#collapsing on the bed and sleep immediately after I got home and then there's a black out

[dollya-robinprotector]

I didn't believe in those corny smut scenarios where character accidentally stripping their clothes while sleeping, conveniently while lying next to their love interest. I believed that's impossible.

...Until today I did it myself. Luckily I slept alone.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

You know how in the movie, Miles mom gets angry when he says, ‘whatever’ can you do that with latina!wife for Miguel?

𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Summary: Miguel hasn't had a proper night's rest in days, and quite frankly you missed him. Too bad he's too swamped with work to notice.

Warnings: None! Just a silly lil fic.

⚝

You know those days where you’re just teetering on the edge? It could be for absolutely no reason at all, or maybe a collection of things, all you knew was that it just makes every action you take frustrating.

Well, that was you today.

Granted it wasn’t for no reason. Yesterday, Miguel had promised to come back home for dinner and sleep in his own bed, because for the last few days he had been swamped with work and mission reports. You understood the work he did was important, truly, but you missed him. That, and he was a chronic overworker who would only stop when he collapsed from exhaustion, and you were not going to let it get to that point.

It was getting tiring having to beg him to come back to rest, even for a moment. Spider powers or not, everyone needs a break.

“Uh oh…” you hear Lyla say as you march into the monitoring room, but you continue to press onward.

“Miguel!” you call up to him, but he doesn’t even bother turning around to face you, rummaging through papers and swiping through screens.

“Querida, is there something you need?” he asks nonchalantly like nothing was wrong.

“Yes! There is, actually. What happened to coming home yesterday, hm~?” you say, irritation rising in your voice.

“Oh…is it already the next day?” he asks, still not looking toward you. “I’m sorry, vida mía. I guess I got carried away, I’ll try to be back later alright?” he says, trying to placate you.

“You can’t keep going on like this Miguel, it’s not healthy. One evening of a break won’t hurt. Hell, I’ll even help you out with paperwork, and Lyla can too. So come home tonight, alright? For me, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says without thinking, only half listening to you.

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice stone cold and immediately Miguel stiffens, slowly turning toward you with a sheepish look on his face.

“Vida mía,” he says, his expression apologetic as his platform begins to lower to the floor. You don’t have the patience to wait for it though, choosing to swing up with your webs and meet him at his level.

“Miguel O'Hara, who do you think you’re talking to?" you say lowly. "I’m not one of your subordinates, I am your wife,” Your hands are planted on your hips as you look up at him annoyedly.

“I know, I know,” he says hurriedly, “I’m sorry. I said it without thinking.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. We’re going home, now,” you say, grabbing his hand and leaving no room for argument. “Lyla, have Jess take over for the rest of today, alright?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” she says, snickering at the interaction between the two of you.

“Querida, there’s still so much work I have to do,” he says, resisting your pull but you continue to drag you along.

“Should have thought of that before you said ‘whatever’ to me, Miguel,” you say, but sigh. “I’m only trying to look out for you, is that so bad?”

He pauses, studying your worried expression that was because of him. It caused a wave of guilt to wash over him after he disregarded your care for work instead.

“I know…alright, let’s go home sweetheart,” he says, finally relenting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Immediately you light up, grasping his hand tighter.

“I’ll make your favourite today, and we can take a bath later if you’d like?” you suggest.

“I would love that, tesoro.”

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @phobia0325, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @honeii-puff, @ieatmunson

[petew21-blog]

Friends with benefits

Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.

This is Trent

Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks

On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair

This is Brett

So hairy.

Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon

Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM

Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"

Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"

Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"

Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM

At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.

Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"

Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"

Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"

Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"

Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."

Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"

Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."

After a few beers

Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"

Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."

Brett:"So what did you do?"

Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"

Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"

Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"

Brett:"You calling me fat?"

Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"

Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"

They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.

Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth

Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.

Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.

He turned around to get up

His body. He has a different body

Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up

Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"

He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.

He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"

He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.

He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband

Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick

It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"

There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock

Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"

Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"

Trent:"So this is your doing?"

Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"

Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"

Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"

Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"

Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"

Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"

Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"

Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."

Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"

Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"

Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"

Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"

Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up

Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"

Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"

Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick

Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM

Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.

A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"

Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress

Trent:"You need to stop!"

Brett:"What? I was just flirting"

Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"

Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"

Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"

Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"

A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads

Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"

Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"

Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."

Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"

Trent:"And your point is?"

Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"

Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"

Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"

Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"

Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"

Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"

Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"

Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"

Brett:"So you agree?"

Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"

Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"

Sunday, August 4th

Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"

Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."

Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"

Trent:"And my dick..."

Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"

Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"

Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"

Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"

Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"

Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"

Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"

Wednesday August 7th

Trent:"How are you settling in?"

Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"

Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"

Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"

Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"

Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"

Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"

Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"

Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."

Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?

Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"

Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"

Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"

Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"

Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."

Brett:"Sure thing, bye"

Monday, August 12 th

Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"

Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"

Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"

Saturday, August 17th

Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"

Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"

Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"

Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"

Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"

Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"

Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"

Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"

Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"

Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."

Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"

Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?

Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"

Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.

Thursday, August 22nd

Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"

Friday, August 23rd

Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."

Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"

Sunday, August 25th

Brett:"I'm ok"

Trent:"What the hell happened?"

Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"

Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"

Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"

Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"

Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"

Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"

Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."

Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"

Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"

Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"

Sunday, September 1st

Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"

Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"

Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"

Monday, September 2nd

Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games

The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table

Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."

Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"

Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"

Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"

Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."

Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"

Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"

Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"

Trent:"You want money?"

Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."

Trent:"You have lost your mind"

Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett stands up and goes towards Trent

Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge

Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"

Brett:"Atta boy"

They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin

The kissed even more

Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different

Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"

Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"

Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"

He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready

Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole

Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain

Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"

Trent:"Brett, please slow down"

Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"

Trent:"Please, get lube or something"

Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"

Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time

Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.

Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."

Brett:"Louder"

Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"

Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"

The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face

Trent watched in awe what just happened.

Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"

Trent:"Brett... I?"

Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"

Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"

Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"

Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.

Several months later

Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up

Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"

Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"

Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"

Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"

Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"

Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed

Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"

A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas

Hope you like it :)

P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[kaidabakugou]

calling katsuki after a villain attack while he’s away on a mission in another country

blood is seeping from your sides and you can barely see anything from all the debris but you try your best to bite down the pain as you crawl to rest your back against a fallen wall, reaching for your phone to call him as chills starts to prickle up your skin from the cold weather

answering the call after a few rings with a raspy voice, signaling that he was sleeping before you called. the grogginess immediately leaving his body when he hears your choked up voice call out to him. immediately flooding you with questions as worry starts to crawl up his spine

“babe? where are you?! what’s wrong?!!”

“i- i don’t know where i am kats, i can’t really see much” you say in between sniffles as you press on the gash at your side harder trying to contain the bleeding as best as you could in the hopes of someone coming for you

“what happened?” he ask sitting up in the bed of his hotel room, his heart hammering against his chest as he feels his lungs getting tighter making it a little hard to breathe at the thought of something happening to you

you explain how the villain came out of no where and you were separated from eijirou and now you don’t know where he is or when back up will arrive. how you managed to find refuge under the remains of a collapsed building but you wounds were too severe for you to aid them on your own

his heart sinks deeper into his rib age with every word that spills from your lips, dread sinking into his bones at the fact that he’s not there to help you and can’t get to you on time being miles away right now

“i um, i didn’t know who else to call, so i wanted to at least hear your voice again”, you choke out as you try to swallow the lump in your throat

“listen to me, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?”, he says as he tries his best to console you

“mhm” you answer while trying to take a deep breath, your lungs aching with each inhale you take

“say it! i need to hear you say it, baby… tell me you’re okay!” he orders on the other line, desperation evident in his voice, needing to hear you say it, not knowing at this point if it was for your comfort or for his own

“katsuki, i’m okay”, you say with a tremble in your voice as tears start to spill from your eyes

“you’re okay” he whispers back to you while he stays in the line with you, trying to contain the tears spilling from his eyes as he continues comforting you the best that he can, exchanging soft i love you’s and telling you to hold on just a while longer until someone finds you

bakugou katsuki was never a religious man but in that moment he was praying to whatever god or deity that could be listening to not take you from him, anything but you

and as your breaths got slower and you stopped responding to his questions as he desperately called out to you, he swore he felt his heart stopped in that very moment, sitting alone in his hotel room, miles away from home, from you

seasonal depression is hitting me and i’m literally sobbing while writing this, how can some of y’all write this on the regular? i’m breaking my own heart over here

[mxltifxnd0m]

sick days ◎ s. winchester

summary: after multiple back-to-back hunts, the stress and fatigue gets to sam

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 3K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, taking care of sick! sam, barely edited lol

a/n: my last sam fic before i go back to college and get swamped with my course load. writing will slow down and be posted sparingly but i still plan to post if i have time!

as always, like, reblog, and comment on the fic! i always like hearing constructive criticism and love feedback <33 (also my last fic kinda flopped so give it some love please!)

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was rare for the boys to get sick. Surprisingly, they had very strong immune systems, and considering how well Sam ate, he would be the last person in the bunker to get sick. 

But you guys have been running yourselves ragged with hunting, having gone on them back to back for the past month and a half. It was exhausting, and when you guys made it back to the bunker, you all but collapsed in your shared bed with Sam, not even bothering to get under the covers. 

When you got up the next day, you felt significantly better, but exhaustion still riddled your body. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. It was nearing noon. It didn’t surprise you that you slept that long; the three of you got back to the bunker well into the late morning. You began to get up from next to the sleeping giant next to you, but you were immediately pulled back by a strong arm wrapping around your lower stomach. You let yourself be dragged back into Sam’s body and let his warmth cocoon you. 

You feel his jean-covered leg intertwine with yours as your chest hits his back, and Sam leaves a sleepy kiss to your pulse point as he nuzzled you, the scruff on his face from not being able to shave for the past two days scratched softly against your neck, making fond smile stretch on your lips. 

“What time is it?” You heard the rasp of Sam’s tired voice whisper in your ear. 

“Almost noon.” You told him as you traced shapes on his bare arm before interlacing his fingers through yours, your interlocked hands resting on your abdomen. 

Sam let out a soft groan before nuzzling your neck further, making a soft laugh escape you. You reached your free hand to thread through his silky locks and ruffled his hair a bit. 

“We should probably get up now.” 

Sam mumbled something into your neck, but you couldn’t understand a single word he said. 

You huffed an amused laugh through your nose. “Mind speaking up for the rest of the class? 

His head raised slightly from your neck. “Don’t want to.” Sam grumbled out before his head fell back to his previous spot. 

You smiled at Sam’s childlike nature. He could get grumpy when he crashes from a long hunt and doesn’t go on his morning runs. 

“We should. We’re still in our clothes from last night.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought. 

You weren’t a stranger to sleeping in your jeans or your hunting clothes. 

Before even meeting the Winchesters and moving into the bunker when you started to date Sam, you had collapsed into a motel bed (or a hundred) with your jeans on. But considering you were used to having somewhere you considered home now, you more often than not slept in your pajamas, even if you were dead tired from a hunt. 

Sam grunted and tightened his hold on you, shaking his head in your neck. You could only imagine what you and Sam looked like right now—having a 6’4 man completely wrapped around you. You mentally shook your head and managed to pry yourself out of his arms. 

Sam let out a whine of protest as you left the bed but decided that he wasn’t going to get out of bed anytime soon, so he rolled over to his stomach and went back to sleep. 

You saw his breathing even out, and you shook your head. There was a soft smile on your face as you rounded the bed to his side to kiss Sam on the forehead. He unconsciously smiled at the contact. You left his side to grab a change of pajamas from the dresser. You decided a shower was in order before you decided to cook up some lunch for everyone. 

You doubted that Dean was even awake at the moment, but to check, you peeked your head into his room to find your suspicions to be correct. Dean was sprawled out on his bed, but it seemed that he was able to strip down to his boxers and a t-shirt. You closed his door quietly and shuffled off to the shower room. 

Once you were freshly clean and refreshed, the shower having given you some energy, you padded into the empty kitchen and decided to whip up some food for you and the boys. You started the coffee maker and looked in the fridge to see it somewhat stocked, but you knew that you or Dean would have to make a supply run in the coming days. 

