#did you know the feeling of constant pressure making it feel like half your head is underwater will start to drive you insane?

[thevaudevillescene]

She can’t figure out why I’m crying over the end of It (2019).

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Sweater

Billie Eilish x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: A sweet moment with Billie takes a turn when you accidentally wear her sweater in public, and the paparazzi go wild. While the internet freaks out, Billie’s calm, teasing vibe makes it all feel less overwhelming. At the end of the day, it’s just you and her.

ICL this is literally drabble… (like 800 words 😭) I haven’t written in a while because school is getting insane, but this is based off a request I got that I deleted (oops).

I reply to requests within 1-2 days for anyone wondering, but some I might not do if they don’t fit my writing (I will be posting rules for requests soon!)

No warnings

The hotel room smelled faintly of lavender and Billie’s favorite candle, the one she insisted on bringing with her everywhere. The room wasn’t extravagant; it was simple, low-lit, and felt like her—calming, familiar. You two had been staying here for the last week or so as Billie was finishing her tour.

Billie was perched on the edge of the couch, her oversized black sweater swallowing her frame as usual. She was scrolling on her phone, but she looked up when you stepped out of the bathroom in your tank top and joggers, makeup-free and yawning.

“You look comfy,” she teased with a small smirk, putting her phone aside.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you shot back, plopping down beside her. Her arm immediately wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer into her warmth. The hotel room might’ve been quiet, but the closeness, the way her thumb absentmindedly brushed against your arm, made the space feel electric.

Being with Billie like this felt unreal, but it had to stay a secret. Both of you were too famous, too in the public eye. You already struggled with the publicity and constant paperazzi and you knew if people found out about your relationship it would only get worse.

“You’re shivering,” Billie murmured, breaking your thoughts. She looked at you, her eyes soft with concern. Without waiting for you to respond, she tugged her sweater over her head, leaving her in a plain T-shirt underneath. She held it out to you. “Here, take it.”

“Billie, no, I’m fine!” you protested, though your teeth betrayed you by chattering lightly.

“Stop arguing and put it on. You know you want to.” She flashed a playful, crooked grin that made your heart skip.

With a roll of your eyes, you took the sweater and slipped it over your head. It was soft and oversized, the sleeves falling well past your hands, and it smelled like her—vanilla, a little musk, and something else uniquely Billie.

“You look better in it than I do,” she said, leaning back with a proud smirk.

You playfully nudged her with your shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

You stayed like that for a while, Billie humming softly as her fingers absentmindedly played with yours. It was easy to forget the world outside, the pressure of fame, the cameras waiting for either of you to slip.

The next morning, you woke up late, Billie still sprawled out beside you, her hand lightly resting against your back. You had a meeting to get to, though, so you carefully got out of bed, letting her sleep. You were already running late when you grabbed your stuff and threw the sweater on again without thinking—it was warmer than anything else you had packed.

The paparazzi were waiting outside.

You weren’t thinking about it as you stepped out of the building. Your sunglasses were on, your head down as your driver opened the car door for you. But the cameras flashed, the murmurs and shouts growing louder than usual.

“Wait, is that Billie’s sweater?”

“Are they dating?”

“That’s Billie Eilish’s! She wore that last week!”

You froze for half a second before sliding into the car, heart pounding. Of course they recognized it. You weren’t just anyone; you were you, and anything you wore or did could be picked apart by millions of fans online. By the time you got to your meeting, your phone was already blowing up. Texts, notifications, mentions—it was chaos.

Back in the hotel room, Billie was scrolling through Twitter when you walked in. She looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you know we’re dating?” she asked, holding her phone up, a picture of you in her sweater plastered all over the screen.

Your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t thinking… I just threw it on because I was late.”

She grinned, leaning back against the couch. “So, what’s the plan? Do we deny it? Play dumb?”

“Let’s play dumb,” you said quickly, sitting beside her and burying your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Billie chuckled, her arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Honestly, it’s kind of funny. Let them freak out. We’ll keep them guessing.”

You peeked at her, still mortified, but her amused expression made it hard to stay embarrassed. “You’re taking this way too well.”

She pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering for a moment. “It’s just a sweater. They don’t know anything real. And besides, if the world thinks you’re mine…” She smirked. “They’re not wrong.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help smiling. Billie always found a way to make everything feel right.

[cambion-companion]

Curled atop Raphael to thaw.

@sky-kiss put it in my head how nice it would be to use Raphael's hellish body heat to unfreeze after a cold day. Actually, she's mentioned it several times. So of course I had to make a drabble. This is the softest Raphael has been or ever will be haha

(Also remoras are the fish which attaches to larger fish to "clean" them.)

“I feel like I just trudged through the snows of Cania.”  Your teeth chattered, making it difficult to speak.  Huddled as you were by the inn’s paltry fireplace, the flames were doing very little to thaw the bone chill.

Raphael looked up from where he reclined, perusing a long scroll of parchment. His hellfire gaze swept over your shivering form, arching a brow in amusement. “I did warn you not to venture forth.  Yet you remain intrepid and stubborn as ever.”  He cleared his throat and resumed reading the contract he’d been editing since your return.

You glared over at the devil on his bed, not that he saw.  You shuffled off your heavy coat, the fabric stiff and just as frozen as the rest of you.

On numb bare feet you crossed the small room at a slight run,and hopped up next to where Raphael reclined. He gave you a look that you recognized as a sign his patience was slipping. “I don’t share my bed with little frozen mice.”

“Good thing I’m not a mouse, then.”  You snuggled close to his body, his skin the shade of ripe cherries and giving off infernal heat. “Indulge me.” You repeated the words he’d spoken to you days previous, accentuating your accent to mimic his own.

Raphael tutted and, with a tug, moved his wing away from where you rested on it. “Your body has the appeal of a corpse.  Get yourself hence ere I remove you.”

“Hurtful.”  You didn’t budge, instead pressing yourself closer and sighing as the heat radiating off him began to seep beneath your clammy skin. “Please, Raphael.”

The cambion stilled, his hand holding the parchment still outstretched to keep the fresh ink from smudging as you moved yourself as much on top of him as possible. You felt him sigh beneath you and smiled, sensing victory.

You did not expect the pressure of Raphael’s hand upon your hair, stroking once before resting against your upper back. He waited for you to stop moving, finding a comfortable position half-curled atop his torso.

“What are you willing to do in exchange for my constant lenience?”  Raphael’s breath stirred your hair.  He rested the parchment back against the top of your head and seemed to be only half interested in your reply.

In response you made sure to tuck your ice block feet against his thighs.  Raphael’s muscles twitched in response, and he gripped your waist hard in retribution. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy this at all?”  You asked, your sense of self-preservation long since fled.

“I’m reminding you everything has a price, my dear.”  Raphael murmured. “I shall let you ruminate.  For now, be silent, I have work to do.”

You found no issue with that, feeling the rise and fall of the devil’s breath beneath your body as he warmed you.  Your eyelashes fluttered with a sudden wave of drowsiness.

Raphael’s wings curled around you both in a sort of cocoon, increasing the feeling of being thawed.  Soon you were enveloped in a haze of red and heat, every so often hearing the sound of paper rustling and the scratch of a quill.

You stretched, hooking one of your legs over the cambion’s waist and wrapped your arm around his chest.

Raphael looked down at your relaxed body, curled atop his. He smiled slightly to himself moved his long fingers through your hair. “What a soft, pliant creature you are. The errant remora seeking refuge, fully knowing it’s within the jaws of a shark.”

[mountainficss]

hii! we've seen pervy best friend wonu, but what about pervy best friend vernon? i just feel like he'd act sooo pathetic it's driving me insane 🫡 (also, your works are awesomely written and I just wanted to wish you good luck on your finals!)

!! mentions of: masturbation

oh vernon would be the cutest pervy best friend :( i love that idea so much. and thank you so much for your kind words and good wishes! (i’m sorry i’m posting this wayyy past finals, but thank you very much for wishing me good luck! i appreciate that so much <3)

pervybestfriend!vernon who would be shockingly good at hiding his perverted feelings about you. vernon would be a very nonchalant, easygoing friend, and you’d always come to him if you needed company. you loved how relaxed vernon was, and you felt like he was a much needed calm constant in your ever-changing life. you’d enjoy dragging him out to your favorite places, whether it be the art museum or the bowling alley, and vernon would always tag along with little to no complaints. you’d cling to his arm when you walk next to him, and you’d frequently wear his jackets when you’re feeling cold. to any outsider, it would seem like you and vernon were dating. you’d spend so much time with each other that others are shocked to hear that you’re not together. you’d shut them down though, claiming that vernon was your best friend and that he’d never be into dating you. you’re the sole definition of oblivious, but how would you possibly know when he hides it so well?

how would you know that vernon thinks about you 25/8 when he’s so impassive? how would you know that vernon is in love with the sight of you in his clothes when he barely glances at you? how would you know that vernon has the dirtiest thoughts about you when he treats you like a friend? you’d be completely unaware, and vernon would secretly be thankful for your ignorance. you didn’t need to know about all the nasty things he imagined the two of you doing together.

it wouldn’t take much from you to turn vernon on. you’d often sit on his lap when the both of you watched movies, and just the pressure from you sitting on his half hard erection would easily rile him up. you never seemed to notice though, and if you did you never made a comment about vernon’s length practically poking at your ass. he’d always enjoy when you sat on his lap, or when you were near him in general. your faint perfume would tickle his nose, and the smell would make him feel pleasantly lightheaded. he would never be able to focus on the movie for too long; he’d be too engrossed in your scent wafting in his nose and your thighs squishing against his.

vernon would also frequently stalk your social media accounts, admiring all of the pretty pictures of you that you had posted. he’d looked through them a million times already, but he could never get tired of seeing you (and the view your low cut shirts + high camera angle gave him, but that’s not the point). every time you’d post a picture, you’d always ask him if he liked your post. he’d just roll his eyes at you, tilting his phone towards you and showing you his like as proof. “you always ask me that. if i see your account i automatically like the picture.” he’d shrug nonchalantly, and you’d give him a small pout. “yeah, but did you even look at it?” you’d whine, looking down at your phone and pulling up the post too. he’d just scoff, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “what, do you want me to study it or something? i see you almost every day, i don’t have to stare at your pictures when i can just come see you.” he’d state simply, reaching a hand to your head and ruffling your hair when you sigh loudly at him.

but oh he does stare at your pictures. despite all his eye rolls and smart remarks, he’d live for when you post. now he has something to fuel his perverted fantasies when he’s alone in his room at night :) he’d lay with his phone in his hand, eyes glued to the pretty picture you just recently posted. the other hand would be beneath his boxers, fisting at his aching erection. this seemed to be a routine for vernon; jerking off to your pictures every night and cumming inside his boxers was the norm for him. how could he help it when you’re just so attractive?

one night he would settle into his bed, phone in hand to pull up your account for the umpteenth time today, and he’d notice something in his peripheral. the jacket you wore today, his jacket, was draped over his desk chair. you must have placed it there before you left his apartment earlier, and that perverted voice in his head reminded him that it must smell like you. he’d hesitate for a moment, thinking about how immoral this was, but he’d quickly ignore his morals in the moment. he was already jerking off to your pictures every night; why hold back now? he’d snatch the jacket off of his chair, hopping back into his bed with the clothing clenched in his fist. he’d hold the fabric up to his nose, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent. he was overwhelmed with the smell of your perfume, groaning quietly as he snaked his free hand down his boxers. he didn’t even need to look at your pictures this time, the scent of you on his clothes alone was enough to spur him on. his cock was already twitching with need, the tip leaking precum as he dragged his thumb over his slit. he’d let out muffled moans and whimpers into his jacket, eyes rolling back at the pleasure. it wouldn’t take him long to reach his climax with your scent surrounding him, and he’d cum into his hand with a loud whine into the fabric. all he could think about was you, and he’d wish that it was your hand on his cock instead.

he’d bring you clothes to wear more often after that night, and he’d anticipate the moment you’d give the clothes back to him. every article you give back would be a new piece of material for his late night sessions, and you’d do nothing but encourage this behavior unknowingly. you’d be completely oblivious when it came to his perverted tendencies, just happy to wear vernon’s comfortable baggy clothes <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[meazalykov]

let me in

giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader

part one - part two

summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows

warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst, split into two parts because of the word count

the second half starts, and somehow, you manage to push through. you make an assist to sydney. for a fleeting moment, there’s a spark of joy. you’re happy for her, you really are. 

then you start to think that you’ve realized something. the acknowledgment you’re used to isn’t coming. no one is rushing to congratulate you for the assist, like they normally do for anyone else who makes a great play. 

you know it’s not because they don’t care, but your mind betrays you. it starts spinning with doubt, with fear. did they notice the mistake you made earlier? do they think you’re not good enough? why is no one congratulating you?

your heart beats faster now, the panic rising again. you try to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the game, but the fear is too strong. it’s all you can think about. 

then, a familiar voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. pernille is next to you, her arms around you in a tight hug. 

