooo clue."

"satoru," you grit, and the use of his first name has his face falling into something more serious. "this isn't funny. what—" you hold up your hand and point to the ring on your finger, face burning up when his eyes go wide. "—happened last night?"

but — you know what happened, don't you? because, try as you might to ignore the silky white dress draped across the back of the couch, you're looking into gojo's eyes and you can see them staring back at you underneath the cheap light in some shitty little chapel.

you gasp out loud as your hands go to twist in the roots of your hair, the realization a physical assault on your sanity. "what the fuck have we done?"

a small crease forms between gojo's brows, courtesy of his own hangover headache, and his lips press together evenly as he blinks in the sunshine pouring through the window. he's startlingly less bothered by this than you are and you think it's driving you even more crazy; sitting as if has hasn't just dropped who-knows-how-much on a giant, ugly ring and a suit and this honeymoon-esque-fucking-suite.

the lack of frenzy from him is only driving your anxiety up tenfold.

the annoying little ring-tone splits the air again and that finally prompts him to leave the floor, stumbling around to the kitchen as he knuckles at his eyes. he brightens for a moment and holds up a hand-written note left for you both that says "congrats newlyweds!".

satoru answers the call without a care, voice light and amused. "mr. and mrs. gojo speaking!"

the only very little, teeny-tiny upside to all this is that shoko and getou look just as hungover as you.

ieiri is still laughing, however, into her eggs and then into her mimosa and then fully, into her hands, when you glare at her from across the table. suguru seems unphased for the most part, though you didn't miss how big his eyes got at first sight of the ring on your finger.

there had been no choice but to slip back into the dress you'd worn last night, as it seems the rest of your clothes were in the hotel room where you should've been; gojo at least lets you keep the blazer. most of the buttons on his shirt are gone and you'd both spent too long, too much brain power, trying to figure out how to get it to stay closed before meeting up with getou and shoko in one of the restaurants on the bottom floor of the hotel.

they confirm the worst.

the diagnosis? terminal. 'til death do you part.

"i can't believe you let me do this," you moan, dropping your head to the smooth, cool surface of the table; it doesn't alleviate your headache whatsoever. "why did you let me do this? how could you let me do this to myself?"

"oh, you both were very adamant about it," shoko snorts, downing the rest of her drink in one shot. you don't know how she does it; the very thought of alcohol makes you want to be sick. "wouldn't take no for an answer."

your face falls back into your hands, all doom and gloom. you want to refute such a claim, vehemently disagree that you would want to marry gojo satoru under any circumstances — but there apparently are circumstances that have led you right here. beside gojo, who is drenching a fat stack of pancakes in syrup.

he only grins. "i always knew you found me irresistible."

"look what you've let me do," you cry, digging your hands back in your hair as you send ieiri a pleading look, as if she could go back in time and stop you from ever getting into this mess. "you've let me ruin my life!"

getou sighs, head falling back against the booth you're sitting in. "it can't be that hard to undo. must happen all the time."

gojo chokes at that. "what? you would dare suggest the d-word on our first day as man and wife?"

you smack him again to shut him up, though he only frowns at you, cheeks full of food. "we are undoing this!" you hiss, glaring at your own reflection in the over-sized glasses shoko has let him borrow. "and you're paying for it!"

gojo chooses violence in that moment, by reaching out to catch the attention of the waitress walking by. "excuse me, do you mind getting my bride a cup of coffee? she gets a little grumpy in the morning without her caffeine, you know how it is."

you launch forward in the seat to strangle him, but he's quick to deflect by looping an arm around your shoulders, just before you get your hands on his throat. he yanks you close to his side, hard enough that you feel the phantom pain of his grip on your sore ass, from the night before, and then you catch sight of all the purple hickies just under his collar.

the unshakable reminder has you shrinking back into yourself, unintentionally nestling deeper against his side due to your blazing hot shame. it's mortifying suddenly, to realize it's public knowledge that you've married and screwed your best friend in the same night. maybe even the same hour. and he's seen you in that ridiculous lingerie.

the truth is that you don't know how to take this. you don't know how you feel about this. being married to him, having been bedded by him. you know he's not the reputation he tries so hard to uphold, as some playboy douche-bag; satoru is nothing but a goofball, a bit of a nerd about mathematics while also shouldering a substantial amount of emotional trauma.

you've known him since college, when you and shoko shared that crappy little apartment off-campus and spent too many nights playing beer pong with your only other two idiot friends — who are conveniently sitting in this booth with you.

he's slept in your bed more times than you can count, because he's too stubborn to sleep on the couch, and you were the link between he and getou when they stopped talking for a while. you don't know what the real deal is with megumi and tsumiki, but you've housed them, too; brought their lunch to school and washed their clothes when gojo forgot to pay the water bill, after he decided to stop living off his family's money.

you don't know how you feel being married to him, even if it's only for 24 hours. you don't know how you feel about crossing such an intimate boundary, or how you feel about not remembering any of it.

gojo, on the other hand, seems to feel great about all this, though the look getou gives him across the table doesn't go unnoticed; disappointment, almost. an are-you-serious kind of look.