You settled on making sandwiches for you and the boys, and when the coffee was done, Dean stalked into the kitchen. It looked like he was moving on autopilot, moving towards the mugs and coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before plopping himself down at the table. Dean hadn’t bothered changing; all he did was shrug on his ‘dead guy’ robe and his hair sticking up in different directions, having been mussed up from sleeping. You placed his just-made sandwich in front of him, and he let out a grunt of thanks before diving into his lunch (breakfast). 

Soon enough, Sam stumbled into the kitchen. He also looked like he rolled out of bed, his flannel wrinkled, but he was able to tame his hair. Sam gave you a grateful smile as he sat at the table, and you placed a cup of coffee and his lunch in front of him. You grabbed your lunch and a water bottle from the fridge. You kissed Sam’s temple before settling next to him at the table, where the three of you ate in comfortable silence. 

A couple of days had passed since you came back from the last hunt, and you made the boys take at least a week off from hunting since you had been going on hunts consistently and deserved a break.  

You and Sam were relaxing in the library, Sam reading some lore book that he had yet to catalog, and you were reading a mystery/thriller book that you had been meaning to read for a while on your Kindle. The two of you were content in each other’s presence, but you noticed that Sam was clearing his throat more often today. 

Sam eventually let out a cough that made you look up at him. 

“Need some water hun?” You ask him with furrowed brows. 

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

Sam just nodded at you in response. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment before they flicked downward back to your Kindle. 

The day passed as it usually did, but the next morning was what you didn’t expect. For one, Sam was still in bed when you had woken up. You were confused because Sam was a stickler for his routine in the mornings. You glanced at the clock, the green letters reading 9:14 AM, which was a little later than you would usually get up, but you were still catching up on sleep. 

You decide to leave Sam in bed, figuring that he needs to do the same thing and go to the bathroom to do your morning routine. When you came back into the room to change, Sam was awake, resting on the headboard, but he was sniffling and looked pale. You quickly rushed over to him. 

“You doing alright there babe?” You asked as you made it to his side of the bed and sat next to him. You reached out to feel his forehead, but he leaned away from your touch. 

“Don’t, I’m going to get you sick.” Sam’s voice was raspy and tired. 

“I’ll be fine, I just wanna see if you’re running a fever.” 

Sam didn’t seem to like that idea but relented, leaning towards your hand. The back of your hand hit his forehead for a moment, pursing your lips as you felt his temperature before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing the beauty mark near his eye. 

“You’re running a little warmer than usual, let me go see if we have a thermometer somewhere. Stay here.” You ordered him. 

Sam huffed but nodded as he sunk back into the bed. You smiled, pinching his cheek before releasing it. 

“Good boy.” You teased as you stood up. 

Sam rolled his eyes at you, a tired smile playing on his lips. 

You quickly made your way to the infirmary, hoping that the Men of Letters had a thermometer that wasn’t made of mercury, but you had an inkling that they didn’t. You passed Dean as you made your way to the infirmary, and he called out to you, seeing your hasty speed. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked when he noticed you were going in the direction of the infirmary. 

“Sam is sick and might be running a fever.” 

Dean’s eyebrows knit in confusion and slight concern, now walking with you, abandoning the direction he was already walking in. “You’re telling Mr. Health nut got sick? How?” 

“Not sure. But I have a feeling it’s because we had been running around on hunts and since we hadn’t been on one for a couple of days, the exhaustion and stress finally hit and this is how his body is reacting.” You explained to Dean your theory as to why Sam got sick, knowing how uncommon it was for them to get sick. 

“I’ll go out and grab some stuff for him. I have to do a supply run anyway.” Dean said as you two left the infirmary, nearly turning the place upside down, trying to find a thermometer that wasn’t made with mercury. You highly doubted that Sam wanted mercury poisoning, and that was the thing that took him out instead of a monster (again). 

You nodded. “I’ll text you a list.” 

Dean patted your shoulder before the two of you parted ways, you in the direction of your shared room with Sam and Dean in the direction of the garage. 

You made it back to your shared room to find Sam dozing off, sniffling, and clearing his throat. Sam’s tired eyes snapped to yours as you moved across the room to sit by his feet at the edge of the bed.  

“How are you feeling?” You asked him gently, letting your hand rest on his ankle. 

“Cold, and I can’t breathe out of my nose.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and sounded congested. 

You sent Sam a sympathetic smile. “Dean’s out getting you some stuff right now, he should be back in a bit.” You gave Sam’s ankle a reassuring squeeze. 

“Did you find a thermometer?” 

You huffed. “Yes, but they were made of mercury and broken. I don’t think you would have appreciated getting mercury poisoning on top of being sick.” 

Sam chuckled before it turned into a coughing fit. You cringed at the sound of his cough and stood up from your place on the bed. 

“I’ll get you some water and tissues.” 

You entertained Sam for about an hour before Dean came back. It looked like he bought the entire drugstore with the two bags full of medicine and other supplies that he thought you might’ve needed in the future. Well, at least the infirmary would be stocked with cough and flu medicine. 

You whipped a quick lunch for Sam that he could stomach before taking the meds. After Sam ate the small lunch you gave him, you made him take some Dayquil and placed a cold washcloth on his forehead. You were expecting for him to make a fuss about taking medicine, having heard the stories that Dean told you of Sam when he was sick when they were younger. 

You let Sam take a nap, knowing the only way that he would get better faster is if he just rested. You were planning on prepping Sam’s dinner while he slept, but as you walked into the kitchen, you found Dean at the stove cooking some veggies in a pot. 

“I was going to do that, you know?” You said as you walked over to Dean and looked at the ingredients for tomato soup scattered on the metal countertop. 

“Well, taking care of Sasquatch over there is a handful and figured you needed all the help you could get.” Dean looked at you with a shrug of his shoulder, but you could hear the undercurrent of fondness over the nonchalant tone that he had. 

“Mmhm. Okay, well do you need any help?” 

“You can start making the grilled cheeses’.” 

A couple of hours later, there was a plate filled with grilled cheese sandwiches (most of which were for Dean) and piping hot tomato soup that was enough for a small army. You tiptoed into the low-lit room of Sam’s bedroom, who was still asleep, with a tray filled with food, water, medicine, and a thermometer (a digital one). You placed the tray on the nightstand on the side Sam was lying on and sat down next to him. 

You looked down at the sleeping man in front and noticed how much younger he looked as he did. The crease in between his eyebrows was smoothed out, and stress wasn’t etched in his features as he breathed as evenly as he could with a congested nose. You shook your head in slight disbelief at how beautiful this man was even when he was sick. 

You took off the now warm towel on Sam’s forehead and gently brushed back the strands of hair that were dampened by the towel. Sam stirred at your ministrations as he groggily blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey sleepy head.” You said with a gentle smile. You were able to gauge his temperature as your hand brushed against his forehead for a moment before petting the long strands of his brunette locks. 

Sam cracked a smile and your hand fell from his hair as he pulled himself up and rested against the headboard.  He was still dressed in the white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he went to sleep in. 

“How long was I out for?” Sam asked as he cleared his throat slightly.

You gave him the water bottle from earlier. “Give or take a few hours.” 

Sam took a sip of water, glancing at the alarm clock before capping his water bottle and nodding. He stretched his neck out with a slight groan before his head hit his headboard with a small thump.

“Still tired?” You watched him carefully. 

“Yeah, and I feel like I was tossed around by a demon,” Sam said as he absent-mindedly cracked his knuckles. 

You let out a small chuckle.” I mean, you did about a month ago.” You joked. 

Sam shot you a glare, but it had no heat behind it as he was still looking at you through tired eyes. “Haha, very funny.” He said dryly. 

You sent him a smirk. “Thank you, I’ll be here all night.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

You pointed a stern finger at him. “Hey, you should be nicer to the person who’s taking care of your sick ass or I’ll make sure you get mercury poisoning.”

Sam rolled his eyes at your empty threat. “I could take care of myself.” 

You raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him, your mind immediately flicking back to all of the times you had to pry him away from researching in the library to sleep. 

You hummed unconvincingly. “Sure you could big boy.” You quipped before reaching for the tray on the nightstand and placed it above his lap. The tray had legs, so it didn’t have to rest precariously on his lap. 

“Enjoy dinner, Dean and I made it.” You smiled at him before petting his head. 

Sam looked down at the tomato soup and grilled cheese before him. He couldn’t really smell it, but it looked delicious, and he felt his stomach rumble with hunger. 

“Thank you.” Sam’s tone filled with sincerity. 

“S’no problem love.” You winked at him before getting up from the bed. 

You pointed down at the medicine and the thermometer. “I’ll take your temp after you eat, then you’ll shower, and then take your meds.” You instructed Sam as he began to slurp at the soup. 

Sam nodded obediently. “Have you eaten yet?”   

“Not yet.” 

“Can you eat here with me?” 

You smiled at Sam. “Yeah, let me grab my food.” 

After you and Sam ate, you took his temperature, which was only at 100 degrees. You managed to get Sam out of bed and into the shower room, where you helped him wash off. He was practically putty in your hands as you washed his hair with the lukewarm water of the shower (he complained of wanting a hot shower, but you knew better than having him shower in hot or cold water when he had a fever). 

Once he was clean, he all but stumbled back into the room and collapsed in the bed. Sam was about to fall asleep, but you made him take some medicine before he got under the covers and got swept under by the drug-induced sleep. 

You were about to leave Sam’s side to sleep in your old room before you moved into Sam’s room when you felt a tug at your shirt, seeing Sam’s sleepy pout on his face. 

“Yes, Sam?” 

“Stay.” 

“Thought you didn’t want me to get sick.” You teased softly, grabbing his hand from your shirt. 

That was a bad idea because he grabbed you with strength that you didn’t expect from a drowsy Sam and pulled you into him on the bed, a yelp escaping your mouth. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist and nuzzled into your neck. 

“Don’t care, need you.” He mumbled into your neck, his breath hitting your collarbone as you were chest to chest. 

You huffed a small laugh through your nose, threading your hands through his long hair, uncaring of the consequences. “You won’t be saying that when I get sick and blame you for it.” 

Sam didn’t respond to you, his breathing evening out before you even said your last word. You shook your head, a knowing smile on your face before you eventually fell asleep yourself. 

A week later, Sam took on the caretaker role, and you guys weren’t able to go on a hunt for another two weeks until you felt better. 

[runa-falls]

self-care

fanart: @galaxyspeaking on tumblr/twitter (so good omfg)

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

summary: miguel regularly gets home late. tonight, he has to see to his needs himself.

warning: explicit 18+, somnophilia, established relationship, PWP, edging, afab!reader, breeding kink-ish (kinda??), brief choking, unprotected sex (obviously)

a/n: i warned you, there's gonna be random bouts of smut.

so here: *chucks fic at your face and runs*

w/c: 1.2k (it was supposed to be a drabble...)

masterlist

-----

His breath hitches when you clench around him suddenly, warmth eagerly clinging to his hardness as he rolls his hips slowly into yours.

You’re laid so perfectly under him, front to the mattress, taking every inch of his cock, not even aware of his presence behind you. 

Or at least that’s what he thinks.

But you’ve actually been awake since he got home. 

Your sleepy ears immediately perked up as soon as you heard his keys turn the front door’s lock -- like an overzealous puppy.

Apparently, your body was anticipating his return and was on high alert for any sign of him. You stayed in bed, eyes still closed, listening silently as he moved from the shower to the sink to his closet, following his usual nighttime routine. And then there was silence. No ruffle of his clothes or heavy steps toward the bed.

You almost jumped when he touched you at first as you weren’t expecting it. He had been so quiet up to this point that you had no idea that he was hovering right over you, eyes sweeping over your “sleeping” figure.

You shiver against his calloused fingers, nerves buzzing at the sensation of his rough skin against your smooth legs.

His fingers glided against the top of your bare thigh where your oversized 'borrowed' shirt had ridden up. You swear you could feel his eyes bore into you as he watched carefully to make sure your breaths remained steady. 

He slowly nudged the rest of the fabric off of your lower body, revealing your barely there panties that mold over your curves beautifully. You could barely hear the low sigh that he lets out as he fiddled with the edge of the material, debating whether to slip them off of you or not. 