“you did great,” she says, her voice warm and reassuring. 

tuva follows, giving you a pat on the back, and for a brief moment, the fog lifts. you’ve made a mistake, but they don’t hate you. they don’t blame you. they still believe in you.

your heart is still racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against your chest like it's trying to break free. calm down, calm down, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. 

nothing helps. it’s like a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in your ears, drowning out everything else.

when the coach calls for the substitution, you barely register it at first. you’re already so deep in your head that the words don't hit until he’s looking directly at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. you blink, startled, as he gives a quick nod towards the sideline. 

linda comes on for you, and you give her a light hug before the coach reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.

"y/n, rest. you did great. go ahead and sit the last twenty minutes out."

it feels like the earth shifts beneath your feet. the pressure mounting in your chest. as you walk toward the benches , all you can feel is this deep sense of failure. 

I didn’t do well. I wasn’t good enough. that’s why he’s subbing me off. 

your pulse doesn’t slow down as you sit on the bench, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. you try to still it, but your body doesn’t listen. it’s as if the constant movement is the only thing you can do to release the built-up energy inside of you. 

I wasn’t good enough, you repeat, the thoughts relentless, pushing through the cracks in your mind. 

sam kerr sits beside you, and without a word, she leans her head on your shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. the weight of her support, her presence, pulls you out of the storm in your head, if only for a moment. 

“great job love,” you hear her say silently, and you want to believe her, want to feel proud of what you’ve done, but it’s so hard to shake the feeling of not being enough. 

you glance back at the field, watching the play unfold, but your focus isn’t there. your body feels heavy, and your mind is racing. 

I don’t belong here. I can’t even finish a game. I’m not enough for this team. 

the rest of the game moves in a blur as you try to calm your breathing, to remind yourself that it’s okay, that you’re doing your best. 

the anxiety has a grip on you, pulling you deeper. your leg keeps bouncing, faster now, each movement a desperate attempt to release the tension building inside you. it’s exhausting, and the fear is suffocating. 

when the coach comes over after the game, his words are meant to comfort you. 

“y/n, you did great out there. you’re doing everything right. you just needed a break—take it easy.” but they don’t sink in, not right away. you nod and give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

I didn’t do great, you think. I was subbed out. I couldn’t finish the match.

ten minutes after the ending of the game, you’re surrounded by teammates celebrating the 5-2 victory over arsenal. it should feel like a triumph, and in some ways, it does. 

when you’re talking to lea about the win, lena—still recovering from her ACL injury—suddenly picks you up from behind, lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace.

“you did so good!!!” she shouts, her voice filled with joy.

for a split second, panic courses through you. you freeze, body rigid, terrified that somehow you’re going to hurt her. you don’t want to be the reason she gets injured again. you pull away quickly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you explain, 

“i don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

lena laughs, shaking her head. “you’re so light. you couldn’t hurt me,” she reassures you, and for the first time all day, you feel a little bit lighter. 

the fear begins to lift, and you let out a shaky breath, finally starting to believe that maybe you’re being ridiculous, you’re not as bad as your anxiety makes you think.

lea picks you up next, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the weight of your worries start to fade. the team loves you. they don’t hate you. they’re not disappointed in you. you are enough.

later that night, when you and giulia arrive home, the house feels different. quieter. more intimate. the adrenaline of the match still buzzes in your veins, but now you’re alone with giulia. 

she sits next to you on the couch, her strong arms around you as you both begin to unwind. you talk about the game. your assist, the plays you both loved from giuli, the moments that didn’t go as planned. 

then giulia’s tone shifts. she’s quieter now, her hand resting on your knee as she watches you carefully.

“how’s therapy going?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

the question catches you off guard, and suddenly, you’re paralyzed with fear. you’ve been hiding the truth from her for so long. the medication. the diagnosis. the fact that things haven’t gotten better, despite what you’ve been telling everyone, including her. your chest tightens as the words struggle to leave your mouth. 

(throwback) you sit in the small, sterile office at bayern’s campus, your fingers anxiously tapping against the arms of the chair. the white walls seem to close in on you as you try to focus on the woman sitting across from you. 

the psychiatrist. 

she’s kind and patient, but everything about this situation feels foreign and uncomfortable. you’re not used to talking about your feelings. you’ve spent your whole life pushing them down, burying them behind a smile, behind the constant drive to be better, to be strong. 

today, everything feels too much. too heavy.

“y/n, you’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

“and it’s okay to admit that you’re struggling with it. it’s more common than you might think.”

you want to argue. i’m fine, you want to say. i don’t need help. however, the words stick in your throat. you can’t lie, not anymore. not when it feels like your entire body is suffocating under the weight of everything. 

you nod, even though a part of you still wants to shut it all down. it’s too much now. the fear. the racing thoughts. the panic attacks. it’s been months, and it’s only getting worse. so you listen as the psychiatrist continues, explaining how anxiety can feel like an endless cycle that’s hard to escape, how sometimes your mind just needs help. 

medication, she suggests, can ease the constant tension, help you regain some control. 

she mentions zoloft, a small pill to take each morning. at first, the idea of it makes you cringe. medication? you’ve never been the type to rely on pills, but deep down, you know something has to change. 

you’re tired of feeling like your chest is going to explode every time you step onto the pitch. tired of the constant weight of guilt and fear that follows you everywhere.

“it might take some time to work,” she says, as if reading your mind. “it can help. we can monitor it together with the rest of the doctors here.”

you nod again, though it feels like a distant part of you is screaming to stop. you don’t want to admit that something’s wrong, that you’re not strong enough to handle it all. but here you are, agreeing to try something new, agreeing to take that pill. 

you want to believe it’ll work, but you’re also afraid it won’t. if it doesn’t, what will that say about you?

the psychiatrist hands you the prescription, and you take it, your hands shaking slightly. the weight of the small bottle feels overwhelming, like it holds all your fears inside. this is it, you think. this is the fix. this is how it’s going to get better. the thought doesn’t make you feel better. it only makes the weight heavier. what if it doesn’t work?

that night, when you get home, you find yourself standing in front of the dresser, staring at the small, nondescript bottle in your hand. 

you want to hide it. you don’t want anyone—especially giulia—to know. you can’t let her see this side of you, not when you’ve worked so hard to keep up the facade. 

without thinking, you open the drawer of your underwear dresser. it feels like the safest place, the one place where no one would look. you tuck the bottle inside, burying it underneath your things, as if hiding it will somehow make it less real. less of a reflection of what’s wrong with you.

the next morning, you take the pill as if it’s just another routine. but the guilt hangs over you, a shadow that doesn’t leave. 

you try not to think about it, but the more you take the pill each day, the worse it feels. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t change anything.you think that you’re still broken. it only makes you feel like you’re drifting farther away from yourself like you’re numbing your emotions, but not in a good way. 

it’s like you’re fading into someone else’s skin, and you don’t know how to stop it.

you feel like you’re suffocating in your own mind, and you don’t know how to explain it to giulia. 

what if she thinks I’m not good enough for her? what if she sees me as weak? she’s always been your anchor, the one person you never want to disappoint, but telling her about this... it feels like the ultimate failure.

and so, you keep it to yourself. the pill bottle stays hidden, tucked away in that drawer. the anxious thoughts continue to spiral, unchecked, but you don’t want anyone to know. not even giulia. not even her.

back to the present– giulia’s quiet, but you can feel the weight of her gaze on you. she’s waiting, and you know she’s already figured out that something’s wrong. it’s been weeks, and the cracks in your facade are starting to show.

“therapy has been fine.” you smile, pulling a loose piece of blonde hair behind giulia’s ear. her hair wasn’t in her signature ponytail braid from the game, but in loose curls over her shoulders that the braid gave her. 

you try to focus on something, anything—anything to avoid her eyes—but it’s useless. your hands are shaking, and every thought feels like it’s running away from you. the anxiety from the match still lingers in your chest, but now it’s compounded by guilt. 

guilt for not telling her sooner. guilt for hiding the truth. you feel trapped in your own head, like you’re suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.

giulia watches you carefully, her brow furrowed. she doesn’t need to ask anymore. she knows. and that’s what scares you most.

“y/n,” giulia finally says, her voice calm but firm. 

“you know we need to talk, right?”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight, the words stuck there. you try to smile, but it feels forced, like it won’t reach your eyes. 

“about what?”

she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. 

“about you. about everything you’ve been hiding.”

the words hit like a punch to the stomach, and you flinch. hiding—the word stings. because it’s true. you’ve been hiding everything. everything that’s been eating at you for months now. 

the anxiety, the fear, the constant worry that you’re not good enough—that you’ll fail again and let everyone down. especially her. the person who’s always had your back for the last five years. the person who’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and still loved you unconditionally. 

now, you’re afraid to admit that you’ve been struggling.

“giulia, I don’t—” you begin, but she interrupts, her tone sharper now, like she’s not going to let you brush it off again.

“don’t, y/n. don’t shut me out again!” giulia’s voice is soft but serious, and her eyes search yours with a piercing intensity. 

“i’ve seen the way you’ve been. I’ve seen how you’ve been withdrawing, how you’re not talking to me or anyone else about it. I know you’re not okay. I know you’re not just tired or stressed from the game. this is something else. I want to help.”

you feel your chest tighten at her words. you want to tell her everything, want to explain what’s been going on inside your head, but the fear grips you tight. 

what if she thinks you’re weak? what if she thinks she can’t handle this part of you? what if she doesn’t understand? you thought.

giulia’s expression softens, her tone gentler now, but she doesn’t back down. 

“y/n, I know you better than anyone. and I can see it. I know what’s been going on. I know you’re struggling with anxiety. and I know you’ve been taking medication for it. you don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”

the room goes quiet. your heart skips a beat, and the blood rushes to your ears. 

how does she know? you didn’t tell her. you didn’t want to burden her with it, didn’t want her to look at you differently. 

somehow, giulia knows. she’s known all along.

“giulia, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice gentle but firm.

“why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” giulia asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hurt. 

“why didn’t you come to me? why have you been hiding this from me?”

the words hit you like a slap, and you blink back the tears that threaten to fall. 