"i'm never drinking again," you whine, frowning down at the diamond in your lap, sitting bright and sharp on your finger. it's too big for your taste, a bit gaudy, all for show; definitely satoru's style.

"good idea, peach," gojo nods, "let's agree to go sober."

"you didn't even drink that much—"

gojo interrupts suguru by raising a quick hand. "but we all know i'm a lightweight, so it doesn't take much to begin with."

shoko pokes through her phone and you notice the odd way she's angling it, almost like she's just snapped a picture of you and him snug together. you consider kicking her under the table, or throwing her phone in the obnoxious fountain blubbering over by the bathrooms.

she snickers. "i can't wait to tell utahime."

"you will not!" you squeak, suddenly wrenching yourself from gojo's grasp to scooch down to the other end of the booth, as if that could erase the evidence somehow. "we're getting divorced, like, right now!"

gojo — still seems unbothered, which only has your nerves flaring up again. "you know peach," —he pouts when you hiss at him to stop calling you that— "i'd move heaven and earth to make you happy, but unfortunately i can't find my credit card, so you'll have to put a hold on breaking up our family."

"you what?"

"yeah, what?" getou screws his face up, crosses his arms. "who do you think is paying for all your food?"

"suguru," he gasps, scandalized, "you would make the newlyweds pay for—"

"oh my god, get out!" you fuss, reeling your leg back to literally kick gojo's ass out of the seat. "get out, get out now! we're going back to that room and we're not leaving until we find your stupid card!"

"honey," gojo laughs, sweet and light, sending a chill down your spine as he is gladly steered by you. "don't be so forward in front of our friends."

"shut up!"

you re-tear apart the already torn apart hotel room.

there's not much to sort through, which is both good and bad for your pending annulment; helpful, because it means there isn't much in between you and gojo's credit card, but also unfortunate, because you rip the place to shreds and still can't find the stupid thing.

you're met with plenty of other things, though, that only serve to make your body hot and your brain fuzzy.

all the buttons of gojo's shirt, for one, which are scattered in various places across the floor, where they must have flown when one of you ripped it open. there's a ridiculous assortment of chocolates that, at one point, spelled out something —married!; gojo digs into them immediately with an excited little "oh!" as you crawl around on the floor.

whatever it was you woke up in gets shoved in the trash, and you don't even speak about it to satoru.

it eats away at you, though, the flitting images that cycle through your brain, the muddled memories you have of this ridiculous hotel room. the more you look, the more comes back to you, and you eventually can't stop replaying the way he'd thrown your dress up over your head, or the hand you stuck down his pants.

to no surprise at all, gojo isn't really helping. instead lounging on the couch, shoes kicked off, little foil wrappers in his lap. when he notices you staring at him, remembering, he smiles his coy little smile. "c'mon," he starts, "being married to me can't be that bad, can it?"

it's only been a few hours, but it feels like the day has drug on, far too long; you only shake your head, raise a hand and say, "don't."

"i can take care of you," he continues, turning to prop his chin up on the back of the couch as you pace back and forth. "i can—"

"i don't need to be 'taken care of'—"

"—you know what i mean." he has the audacity to roll his eyes at you, but the smile on his face is dimming. "i'll do the cooking and cleaning."

you huff out a laugh. "satoru, you've never cooked anything in your life."

he ignores the diss. "is it because i've got kids? you don't have to be the step-mom—"

"god, stop," you groan, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. they sting, suddenly, and you tell yourself it's only because of the migraine. "what are you—you can't be serious. why are you—i mean, what the hell?"

the hotel room goes entirely silent, and maybe it's because a phone isn't ringing in the background, but it feels like a completely different room. there's pink and red everything, bouquets to go with the petals littering the floor. the ring around your finger fits just right, but you force it to spin around and around, pinching at your skin because you can't keep your hands still.

satoru's face betrays nothing. you have no idea what he's thinking. why he's going so far, if this is all just another joke of his.