He doesn’t. 

So here you are now, ruined panties, soaked and stretched out, shifted to the side as he plunges deep into you. You've lost track of how long he's been working himself into you because every time you're about to topple off the edge, he slips out, prolonging the terrible ache that hums inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut from the exhaustion of being edged over and over.

You've actually fallen asleep a couple of times to the euphoric feeling of him filling you up, but only for a few minutes at a time. You're always woken up soon after to the build of your orgasm or a soft groan against your neck.

The soft, wet sound of him moving into you is the only thing you can hear other than the occasional pant and groan that's puffed softly against the back of your neck.

You've been able to barely hold back any noises that his body is trying to coax from yours, but you feel like even if you did slip up, he wouldn't even notice with how wrecked he sounds at the moment.

The occasional breathy whine spurs you on the most. You swear that you’ve never heard him sound so needy before. So utterly depraved for your touch, for the warm enclosure you provide.

You’re so unbearably wet for him that he’s desperately holding himself back from waking you up by finally pounding you into the bed and taking what he needs.

You can feel heat bloom through your body like a wildfire as he moves against you. Your body tenses slightly for, what feels like the fiftieth time, anticipating the inevitable collapse into ecstasy, though you know he'll deny your orgasm as soon as you start fluttering around him.

A groan rumbles softly against your back through his chest as he plunges all the way to the hilt and stops. "Fuck--" It's a mere whisper in the heated air of the bedroom.

His body is tense and you can feel the way his body swells against you with deep breaths as he holds himself back from making any sudden movements.

He's edging himself too.

He pulls out even slower then sits back on his knees, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt.

Your slick is all over your inner thighs, and you're sure if you could see him, it would be all over his hips as well. His hands delicately trace at your sides, loving how you unconsciously shiver against his touch.

Then he isn't so gentle. Without much fanfare, he grabs a pillow, shoves it under your hips, and tilts your body to the perfect position. His favorite position.

This is the endgame.

An unexpected raspy moan rips through your throat as the head of his cock suddenly pushes flush against your cervix. You couldn’t hold it back any longer, it was too much. Your back arches sharply in response to the way he suddenly stretches you out.

His movements stutter at the noise.

“How long have you been awake, sweetheart?”

“I-I-ahhhh” The intense mind-numbing feeling of him shoved inside of you is too much to handle. Miguel doesn't seem to care about the answer as he starts to angle his thrusts upwards and pushes in incredibly deep, stroking deliciously against that one spot inside of you.

His pace is still slow and languid, but you can barely form a coherent thought as he places more force into his thrusts. The bed shifts as his body snaps against yours with added fervor, headboard knocking against the wall.

Your body attempts to curl into itself as senseless pleasure starts to take over, but his hold on your waist is too strong. You're sure you'll have bruises on your skin in the morning as the tightening flutter of your cunt causes his grip to harden around you.

After the endless minutes -- no hours, of him edging you, you finally collapse. White hot pleasure burns through every nerve on your body and you swear you're physically paralyzed for a second. You cry out as your body trembles uncontrollably, tears spilling onto the mattress under you.

“Fuck—you’re so good to me, baby. Always so ready to take my cock in this delicious pussy.” An arm wraps around your body then takes hold of your throat, fingers intoxicatingly pressing into your delicate skin. Each thrust is followed by harsh grunts as he starts to speed up. You can barely follow his movements as they become more chaotic. More feral.

Another desperate whine spills from his lips as he holds you impossibly closer to him. “Please let me cum inside of you, honey." His mouth hovers right next to your ear, lust dripping off of every word. "Let me fill you up and make a mess in you.”

"Y-yes, please...." Your voice comes out hoarse from his grip on your throat. You love it.

“I want to see your pussy weep with it before I shove it back in. You’ll take it all won’t you?” You nod hopelessly and his thrusts start to stutter. Before long, he lets out a broken groan and you feel the familiar warmth of him gush deeply inside of you.

His weight sandwiches you against the mattress as he falls over you, breaths starting to slow down. Your brain is still foggy from your climax, but you sigh with contentment at the pressure of his body.

Eventually, he rolls off of you to his side of the bed then pulls you against him, chest against your back.

"Were you really awake that whole time?"

"Maybe..." You can faintly feel his smile as his lips quirk up against the back of your head.

[samkerrworshipper]

i will wait for you | leah williamson x reader & barcelona team x reader

INCOMPLETE SPOILER !!!!!!!

i’m so sorry i’ve been inactive this weekend i’ve been trying my v harfest to catch up on my course work ☠️

haven’t written anything or even had a chance to look at my reqs so thought i’d bless y’all with a little draft that i can’t even manage to complete so enjoy a little spoiler of a req that i got x

it’s just pure pain, angst and probably going to end in smut but we’ll see 👀

You knew that this time when you went down it was different. All you’d been doing was sprinting up the sideline, your eyes focused solely on Alexia as she shot the ball a few feet in front of you. It was a good pass, a good line that had you heading straight for goal, hopefully it would secure your first in the Champions League final against Wolfsburg. It took a mere split second before you collapsed on the ground in complete agony. The umpire's whistle had blown almost immediately, your teammates huddling around you to give you some privacy whilst the medic made their way over to you, everyone trying to figure out what had happened. You were writhing against the pitch, screaming in pain that no one knew the source of. All you could do was sob and reach for your ankle as the medics tried their hardest to assess you and get you loaded onto a stretcher.

You were in unfathomable pain, resulting in the team's medics making the executive decision to pump you full of pain meds before they wheeled you off to the x-ray machines. You were a sobbing mess, the realisation kicking in that you were in so much pain and the realisation that your Champions League dream was over.

The x-rays confirmed your suspicions and you watched from the medical room as your team secured three goals against your opponents and when the whistle finally blew, they all became Champions. You watched as they all fell to their knees on the pitch, they were back to back champions, you were bedridden.

Instead of being out partying with the rest of the girls, you were put on the first flight back to Barcelona, you were in Bilbao, so they loaded you directly onto a medical helicopter and flew straight back to Barcelona. You passed out on the ride their, with the mix of disappointment and drugs mixing in your system to send you into a discomforting slumber.

When you woke up you were in a hospital in Barcelona. A series of doctors outlining to you the severity of your injury and what the coming weeks looked like for you. You tried your hardest to listen to their drawl, but it all went in one ear and came out the other. After they were done you insisted on being discharged, even with their warning words about the fact that it would be best if you stayed for another day or so, just before someone returned to take you back to your apartment and look after you whilst you were on such intense pain meds. You ignored their pleas, insisting that you go home by yourself, you didn’t want nor need their pity.

You got yourself home, in an uber, high off of the pain meds that were the only thing keeping you on your feet. You’d never liked crutches, found them extremely awkward and hard to use. You’d never believed that statement more than right now, as you attempted to crutch your way up the stairs of your apartment so you could make it to your bed. You were woozy on your feet, the drugs you were on making you sway as you tried your very hardest to focus on the step in front of you.

It took everything you had to make it to your bed, the pain, the tears, the pure need you had in your soul to just do it by yourself. You’d never felt more alone in your life, your team was too busy celebrating, your family was too busy doing other things to even think about you. By the time you made it to your bed you were completely spent, throwing yourself down into the sheets and falling into a deep sleep.

You awoke a horrific amount of times during the night, trembles of pain washing across your body directly from your ankle. It was gut wrenching pain, but you’d left your pain meds downstairs and you hardly trusted yourself on crutches during the day, let alone in the middle of the night. So you stayed in your bed, writhing in pain all throughout the night, willing for the sun to arise so you could finally get access to the medication you need so heavily. You knew there were people you could call, even if your teammates were in a different part of Spain. You knew that they would do anything to make you feel better, but you just couldn’t manage it, the guilt of taking away from their win was too much for you to bear.

When the sun finally did rise you tried your hardest to push yourself out of your bed and onto your crutches, but your legs felt like jelly. So instead of doing the rash thing and calling somebody, you pushed yourself down onto the floorboards of your room and started the gruelling process of pushing yourself against the floorboards and towards your stairs.

If crutches managed to hurt your ankle, then scooting yourself against the floors of your house was gruelling, a true struggle. Getting down your stairs was a nightmare, every single bump or nudge against the boot your ankle had been secured in was agony. The clunky thing was no help, it weighed down your ankle and made it a far bigger target for lodging itself on the edge of a stair.

Eventually, with tears flowing freely down your face you made it down the stairs and scooted yourself into the kitchen of your house, where you’d left the medications given to you by your doctors the day before. You reached up to your kitchen bench, clawing whatever you could reach for off of the ledge and brushing them down onto the floor beside you. It took all of your energy to get the medications down on the floor next to you, so you were relieved when you saw that you’d managed to scoop up the oxycodone pills from above you, which you knew would be enough to dull some of the pain you were feeling. You dry swallowed three pills, popping them into your mouth and forcing them down.

You looked across at the staircase in your apartment, your eyes were slowly becoming hooded and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it back up the stairs, plus your apartment floor wasn’t that uncomfy right now?

You couldn’t help but slump against your kitchen bench, sleep and pain overwhelming you as you passed out on the floor of your kitchen.

“Y/n/n, babygirl, wake up for me.”

It was the feeling of a hand shaking against your face that brought you back to the world. In your drug induced haze it took a few seconds for your eyes to focus on the person responsible for your awakening.

“Ale, what are you doing here?”

You pushed her hand away from you, feeling a little bit vulnerable in your current position as she looked down at you from her position standing above you. Alexia was frowning down at you, and just as you’d finished taking her in you began to realise a lot of your team was piled into your apartment, you couldn’t make out everyone though.

“Bebita, we haven’t heard from you since the game, we’ve all been worried sick, you haven’t been answering anybody’s calls or texts.”

I tried my best to work up whatever courage and dignity I had, which was hard considering I was dressed in an oversized Barcelona champions shirt and whatever shorts the hospital must have been able to find to put me in.

“I’m fine, you can all leave, go back to celebrating.”

They all looked some form of hungover, they should be out partying, celebrating the win, instead they’d congregated in your house, which was honestly making you feel so much worse.

“I won’t have that tone pequeño, you clearly aren’t fine, if you were you wouldn’t be passed out on your kitchen floor after ghosting everybody for the last two days. I know you are in pain, but that does not warrant you pushing everybody out.”

Alexia’s voice was harsh, the voice she reserved for when she was making orders on the pitch, a voice that would normally have you quivering under her, but the mixture of the pain and embarrassment you were feeling was enough fuel for your drugged up state to use.

“Joder! I’m fine, go party, go celebrate, Estoy Bien, Déjame en paz.”

Your tone wouldn’t go over well, you knew that but the confidence from your statement was apparently fuel for you to stand yourself up from the ground on your own. You felt the shooting pain going up your leg almost immediately, as you struggled to balance with only one functioning foot. Alexia knitted her brows together, clenching her jaw as you watched her try to keep her composure, you never pushed a hungover Alexia, it never had a good result.

“I understand that you are in pain and that you don’t want to acknowledge. You need help though, and we have all come to give it, so please just let us.”

I looked at Alexia, she was standing a foot away from me, pure anguish and concern on her face.

“I’m fine, leave me alone, I know you all have celebrations to get back to, so please, go.”

I took a step on my injured foot, a big mistake that had me groaning in pain and Alexia’s arms coming up to my sides to stop me from going any further.

“Bebita, you are a part of that winning team, you deserve to be out celebrating with us, you clearly aren’t fine and we are all here to support you through that, however you need.”

You shook Alexia off of you, trying your very hardest to balance on a foot that wasn’t working,

“Vete a la mierda. Leave, get out of my house.”

You were getting annoyed and aggressive fast and quickly, something that your teammates seemed to pick up on.

“Leahhas called me, probably a 100 times, she’s worried sick about you, you can’t push everybody out forever, just because you are injured does not make you unlovable.”

Alexia’s words echoed against the walls of my house, her voice having risen to meet mine.

“Get out of my house, right now, before I call the police.”

Alexia exhaled deeply, she shooed the rest of the women that had piled themselves into my house out, leaving just you and her. You leant back against your kitchen bench, needing the assistance to keep you on your two feet, the pressure on your ankle becoming too much for you to be able to handle.