“i didn’t want you to think I was... weak,” you admit, your voice trembling.

 i didn’t want you to think I was... broken.”

giulia leans in, her hand reaching for yours, gently taking it in hers. her grip is steady, warm, and you feel a little bit of the weight on your chest lift. 

“y/n, you’re not broken,” she says softly. 

“you’re human. and being human means you have struggles. you have fears, and you have moments where you need help. that doesn’t make you weak. it makes you real. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

you feel the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over, hot and unrelenting. the sobs wrack your body as giulia pulls you into her arms, holding you close. you’ve been so terrified of letting her see you like this—vulnerable, broken, messy. 

you realize that she’s not looking at you with disappointment. she’s not seeing your anxiety as a flaw or a weakness. she’s seeing you. all of you.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to shut you out. i thought... i thought you’d think i wasn’t strong enough to be your partner anymore.”

giulia shakes her head, her fingers soothing through your hair. 

“y/n, I never thought that. I never would. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. and right now, that means letting me be here for you.”

“we’ll get through this together, okay?” giulia whispers into your hair, her voice filled with unwavering support. 

“you don’t have to face this alone.”

you nod against her, the sobs slowing, the tightness in your chest loosening. for the first time in months, you finally feel like you can breathe.

the morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the bedroom. the air is calm, the silence between you and giulia comfortable for once, free of the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks. luckily, you guys have the day off from anything football related so you can stay in bed for longer. 

you sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, but you’re more at ease than you’ve been in a long time. last night, you opened up to her in ways you didn’t think you could. and though your heart had pounded in your chest and the fear of being judged had nearly consumed you, giulia hadn’t wavered. 

you glance over at her, the way she’s lounging on the bed, her legs propped up under the covers, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles faintly in your direction. 

the bottle of zoloft sits on the nightstand, so small, so innocent-looking. it feels heavier than it should, but the weight is different now. 

it’s no longer just a symbol of everything that’s wrong with you. it’s a step forward. and you’re ready to take it. 

without hesitation, you pick up the bottle, twisting the cap off, feeling giulia’s gaze on you. her eyes are soft, not judgmental, just... waiting. you feel a small sense of reassurance, as if her presence alone is all you need. 

there’s no longer that nagging voice telling you to hide, to keep it to yourself. you can’t change your past, but you can change how you move forward, and you want to move forward, especially with giu. 

you take the pill, the cool surface of the tablet smooth in your fingers, and swallow it down with a sip of water. it’s such a small act, but it feels monumental.

“good morning,” giulia says, her voice light, laced with affection. her eyes soften, and she shifts slightly to make space for you on the bed. 

you settle down next to her, the pillow cool against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. giulia’s hand brushes your waist, and you lace your fingers around hers. 

“i’m proud of you, you know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. she turns her head to look at you, her eyes warm, filled with love. there’s no judgment, just acceptance. 

you nod, trying not to let the lump in your throat get the best of you. it’s hard to believe sometimes, that she’s always going to be there, in moments like these, it feels real. it feels like you can finally breathe.

“thank you,” you reply softly, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over you. 

“for being patient. for being so loving my love.”

giulia smiles, the softest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

she brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle. 

life is not easy, and you’re not perfect. you don’t have to be. you have giulia, and that’s enough.

baby steps. it’s enough.

masterlist

[sheepispink]

Hornets, Wasps and cuddling— wait what?

Masterlist AO3 ver

summary: Rational and calculated: those are the traits that kept you alive on the field and thus made you popular for how you seemed to never crack under pressure. That’s exactly why Ghost was confused when he found you breathless in the hallway after hearing a barrage of footsteps down the long corridors of the barracks and, of course, still clad. in your pyjamas.

Tags: Simon “Ghost” riley/reader, fluff, cuddling, wasps obviously, reader has paranoia, slightly gory description (mentions of skin being scraped out), slowburn, platonic/romantic (can be seen as either), hurt/comfort

WC: 6k

Gifted to python333 on ao3, i love all ur fics

It was almost half past one in the morning when you entered your room in the barrack; the fresh air blowing around your room was absolutely perfect considering how sweaty you were after returning from your mission. Your usual routine went as follows: dump your uniform into your laundry basket, take a warm shower (shampoo like three times; you always did so after missions), dry off, and apply a very simple skincare routine before knocking out until someone dragged you out of bed the next morning. It wasn't like you missed your alarm; Price has written the force a day off so, for once in your life, you’d actually get the sleep you needed after such a tiring week in the field.

While you undress, your mind starts to drift to all the close calls your own small team had faced today due to an unforeseen event changing the plan. You seemed to be the only one there who ever had their head on their shoulders, but then again, most of them only had a few months actually doing field missions, and the others were fresh out of training. Due to that, the mission was obviously not very high risk, and so you weren't setback that much, but damn, it did tire you out having to always watch out for each member on the team. The bathroom tiles are cold against your feet as you step inside, turning the handle of the shower and slowly climbing in once the water becomes warm enough.

Soon enough, you’re feeling a lot cleaner and relaxed, the tension in your temples disappearing as soon as you wash the cleanser off your face. With a small dollop of cream now rubbed into your face, you climb into your small bed in the corner with a soft sigh. The duvets aren't nearly what you used to indulge yourself in before you joined the military, but damn anything is better than those annoying uniforms. You allow your eyes to finally slip close once whilst the wind whistles past your curtains again, the slight coldness making you snuggle up to your pillow as you grow sleepier by the second. You’re so close to dreamland now, the usual worries no longer clouding your head like they’ve been sucked away by your fluffy pillows.

bzz

It was probably just a notification, and knowing how dry your phone was, it was likely going to be the weather app with the latest forecast. You roll over onto your side, pressing your cheek into your pillow to hopefully drown out your constant thoughts.

Then you hear it again, louder and intrusive, like it’s right by your ear. It’s threatening to crawl in and eat away at the skin of your ear until you wake, scratching at your ear canal until blood begins to seep and your brain—

With a small gasp, you jolt awake, your eyes searching the perimeter frantically for the source of the noise. Driven with confusion and a slight terror you wouldn't ever admit to feeling, you scramble out of bed and pat down the curtains, your desk, and the laundry basket. Though nothing appears—not even a damn mosquito or the like. You were sure you heard something, absolutely positive but you can't exactly fight the air, could you? Reluctantly, you pull the covers over yourself and settle back into the bed. It’s probably an annoying fly that escaped through the window— not exactly something to concern yourself over. It’s not like you haven't slept through rickety army trucks or the loud whirring of helicopter blades before; it shouldn’t bother you any longer. With a groan, you close your eyes again and lean back, ready to let your exhausted mind enter that quiet state again.

BZZ

It doesn't sound like a fly now, nor a wasp or anything familiar. It’s noisy and destructive, buzzing in calculated yet violent ways. It makes you jump up straight again, only to be met with the sight of your plain old room. Had all those explosives really banged up your hearing? You’d have to get it checked out at the infirmary tomorrow, but for now you couldn't say you were a little paranoid. It was just a little strange how it always seemed to appear whenever you were on the verge of sleep, and even though you’re exhausted, you decide to just wait it out at least a little bit. Just in case.

After twenty minutes of no noise, you finally get tired enough to just fall asleep without knowing, your head slightly turned to the side as you nod off peacefully, now without a doubt that it really must’ve been a trick in your mind, nothing to worry about in the slightest.

Unfortunately, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next hour, the buzzing extremely loud and the sound bouncing around your ears like you’re in a cinema. Your limbs feel like they’ll fall apart as it is, and you silently swear to yourself that if Soap is trying to piss you off again, you will slap him this time. Cracking your eyes open, your worries immediately fester into terror as you see whatever the hell that is, running rings around your ceiling. It’s larger than the average fly, even more so than a wasp, and by the sound of how aggressive it’s buzzing is, you’re likely to become it’s next meal. Before you can consider your next move, your hand is already wrapped around your phone and your feet tucked up in your fluffy slippers as you immediately make a run for it. You’ll be thankful later for the automatic locking on your room door, but for now you couldn’t give more than a passing thought as you practically ran down the hallways of the barracks. Your head is empty, just focused on the nightmarish idea of that buzzing wasp, hornet—vile creature—flying around your room for the whole time while you were deep asleep. What the hell are you going to do? It was almost deafening how loud it all was, now you’re starting to think further into it, wondering if there was more than one in your room; hell, maybe there was even a nest in there. Now your lungs feel like they’re being blown up from how heavy you’re breathing. Your heart is hammering against your chest, almost painfully, before you finally snap to reality once you realise you’re about to crash into the doors that lead to the rest of the base. Now out of breath, you force the adrenaline to skid to a stop and quietly pant, trying to get back to your senses, which are clearly left behind in your bedroom with that horrible thing.

“When Capt’ said to keep on top of our training even after missions, I’m positive he didn't mean this.” A gruff voice states, slicing through the panic in your heart to make you look up in surprise only to be met with the familiar face of the other team’s lieutenant. He had been yours for a mission, but other than that, you had no experience talking to him other than the shared chats in the mess hall with a couple other sergeants in his team. You often made an effort to catch up with others on the weekend, and despite not even being in their taskforce, you wormed your way into being invited to all of their small chats.

Even so, this was very different from just a normal chat about the new K9s or the tough Russia mission another group was on. It was nearly three thirty in the morning, and if you weren't so shook by the buzzing creature, you definitely would’ve noticed the way his eyes rake slowly over your trembling form. Not like he was trying to check you out—jaw-dropped and tangled hair definitely was not your best look. When you don’t respond but instead just look at him like a deer in headlights, he raises a brow beneath the mask, his eyes visibly widening as your shaking state. “You look like someone just threw a grenade into your room.” He scoffs, still trying to figure out why the hell you’re just panting like that. “Get in here.”

Soon enough you manage to push your feet to walk past his intimidating form into his private quarters. You can’t tell if you’re lucky or extremely cursed to have garnered his attention of all people, considering he was known for being a no-nonsense type of guy. At least with Gaz or Soap, you could’ve at least tried to argue why you were absolutely terrified of such a small bug. He doesn't fail to notice the way your head flings back when the door buzzes as he locks it, your eyes turning into saucers before you quickly realise you were worked up over nothing and snap your gaze back to the ground. As predicted, he doesn't bother to ask you to sit and gets right to the root of the problem.

“So are ya gonna tell me why the hell you ran down from your room, at the end of the barracks, to the entrance?” If he wasn't covered by that black balaclava, you’re positive he would’ve raised a judging brow at you long ago. He doesn’t let you escape it just because of that and instead opts to narrow his eyes to really enforce it. “Well um..” You begin, suddenly at a loss for words for once in your life. Maybe it’s because you’re still shaken, or the fact you’re in fluffy bunny slippers in front of a lieutenant, or maybe it’s because he’s staring down at you like you’re a kid again, wiping the spilling tears from your eyes as you try and steady your voice. That’s far too many maybe’s to let you think straight, so you opt for the best response—the vaguest one—in an attempt to save a shred of your dignity. “I got startled by something.”

Great, he’s eyeing you even more than before; you should’ve cartwheeled down the corridor too while you were at it—maybe you could have convinced him you were in the circus. “Which was?” His large arms cross over his torso, years of strenuous work hidden by just a thin black shirt. Your teeth graze your lips awkwardly, trying to ignore the small pit of shame in your stomach for overreacting so much. This wasn't you, and yet you were still somewhat trembling where you stood. “It was..” Placing your hands on your hips, you force a sheepish smile, pretending like it wasn’t as serious to you. “There was a…uh.. thing flying around my room. Buzzed a lot—you know those um, things..” You babble, trying to reach the point and yet not getting even close to the answer he wants in the slightest. He lets out another scoff at your reluctant demeanour, clearly on the tipping point with how terrified you looked, stumbling over your words and your eyes practically like moons in their sockets. “A fly?” He suggests as he tilts his head down at you, which makes you shrink just a little.