"we didn't, by the way," he tells you then, voice low and calm. "you went to throw up in the bathroom and never came back and i passed out on the floor."

you press your thumb into the center of your forehead, trying to tide back the frustration building in your waterline. "what? what do you mean?"

a small smile returns to his face, bringing about a rosiness with it. "our marriage was never consummated, i mean. we never got that far."

oh.

satoru is your best friend, one of them, and you decide, while looking at his tired eyes and soft smile, that maybe marrying him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. getou gets on your nerves too much, with his grumpiness, and shoko is too flighty. utahime is maybe ideal, though you think nanami would be a good, safe choice.

and gojo, too. couldn't be too bad of a choice, with him.

you heave a sigh and come around to sit beside him on the couch, slumping back into his side — which was undeniably comfortable, down in the restaurant. the affection makes him hum, warm and happy into the crown of your head.

"every marriage has its ups and downs."

you dare to laugh, finally, at the situation. "i don't think i've been a very good wife."

"that's alright, peach," he yanks away, squirming as you try to pinch him. "i'm willing to try therapy to save this thing."

"you're stupid," you tell him childishly, though he only shrugs in response. "we have to figure this out, gojo. we have to — fix this."

"megumi will be out of the house in two years, if that's really the issue—"

you shake your head with another laugh as you get up to stretch your sore limbs, to rub at the tenderness still lingering in your buttcheek. "oh my god, it's not the kids, gojo!"

he laughs, too, though it sounds a little strained, like it's being forced from the back of his throat. "then what is it?"

"we're—" you shake your head again, at a loss from the seriousness dulling his eyes. "i mean, we've never even—we can't be married. we're—just friends, aren't we?"

there's a tension that hardens his face for a moment, solid enough that you get the feeling he's going to pull away somehow, from you and this conversation — but then it's falling away just as quickly, replaced by a look of exasperation. "we can be whatever you want."

another chill shudders down your spine at his honesty, his decision to be vulnerable, here, right now, with you. you've never been under the impression he had any...romantic feelings for you, and maybe that's been on purpose, out of fear of him and what loving him could mean. what losing him could mean.

"i think," you sigh, turning your attention back to the ring—your ring. "i think i'm going to give this back to you and you can hold onto it, if you want, and maybe give it to me in the future. after you cook me dinner and clean all the dishes."

he frowns, but it isn't too severe, playful once again. "so you're really gonna d-word me?"

"yes, satoru," you nod, unable to stop from smiling when he does, too. "i'm really going to d-word you. you're just gonna have to win me back, i guess."

"oh, challenge," he grins in full at that and rises to his feet, towering over you a bit. completely without ceremony, his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs brushing over the heat that swells in them. "it's good for us to shake things up every now and then, it'll keep our marriage fresh."

"yeah, great, i'm so glad you're so knowledgeable about this,"

"i'd be a perfect husband,"

—and he kisses you. so simply, so suddenly, a small peck to your lips as if it's nothing but natural.

"also," he kisses you again, a little firmer as your eyelashes flutter against his. "my credit card has been in the pocket this whole time."

"what?" you murmur, brain struggling to keep up with whatever he's saying between the press of his mouth to yours. the sharp breath he inhales through his nose is audible, felt against the skin of your cheek, and you almost throw the conversation out the window when he steps in closer to you.

but you yank away from him at the last second, as soon as you feel his lips curving into a smile.

"wait, what the hell?" you dig around in the pocket of the blazer only to find his little metal card, sitting there and waiting to be found. this time, he accepts the smack, because he knows he deserves it. "gojo!"

"what do they say? 'what happens in vegas, stays in vegas'?" he cups your face again, but it's only to squish your cheeks together to silence you, to smush your frown. "well, we don't leave for another two days, so i don't think you need to rush into tearing my heart into shreds."

you mean to tell him to shut up, but he doesn't let you, and you decide not to fight him on it this time.

—because you are working on your marriage, after all.

you're in the bathroom, washing your hands up after crawling around on the floor, when you feel another painful throb in your asscheek. only — it's less of a throb, really, and more of a stinging. almost like you have a scrape of some kind.

from out in the room, satoru laughs, cackles, wholly elated.

"hey peach, you're never gonna guess what's tattooed on my butt!"

[mikedfaist]

after reader invites him over and they have their night together how does that go? do they talk in the morning and get back together or do they say some more dumb stuff?

first, i want to apologize for switching back and forth with the povs. i have been awake since 5 am, and its 10 pm and my brain is liquid soup. also, this isn't my best -- hence liquid soup brain -- so bear with me, i am only a person

She texted him out of the blue – 10 AM on a Wednesday. She had woken up, taken a shower, and returned to bed with her cuppa. As she sat there, bundled up in her blankets on her side of the bed, she couldn’t help but feel entrapped by the loneliness. Engulfed and suffocated. If he were here, he’d be right there by her side, either a hand on her thigh or his head resting in her lap. Now, he’s somewhere else.