“You need help, I don’t care whether or not you know it but you do, we found you passed out on your kitchen floor and if that isn’t a big enough indicator then I don’t know what is. You can push us all out till the cows come home but it’s not achieving anything. You're going to let me take you up the stairs and back to bed, I’ll set you up with your meds and ice packs, I don’t care how much you hate it but I am going to be here for you whether or not you want me to be here.”

You glared at Alexia, your jaw set as a stone as the older women that had quickly become your adoptive older sister at Barca looked at you pointedly. There was no room for argument in her voice, like a drill sergeant.

Alexia walked towards you, taking you in her arms and letting your silent tears drip onto her shirt as she lifted you up, removing the pressure from your foot and carrying you up your stairs and to your bedroom. You cried silently into her, annoyed by the loss of your dignity so openly in front of your teammates. She helped to tuck you into your bed, elevating your ankle onto a pillow and very gently easing it out of the boot it was strapped into. The doctor’s had wrapped it up in bandages to keep it secure, so you were able to remove it from the boot to ice it. Alexia pressed an ice pack to your ankle, before procuring your meds and a drink bottle out of nowhere and leaving them on your bedside.

“Anything else you need?”

You glared straight out at the wall in front of you, lying back in your bed and refusing to look at Alexia.

“Leave.”

Alexia tried her hardest over the next week to get you to let her in. You pushed her out. You refused to leave bed besides going to the bathroom, which was not just detrimental to your physical health but also your mental health. You weren’t on your phone at all, refused to even look at it because you didn’t want to see any of the pity that was being thrown your way. Alexia tried her hardest, she came into your room at 7am every morning, prepped with breakfast that you never ate and your meds that were the only thing keeping you pain free at the moment. She tried her hardest to get you out of bed to go to your recovery appointments, but you refused to leave. Alexia was at her wits end. You needed surgery but a part of your surgery prep was that you needed to do some kind of recovery, that you needed to be strong enough to withstand that kind of toll on your body. You were depressed, something that was detrimental to your wellbeing going into surgery, if you asked the Catalan, you needed a kick up the ass, but nothing was working. Eventually, after day seven, you’d become mobile enough that she didn’t have any excuse to stay in your house anymore, you’d been very vocal about that so she’d left, apprehensively, unsure about what more she could do for you.

“Alexia, I’ve told you to fuck off.”

The sound of somebody's shoes scuffing against your doormat downstairs and your front door closing behind you was enough to make you unhappy. After seven gruelling days you’d finally gotten rid of Alexia, but now she was back and it was making you stir crazy. You could just make out the sound of her bare feet trudging up the stairs, nearing your bedroom door and opening it up.

“Leave me alone.”

You buried your head further into your pillows, pillows that were now beginning to smell a little bit too much like your. You pulled your head as physically close to the pillows as you could, twisting your body as far as you could without dislodging your ankle from its spot elevated on your bed.

“I’m not Alexia, if that helps?”

Your head shot out of your pillow and for a split second you wondered if the oxy delirium was getting to you. Alexia had been weaning you off the hard drugs, giving you less each day and replacing it with ibuprofen, which had the reverse effect on you, making you more delusional than you had been on the full strength drugs, you had more energy now though then you had a few days ago, so you could have just blamed it on you being more awake and present.

“Leah?”

You’d been avoiding your phone for a number of reasons, but number one on the list had been your girlfriend. For some reason, she was always the last person you wanted to talk to when you got injured, it made you feel guilty, ungrateful, especially considering she’d just missed out on playing you in the final this year.

“Hey baby girl.”

She looked exhausted, like she’d just gotten off a plane and it made you feel bad. Leah had spent a lot of time in your home in Barcelona, international breaks, time off, injury time, every time was enjoyable, but this time felt different.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Leah made her way further into your room, walking over to your shades and opening them a little bit, allowing more light then the very little amount that was peaking through the bottom of your shades.

“Alexia called, she said that you were in bad shape, that you needed someone and that someone had to be me. So I got on the first flight I could. She said that what you’d done was serious, full ankle ligament tears, all four of them and that you were struggling, so I got here as soon as I could.”

You let your bottom lip worry in between your teeth, as you watched Leah make her way around your room, picking up the loose articles of clothing that were on your floor, memories of Alexia fighting with you to get changed ran through your mind, a daily battle that always ended with you crying and screaming at her. Leah flung it all into your laundry basket, a little task that she always gave herself, always scared that one of us would trip and fall on a piece of clothing in the middle of the night, that fear now having escalated with crutches being brought into the picture.

“I’m fine, I would have called if I needed you, you're supposed to be with the team, they need you now more than I do.”

Leah turned back around to you, shedding her hoodie and slinging it into the laundry basket before addressing your sentence.

“Would you have? Because you didn’t and you seemed to be struggling pretty hard, Alexia called me, balling her eyes out because she was so scared that you were going to never leave bed. The girls need me, but you need me more right now, whether you know it or not, so I’m here, whatever you need, I’m here, for as long as you need.”

Leah sat herself down on the opposite edge of my bed, the one that was cold and empty. You looked at her anxiously, trying to decide whether or not you could fall into her right now, if she would catch you.

“I’m fine.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

my friend kicks ass in her sleep (quite literally I have woken with bruises and a foot up my arse) and it’s got me thinking...like the cod men are just so unsuspecting, happily dozing next to their s/o and suddenly they just get absolutely obliterated in the balls..

Lol I am TOTALLY like this in my sleep 😭

141+ König With A Reader Who Beats Them Up In Their Sleep

Warnings: mentions of injury/pain, swearing

Simon Ghost Riley-

It was in the wee hours of the morning, and you were feeling incredibly restless. You'd gotten little to no sleep the last few nights and kept waking up extremely hot.

You tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable spot. You peered over at your husband, Simon, who was fast asleep. It was a rare occurrence for you to be awake when he wasn't, so you took the opportunity to watch him for a while. Eventually, sleep finally overcame you once again.

Next to you, Simon was dreaming peacefully. He was dreaming about your future and the small family he'd hoped you'd eventually have. He shifted slightly in his sleep, rolling just a little too close to you. You rolled over quickly, still unconscious, your hand flying out, smacking Simon square in the face.

Simon's eyes flew open as he jolted upright, trying to take in his surroundings. What the hell was that? He heard a snore come from beside him and turned to see your face squished against your pillow, your hand outstretched to where his face was just moments ago.

He rubbed his cheek with a soft chuckle, admiring your sleeping form. He smiled to himself before moving back down to lay beside you. He gently pushed you on your side and pulled you into him as he held your arms firmly in front of you. He'd rather not be slapped awake again, and he wouldn't lie, that slap stung a little.

If you could slap like that, with such force, maybe he didn't have to worry about you being home alone after all.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You were a horribly violent sleeper. This much was true. Johnny had threatened about a half dozen times that he'd wrap you in bubble wrap before letting you lay next to him again (he never did).

The two of you often slept at opposite ends of the bed, mostly to protect Johnny from your unconscious wrath, but always had a small cuddle session before falling asleep.

Unfortunately for Johnny, the two of you had fallen asleep while cuddling tonight. He had your face tucked in his chest, his arms lazily wrapped around your torso. You started to shift slightly in your sleep, triggering Johnny's eyes to shoot open. He was never a notoriously light sleeper, not until you. He went to move out of the way, but he was just a few seconds too late. You bunched your legs up and stretched them out, kicking him in the balls, hard.

"STEAMIN JESUS!" He croaked, his vision turning white from the pain.

Your eyes opened from the commotion, turning to see your boyfriend's face scrunched up in pain, as he was clutching at his crotch. "Johnny?"

"Y....yep. I'm here." He wheezed, his face still contorted.

You bit your lip to prevent a giggle and moved toward Johnny slowly. "I'm so sorry, babe. I couldn't help it."

"Sssure. Yep." He was still barely able to get words out. "Think you destroyed my balls, love."

From that night on, Johnny always made it a point to set an alarm when the two of you were cuddling, making sure he never had this issue again.

Somehow, throughout the night, you had ended up sideways in bed, your feet hovering around your boyfriend's ass. You rolled over in the bed, restless, stretching out your legs rather aggressively, and ended up shoving your foot in John's ass.

John Price-

You and John had a terribly long day, as you both had priorities that dragged on long into the night. The moment the two of you got in home, you collapsed into bed together.

John awoke immediately, nearly howling in pain, his ass hurting like no other. He turned over to see you sprawled out, still out cold. He sat for a moment looking at you. You'd covered nearly every inch of the bed and were splayed out like a star fish, mouth wide open as soft snores emitted from you.

He chuckled to himself before sliding out of bed, massaging the sore spot on his ass. He grabbed some of the pillows, creating a small row of them as he turned your body to face the right way. As he did so, your legs thrashed yet again, nearly kicking him in the balls.

"Yep, fuck this." He laughed quietly, shaking his head at your antics. He still wanted to sleep near you, however, so he grabbed a pillow and blanket and curled up on the floor next to your side of the bed.

Needless to say, it was more than just his ass that hurt the next morning.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Whenever Kyle had spent the night at your house, you'd always fallen asleep together with you as the big spoon. There were times when you'd grow restless throughout the night, and Kyle would be subjected to various forms of abuse from your unconscious state. Tonight was, unfortunately, one of those nights.

During the night, your feet had come to lay on Kyle's back, resting there softly. You'd started to grow restless in your sleep, tossing and turning moving your legs rapidly. Your legs had done a bicycle kick, straight into Kyle's back, sending him flying off the side of the bed.

He awoke with a yelp as he landed on the floor hard. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, as he took in your now fully strung out form on your queen sized bed.

He laid back on the floor and busted out laughing, causing you to jolt awake. "Ky?"

"You literally kicked me out of bed, babe." He said as he caught his breath.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I can sleep on the couch, it's fine." You moved to get up but Kyle quickly jumped on top of you.

"Gosh no, babe. I'm not gonna make you do that. We can sleep just like this." He chuckled, spreading his weight evenly on top of you.

You let out a breathy laugh before falling asleep nearly instantly. That night, Kyle found a solution to your little problem, and spent every night since then sleeping on top of you.

König-

It was late into the night when you and your boyfriend König had finally fallen asleep. The two of you had cuddled together long into the night, talking about anything and everything. His arms were tight around your midsection as you slept peacefully on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You were having a dream about your neighbors huge dog chasing you when you felt into a small pothole in the road. Your body reacted along with the dream, and your knees bunched up quickly, coming to rest on Königs balls rather harshly.

König shot up and yowled in pain, causing you to fly off the side of the bed. "Scheisse!"

His hands flew to cup his balls as he started to whimper. You, now being wide awake from being thrown on the floor, rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes and took in your surroundings.

"Kö?" You asked, peeking your head up over the side of the bed. König let out a whimper in response, still clutching onto his manhood desperately trying to rid himself if the pain.

"Oh, oh gosh, did I do that? I'm so sorry, baby." You jumped up and touched his shoulder softly.

König took a deep breath before mustering the best smile he could for you. "'S okay, Maus. It's not your fault, sweetheart." He croaked. He couldn't be mad at you. You couldn't control what you did in your sleep. That wasn't to say this didn't hurt like hell, though.

He slowly pressed a kiss to your forehead before laying back down onto the bed, a cry escaping his lips.

That night, König had built a pillow wall big enough for you to not be able to reach him over. He lovingly promised he'd cuddle with you in the morning but insisted that for tonight, he needed to "Beschütze seine Eier" (protect his balls).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm trying to post at least one or two requests a day. Thanks for bearing with me🙂🩷

[fckeddiemunson]

Blurred Lines Pt. 2

Part One Here:

Summary: What was a one time thing is turning into a full fledged affair

Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI. some choking, p in v, creampie, more cheating, handjob, spitting

Notes: AHH ok part 2 is here! Please enjoy, I may make a part 3 i have some ideas.....