“No.. uhh. bigger.”

“A bee?”

“No.. the uh.. the ones that can sting multiple times.”

“A wasp?”

“Yes- but no… worse than those.”

“Damn it, sergeant, spit it out!” He exclaims, his head shaking exasperatedly as he places his rough hands onto your shoulders, and gives you a light shake. “It was a hornet—a damn hornet, okay? I was terrified of a hornet in my room.” He suddenly lets go of his firm grip on your shoulders and you almost topple over from the lack of support keeping you upright since your heart is way too occupied trying to compensate for all the oxygen you just used acting like a lunatic. When you see him let out a heavy sigh and rub his temples with his hand, you’re already planning the walk of shame out of his room and back into the hell you only just escaped. “I- I overreacted; it’s fine. I’ll just go back-“ You begin, scrambling to save the shards of your dignity that shattered the moment he caught you in this pathetic state. Your foot pivots, ready to turn on your heel and make a dash for it before his hand swiftly catches your wrist, halting any movement you intended to make. ”Where is it?”

”What?”

”The hornet, where is it in your room?”

The walk back to your room is deathly silent, partially because it is three thirty in the morning and partially because Ghost has never been on the vocal side anyway. It’s not like you were intent on filling the quiet anyway, already dreading having to hear that horrifying thing again. Eventually, you reach the door of your room again and you open it with the spare key attached to your phone case. It’s more of a card than a key, and the room opens with another small buzz, which of course makes your heart jump no matter how much you mentally pumped yourself up before reaching the door. Of course, that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he turns to you before he unlocks the door, looking a little annoyed, but you can't really tell as you try to calm the thump. “Stay here.”

Despite your fear, you can't help but peek in after he enters, watching how he stalks around the room like he’s preparing for a murder. He checks the bed first, shaking the sheets to see if it has landed there but nothing seems to come about. Thankfully, he seems to take your fear somewhat seriously, and even waves your spare towel around the room to startle the creature out of hiding so he can chase it out for good. Just your luck; nothing appears in the slightest, and he’s approaching you again, a tired look in his eyes, and you suddenly feel guilty for wasting his time. Why did that damn thing just have to disappear right now?

“Ghost—I swear, it was literally buzzing around like crazy. I could hear it like it was literally in my ear!”

“Must’ve flown out. Just close your windows; It’s yer fault for opening that big anyway.”

The exasperated look quickly returns to his face as he starts to head for the door, convinced by the theory he had chosen.

”But what if it’s still in the room and I close the windows? I’d trap it with me!” That makes him pause for a second—what the hell has gotten into you?

”What do you want to open the window and coax another one in? You’d rather two than one?”

By the tone of his voice, though it never really changes, it’s clear he’s not impressed by your very irrational thinking, and you can’t exactly argue with his words. However, having to sleep with even one of those things near you was a million times worse in your head than being an idiot in front of him and whoever else might’ve witnessed your antics earlier. That’d be revealed the next morning, but for now you were pretty adamant about your own words.

”Ghost, you have to believe me. Before I went to bed, I heard the buzzing, and I literally searched the entire room like it was an assigned mission! Then as soon as I woke—It’s just there in my face; my windows aren't open that much anyway!” You say frantically, your voice rising to a much higher pitch which leaves your fear on clear display for him to see.

He cannot deny it; he’s never seen you so worked up in the past four years he’s known you. Even with spiders, other bugs, and bees, you had never been this stressed over their existence, but it seemed to shake you to your very core this time. Hands flailing about, flushed cheeks and hair like a bird's nest on your head— the last time you were this dishevelled it was because of a damn explosive that went off right next to where you were stationed. He’s about to open his mouth when he hears a sudden buzz, but it’s not in a specific part of the room, and even for a lieutenant like himself, he can’t even figure out what direction it is in. You squeal before he can even glance at you, already dashing to hide right behind him, which happens to be right next to the door as well. He can't exactly argue with that when he had just heard it himself. “Wait outside the room.” He orders, and this time you don’t hesitate, closing the door firmly behind you.

Anxiously, your slipper taps against the floor as you wait for him to emerge from the room and tell you the news you wanted to hear. Unfortunately, it was much worse than you originally expected. “Seems to be a wasp nest near yer window.” His arms cross over his chest as he leans against the door of your room, unaware of the way your heart just stopped at that single sentence. “There's nothing in your room, though. They’re in the space between yer ceiling’s insulation and the roof.” He attempts to reassure you, thinking surely you’d just go back to sleep since you’re usually quite rational.

He definitely wasn't expecting your teeth to graze your lip as you bite down, trembling with eyes practically wide as saucers. “There’s a nest…?”You practically whisper out, not even daring to blink for a second. That makes him raise his brow— didn't he just tell you that? “Yes but it’s in the rafter—“

“I can't sleep there—I heard it, I saw it above me! What if they get fed up with the lack of space and come into my room? What if someone next door makes a loud noise and it scares them so hard they all come into my room?!” You begin, practically pacing back and forth outside your room now with him left in complete shock.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Sergea-“ He begins, but you cut him off, still frantically pacing and reciting all the possible outcomes in hushed whispers.

“They could like the smell of the perfume I bought and come in, or maybe they’re already in my room stuck behind a cabinet or somewhere—they’ll be so angry when they come out, right?” You suddenly halt to a stop and look down at your pyjamas, the bunnies patterned across, though your shorts has a flower printed across the pocket.

“Ghost— what if they think this is a real flower and chase after me?!” He slaps his glove across your mouth before you can continue your incessant talking, leaving you mumbling against his hand with your pupils blown wide.

“They’re the damn size of yer thumb, Sergeant. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Even though it’s the same gruff British voice, there's a hint of concern beneath it as his sharp eyes bore into your own. You’ve never quite been this up close with him before, especially since you were more of a friend of a friend than his actual friend. Though, then again, you had no idea who he even considered his actual friends. You didn't know much about him at all. So you instantly fall quiet, even when he eventually steps back and crosses his arms, still close enough to intimidate you. “They’re really loud...” You say, voice still a hushed whisper since it is the dead of night and you’d rather not get a scolding tomorrow. “Sorry.. I- i’ll just go to sleep.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you stiffly turn on your heel, turning back into the lion's den, also known as your room.

Ghost is a straightforward man; he doesn’t mess around with what-ifs or irrationality. He prefers to get the job done as soon as possible and as efficiently as possible. He didn’t get his reputation for just doing his work; it’s how he does his work. That also includes knowing the people around him, especially the people in his team—working solo isn't always the way to go; he’s not stupid to compromise the mission just because he prefers his own company. It also meant he grew to appreciate the help of other soldiers—specifically the way you constantly saved him and his teammates’ asses on the last mission. In fact, he saw it all too well the way you had a constant eye on them, no matter how experienced they were compared to you. You were quick to give up your rations for Soap, even faster to bandage up Gaz’s scrape when you reached the safe house. He supposes you deserve at least a good night's sleep after all you’ve done.

When he sees you practically trembling, trying to turn to the door handle, his hand lands on your arm, stopping you before you enter.

“I never said you had to sleep there.” He could practically feel your fear radiating off of you, and despite his usual notions, he couldn’t just leave you with the way you were shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Then where am I supposed to sleep..?”

He turns a blind eye when you suddenly hook your finger around the sleeve of his shirt, having heard a small noise that startled you. Now that you’re sure you’ll be safe from the hornets, you’re able to finally relax your mind, and you start to let your eyes wander. That's how you suddenly realised that Ghost was in his usual training outfit, a tight black sleeve shirt and dark grey sweatpants. You had seen him in this before, but you never knew that he trained this late at night.

“Were you training before I.. y'know, ran down the corridor?” You tilt your head as you walk alongside him, your slippers making soft patters against the flooring. “Yeah, I had just come back when I heard you making a racket.”

“I was not making a racket!”

He gives you a deadpan look, making you drop your hand from his sleeve and a small frown to curve on your lips. “Alright, maybe I was a little loud. Is anyone even in the gym this late..?” You ask, a finger tapping your chin thoughtfully, and he just lets out a grumble in response.

“No.”

“So you’re trying to avoid everyone?”

“You’re still making a racket.”

He opens the door of his room for you the second time that night, allowing you inside. His room is the standard: desk, chair, bed, and closet although he has a few weights in a corner too. Does he ever stop training? He gestures for you to walk forward, which you do without question, and he follows behind you before patting the bed and speaking once more.

“Go on, I'll take the floor. You’ve been up long enough.”

You give him a grateful nod, sliding your slippers off at the foot of his bed before awkwardly walking over to the edge of his bed. Just before you get in, you pause, your teeth scraping against each other uncomfortably before you glance at him. “Are you sure? I can just go back, y'know, suck it up. It’s just an insect.“ He cuts you off as he heads to his closet, pulling back a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants to wear to bed, wanting to get out of his sweaty gym wear even if you couldn’t smell anything when walking beside him. “For the most rational soldier of your age in this base, you sure did act like you’d been shot. So no, I don't think you can just go back with how terrified you clearly are.”

“But-“

“Do you want to shit yourself over a hornet hiding underneath your pillow?”

You have to hold back a squeal at the mere thought and quickly nod, climbing beneath his thick duvets and settling your head onto the pillows. It’s obvious you're exhausted by the way your eyes are drooping, and he quietly steps into the bathroom to shower and change, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by his presence looming around. Unfortunately, when he returns, you’re still tossing over, jumping at every little creak of the door and whistling of the wind from his curtains.

“What’s wrong now?” He asks gruffly, some part of him knowing well that he won't even get a proper answer to that question.

“Nothing’s wrong..” The voice that had previously been frantic and panicked is much quieter now, slightly muffled by the covers as you bury your face into one of his pillows. He can't even stop himself as he makes his way over to the side of the bed where you lay, sitting on a chair and rolling it forward so he’s in front of you. Your cheeks are smushed against the bed, duvet tight over you, and covering your ears as well. He faintly remembers you mentioning that you could hear it in your ear, so he’s sure you’re likely traumatised by that too. “You still haven’t fallen asleep, and it’s four am. Didn't you just get back from a mission?”

“Yeah, but..”

“But what?”

“I feel bad.” You murmur, letting out a small huff in annoyance. “Can’t you sleep in the bed too? I don't want you sleepin’ on the hard floor.”

He rolls his eyes at your incessant complaining, placing a steady hand onto your head to annoy you with the sheer weight of it. Surprisingly, it’s less of a scolding that you’d receive in training and more of a pat. You hadn't realised he could actually be well…nice. “I’ve slept in far worse places, trust me. I have a feelin’ that's not what’s still keeping you up though.” Most would let you get away with such a thing, but he’s determined to at least get you to admit the core cause of this whole issue. After all, he can’t help if he doesn’t know, and seeing as you’re still shaken, there's definitely a reason behind this. “My feet barely touch the end of this bed; just get in.” You ignore the second part of his statement entirely, quickly butting it with our small voice. He wasn't used to sleeping beside someone, not that he’d ever get worked up if the situation came to where he had to do so. It was the same with touching people—he didn’t like it, but he was no coward; he liked to think that he could handle anything thrown at him. Not that he has an ego either.

So, with a reluctant grunt to show his annoyance, he slides underneath the covers beside you, his large body practically engulfing your shorter form. This is exactly why he didn’t want to— you were practically going to fall off the bed at this rate. It’s obvious you’re on the same page as him now as you shuffle around, trying to not touch him yet also not meet your fate for the second time tonight. It wasn't like you’d consider complaining anyway; you had practically disturbed enough of his night, and you were also slightly terrified of worsening his current opinion of you.