Can you come over sometime today to talk? I’ll be home all day.

Rotting in bed, but she doesn’t add that.

He responds ten minutes later as you were doom scrolling on Instagram.

Of course. I’m leaving brunch right now, I can be at yours in 20.

Yours. That stung. It was ours.

30 minutes later there’s a knock on the door; he’s apologizing for running late, the train stalled underground. You also notice he didn’t use his key. His hands are dug deep in his pockets, and you watch him meander in the entryway waiting for your cue.

“Would you like some tea? I put the kettle on a bit ago…”

So fucking formal for the same guy whose balls have been in your mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek as you revel in the sight of the man who without a doubt is thinking the same thing.

He shakes his head politely. “No thanks.”

You two sit on the sofa, a space separating you two that feels unnatural. He’s playing with his hands in his lap, staring blankly ahead at a magazine on the table. Numéro Netherlands. You were on the cover this month.

You have to be the first to talk – you invited him over – but you don’t know where to start. The last time you two spoke didn’t end well, and you aren’t sure whether to blame it on the fact you weren’t entirely sober, or that the anger carried with you was still prevalent and scorching beneath the surface.

“Thanks for coming…” He looked up at you with a surprisingly horrified expression. He really did come here thinking you were officially ending things. Cutting ties. Taking his key. “I’m sorry for how things went last time—”

“Stop, you had every right—”

“Michael, I fucking swear, just…” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is already hard for me, just let me talk.”

He felt his stomach fucking drop. This really was it. He hung onto the mere idea of a chance you would take him back, but now all hope was evaporating before him. His hands were clammy. He could feel his heartbeat in his head. He started to break out in a sweat.

“I miss you…and I hate what happened, and how it happened, and I wish I could just go back and redo the whole thing… It fucking kills me waking up and you’re not there, and going to bed and you’re not there, getting off stage and the one person I want to see isn’t there.”

He couldn’t figure out where to focus his attention. Her fingers picking at the skin by her nails, the magazine cover, the lone dog toy left absent by the coffee table.

“I just want to go back to how it was before… I don’t know if that’s possible, but I think about it a lot.”

“I want to try.” He bites his lip at the shakiness of his voice. He’s treading lightly, too worried to overstep and break apart everything they’re building up right now. “If you’re willing, I… That’s all I want, really.”

“I guess it’ll take time to find our footing again.” She forces a smile, but her eyes hold deep sadness. “I still love you. That never changed.”

Eventually, he agrees to a cuppa, but it becomes long forgotten when she sits on the counter waiting for the kettle to boil, and Mike strides in between her legs to hold her. The first time they’ve touched each other since before the fight a month ago. One kiss – hungry and passionate – leads to his fingers in her hair, and her knuckles white holding a grip to his shirt. Her hand falls beneath his top, cascading along his hip, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He suddenly remembers the morning he fucked her against this very counter, a mere months ago, and how now they’re coming full circle.

“Bed?” You’re breathless, separating for only a moment but Mike is chasing back after your lips. You can feel him nod, but he doesn’t make a movement to separate from you. “Babe?” It falls so naturally from your mouth that it doesn’t register immediately, until Mike parts from you and lets his head fall to the nape of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, letting him have his moment.

“I love you,” you feel his words pressed against your skin. He places a soft kiss to your neck, before lifting his head back up to face yours. Without a word, he mindlessly moves the kettle from burner and turns it off. “C’mon.”

He follows you up the stairs, and instinctively shuts the door behind you both. He undresses you like it’s a sin, taking his time feeling over every inch of exposed skin he could find. He really couldn’t believe his luck. He came here thinking he was losing you forever, and now he’s in your bed. He’s scrambling out of his clothes, watching you intently as you pull your shirt over your head to reveal your bare chest.

He doesn’t remember the last time he truly made love to you. Things have felt different since the new year, and things slowly began to break apart. Sex devoid of passion. It was no wonder things fell apart as they did.

He holds you taut against him as he ruts into you, a feeling you missed deeply. You don’t even feel embarrassed for how quick you feel that knot tighten in your stomach; you happily welcome it. You’re cumming hard around him, digging harsh red lines on his back as he chases his own high not far from yours.

Two more rounds, and by now it’s late afternoon. You two lay in an entanglement of exhausted limbs and bedsheets. He’s in the same spot you were daydreaming about only hours ago. His eyes are closing, but he’s reaching out blindly for your arm, tugging you close to him.