2750 words

Getting away with cheating is not a humbling feeling. It boosts your ego without even realising it. And then suddenly you’re taking risks you never would have before. You think you’re untouchable. Especially in this case when there’s two parties involved who have so much to lose. It doesn’t get any better with time either, the longer you aren’t caught for the less careful you become about hiding fleeting glances, small, overlooked touches. Then there’s after work. Going back to your respective homes, playing a husband and father or playing a dutiful fiancé. You think it won’t catch up to you, but it always will.

The immediate day after you were with Rusty, you called in sick – something you had never done. You were sick to your stomach that day, you couldn’t even be at home. Dom was at home sleeping in the same bed you let Rusty fuck you in, worse in the same sheets. Your absence was met with a slew of texts from Rusty, get better soon, hope you’re in tomorrow, where’s the link to my google calendar?, please sweetheart I’m useless without you. It was honestly a bit overwhelming. You spent most of that day in your car, driving past the office about ten times like a maniac. Once evening hit and you knew Dom would have left for work you went home. You collapsed once inside, relief rushing through you at being alone. You breathed deeply and smelt the dinner Dom had cooked and left warming in the oven for you. despite the rough patch you were having, he still made time for you like this, it made you sick thinking about it. You frowned, a twinge of guilt coursed through you as picked at the food, not very hungry. Your phone vibrated, filling the silent void you had cocooned yourself in. you felt even worse checking the message, from Dom sending his love and hoping you enjoyed dinner. Sending back a message with love hearts you shut your phone and cringed. But as you sat there longer, chewing slowly on the potatoes your loving fiancé had cooked. You made a decision.  A decision to not let this effect you. Evidently you had gotten away with it. Everything would be fine so long as it remained a one-time thing.

The next morning you walked into the office with your head held high. Rusty had beat you into the office, not many people had filed in this early. You marched into his office locked the door and leaned against the door with your arms crossed.

“The other night was a one-time thing.” Your stern voice almost echoed in the room.

“Jesus. Keep your voice down!” Rusty looked suspiciously out the little window, not a soul was around besides the two of you. Ignoring him a little you continued; “I don’t regret it, god, I don’t regret it, but we have lives we must maintain.”

“I agree. We work so well together is all. We got carried away is what happened. For the record, I don’t regret it either, I should but I don’t. Shall we begin the day? Coffee?” Rusty had already made you a cup, it sat next to his on the desk. And just like that. It was swept under the rug, nothing more needed to be said.

A week passed uneventfully; more prep work was done for the woman whose body was found in the dumpster. The trial really was only another few weeks away and at this point it seemed cut and dry, open and closed. All thanks to your hard (very hard) work with Rusty that night. It wasn’t until you felt yourself staring at Rusty again when you should’ve been working that you felt concerned again. You felt an invisible tug towards him, a shudder in your lower stomach when you studied his lips for too long. You were reminded how good they felt on you, how good they felt on your neck – no. You shook your head, trying to snap out of your daydream, or more memory of Rusty.

The next week was full of late nights in the office with Rusty, the case now was too sensitive and confidential to work on anywhere else. Most of your team was in the office until about 8pm. It was the Friday before the trial was set to start, the following Monday. It was now approaching 8:30pm, everyone had already vacated, under the impression that we wouldn’t discover anything new this close to trial. But Rusty was insistent, he was beyond thorough and would not stop until he was satisfied there was nothing else to find. You had organised food for the two of you and stood in the break room, dishing up a plate of chicken and rice. Rusty was standing over his desk when you took it in, his hand catching yours as you placed his food.

“You know I really appreciate you. You’re the best assistant anyone could ask for.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, smiling.

“I’m much more than an assistant you know” You whispered, sliding your hand away.

“You’re so much more.” Rusty said quietly, you looked back at him. Without thinking, you tilted your head up and kissed him, eyes closing briefly. He kissed back, leaning into you. But it was all over too quickly, you pulled away, scurrying back to the break room to grab your food. You stood there with your hands on your hips, staring at the ground in disbelief. Another decision was made in that moment. The true point of no return.

**

“Fuck!” Rusty yelled after a few more hours of meticulous reading and frustrated re-reading of the case files.

“There’s just nothing else. I can’t find anything to fortify our case further.” Rusty slumped in his office chair, rubbing his temples and frowning.

“Maybe that’s because its already foolproof.” You offered, throwing your stack of papers back on the desk.

“No, it has to be better.” Rusty almost snapped, frustration overcoming him. You rolled your eyes, not appreciating the tone.

“Come on. Grab your things.” In a moment you were up, handbag and laptop in hand.

“What, why?” Rusty slowly got up, grabbing his things and attempting to tidy up before leaving for the weekend.

“We’re going to clear our heads.” You headed for the elevator; Rusty followed behind chuckling after you. Rusty’s arm brushed against yours the entire lift, he didn’t seem to want to move, and you were trying to stop yourself from moving closer to him. You looked at him again, his tie still tight from this morning. You placed your bag on the ground and reached up to his tie, dodging his gaze.

“Its now after work, got to loosen up a bit.” You loosened his tie, hands lingering on his chest, his warmth radiated up through your fingertips. In an instant, he backed you into the lift wall and kissed you deeply. You gasped as his hands pulled at the bottom of your shirt from your skirt, rucking it up and sliding his hands under. You felt his fingertips working upwards, running across your ribcage, feeling his way. He pulled his hands out and fiddled with the buttons up at your chest. The lift pinged as he undid two, exposing your cleavage to him, he looked smug as you walked to your car.

You drove the two of you to a cliff top lookout, it overlooked the whole city. At this time of night, you expected local teenagers with beer getting drunk, but it was thankfully deserted by the time you got up there. Rusty had asked many questions along the way, not a man who liked to be surprised. You had answered all of them, with Rusty kissing your hand. The city lights twinkled in the distance, feeling a lifetime away from the lookout. You sat in silence for a moment, both looking ahead at the view. It was you who broke the silence, sighing deeply and looking at Rusty.

“Fuck it.” You whispered, more to yourself and hiked up your skirt, climbing over the centre console, and into Rusty’s lap. He was amused, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing, Rusty. I want you. I have craved you ever since that night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” You knew you sounded obsessive and a bit crazy. You knew it was a lot to be asking of him, of anyone but that longing desire you had burned for him. You tried to be a head strong person, but you had somehow almost girl-bossed your way into an affair.

“I don’t like keeping secrets from my wife.” Rusty was already playing with the buttons on your shirt, teasing you.

“So, I’m sure you told her about the other night then?” You stared him down, lifting his chin and forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Just shut up.” Rusty’s voice was harsh as he snaked his hands around the back of your head, pulling you down for a kiss. It was rough, all teeth nipping at each other’s lips. You let him kiss you, your hands snaking down to play with the buckle on his pants. Rusty let out a deep sigh as your hand brushed against him. He was rigid as the back of your hand stroked him, pulling his cock out of his pants. You eagerly spat, it landed on his cock, Rusty hissed at the contact. He bucked his hips when you touched him, a soft whine escaping his lips as you jerked him up and down with lazy strokes. You leant forward, lips connecting to his exposed neck, you felt a low warming in your stomach as you licked a stripe up his neck, stopping at his jawline and kissing him along it finally reaching his mouth. You licked his lower lip, begging for entrance, whining when he waved a hand through your hair pulling back, his grip firm. You locked eyes as your hand continued to stroke him up and down, now painfully hard, the tip blushing pink as you ran your thumb over the slit. Rusty grunted your name, his head falling back against the seat. Taking the opportunity, you kissed him, pulling him in and biting his lower lip, running your tongue against his now swollen lip.

Rusty took the chance and pushed you back, landing against the dashboard, your legs spread for him, pussy covered only by sheer stockings. You started pulling them down awkwardly, attempting to shimmy them off you when Rusty put his hand on yours to stop. His wicked smirk returned, hands grabbing on the material at the apex of your thighs, gripping tight and ripping a hole in them. A surprised gasp left your mouth as you stared at him through half closed lids, lustfully enjoying the way Rusty kneaded at your exposed thighs. His hand grabbed your thigh dangerously high, his thumb swiping over your underwear, brushing your clit. His thumb hooked under the band, feeling the warmth of your cunt as he inched towards your dripping entrance. A mix between a moan and a dark chuckle left his mouth when he felt how wet you were for him. How all it took was a hand-job to get you aching for him. He looked at you then, and you felt powerful, eyes following your hand down and gripping his dick as you leant forward and grinded your hips down onto him, his tip flicking against your clit.

“Please.” He whispered, hips meeting your grinding, breathless moans leaving him. You slipped forward, tilted your hips and sunk down slowly onto his length. Rusty was big, there was no way to put it lightly and you hissed at the burn sinking further onto him. He knew it too, he chuckled once you took him all the way, pausing to breathe deeply. You moaned as he bucked up impatiently, pulling you towards him and gripping your hips tightly urging you to move on him. Settling yourself, you placed your hands on the car seat for leverage and began moving your hips up and down. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you and you relished the feeling, short panting moans as your pace quickened. Rusty’s fingers kneaded and bruised your hips as you rode him, helping you move as he bucked in shallow thrusts from below. He felt so deep inside you, his cock nudging against the spongey spot making you mew for him. You ground yourself down on him, your clit rubbing back and forth over his neat patch of hair, and you released a moan, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined as he tangled his hands in your hair, pulling you forward to kiss you. His thrusts deepened and quickened as you rested yourself on his shoulder, panting and moaning as his cock pumped in and out of you now almost harshly. He pushed you back against the dashboard, hand travelling up to your throat and holding you in place as he thrusted upwards into you, still seated in the car. His fingers wrapped around your throat, and he squeezed, testing the waters. Rusty groaned hotly, chuckling darkly as he felt your cunt clench when he squeezed. He did it again and you moaned, it came out high pitched and strained as Rusty kept his hand on your throat.

“Oh, you are a little slut for me, aren’t you?” Rusty’s voice had changed, he sounded rugged as he egged you on.

“My own personal stress relief. Isn’t that what you wanted, to ‘clear my head’?” Rusty felt his ego inflate ten-fold when he looked at you, mimicking your words from earlier. You met his eyes, cock drunk and watering as you held onto his hand, choking you. He tore his hand away from your throat, grabbed your leg and hitched it up higher, resting on his shoulder as he inched forward, fucking you deeper. You couldn’t answer him, you were too fucked out and teetering on the verge of an orgasm, eyes fluttering shut.

Rusty’s hand made its way to your cunt again, his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You jerked against his touch, suddenly becoming too much as your orgasm built in your stomach.

“Rusty, its too much” you attempted to move his hand, but he gripped your wrist and held it away, his thumb moving quicker against you.

“You can take it sweetheart.” His thrusts quickened, his pace becoming erratic and sharp.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, immediately whining as you spasmed. A hot and cold feeling washed over you as Rusty kept on fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt pulsed, over stimulated and Rusty wasn’t stopping, he was chasing his own high. He grunted and pulled you closer to him, feeling him everywhere. He was too deep, he smelt too good, his arms wrapped around you possessively as he thrusted the last few times. He nestled against you, burying his head in your neck and breathing in deeply as he grabbed you tighter against him, moaning into your hair, his warm cum spilling into you. You eventually relaxed into his tight grip, too tired to move. Rusty felt too good in your arms to move as well, his hand stroked your hair, you could feel his cum dribbling out of you. Rusty made no attempt to move, just stayed locking you in his arms. The rush was subsiding, and you both enjoyed each other’s silent company. You both felt it thought. The pull towards one another. You could hear his mind turning over like cogs, both coming to another decision. It was another night spent with the wrong person. Another night spent with each other, but now he was your arms, feeling far too intimate to be just sex.

You were the first to break the silence, “Rusty, I don’t want to go home, yet.” Your hand snaked in behind his neck, tilting it up so you could look at him.

“I don’t want too either.” His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

You don’t know how long you stayed up there, embraced in each other’s arms, but you knew something had changed. There was no going back after this.

[spideystevie]

💘 + hangman "sharing a bed. then making up more excuses to share a bed after that night just to wake up next to their roommate in the mornings." from the "and they were roommates!" list <3

thank you for your patience! mentions of alcohol but i think that’s it. i had a lot of fun with this one and i hope you like it <3 - [1.2k] | join the party!