”You’re uncomfortable, aren't you?”

You can’t help but nod as you slowly roll over, meeting his brown eyes that narrow at you through the holes in his mask that allow you to just read a hint of emotion on his face if he ever decides to let it show. He’s about to get back up again when he watches your eyes widen and you quickly speak up. “I shouldn't even stay here; I'm not even going to be able to sleep..” That makes him raise a brow, and for some reason, he pulls the covers higher over you as he settles on his back, head slightly turned to face you. “Why not?”

”I’ll uh.. I'm worried that I'll hear it again, yknow, the hornets.” You mumble out, not wanting to beat around the bush much longer than you have. If he must find out that you secretly are a coward, especially to insects with stingers, so be it. It’s better than lying to him and then he forces the truth out of you.

You’re expecting your fourth judging look of the night when he just lets out a heavy sigh, resting his arms behind his head. “So, you’ll be too scared to sleep?” He doesn't need to turn his head to imagine your sheepish nod. “You know, I'll kill it, right? I don’t ever give those cheeky bastards a chance.” However, there’s still an uncertainty in your voice, despite his confidence in his own abilities. “But what if you can't find it and-“ It’s clear it’s more than the idea; it’s a deep-rooted paranoia that sets you off as soon as you hear the noise of them. He’d never thought he’d come close to ever thinking about doing this—even when Johnny teased him when he was caught staring in bars or even when he had been younger and his hormones had been wack. In fact, he’s been more affectionate to that K9 Riley than he’s ever been with a woman, yet here he is, lifting his arm and beckoning you over.

”Come ‘ere then. You’re shaking, Sergeant.”

You glance down at your hands, which are indeed trembling, but you’re more occupied with his invitation to come and lay down beside him—literally to press your face against the side of his chest and have his arm tucked behind your body as you doze off. The mere thought sounds like something that should be forbidden, especially with someone as stoic as him who has plenty of rumours surrounding his deadly skills on the battlefield. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, the need to settle the fear in your heart leading you to shuffle a little closer before you catch yourself; your body goes stiff as a board as you contemplate the situation through your muddled head. If you said no, you’d make it weird, but if you said yes, does that change anything between the two of you? When he speaks again, you’re half expecting him to tell you to hurry up or the like, but instead he just lets out a gruff shrug. “You don't have to, just an offer.”

That’s enough to convince you, and you finally give into your fears, settling right beneath his arm. He doesn't bother to ask this time, taking your movement as permission as he tucks his arm around you and pulls you easily into his side. “Breathe; you’re as tense as a damn rookie.”

“Fine, don't go complainin’ then.”

His insistence makes you grumble, slowly growing frustrated at your own pathetic display of fear that you press your cheek into his shoulder and an arm lazily resting over his chest—half expecting him to scoff at your slightly clingy behaviour. You don’t quite see the smirk he hides beneath the balaclava, tugging the duvets snugly over your huffy form before his hand lazily pats your back, easing the anxiety that knotted your muscles.

Trying to stay professional is near impossible when you can hear the thump of his heart beneath your ear—the sound crawling through the canal and seeping into your brain like a sweet serotonin shot. It’s steady and somehow peaceful, a constant reminder that you’re now safe from the deadly silence that makes you wait for the worst. It allows your lashes to finally press against your skin, the lines in your forehead easing as you begin to lose yourself. You know for absolute sure now that for as long as you hear the thump of his heart and his arms swallowing your smaller stature whole, no fears will consume you tonight, nor will anything harm you ever again.

bonus:

“Five more minutes..”

The mumbles leave your mouth as you steady the horse you ride upon, a lasso in your hand as you ride through the barren land. It’s so exhilarating—the air on your face as you rush through the land—well, it would be if not for the constant nagging you feel on your cheek.

“Stop that—“

You frown, bringing a hand up to your cheek as you force you and your horse to halt to a stop, surprised to feel something there despite you being the only one upon this beauty.

“What?”

You snap awake, eyes fluttering open to see the blur of a skull balaclava before you and your body being slightly squeezed. Not to mention, your hand was holding another’s which was gently prodding at your cheek but now stopped.

“G-ghost?”

You blink in confusion, the world before you finally clearing up before you finally realise that you’re still curled up against him, though much closer to his neck now, and well, your legs have somehow managed to hook on top of his.

“Took ya long enough, sleepyhead. Kept mumbling about your next ‘bounty’.” His gruff voice rings out, the air from your dream now revealed to be his warm breath before he sits up properly as do you.

“Had a dream that I was a cowboy..”

You reluctantly admit, still half awake as you rub at your eyes, unable to escape from his comfortable hold on you.

“Try explaining that to the others then. They’ve been waiting all morning for you to reply to their messages.”

That makes you blink again, grabbing your phone just to realise it was twelve in the afternoon. Now that you think about it, Ghost had his gloves back on as well as his typical army shirt and cargo pants.

“What?! Why didn't you wake me?”

You exclaim, scrambling up before he rolls his eyes and almost hesitantly pulls his hands from you.

“You were out like a light; besides, it is your rest day. I’ve already cleared out your room and called pest control for the nest to be removed, so get your ass up and go get changed; we’re leaving at twenty.”

Your eyes light up at his confession of what he had achieved all while you had snoozed in his bed, lips slowly widening as you realise he had sorted the problem right through the core for you. Quickly, you swing your legs off of the bed and back into your slippers again before noticing the army attire he had brought for you to change into so you didn't have to walk the halls in your pyjamas.

“Thank you, Ghost.”

You say warmly, bundling the clothes in your hands. “I mean it.”

“Hmph. And I mean it when I say you’ll be late.” He huffs out, watching as you stand before him, all giddy and raring to go for the first time in a while. “You weren’t wrong by the way. They’re mostly active in the early hours of the mornin’ so that’s why you didn’t see anything until you woke up a few hours later.” Your face falls in relief at that, looking happier than before— if that was even possible.

“I suppose if you’re still scared that they could magically return—“ He rolls his eyes, emphasising your irrationality from the night prior despite having just proven that wrong. “— you’re welcome to sleep here. Only in emergencies, got it?”

“Yes sir.” You grin before he quickly dismisses you, getting up from bed to continue his duties around base. “18 minutes now; don’t make Johnny wait for you.” Your eyes go wide, and you quickly scamper into the bathroom to change, his eyes still locked onto you until you disappear behind the door. He kind of regrets fixing your problem now; he should’ve at least let it fester for a day or two more.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗: Voice Kink w/ Daryl Dixon

a/n: hello, friends!! i don't have a lot to say for today, just that i hope you guys are doing well and i appreciate all of your support recently!! :]

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Sometimes waking up is a curse.

No, it wasn't because of the dead walking around the walls outside at every hour of the day, nor the constant feeling of looming dread; it was because every single morning without fail, Daryl would set some sort of blaze inside of your body alive. Either that be when his hands accidentally latch onto your tits or ass, or when he just speaks.

"Mornin'." He grumbled. He turned to bury his head in your chest, his scruff scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck. You shivered, your leg that was wrapped around him tightening on instinct.

It was also his voice, the one that could speak so sweetly to you, but at the same time whisper the dirtiest things into your ear while he had you bent in half.

"Morning." You squeaked out tightly. Your greeting forced his head from your body, his smoldering eyes gazing up at you.

"Wha's wrong?" He asked, the arm that was wrapped around you opting to hold on to your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin. Though you weren't wearing any pants, your shirt had ridden up, exposing the stretch mark tattered skin.

"Nothing." His eyebrow quirked slightly, letting you know that he doesn't believe you. With a huff your head sagged against your pillow, opting to take a piece of his hair and twirling around your finger. Your skin flushed at the words of admittance that were about to come out of your mouth.

"I dunno—" You shrugged in feign nonchalance. "I don't want you to feel pressured and it's early and I know you just woke up and—" He said your name. "Yer ramblin'. Jus' tell me sunshine." He said lovingly. "Your morning voice is really hot and I may or may not be extremely turned on."

"Is tha' so?" He asked teasingly. That same hand that moved to hold your hip now gripped your ass, the man pressing your lower halves closer together. You held back a whimper when you came in contact with his bare thigh, but nonetheless you grinded against it.

"Ya still needy from last night? 'Thought I fucked ya good." He hummed. He helped to aid you in your dry humping. You found a smooth rhythm. "You did! Fuck— you did." You moaned, your hips jolting.

You could feel your wetness stick to the fabric of your panties, the underwear fully ruined. You knew Daryl could feel your arousal smearing on his thigh, but he didn't really care, the archer more adamant about making you cum than anything.

"Mhm… feels so good." You gasped. "Fuckin' yerself on my thigh this early. Wha' a dirty girl." He teased. He let you take the reigns in your own pleasure, allowing you to use his muscle to get yourself off. You were jolting and squirming in his hands, almost like putty in a way.

"Fuck, baby. Keep talking." You begged, your orgasm on the tips of your fingers. You could feel that coil in your stomach tighten, that tingling in your lower back that indicated you were about to cum.

"'M gonna make ya cum, my sweet girl. I gotcha." He cooed. He finally pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your pitiful noises.

Your legs spasmed around his as you came, your breathing ragged as you had to force yourself away from the kiss. He worked you through it, delicately dragging you on himself until you whimpered out in overstimulation.

"Shit…" You breathed, a delirious smile on your face.

"So, my voice, huh?"

"Shut up." You commanded bashfully, hiding your flushed face in his chest.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[highonmarvel]

girl- i'd do ANYTHING for a very dark!Thor x f!reader where reader is kidnapped and enslaved by him. Noncon, violence will be great.

Love ya! And ty, no pressure :))

-🪐

no it did not take me five months to answer this, who said that. i do apologise for the nearly half a year wait, i’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but i appreciate the ask, and your patience! love you to the moon and to saturn 🪐 alright, here we go:

No Words, Just Screams

Thor Odinson: A quiet and dignified rejection leads to consequences that are the exact opposite of it.

Thank you to the absolutely incredible @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this. You are seriously, seriously the best person ever, I love you so much.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I am going to hell.

Non Con Warning

For only the second time in your life you reject a man. He seems nice enough—Thor, is his name—and you’ve seen him around a few times at a mutual friend’s parties, but you’ve hardly spoken to him; he’s gregarious and outgoing and he gets along well with everyone, including you. Though you hardly know him, he’s never given you a reason to dislike him; very short pleasantries have always been comfortable and even humorous, and everyone around you says he’s cool, you’ve just never had the opportunity to really learn anything about him, especially considering he never sticks with one group during a party, making his way through the crowd so everyone gets a piece of him, although it’s never been too much for you.

That’s why you’re so taken aback when he finds you outside and confesses his attraction to you. You had slipped out to the backyard to take a smoke break and try to relieve yourself of the pounding headache caused by the constant yelling and booming music inside.

“I really, really like you. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime.”

“Oh!” you startle, really not having expected this. “I… I’m sorry but no… I just don’t know you too well.”

For a moment you wonder if that was the right call—you haven’t really been on too many dates but you know the general idea of them is to get to know someone, and who knows, maybe you’d actually find yourself attracted to him; he’s not bad looking at all—strong arms, blue eyes, blond hair, the works—but you can’t say anything on him as a person. Nearly as immediately as that thought crosses your mind, it’s swept away when his expression changes.

The usually lighthearted and easygoing demeanour he carries vanishes into thin air, and the somewhat bashful nature he had around you as he asked you the question turns into something a little darker, and more serious.