It was a one off fluke. Well…it was supposed to be. It was going to be until you realized that there was something sweet in waking up next to your roommate in the morning. 

It didn’t have anything to do with the crush that had just rooted itself in your chest, at least that’s what you told yourself.

That first morning was sweet until you remembered why you were sharing a bed and a wave of embarrassment came over you like a tidal wave. 

You’d come home from a night out, absolutely plastered. In the haze of your memories, you can vaguely remember one of your friends using your phone to call Jake while you were out at the bar. He’d picked up on the first ring and you could hear his voice saying your name like a question over the phone.

“Is that Jake?” your words were slurred but your eyes were bright and shining. Your friend shushed you gently and readjusted your phone against their ear. You tried to grab for it and they turned away from you, keeping their free hand wrapped around your arm.

You can’t remember much of what was said in the conversation, only that your friend told him you needed a ride home and that Jake was already out the door. You squirmed in your friend’s grip, reaching for the phone again. “Lemme talk to ‘im.”

In a blink, your phone was back in your possession but the call had ended. You think you remember frowning at the screen when you noticed. 

“C’mon, he’s gonna be here soon,” your friend said, tugging you towards the entrance of the bar you were at. Sure enough, he’d arrived not even five minutes later. He looked a little tired, fighting off sleep while he waited up for you to come home. 

“Jake!” it came out in something close to a gasp, a great big smile lifting your cheeks. Your inhibitions were low as you stumbled towards him and all but collapsed against him, his arms coming around your waist to catch you. His t-shirt was soft against your cheek and you remember keeping your nose pressed against his chest for an almost embarrassingly long time because he smelled so good. 

He’d smiled and nodded at your friend in a quiet thanks before he led you to his car. You had held your breath while he buckled you in and tried to focus on one point on the horizon to wade off the nausea creeping up. Jake let you lean most of your weight against him as he helped you inside and to your room where you collapsed onto your bed. 

As soon as your head hit the mattress you felt a sleepiness take hold, your eyelids feeling heavier with each blink. You’d groaned when Jake made you go into the bathroom to change for bed and he’d helped you take your makeup off when you were too stubborn to do it yourself.

When you were all settled into bed, advil and water on your bedside table for the morning, he’d turned off your lamp and got up to leave. You feel a slight bit embarrassed when you recall asking him to stay with you before he could leave the room. You hadn’t really expected him to agree, but he did. 

You lift your head off the pillow and it immediately begins to throb, making your face scrunch up and your eyes squeeze closed. Through the building tension, you remember the water and pain relievers he’d set out for you on your nightstand. Your eyes peel open just enough for you to grab them and swallow the pills down with water. 

After setting the water back down, you look over at Jake sleeping in the spot next to you. He looks so serene, features completely relaxed and his face slightly smushed against your spare pillow. His hair’s a bit of a tousled mess from sleep and the sight of it makes you smile. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. His voice is deeper in the morning, this you already knew but hearing it immediately after he wakes up, in your bed no less, makes a thick, gooey warmth cloud your chest. You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it, fighting off the embarrassment tickling your nerves at having been caught staring at your sleeping roommate. 

“I didn’t think you’d stay,” you say after you’ve laid back down. His eyes blink open and he’s quiet for a minute. He holds your gaze for a minute, lets it wander across your face and then back to your eyes. He shrugs best he can, laying on his side. 

“You asked,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. You swallow and nod. He looks over your features once more, almost like he’s committing them to memory, and Jake realizes he likes having you to wake up next to. 

After that first morning, the two of you find almost any excuse you can to share a bed at night. 

You can’t sleep and knock on his door in the middle of the night, complaining of a minor nightmare. Jake puts his sheets in the wash and claims he doesn’t have a made bed to sleep in, despite the spare set of sheets in the closet. He hosts movie night in his room under the guise of the couch suddenly being too small. 

Slowly, over the course of many nights and phases of the moon, something in your dynamic shifts. He’s a lot more touchy with you, his fingers lingering against your skin. You get braver by kissing his cheek before you get out of bed the last few times. 

It’s an unspoken change, one neither of you really feel the need to address. That is, until excuse number fifteen—the storm outside might make you lose power and it’s better to just sleep in the same bed in case that happens—and he’s holding you in his bed.

The rain splashes against the windows, flashes of lightning lighting up the room as thunder cracks overhead. It’s quiet though in the comfort of his sheets. You can’t decide if you’re starting to prefer his mattress to yours. A hum of your name breaks you from your thoughts and you adjust your head to meet his eye. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he starts and you try to bite back a smirk. 

“That’s never good,” you muse. He laughs and shakes his head. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he restates. There’s the beginnings of a nervous blush creeping across his cheeks. “Maybe we should do this…permanently.”

You blink at him, eyes a little wide. “This, like, sharing a bed this?”

He nods and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen your roommate so nervous. You start to smile. You make him nervous. The thought makes you feel giddy inside. 

“Yeah. Okay,” you agree and you can feel him physically relax against you. “Now you can stop lying about not having sheets on your bed or the couch being too small.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face and a laugh bubbling past his lips. He’s just glad he gets to wake up to you every morning now on purpose.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Miguel barely allowed himself the moment of reprieve primarily for the reasoning that evil never sleeps and therefore by that logic, he shouldn’t have to either; or at least minimise his sleep to accommodate for longer night patrols. His desire to keep his city safe was admirable but soon become detrimental to his health as his body -despite the genetic splicing- was starting to collapse on him due to frequent neglect of the basic bodily needs.

It hurts you to see him like that and you knew that if he were to be confronted about it, Miguel would immediately become dismissive by stating that this method was completely logical from his standpoint, as it was a means to minimise the criminal activity within the city. Miguel always thought it was his responsibility to crack down on the crime rate, even though there were people who’s jobs were to do exactly that, but in Miguel’s eyes their methods of detaining criminals was comparatively a slap on the wrist as to what punishment they should be receiving.

All came ahead one night when he returned home particularly more battered then usual and on the verge of collapse; you were quick to act in stabilising his upper body in your arms but in due to his muscular form, you were both forcibly brought down to kneeling in the dimly light room that had the curtains drawn for convenience.

‘Miguel, what happened out there?’ You said as softly as you could as you moved your hands to hold his jaw with tenderness, as to not inflict more pain by accidentally applying pressure to the many cuts and bruises that littered his worn but handsome face. ‘Just caught a bad night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ He tells you as he’s pushing your hands away from his face, thinking that would be enough to reassure you when all it only proved to do was the opposite effect; Even as your watching him make an valiant effort to stand but from the way he was griping onto the bed frame like a lifeline or crutch, it wasn’t hard to tell that whatever happened out that had already begun to take it’s hold long before he arrived home.

Riddled with worry and annoyance at how nonchalant he was about his condition, you soon got up off the floor and made a reach for his arm that was leaning reliantly on the bedpost, feeling the muscles as they tensed under your touch. ‘This isn’t just nothing though, is it Miguel. I mean look at you, you’re barely able to walk on your own without needing something to use for support.’ You heard him sigh deeply as he then spoke. ‘How I’m doing hasn’t got anything to do with you, y/n, I’m capable of looking after myself.’

His words were with thinly laced with venom but you merely scoffed, knowing by now that he didn’t have it in him to hurt you, not that he ever would, he’d never forgive himself if you hurt on his watch and by his hands by that, but his stubbornness and inability to let others help him had finally became his Achilles heel. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I was implying, I know you can handle yourself in the most toughest of situations but is it such a disservice to yourself to rely on others now and then.’ Miguel didn’t say anything and you took that as your cue to keep talking while you still had his attention.

‘Look,’ you stepped closer to him so that you could see his face, his brows were heavily furrowed and his jaw was in the motion of clenching but flinched when reaching a particularly bruised spot; He looked like the image of what you thought a war torn angel would look like, he bared his flaws like scars that were scattered across his perfectly sculptured body whilst also keeping intact his god gifted beauty.

Miguel was perfect in every way to you but to himself he might as well have been the devil reincarnate. ‘I know you want to help the city but how can you when your own body is falling apart before you. You can shoulder the responsibility all you want but sooner or later that responsibility is going to start crushing you under it’s immeasurable weight and no matter how hard you push back, it’ll only push back harder.’ You trailed your hand down his arm until it rested upon the back of his much larger, stronger one and squeezing it. ‘I just wish you trusted me more because I’m more then willing to help but I can’t if you aren’t willing to let me.’

You both stood in silence as the nightlife of the city just outside the window continued on undisrupted and unaware of your squabble, all that could be heard was your in tandem breathing and the muffled laughter of passersby, which only felt to have gotten louder with the time spent without a response from the male next to you as your hope for Miguel to see reason seemed to dwindle; why couldn’t he see that you were merely thinking of his well-being and didn’t wish to see him end up dead in an alleyway you couldn’t reach.

You didn’t know if you could bare to stomach something like that ever being the possibility and you didn’t wish to be plagued by the what ifs, going insane by wondering how differently things would’ve turned out had you stepped in earlier and you certainly didn’t want to be burdened with the guilt and the depression that would soon follow afterward to remind you of your shortcomings; You didn’t wish that ending for Miguel for he deserved a far better one that ended on his own terms.

Just as you were about to give up all hope and leave him to his own devices, begrudgingly accepting that you couldn’t get through to him, the hand you were grasping moved to intertwine your fingers together, although gingerly as though Miguel was half expecting you to pull away but when you didn’t, his hand then proceeded encased yours entirely. ‘For the record I do trust you.’ He said. ‘I probably trust you more then I’ve ever trusted anyone for you’ve never made me think twice about ever placing my trust in you because you always end up proving why I chose to let you in. I’m sorry that I don’t open up as easily when it comes to help but I just didn’t want to make your life more of a incoherent mess because of me.’

‘My life was already an incoherent mess before you came along, if anything the moment you became apart of my everyday life it became a little more clearer to me as to what to do with my life.’ You told him.

‘And what’s that?’ He asked.

You smirked as you nudged his arm slightly. ‘To make sure your stubborn ass doesn’t get killed prematurely.’

Miguel scoffed but couldn’t help the smile stretching across his lips at the sound of your laughter, something that was much needed after a night like tonight as to remind him what he was coming home to after every patrol; the heavenly sound that was your laugh he swore had some hidden abilities for each and every time he heard it, he immediately felt better. ‘That’s funny but I’m pretty sure I’m we should be doing something about now.’ He responded blankly but you could see the humour in his scarlet eyes.

[gojoidyll]

rest | capitano x female!reader

Y/n was a hard worker. You could ask her to do something, and she would already be on it.

She was very reliable. Always reliable. Is reliable.

Capitano hated that about her.

Because it meant that she was a pushover. She did anything and everything she was told to do. Jobs, commissions, paperwork, reports.

To him, she was overworked.

She was always tired. Had dark circles underneath her eyes. And always seemed to be on the verge of collapse before pushing herself up and continuing onward.

She seemed so fragile in those moments. A part of him always wanted to reach out and hold her. Tell her that it was alright to rest.

And that's exactly what he did one night. Granted, to everyone else, it looked like he was kidnapping her, but he wasn't-

Ok, maybe he was stealing her away to sleep for a bit. But it wasn't kidnapping. Couldn't be!

"Capitano! Put me down!"

After a lot of struggling, kicking, and whining, he managed to get back to their shared home. His boots immediately got kicked off on the mat, so he wouldn't track snow in. Then he wrestled her shoes off as well despite she being hoisted over his shoulder still.

"Capiiitaaaanooooo!"

He ignored her and headed to their shared bedroom, and before she could utter anything else, he plopped her down onto the bed as carefully as he could.

"Rest."

"But-"

"Rest."

She glared at him, but it was hard to intimidate a harbinger of Capitano's caliber.

"I really need to finish my reports today."

She tried to snoud angry and make her pleas sound urgent.

"You mean the reports your colleagues forced upon you?"

"Well, i-"

"Just as I thought. Your colleagues will be taking care of their own work. You, on the other hand, have a day off."

He grabbed the blanket that was lying on the bed and threw it over her.

"You will stay."

"But-"

"Stay."

Grumbling to herself, she fell back into the pillows. Her eyes watching as he left their room and switched off the lights.

If Capitano was one thing, then it definitely wouldn't be his expressive words of love and comfort.

However ... he did know how to show that he cared.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Sending my request once again! (I think, don't rlly remember 😰) Full hc about the M6 with a MC in a coma?

The Arcana HCs: When MC falls into a coma

~ don't know if this is what you were going for but it turned into a sleeping beauty situation XD hope you enjoy! - brainrot ~

-- to set the scene --

It was an overcast day. The air had been unusually still ever since your lover had stepped out after breakfast to start their day, and you'd found your own set of tasks to be oddly uneventful ... and lonely. It's why, when an elderly grandfather hobbles by and offers you a warm bread roll, you don't hesitate to take a bite as soon as you've waved goodbye. You don't take a second.

Julian

He's had a long day at the clinic, and as short as his commute is, he still feels like he's been a hundred miles away from you as he heads over after sunset. He's missed you all day

He's sure he forgets how to breathe when he walks in to see you collapsed on the floor. He knows what corpses look like, he can tell you aren't dead, but that's little comfort when you don't wake up

Carrying you to bed and working feverishly to narrow down all the possibilities. You're not injured, you're not sick, your vitals seem to fine, but ... you don't wake up. Even smelling salts don't do it

Spends the next three days refusing to leave your side except to fetch more help or resources. The whole community helps him

Mazelinka brings soup, Portia and Nadia stop by with some rare medicines, Asra pops in at all odd hours with new spells to try, and even Barth sends a hot meal or two over from the Rowdy Raven

Julian doesn't leave until he gets a call in the middle of the night. A nearby neighbor has gone into labor, and needs attention until the midwife can arrive from across town

He kisses your hand goodbye on his way out and is too busy hustling out the door to hear you stir. His shout when he gets home several hours later to see you reading wakes half the city

Asra

They'd spent the morning out running errands and the afternoon catching up with their parents. It's been busy and interesting and they're excited to show you what they got you in the market

Except all of that goes tumbling out of his grasp when he walks in to find you collapsed behind the counter, unresponsive

Somehow they manage to get you upstairs and in bed through the daze, and then they get ready to work through the night

He does notice the partially-eaten bread roll and can tell there's some sort of powerful magic in it, but unraveling what it is proves harder than he expects. The next 24 hours blur by in a haze

At some point, Faust goes off to find Chimes and Flamel and Aisha and Salim appear at the back door to help out. When they see Asra's state, they urge them to get some rest while they take over

He makes up a layer of blankets on the floor next to you to sleep, not wanting to disturb your condition, but it feels wrong to close his eyes without the usual goodnight kiss (at 5 PM)

They lean over to press a gentle peck between your eyebrows, and the sight of you beginning to twitch awake makes them freeze in place. It might be too good to be true

And that's how you wake up, to an exhausted Asra collapsing onto your chest

Nadia

Horrified. She's already blaming herself for being too busy to check in on you earlier, you seemed fine this morning, but here you are in one of the entrance's side rooms collapsed since goodness knows

A quick check with the guards confirms they saw you speaking with a stooped old man at the gates just that afternoon - and the roll they saw him give to you is next to you on the floor

To say that she distracts herself from her pain by leaving you to the healthcare professionals and trying to make up for her negligence by hunting down your poisoner would be an understatement

She's a woman on a mission. She'll leave Chandra in your chambers to bring her any updates and start her investigation immediately

Can't really bring herself to be with you for too long when she believes it's her fault. It's two weeks before she sits down next to you to see how you're doing, after doctors suggested she talk

It's hard. She takes your hand in hers and stares at your motionless face, and all she's able to do is tell you everything she's done so far to find the old man as though it'll earn her your presence again

Only after that, as the sun starts to set and she runs out of things to say, does she lean down whisper her love into your ear and press a kiss to your cheek. The surprised "eep!" when you wake up is priceless

Muriel

Panics as soon as gets in, because his mind is already jumping to the worst possible conclusions about what he's seeing

Are you dead? Are you hurt? Were you attacked? Did a rogue wild animal make its way in and maul you? Did Lucio come back? Did the Devil come back? He should've kept you safe -

It's Inanna's insistent whining and nudging that gets him to carry you to the bed from where he's gathered you up. It's hard to check for your pulse when his hand won't stop shaking

Whatever's going on, it doesn't take long for him to realize that you're okay. You're okay, you're just ... asleep. And not waking up

He'll try taking a nap on the floor next to you until you do

It's as the next day drags on that he starts to worry that you might not be getting enough food or water. He still doesn't know if this warrants calling Julian (he'd rather not) but you need hydration

Thankfully he's kissed you plenty of times before, so it's not too nerve-wracking a task for him to take a sip of fresh spring water before pressing his mouth to yours and trying to help you drink

You didn't expect to wake up like this

Normally Muriel would be a little more grossed out about having water coughed all over his face, but he's too happy to care

Portia

If she walks into a room and sees you collapsed, she's screaming

She's screaming loud enough to be heard from the Palace, and then she's rushing towards and nearly sobbing in relief when your skin is warm and your chest is still moving steadily up and down

She doesn't know why you collapsed or what's wrong with you (if it's something she can't see, then she doesn't want to mess it up) so she avoids moving you until she has someone around to help

Ilya. She needs Ilya, and Mazelinka, and Nadia, and Asra too, and maybe all the names ending in "a"s if it'll help her figure out how to help you any sooner. She'll get you through this. It'll be okay

Between Nadia spotting the bread roll, Julian confirming that there isn't an obvious medical reason, and Asra and Mazelinka's combined magical food knowledge, it's obvious what happened

The delightful thing about a woman like Portia is that she doesn't like stopping to be sad when she knows there's still hope to work towards. Nobody knows the spell? Trial and error!

"True love's kiss" is the third thing on the list after failing to enter your dreams and dripping soup into your mouth. Waking up to Portia smugly telling her older brother that all those "fairy tales" were onto something after all is an unforgettable experience

Lucio

All he knows is that one moment, he was triumphantly announcing his return and very pleased with himself about completing a shopping trip that involved only wise spending choices

And the next moment, every wise spending choice was clattering to the floor because you weren't moving

He's been on enough battlefields to know the difference between wounded and dead, but you don't seem to be either

The worst part is, you're not waking up. No matter what he does, you don't wake up. He's seen this before - he remembers watching as a vengeful ghost as his ex-wife lay motionless for three years

Is that how long this is going to take? Three years? He's not worried about his loyalty, he'll find a place that'll take care of you while he picks up whatever jobs he needs to keep you afloat, but

What if he makes another "oopsie" and you're not there to help?

It all overwhelms him to the point that he lays his head down on your stomach to have a little moment to himself, and he turns his face against your shirt to catch any ... eye water

Apparently mouthing "I love you" against your belly button counts, because the next thing he knows you're lifting your head and asking what's wrong. He's not touching a bread roll again

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: There's nothing you could do or say

A/n: I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart to see you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

Inspired by 'i love you,' Billie's point of view. The person this is meant for, I hope you especially like this text. Let me know, dude!

Caution: mention of illness. I apologize if this offends you in any way.

There are only three hours left before the night flight to Berlin, and I still haven't seen you all day: waking up in the same bed together doesn't really count, because I'm always so short of you, you know that. I overslept godlessly, jumped out of bed in one merged impulse, like a Hellhound, and you just smiled, reminding with your calmness the mistress of the underworld - Persephone. You helped me get ready as quickly as possible, reducing my small gap in the schedule to almost zero, even though you just got up.: with slightly swollen and reddened eyes, battered, so homely in my clothes, which I always throw under your palms on purpose. In my clothes, you look so ethereal, protected, so... mine.

For you, I am a hasty whirlwind of branded clothes with a fabulous price tag and my own defenseless nakedness, demolishing everything in my path except you. I hurriedly screw up an awkward, such an unequal to your care "thank you", while my head is quickly filled to the brim with lines-schedules with the time of events for today. The usual madness.

"'Merci', we're still in France," you correct jokingly, perched on the edge of the bed and smile, with the very corners of your lips. Your pale cheek is imprinted with the silhouette of a pillow after sleep, and that smile on your lips is pure fissure.

Your hands twitch a little as you daintily dig your aristocratically skinny fingers into the fabric and take turns holding out the clothes you'd prepared for me while I was in the bathroom. You chalk it up to your over-indulgence in coffee these days, and give me the traditional neat kiss goodbye while I'm so reluctant to let you out of the protection of my palms, which look so good on your waist. You smile again, and again your smile is an immaculate fracture, your eyes a deafening abyss for the first time, unreadable to me.

"How are you feeling, my heart?" - I run my hand over your cheek. You're still too pale even by my standards, and you're also unusually cold. My own heart falls down a little, like a balloon under a weight.

"It's okay, Eilish." - You croak softly in my ear, and it feels so good, it gives me goosebumps. I bite playfully on your lobe, unable to contain myself, and close my fingers around your waist a little tighter. - I'll pack our bags, run or you'll be really late."

Something is really wrong, and I don't have time to ask: the phone in the pocket of my shorts is literally bursting with the trill of a dozen calls, and I'm really far behind schedule. So this "something" is sluggishly drowned out in the noise of my mind as I listen to the manager's plans, drive with my mom and brother from place to place, sit through several consecutive interviews, answering semi-automatically, albeit diligently sincere. Thoughts about you are silenced, resembling furniture still untouched by the hungry tongues of flame, on which the burning roof of the house immediately collapses: it is only necessary to "dive" me back into the car, bypassing the noisy and curious crowd, to not meet the usually extremely warm, understanding and peaceful lakes in mom's eyes - this lingering "something" clicks loudly, again burdening not only the head, but also the whole heart. Blinding sparks of worry gleam in her gaze, like lake pebbles catching the light of the sun through the thickness of the waters. Are there secrets again?

"Mom, is something wrong?" - the sliding door slams shut with a bang as soon as several managers and Finn deftly run into the salon, who is almost dragging the setting sun behind him, like a gel ball on a string: his shaggy red hair playfully winking golden lights in the light. The stocky guard taps the side of the van several times with a massive fist, announcing readiness, and And mom is twitching, as if someone fired a cannon - "Mom?"

"I... I don't think I'm at liberty to tell you just yet, dear." - She self-effacing, wanting to look away, but she doesn't let herself, just catches Finneas's gaze for a second, turning back to me.

"What do you mean?" - I frown, leisurely glancing over her: a little hunched over in her unnaturally, stiff, confused. Not at all like her. His heart began to rattle, climbing up his ribs and all the way to his throat, to lodge there in a lump of excitement and foreboding. Finneas coughs awkwardly, drawing attention to himself, as ungainly as our mother, except that his eyes are cold icebergs of concentration and utter seriousness, and his hands are resting on his knees in a tight grip, as if he's on the scariest attraction of his life. The blood in my arteries boils from the pressurization, from mine own blunt ignorance. - "Tell me, I want to know."

"Y/n hasn't told you yet?" - his voice sounds disproportionately ingratiating in the noise of people's shouts of adoration and the soft rustle of wheels gradually gaining momentum. The van moves smoothly back toward the hotel and It's not long before we'll be leave, all that's left is to pick you up, the rest of the faithful crew and a couple of our suitcases. Except to cut that anger-inducing Gordian knot of misunderstandings that has been wagging since I woke up.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" - the words come out like bright, rustling confetti from a naughty firecracker. I still couldn't help myself.

They look at each other in silence, almost shouting a heartfelt epitaph in the harmony of their voices. Finneas touches my shoulder gently with his palm, and mother takes my hands in her warm palms, and I feel a slight tremor creep through her. I feel that now I find myself along with them on this unknown attraction, that twists nerves and veins on its mechanism, being driven by fear.

"About her leukemia, Bils."

And the world immediately collapses to the size of an atom, ceasing to exist and sound at all. Boom! A shot from a shotgun at point-blank range, what smearing my bloody remains, the remnants of my mind on the darkened glass and the entire cabin. From the floor to the roof.