You really can’t tell what’s wrong with this guy. You try to tell yourself he’s just feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little sad right now, but for some reason you suddenly notice the extreme height difference and avert your eyes.

Deciding it’s best to head back inside, you try to push past him on the narrow veranda where he stands blocking your path to the door. He’s still as you move and for a second you don’t think he’ll do anything until suddenly a calloused hand clasps around your wrist and you yelp in fright jumping back at the touch.

“Sorry!” he apologises nearly immediately with a breathy half-laugh.

You look up from his hand restraining you to find his eyes have softened and his popular but not douchey energy is back, as if that earlier spell was just a trick of light.

“I’ve just… never been rejected before,” he laughs again and shakes his head. His words sound lightheartedly incredulous, innocently surprised, but his grip on you is so strong you’re starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers.

“Uh— yeah, alright,” he lets your hand fall free and you gasp as the blood comes rushing back, cradling your wrist in the palm of your other. “Just know that you’re incredible, and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You want to thank him for the compliment and for his interest, but you’re sort of frozen in bewilderment at his weird juxtaposition; his words are soft and sweet, but he won’t meet your eyes, staring into the distance as if focused on something; his reaction to your rejection wasn’t extreme, but it was so unsettling you’d rather he have yelled at you.

You give him a quick, tight-lipped smile before rushing inside and shutting the door behind you, not really caring that you left him out there. For 15 minutes you half-dance lingering by the backdoor, but it never opens again and he never steps in. Oh, God, you really hope no one saw that, you’d rather not be bombarded with questions about why Thor ditched the party after seeing you, but you also don’t want to leave immediately and be interrogated on why you and Thor left at the same time. Eventually you stop hanging at the back of the house and dance your way to the main area where Nat is swaying happily.

“Nat!” you yell her name over the music, moving into her sight line to try to get her attention.

“Oh, hey!” she says in an excited and high pitched voice, “Where’d you go?”

“I just went out for a breather and spoke to Thor.”

“You did?” she replies, closing her eyes as she moves to the music, “That’s great, he’s great!” She’s clearly drunk and you doubt that even if you got her alone for a bit she’d be able to understand what you’re trying to tell her. And what even are you trying to tell her? He didn’t hurt you (intentionally), he didn’t do anything wrong at all, in fact, he was overwhelmingly nice, but the way he switched was spine chilling.

You just nod and continue dancing until your legs are tired. You pour yourself a glass of water at the drink table, looking out through the window it’s pushed against into the street where parked cars are lined up and down the road. But one car is in the middle with the engine running, and you swear it’s Thor’s, but it’s just sitting there, and it’s too dark to tell if it’s him inside. If it is him, what’s he doing? Is he waiting for someone? He came here alone, but he stayed sober tonight, maybe so he could drive a few friends home because he was just that thoughtful, but… maybe that’s not the reason he’s sober while everyone else—including you—is drunk as fuck or high as shit.

Your mind swirls in confusion—worsened by the alcohol—as you try to get your bearings, trying to decide if maybe you really are just being unnecessarily skeptical and harsh on him. Whatever his intentions, you still felt weirdly uncomfortable, and you’re not really able to enjoy the rest of the night feeling slightly unnerved by his earlier presence.

You give Nat a quick goodbye and she waves, but you’re not sure if she heard you say you’re leaving or if she was just swaying to the music. The cool night air calms you down as you step through the front door, but you’re not at peace for long before you stumble and nearly fall face first into the concrete with a shriek. But you don’t feel the impact, instead, you feel steady arms catch you, and hold you a little tighter than necessary.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks: Thor. Maybe he just went to drop someone off at home and he’s back now, there’s no reason to think he’s watching you or following you or anything like that; for Christ’s sake, you barely even spoke to him a few hours ago, you can’t even classify the interactions you’ve had with him as a conversation, and he’s known around here to be the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, so why does this feel so odd?

You grab onto his biceps to steady yourself, mumbling a thanks as you straighten to full height. You can’t really focus on his features considering you’re much drunker than you initially thought, but his cadence just doesn’t seem right.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Or, alternatively, what’s wrong with you?

“That’s not an answer, baby.” Baby? “You can’t even walk, let me take you home.”

The last thing you want to do is spend any time alone with him, even though you have to admit his offer seems better than sitting on the couch of a hot living room while people grind on each other all around you. What can you do? You’re feeling a little too out of it to reject his offer, but you know he can tell you don’t want this, and you know he can come up with a dozen reasons as to why you should get home, and why he should be the one to take you; you only really know Nat here and she’s in no condition to drive or even just walk you home, and you don’t live close, so walking alone isn’t just unfeasible based on distance, but after midnight is way too dangerous, and you might even hit the ground on your way.

His hand is light on your bicep, gently catching your attention as he gestures to his car with his other, like he’s laid a treat down to lure an animal into his cage. When you don’t move for a few moments, he guides you forwards; initially you try to resist him, planting your feet in the ground as he walks just a little ahead of you, but even his lightest tug is stronger than you can fight in this state, and you soon find yourself slowly walking with him, carefully eyeing the car.

He opens the back door and you slide in, head pounding and vision slightly blurred, but at least relieved you don’t have to sit next to him. You don’t realise you hadn’t given him your address until the car slows after ten minutes, and you groggily turn your now-heavy head towards the windows and peer at the unfamiliar yard the car is parked in.

Before you have time to question it, Thor gets out and slams the door behind him, the car rocks on its wheels and you try to clasp onto the car door but it’s flung open before you can latch onto it. A shrill squeal leaves your throat before your arm is caught in a death grip between a rough palm with fingers digging so hard into your arm you worry he’ll snap right through your bone.

“Thor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yells in your face, causing you to cringe back into the car but he harshly tugs you out and you fall to your hands and knees on the rocky pavement with a grunt, the stones splitting the relatively thin skin of your knees leaving abrasions dirty with sand and small rocks.

Thor’s hand tangles itself into your hair and you yelp as you grip onto his wrist and hastily stumble to your feet lest you risk him ripping your scalp off. If he feels your nails digging into his skin so hard trickles of blood run down your fingers, he doesn’t show it.

You let one hand go and attempt to swipe at him but he’s just far enough out of reach, and you’re not really able to land any hits on target given on your disorientation.

The door to what you assume is his house slams open and you’re flung so far in your slide across the floor for a few metres before hitting your head against the hardwood. You groan as you lift a hand to your temple to feel for a warm trickle of blood racing down the side of your face, but before you can bring your fingertips to your line of vision, a heavy and muddy boot presses onto your head, pushing your cheek into floor and clotting leaves and twigs into your hair. You gasp and try to reach back to pry his ankle off of you but he swats the hand away with one of his own and you let it fall to the floor with a whimper. He leans forward on his leg and lets out a disappointed sigh, crushing your face so your lips purse and you can’t even ask for him to stop.

“This could have been a lot easier, you know,” he says casually, as if saying yes to him was the definition of a no-brainer, and in his mind, it might have been; he’s never been rejected before, and by the way he’s behaving, you can tell he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Saliva drips out of your mouth and forms a small pool on the floor as he presses down harder, before he finally releases you and you’re able to place your hands underneath your shoulders and push your head up, and the room spins so fast you nearly regret doing so. You don’t have time for relief before you’re kicked so you have to roll over onto your back and stare up at this beastly man who seems to be becoming less human and more animal-like by the second, breathing heavily as if he’s the one who was practically thrown across the room and crushed under the weight of a tall man. His pupils have definitely dilated, making the anger in his eyes that much more intense.

Again he presses his foot down, this time to your stomach, knocking the wind right out of you. You try to squirm upwards from under him but he leans down and effortlessly wraps a large hand around your throat, stopping you in your tracks as you pivot your attention to prying him off of you and trying to get some air into your lungs again, ignoring the black spots that dot the corners of your vision.

He does finally let go of your neck but not before slamming your head into the floor, making you gurgle and sending a near-deafening ringing sound bouncing through your skull. You try to prop yourself up on your forearms but you can’t lift your head a few inches off the ground before it slams back down.

“I try… to be nice,” he growls as he steps over you, putting one foot on either side of your body, “And you… just wanna be difficult.” He brings his boot up and slams it down hard against your wrist, and your scream is so loud you nearly miss the unmistakable bone-crunching sound the stomp makes as your left wrist breaks under the impact.

“Please—” you begin, but are forced to let out a cry of pain as he presses down harder.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he bellows, but he finally frees your mangled hand and you gasp as you push over to your left side, wanting to grasp your wrist in your right palm but stopping short when noticing the hypersensitivity even as you brush your fingers lightly over your jagged skin is enough to make you want to pass out. “No words,” he continues, clearly trying hard to keep his voice level, though you can still hear the twinge of sadistic enjoyment at the edges of his words, “Just screams.”

He nudges you over until you’re lying on your belly again and makes quick work of kicking your legs apart. In anticipation of what’s coming, you try to kick at his crotch but he catches your ankle and crashes your leg back down to the cold, hard floor. The sound of him unbuckling his belt makes your heart rate pick up, drumming against your ribs is such harsh hits you’re scared it’ll break through. You try to claw forward but choke on a sob as you’re reminded of your broken wrist when the slightest movement causes blood to start painfully pumping through the site of injury.

When he spits in his hand, you break down and let out a wail, and based on the grunt he lets out as he strokes himself, it seems to only spur him on further. You don’t even know when he’s pushed your underwear to the side but when he feel his tip rest for a moment on your entrance, it makes you cry out a plea, using your right hand to claw at his thigh while hopelessly trying to thrash your legs with your thighs trapped under his knees that are painfully digging into your flesh, “No, no, no, please, please—”

He interlocks his fingers through yours making sure his palm presses down on your injured hand and his other hand pulls roughly at your hair to bring your head up. He spits in your face then slams your head back down so hard your teeth chatter and you taste warm blood filling your mouth.

He pushes into you with a frustrated grunt at how painfully dry you are, but that doesn’t stop him for long. He spits on his hand and reaches down to add a few wet fingers to his length, causing you to cry out at the painful and unnatural stretch. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he slowly pulls himself nearly entirely out of you before slamming his hips so far into you that you jerk forward and feel your walls tear around him. The sight of blood has him nearly drooling and makes his task of rocking into you a little easier, and you’re sick with the thought. You can’t even cry out for help, all your oxygen being used to actually keep yourself breathing despite your tortured cries and the fear you might actually split apart because of how relentlessly his massive length is pounding into you, literally tearing your cunt apart.

You feel his thrusts start to get sloppy as he loses his rhythm and his muscles tense up. With one final slam he releases himself and lets his heavy body fall on top of you, nearly suffocating you as you heave for enough air to cry. When he pulls out, you hear the disgusting sound of your blood mixed with his come before it drips onto the floor, and you hear him hum in delight as he shoves two fingers inside you earning a yelp before popping them into his mouth and moaning at the taste.

When his breathing calms down, he finally crawls up to look at you, your face stained with tears and snot and spit pooling underneath your flushed cheeks.

“Better get used to it, babe.”

ϟ

💛 [taglist: @pr300877, @cowboysnbugs]

[slutforleeminho]

I have a Suggestion • Han Jisung

Jisung has a suggestion as to how to help you with your insanely high sex drive

You would never consider yourself a slut, but the constant ache in your lower region made it difficult to keep your pants on. You discovered this in high school when you’d come home and make a b line straight to your nightstand where you kept your vibrator and some lube just in case. But you never needed it, your panties were always soaked at the end of the day. The littlest things would get your heart rate up and body burning with need, like that one time freshman year when a very handsome boy had to squeeze between you and someone else, placing his hands on your hips and slipping through the small space, rubbing his entire front against your back and his lower half against your ass. You had to run to the bathroom the relieve the pressure that was building up. And that very same boy is now someone you would trust with your life.