"What?..." - Like the four pearls clicked quietly on the stone tiles of the floor, as my the letters bounced lightly off the silence of the salon, echoing them. Even the small bunch of managers shut up instantly, looking in our direction with a kind of pity, as soon as this harbinger of doom reaches their ears. Leukemia.

"We don't know if it's really true, because the first symptoms could be conjugated by their similarity to simple severe overexertion, and the resulting diagnosis is a likely paperwork error," - Mom closes her gently fingers on my palms tighter, but my blood is already cold and I can't feel anything, as if I've ducked under the thickest of ice, - "We all just hoping that the new test show it's really true, but..."

"But she asked to be ready." - Finn's voice trembles, but he heroically finishes. - "Just in case."

"What?..." - like a wind-up puppet I scatter these long-suffering four letters again, and I don't have enough for more. In an elusive mind, a puzzle flimsily develops, answering a question that has been stuck into my head since the morning, and I see that smile of yours before my eyes - a delicate pink stroke protecting me from the catastrophe of Vesuvius: "It's okay, Eilish...". And immediately so wants seeing the world blurred, drowning in stinging salt from tears.

And I remember jumping out of the van, remember flying into the elevator, hitting the floor button a hundred thousand times in a few seconds just to get to the top faster, remember how kicking the door to our hotelroom with my whole body, catching you off guard. All of this is completely unimportant, a merged sequence that is so treacherously imprinted on my brain while being completely insignificant. You're sitting near the entrance, perched upright on your large suitcase: your sharp shoulders are outlined by my ridiculously colored T-shirt, and your long legs in baggy jeans are stretched out while you tap your converses socks against each other. You jumping up with a startle, like the devil out of a snuffbox under the force of a steel spring, when the door meets the wall with a distinctive slam. The unreadable morning abysses in your eyes are fathomlessly sad now, while I am devoid of words, all the letters of the alphabet, every possible sound. And you understand just so, without any of those empty air vibrations stealing up the already precious now time. You understand what they told me.

"It's not true," - I kneel down, not even closing the door behind me, I don't care. Wrap both palms around your face, but you just stare at me with a look of worldwide sorrow, cuddling up to me like a beaten kitten. - "Tell me I've been lied to..."

"I'm sorry, Eilish," - your soft whisper that hits me exactly in the solar plexus, - "It's true."

It's true. It feels like my guts have been left somewhere in an elevator office, a bloody trail leading right here to you. I was completely blown away.

"Billie, I-"

"Okey, listen, I'll help! I'll pay whatever it takes, I'll give them everything!" - My ligaments were tearing with excitement, turning my own measured whisper into a pathetic whimper.

"There's nothing you could do or say." - You raking me up into your arms, and without a second thought, I burst into tears: the world in front of me was starting to blur and my eyes stinging. Why? Why you? All you do is stroke my head like a whiny little baby while I crumple the fabric of your t-shirt with my hands, choking on my own despair. - "All we have to do for now is wait. We'll find out in Berlin."

"W-why didn't you tell me this morning?"

"I knew you wouldn't go anywhere after that, I didn't want to cause trouble." - You chuckle softly, and I just press myself into you tighter, my wet nose against your neck, my arms wrapped around you. Suddenly, if I let go now, you're gone forever? - "I'm sorry, I know I should have told you sooner. I just..."

"Please don't leave!" - The tears and nerves are starting to make me shake. The feeling of coldness behind my back mixes with a small flame of hope as your hands stroke my shoulder blades. - "Please, please, please..."

"I won't leave, Eilish," - your hand touches my chin, lifting my head to touch my lips with yours, and I gasp, memorizing absolutely every crack on them as if for the last time. - "I won't leave."

I don't remember how much I was hysterical, but the life-giving warmth of your hands lingered in my memory, which spread down my back, giving me like demonic wings, behind which I so want to hide you from everyone and everything. I remember how I collected your tears with my lips, resembling transparent snakes, as two worried heads appeared in the doorway - a copper-red and a light sandy one, it's mom with Finn. We leave the hotel, and I don't let go of your hand for a second: not when you're carrying a heavy suitcase that I'm trying so hard to take away, not when you jump into the car with me, not when we're sitting in line for a flight. Mom tries to defuse the situation, from time to time timidly and tenderly asking about how you feels, Finneas and dad offer all kinds of help here and there, and you just laugh it off, hiding behind this cunning, and even now beautiful in its falsity fracture playing on your lips. You squeeze my hand tighter, stoically swallowing your own excitement, devouring from the inside.

After a while, we are already climbing the airplane ramp, surrounded by the dense darkness of the night, and you are smiling again, when I look at you anxiously again: the smile that you gave me, even when you felt like dying. An old line, personally composed and now my personal nightmare in an instant, become much stronger than before. What else can I do but wait endlessly? Up all night on another red-eye I stared at you just as endlessly, when fatigue took over and you dozed off, trustingly resting your head on my shoulder. I silently memorizing absolutely every feature of your face to plug the abyss in my head. It's all infinity multiplied by infinity.

The porthole is gradually being colored in light blue tones. We have arrived in Berlin.

×××

A ragged breath bounces off the tiled walls, mixing with a loud splash: I emerge from under the thickness of the already almost cooled water, just to hang limply in the wide bathtub. There is an absolute emptiness in my head, shackle me with it's coolness, like this water around my body. So perfectly. I hear a light knock on the bathroom door, so sonorous, as if you are touching the wood with your very knuckles: they are slightly reddish, beautiful. Yes, I think I was too loud. When you don't hear an answer, you press down on the door handle and walk softly through to carefully sit on the side of the bathad. Excitement spreads in your eyes, like rainbow spots of gasoline on the surface of a puddle.

"Billie, are you okay?"

No, are you? It's so ironic that it's being asked by the person who is now in pathological danger more than anyone else. I'm supposed to be strong for you, but somehow I've suddenly broken down on my own, staring so blankly at that spotless white-washed ceiling for half an hour. Worthlessness. The water splashes again, makeshift waves rising slightly over the tub's rims, leaking onto the tile floor as I assume a sitting position and stare at you after all, eye to eye. Naked and insignificant. I can't do nothing with everything I have, I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart if I see how you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

"Yes." - My own hoarse echo, covering weakness.

"Your water's cold, a klutz," - you touch your fingertips to the cold surface and shiver. - "and you're also lying."

We stare at each other in silence, and then I break again like a branch of a flowering tree: rustling and crunching. You and the bathroom start to shake, so I cover my eyes to hold back the hailstones of tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Crying isn't like you," your hot palms touch my cheeks with indescribable care, brushing away the droplets of tears and wiping away the clear paths of sadness. - "Never been the type to let someone see right through."

You speak in my own lines, either from the fact that your thoughts are so close to my soul lyrics, or just to cheer me up. You know how much I enjoy it, how much it amuses me. But right now it's not funny, it hurts. You catch my gaze and your lips quickly fold into a sincere "sorry" before kissing my water-damp forehead.

"What will I do without you if this turns out to be true?" - I grab your wrists, pulling you closer, and you smile for the thousandth time in these two days, while the irises of your beautiful eyes reflect my praying glaciers, which melt in despondency, creating new salty rivers that flow between your slender fingers. You never let go of my face. - "What should I do, Y/n?"

"First off, get out of the cold bath so you don't get sick." - you coo, hiding mutual shards of sharp pain in a gaze that's as variable in its spectrum of light as a gothic stained glass window. - "And we'll decide the rest in a warm bed, okay?"

I climb out of the tub, stepping barefoot onto the bare tile, and you deftly throw a huge, soft towel over me and hold out another, smaller one for my hair.

"I'll be waiting, Eilish." - You kiss my lips, and I don't want to pull away, just hang on to your neck with both arms. The soft towel immediately falls to the floor, once again exposing the pale curves of my body, which you look at fleetingly, shyly.

"Stay with me, don't go, please."

And you stay, leaning patiently on the sink built into the nightstand, waiting for me to run a soft towel over the alabaster skin, collecting all the moisture, waiting for me to put on clean clothes. Silently staring, so attentive, as if memorizing.

"You're so beautiful, O'Connell." - You catch me off guard with your words just as I bend over to open the stopper in the tub. The water immediately swirls into a small spiral vortex, dancing over the drain, and your words make it an order of magnitude harder to breathe. - "My insanity.

We go back to the bedroom: I pull you with me, accompanying you confidently between the coffee table and other furnishings in the dark, and you follow obediently, understanding without any words. We lie down on the bed, and I immediately cling to you in a hug like a baby koala and you cover us with a heavy blanket and I exhale for the first time in two days as if nothing had happened. It would be so nice if it were true.

"You need to rest, Bils." - you gently pull me closer to you, though it feels like it's getting no closer, as I lavish light kisses on your face, -"You're tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

You sigh heavily, as if your lungs are in a vise and your thoughts are trapped in a snare of fears and your own fear of choosing the wrong words. You look away, but I immediately stroke your face, bringing you back to me. I try to look warmly, even though I'm as scared as you are.

"Let's hope? And if it still don't, then... forget me, please."

I covered my eyes to collect my thoughts, but the same picture was in front of them: tourniquet, needles, thick syringe. I watch from the couch as your dark scarlet blood first spreads moderately along the transparent walls of the cylinder, and then quickly runs upwards, following the piston of the pressurized syringe. I fold my hands in front of me between my apart knees, and I can see them trembling with excitement. You told me not to go, and I just couldn't do it, I'm too worried about you. It's only when the thin needle catches a glimmer in the light, darting out of your vein, that I exhale, diligently watching the shiver. My head wants to twitch in a tic, but I don't let it. For your sake I coped then, I need to cope with the words now.

"Do you want to leave?" - The voice twitches so stupidly, echoing the heart that's throbbing behind my sternum. - "What about your promise?"

"I don't want to, but I love you," - and you don't smile anymore, just pull the corners of your lips down, exposing your own weariness. - "And I don't want you to get hurt even when just looking at me."

"Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryingna make me laugh." - I bump my nose against your collarbone, sending goosebumps through your body with my hot breath. - "It'll hurt me even more when I know you'll be alone, that I won't be able to be there for you when I can help in any way, Y/n."

"But now you feel weak and insignificant, I can see that, Eilish! And it's all my fault!" - You furies on, and I deftly catch your lips with mine for a soothing kiss. You exhale stunned, but immediately calm down, becoming so soft and supple in my arms. Only now do I realize how much you've broken yourself under the strain of waiting, realize I can't let go.

"I can't escape the way I love you..." - softly humming just one line, and the embers of hope are already kindling in your eyes.

"I can't escape the way I love you." - you whisper repeat confidently, quieting my restless seas in response.

And we touch each other's lips an infinite number of times, without any words or oppressive thoughts, because they are not necessary now. The excited exhalations, looks, and sensations mean so much more now. You drift off to sleep unnoticed by exhaustion, not breaking the safe warmth of the embrace, sniffle amusedly into my shoulder, and I finally smile with more than a serene smile before I drift off into the realm of Morpheus after you, gulping down a thousand hopes.

It's just over ten hours to the rubicon crossing.

×××

Finneas awkwardly grips the long fingerboard of the bass guitar, touching the thick strings with his fingers, not so much testing as seeking reassurance in the sound. He looks at me, and I shudder as I lean on the microphone stand. The stage lights flared up in one loud click, blinding me, making me frown.

"Are you ready?" - From afar, somewhere in the darkness, the cameraman's cheerful voice is heard.

"One second!" - Mom shrieks from backstage as I almost nod. Synchronously, my brother and I turn our heads in the direction of the shout, and this action also recurs by the rest of the studio staff. Mom is glowing brighter than any spotlight, Dad is almost dancing with a mixture of emotions, and you're standing backstage with them, clutching a folded sheet of paper in your hands. And you smile. At last, without a fracture, so sincerely.

Finn jumps up from his seat like a rocket, and I keep up: flying into your arms with the microphone in hand, making you stagger, but with light laugh.

"Negative." - you whisper gently in my ear, and I'm ready to burst into millions of brightest fireworks. - "The hospital really just mixed up the paperwork back then."

And when the rest of the family joins the hug with joyful hooting, and we all jump together like a football team that won a world match, the heart finally finds peace, getting into the precisely designed groove between the ribs.

You're all right.