Han Jisung.

He was your best friend and also the only person who knows about your problem. Well it wasn’t a problem at first but it turned into one when you started to go out every Friday and Saturday night with intentions to get railed by complete strangers. And jisung didn’t like that at all. “Are you trying to get aids?” He’d asked you after the third weekend of you going out and not coming home till the morning. And then he started staying over at your place on the weekends just to hold you hostage so you could go out and fall into temptation. But little did he know he wasn’t making it any easier on you, especially when he walked around your apartment in nothing but a towel hanging lowly on his hips, showing off his toned stomach and a prominent v line disappearing underneath the material. And a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, while he walked to the room to grab something out of his bag. He always slept in your bed with you, “to make sure you don’t run off in the middle of the night” he explained while settling under the blankets and letting out a satisfied hum. You didn’t mind sharing a bed with him at all, but it made it difficult on the nights you so desperately needed to touch yourself. And you won’t even lie, sometimes…. you did, with your best friend less than a foot away from you. And you could’ve swore that those nights your orgasms were so much more intense. But you couldn’t figure out why.

It was currently Saturday night and jisung was in the kitchen making you both dinner. It was a sweet gesture but it made your whole body heat up from the sight of him. You finally decided to stop ogling him and walk into the kitchen, and throw your top half over the kitchen island and groan as loud groan of frustration. “Can I pleeeeease just go out tonight? I’ll only be gone for a couple hours.” You smile up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, hoping the cuteness would seduce him into letting you leave, your underwear is probably already ruined so you need to get out of here before you do something you’ll regret. “No” is all he says, continuing on the food. “You let you head fall onto the counter, with a loud thump and a whine coming from your mouth. “This is so annoying” you started flopping around like a fish, your whole body convulsing. “You aren’t my dad y’kow” your voice somewhat muffled by your hair thrown all over your face. “I might as well be, now get up before you get your hair in the food. Why are you whining anyways?” He asked as you straightened you body and fixed your hair.

“It’s uh��� kinda tmi” You avoided eye contact by looking at you hands.

“Well go ahead. I already know all your dirty secrets anyway” Did he know you masterbate with him right next to you while you look at his beautiful face as a visual? Probably not.

You took a deep breath and said it before you could think too much about it and chicken out. “I already got off this morning and I still feel like I’m gonna explode. So please let me go out.” Your voice was high pitched. “I have a better idea” You waited for him to continue, open to anything at this point. “ let’s watch porn together, and you can touch yourself if you want too. But I don’t want you out there sleeping around with other guys.” You were stunned for a moment but then imagining the outcome of this. “I don’t know. I get really….. weird when I’m in the mood.” You said recalling the other times you’ve almost gone crazy chasing after your high. “I don’t think straight and I take things too far.”

“I’m okay with whatever you choose as long as you stay.” You could already feel list clouding you senses and you don’t think you couldn’t go without some kind of release tonight. You finally agreed after some time and jisung reassuring you that nothing would change between the both of you and that this was just him helping you out as a friend. He placed his laptop on the coffee table in the living room and pulled up the website “he often uses” he had said. You both sat in the floor in front of it, your backs pressed against the sofa. “What do like to watch?” He turned his head to look at you, while you were staring at the choices on the computer screen, all of the were just regular maleXfemale in missionary. You looked back at jisung almost embarrassed to tell him what you always watch but you do anyways.

“Lesbian” Your voice lower than a whisper. Jisungs eyes got bigger and his dick twitched in his pants. If he wasn’t hard earlier (which he was, seeing you get all needy and beg to let you go out and get dicked down) he was now. He nodded and clicked on the search bar to type it out, and letting you pick which video. You clicked on a video by you favorite creators. A sweet couple, both beautiful, and one of them had the sweetest moans. The video is mostly forplay, one of the girls sucking on her tits and groping her ass and eventually rubbing her middle finger up and down her cunt, making her whimper and grind against her hand. You glanced over at jisung, his arms were crossed and his legs were spread, giving you the perfect view of his hard on. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration and his lip tucked between is teeth. He was breathing heavily and you could tell he was just as horny as you were now. “I’ll be right back” you said, abruptly standing up and heading to you room. You returned with a blanket and jisung thought nothing of it, you were probably just cold. But as time went on he noticed a little bit of movement under the blanket right in between your thighs. He was so focused on the slight movements he didn’t notice you were staring at him, not halting your movements even a little. When he did look up and meet your gaze he almost came in his pants. You looked so fucked out already, your lips parted and eyebrows scrunched a little from the pleasure, but what really had him going was the way you were looking at him while you did it. I. Fact your hand sped up once you made eye contact and you looked him up and down. “Touch yourself” you finally said. “I don’t have a blanket” he smirked looking down at your covering. You flung it from off your body and threw it at him. “Here you can have mine” you retorted. His jaw almost hit the floor when his eyes scanned over your body. Your short you were wearing earlier we’re now around your ankles along with your underwear. But what shocked him the most is that the movement under that blanket wasn’t just your hand rubbing your cunt, it was a pink dildo. So that must’ve been why you went to your room.

Even with Jisungs eyes on you, you didn’t stop your movements, still plunging the toy in and out of your dripping cunt. He sat there for a moment, surprised by your boldness. “Jisung” he pulled his eyes away from your body to look at your face. “That looks painful” your eyes trailed down his own body. His eyes followed to where yours were looking, and landed on his crotch, where his jeans have gotten significantly tighter. “Ji please” your voice was airy. You rarely called him that unless you were really desperate and trying to convince him of something. He finally gave in and placed his hand over his bulge and started palming himself through his pants. Letting out a sigh of relief, you were right, it was getting painful. But that only lasted a few minutes before you wanted more. “Take off your pants” It went on like that until his pants and underwear were discarded and joined the pile of your own clothes. He was lazily stroking his cock while staring at the screen. While you were staring and him. His toned thighs, the way his hand wrapped around his length, the precum beading at the tip before he swiped his thumb over it to use as lubricant. It was making your insides flutter. Soon he was aggressively pulling at his cock, trying to relieve the building pressure growing in his lower abdomen. You were fucking yourself at the same pace, attempting to match his movements. You were both getting so close but you just couldn’t seem to fully get there. “Ji…. “ he snapped his head in your direction to see what you needed, only find you with your head thrown back over the couch cushion with your eyes screwed shut and you face contorted in pleasure.

Were you…… moaning his name?

Your eyes slowly opened and your head tilted to look at him one last time before you exploded. “Fuck Ji” you let out a drawn out moan and you whole body convulsed and twitched as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Jisung couldn’t help but watch as you reached your end, squeezing himself a little harder while thrusting up into his hand while spurts of cum painted his hand and thighs. His hand slowed as he came down from his high even though he was still hard. But you didn’t stop, you kept going even after your orgasm. You arched your back from the overstimulation but kept going while letting out small whimpers. “Not enough” you said quietly, still out of breath. “What do you mean?” Jisung asked, clearly confused. “It’s not enough Ji I need……” your wrist finally slowed and you pulled the toy out of you and set it to the side. You sat up straight and looked into his eyes. “I need you to fuck me Jisung” his eyes widen and his lips parted like he wanted to respond but he couldn’t. “Please” you begged.

He wasn’t about to miss possibly his only chance to be with you.

“I thought you’d never ask” he shot up from his spot on the floor and hovered over you, placing his lips to your neck and his hands on your covered breasts. You moaned as he sucked on the most sensitive spots on your neck and collar bone. He raised your shirt up until it was over your head and thrown across the room. Once you were completely exposed to him he dove into your chest, sucking and licking at your nipple and then moving to give the same attention to the other one. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, gently pulling and urging him to continue. He trailed down your abdomen and lest soft kisses on your inner thighs. After some encouraging from your whines and whimpering he finally licked a long stripe up your center before diving in and sucking on your clit.

“Shit Ji” your back arched and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His tongue worked wonders on you, pushing in and out of your entrance and nudging you closer to the edge once more. He pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them while roughly sucking on your clit. Your fingers pulled harshly at his hair making him moan. The vibrations shot through your body and your legs began to shake and your body convulsed as your second orgasm hit you hard. Your thighs wrapped around his head and his tongue slowed as you came down from your high.

Before he could even say a word you were pulling him up to you and begging for more. “I need you inside me” you wrapped your legs around his torso and pulled his shirt off of him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t think straight” he smirked down at you. “Do you wanna stop?” You raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to say yes. “No” is all he said. “Good, cause I might cry if we do.” He was about to say something smart but you cut him off by kissing him. Aggressive. Aggressive was the only word to describe it. All teeth and tongue, moaning into each other’s mouth. Desperate to feel something, anything, you placed you hand around his throbbing cock and aligned it with you core, squeezing it slightly. You ground your hips upwards and his tip pressed against your entrance but didn’t quite enter. You were the first one to break the kiss. “Please just put it in Ji” you felt like you would explode if you didn’t release soon. “You’ve tortured me enough tonight”

“Oh not nearly enough” he was smiling ear to ear which worried you.

“Save it for another time”

“There’ll be another time?”

“If you don’t want me going out then yes” apparently that was all it took for him to finally push in, filling you up perfectly. The stretch was amazing, he may not be the biggest guy you’ve been with but he was at least in the top five.

His thrust started out slow but soon sped up, per your request. He was hitting every spot just right, making your toes curl. You ran your hand down his abdomen, he didn’t have abs but he was toned, and the firmness was making you clench around him. With every thrust you could see his muscles clench and unclench, you could hear his heavy breathing and quiet moans. You could see a thin layer of sweat building on his skin, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead and his lips were parted. His eyes were screwed shut, probably trying his hardest not to cum to soon. You never looked so closely at the people you slept with, but now you were taking in every detail of him, drinking in the way he moans your name and holds you so tight. It was so intimate and was going to have you coming for the third time very soon. “Oh my gosh” was all you could get out before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, and moaning his name as your walls clamped around him making it hard for him to move. But the tightness made his hips stutter and suddenly he was spilling his seed into you without a warning.

He collapsed on top of you, unable to move as he came back to earth. Your fingers played with his sweaty hair while you both just layer in your living room floor completely naked. “That was the best idea you’ve ever had” you stared at the ceiling until he lifted his head to look at you. “Are you satisfied now?” He asked jokingly. “I could go another round” you answered not so jokingly.

PLEASE READ

First i would like to say THANK YOUUU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!! This is so exciting! And I would also like to apologize for not being active. After the passing of Astro member Moonbin and some personal things happened, I felt like I needed a break from everything. And after this incident I created a twitter and instagram account dedicated to saying kind things about skz. I know people say we can’t help them but I’m sure as hell going to try. They’ll probably never see it and that’s fine but I just want them to know how loved they are. Please I beg you go follow it so it can grow and reach more stays and possibly skz, it’s stayville143 and you can dm that account of something you would like to say about them and I’ll surely post it. I’m so sorry for the long message but I’m tired of seeing these idols lose their lives to hate. And I don’t think I could take it if something happened to any of straykids.

Taglist: @yumiblogs

[iinsertblognamee]

jumpers, apologies and proposals

summary ― the aftermath of losing to england

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― angst, fighting, illusions to smut

based off this request

Tensions were high in your hotel room, the loss to England had thrown your girlfriend out of the loop as you watched her frustration grow stronger and stronger. You knew how much this had meant to her, how badly she wanted to throw that cup in the air as thousands of Aussies cheered them on. And on top of that being not only the first Australian team, both in women’s and men’s league, to bring home the world cup but to be the captain with that honour. 

It had been two days since then, the game with sweden just over twenty-four hours away. Sam had taken herself on a run, the angst of tomorrow’s game looming over her. Wanting to make these next twenty-four hours as easy as they could be for Sam, you gave yourself the tasks to clean up the hotel and ensure that everything was ready for tomorrow. 

You had managed to get the bathroom and bed all made up, a pile of clothes sitting by the door that you were going to send down to get washed. You took your time to start slowly packing any clean clothes that you knew you didn’t need, placing them back in your suitcase - than repeating the same for Sam’s clothes. 

Catching a glimpse of the time, a small frown appearing on your face as you realised Sam had been gone for her run for over three hours now. Shooting her a quick text, asking if she would want you to meet her anywhere for lunch before closing the phone and making your way towards the pile of clothes. 

You could almost laugh at the size, the clothes that had accumulated over the past two days, between the two of you was ridiculous. Quickly finding a spare bag, you shove the clothes in and start making your way down to the lobby. 

The ladies at the desk were helpful, ensuring you that all the clothes would be ready first thing in the morning and after realising what room you were staying in, insisted that they could drop the clean clothes off rather than make you come down to collect them. After a few minutes of thank yous, you say your goodbyes and make your way back to the hotel room. 

The door opens with a small click, letting out a small huff, as you let the door close behind you. You almost miss the body laying down on the bed - hands covering their face as they catch their breath. You push yourself onto the bed, laying on your stomach next to the body as they let out a sigh. 

“Hi baby” 

It takes Sam a few seconds, her hands moving away from her face as she tilts her head so she is looking at you. A slight redness covered her tanned face although she managed a small lift of her lips - you could have sworn it was one of the first smiles you had seen on her face since watching her come off the field on Wednesday night. 

“How was the run?” She shrugs her shoulders, her head returning back so she was staring at the ceiling “Uneventful” she eventually replies. 

Silence filling the room. 

Normally the silence wouldn’t mean a thing, it was one of the things you loved so much about being with Sam. You could go from talking non-stop, practically stumbling over words because you are both so into the conversation, doing a one-eighty and sitting in silence and both feel just as comfortable as the other. But this silence was different, you could practically hear how hard Sam was thinking - although you didn’t know what exactly she was thinking. Her lips tied shut since Wednesday, like she was on constant watch from the press, waiting for her to slip up.

“Did you get my message about lunch?” 

She nods her head, her eyes once again closed. You bring yourself up from your position, now sitting up right - looking over your girlfriend’s body. The half replies were slowly starting to get to you now, but you also understood the pressure Sam was under  and you knew the last thing she needed was for you to start having a go at her about what she wanted to do for lunch. 

“Did you want to go out somewhere? Or…” The shake of her head is almost instinct and although it’s not necessarily the best answer, it was one of the first straightforward answers you’d gotten all day. “Just wanna stay here with you” she adds, You let out a small ‘coo’ as you bring your fingers across her face. Tracing around her lip, before moving your way up to move the hair from her forehead. 

“I can never say no to that can I?” 

Sam was a clingy person, if she’s happy shes all over you. Planting kisses anywhere she can. Her hand always holding onto either your arm, your waist and if she’s had a little bit to drink, sometimes you ass. If she was sad, she would slot herself into your body - her head laying either on you shoulder or in your lap. The need for your touch is almost like a drug - although you never complain. You love the feeling of your girlfriend, both out in public and in the privacy of your own home. 

She had managed to bring her head into your lap, laying on her side as you started to run your fingers through her hair. You can physically see and feel how her body relaxes under your touch, a sigh of relief leaving her lips - her eyes closed once again. She looks so young like this, so emotionally drained in your lap - like a little kid. 

You knew the pressure that was put on Sam, as the captain of the national team, Australia was counting on her. Her team was counting on her and you knew that although your girlfriend took on the job with such much pride and excitement - she also put double the amount of pressure on herself to performance her absolute best. 

You hold her in your embrace, as you continue to run your fingers through her hair. She lets out a small hm in appreciation. “How’s my favourite captain going?” you murmur, not wanting to disturb the peace. It hadn’t been this calm since before the world cup started. She lets out a small groan, shaking her head. You feel her lips moving against your skin “Not captain here, i’m just Sam here. When im with you - just Sam”. A small smile brightens your face, as you ‘hm’ in agreement. “I like the sounds of that,” bringing your head down, so you can give her forehead a kiss. You let your lips linger a few seconds longer. 

“You’ll always be just Sam to me”

…

You don’t know when exactly Sam manages to fall asleep in your lap, your hand continuously running through her hair as your other hand holds your phone. Social media keeps you entertained as you let her catch up on some much-needed rest. 

The time continued to tick, you knew Sam was due for a team dinner in less than an hour - and as much as you wanted to let her lay down for as long as possible you also knew she required a shower before heading off. 

Starting with slow shakes, murmuring for her to wake up, groans leaving her lips - although her eyes stay close. 

“Sammy, you have to wake up my love. You have that team dinner soon and I know you’ll want a shower before that” you give her a few more minutes to just lay in your lap, her eyes staying close although now she was recalling what had happened on her run - asking you to remind her to show you the photo she took of a dog wearing shoes she had seen whilst out. 

A knock on the door stops the conversation instantly, Sam’s eyes finally opening as she looks up at you before towards the door. 

“Who is it?” She calls out, pulling herself out of your lap and smoothing her hair down. 

“Just reminding you we have to be down in the lobby by six” Caitlin’s voice breaks through the door. “Alright, cheers!” Sam replies, turning her attention back to you with a smile on her face - the stress lines disappeared from her face. Standing up, she stretches her back out, a few pops are heard as she lets out a satisfied sigh. 

Now looking up towards her, she comes down to you and leaves a kiss on your lips. Both of you smiling into it. 

“Do you wanna join me?” 

You let out a laugh, as you shake your head and push her away. You knew how dangerous it would be for you to join your girlfriend in there - not only would she be late for the dinner tonight but you doubt Tony would appreciate Sam having a sex-related injury the night before they are meant to play for third place. 

“There is no way that’s happening tonight babe. You have places to be! And I’m not getting the lecture because you were late” 

She tries once more, grabbing your arms to pull you off the bed and towards the bathroom - a pout replacing the smirk that had just been there. You let her pull you up, purposely falling so your lips were now touching, giving her two pecks before pulling away. 

“I’ll come in tomorrow after you’ve won that bronze medal and show you just how proud I am of you” 

Its a good enough deal for Sam, as you gives you one last kiss, pulling her sweaty shirt off and throwing it at you - winking as she walks into the bathroom, your eyes following up until the moment she closes that door.  

The shower itself doesn’t take that long, the makeout session after she walked out wearing nothing definitely ate into your time, that now lead to Sam rushing around the room trying to make sure she had everything she needed for tonight’s dinner. The bus ready to pick them up in fifteen minutes. 

“Babe?” She calls out, you were in the bathroom cleaning up the mess she’d managed to make. You loved her, but geez did she know how to make a mess. 

‘Yeah?” 

“Do you know where my malitdas jumper is? The greenish/blueish one?” You make your way out of the bathroom, Sam pulling the neatly packed clothes out of the bags. 

“Yeah, I sent it down to get washed with all the other clothes this morning” You had turned away from Sam in that moment, so you missed the way she practically froze up, lifting her head up to look at you. 

“What?” 

You noticed the change in her tone almost immediately, turning around to face your girlfriend and saw frustration and anger lining up her face. You knew that you had done something wrong, trying to remember what the importance of this jumper was. 

“I sent it down to get wash, she said it’ll be ready tomorrow morning” 

“What. Why on earth would you do that? I need that jumper for tonight! I told you that last night” You hadn’t expected Sam to start blowing up, her hands rubbing her face, as she looked down at the mess she had made. She could hear her mumbling things under her breath but couldn’t make out a word she was saying. 

Logically you knew that Sam wasn’t this upset about the missing jumper, everything that had happened the past couple of days bubbling before the surface and this was the moment it had all blown apart but you still couldn’t help but let her words get to you. 

“I’m sure we can find a different jumper for tonight?” You suggest, trying to calm the situation down as you take a step forward to look through the pile at Sam’s feet. 

“I can’t have a different jumper. I need that jumper. I told you this!” 

You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, Sam’s obsession with this jumper was frankly childish - you knew she had at least two other Matilda jumpers in the pile - as you had made sure they were neatly packed in her bag early that morning. 

“I’m sure it’ll be okay for the night if you wore one of these” in your hand two jumpers that would do the job. 

“God! Y/N i need that jumper - it’s the offical team jumper for a reason and if i don’t have it for the dinner i’m going to get in shit for not having proper uniform” her voice continued to get louder, you now moving up from the floor - leaving the jumpers at her feet. 

“I’m sorry sam! I didn’t realise you needed that exact one - it was sitting on the bathroom floor damp so i just assumed you didn’t need it right now. If I had known I wouldn’t have sent it off to get washed” 

Your apology and explanation didn’t seem to do anything, besides rile her up even more. 

“Why? Why did you need to do the washing today? You could have left it - but no! You just had to do it today didn’t you. You should have listened to me when I told you to leave it alone” 

“I just wanted to clean the room, so it would make you feel less stressed!” 

“Are you listening to a single thing i’ve said? You doing the washing, taking the one jumper i needed tonight has made me stress Y/N! I told you to leave the washing last night. You said okay. You didn’t listen to me and now I don’t have the correct uniform I need for my team dinner - which in case you’ve forgotten i’m the captain of! When I tell you something, You listen because i am your captain! You listen to what I say, because I know what’s best” 

Her arms were going all over the place. 

You don’t mean to, but you stumble back, your eyes widening at your girlfriend’s tone. You had never seen her like this. Her chest rising and falling at such a rate that you were worried she’d send herself into a fit. She seems to notice her mistake almost instantly, taking a step forwards towards you, as you take one back. Her body freezing up as you continue to create space between the two of you.  

“My bad,” You look over down to the pile of clothes once more, not having the guts to look her in the eyes “I thought you were Sam.” you pause, as tears welling up but you refuse to let them fall. “Just Sam” you miss the way her face crumbles, as you quickly grab your phone and room key and exit the room. The door quickly shuts behind you, but it doesn’t hurt any less as Sam collapses on the floor - her head falling into her hands. 

..

The bar downstairs was quiet enough, a couple sitting in the back corner booth - the tv playing some old day-time tv re-run. You feel someone sit in the seat right next to you, you go to ask them to sit literally anywhere else but next to you but stop when you realise it was Katrina. 

“Hey” you start, your voice cracking, sore from the yelling that had occurred not even ten minutes ago. 

“You doing okay?” Katrina had this sort of presents about herself - so openly caring and motherly. If it had been anyone else you probably would have forced out a laugh, and answer some misleading comment to ensure them you were fine. 

Katrina was different, you knew with the way her hand came up to rub your arm, her eyes searching yours that she knew something was up. 

“No” you manage out, the tears that you had managed to keep at bay, crash right open. Falling straight into her embrace, as your shoulders shake. The soothing rubbing from her hands on your back and hair gives you moments of peace - your choking on your breathe every few seconds as you try to calm yourself down again. 

“You wanna talk? Or you just wanna be held for a little longer” 

It was things like this that made Mini so amazing - she knew exactly what to say. 

You don’t let yourself get embarrassed at how small you sounded, as you left your head resting on her shoulder “Can you hold me for a little longer?” 

“Of course” you close your eyes, letting her calm you down. 

She continues to rub her hand up and down your back, just as you had done to Sam earlier today. 

Sam. 

Sam who had yelled at you over a stupid jumper. For her stupid dinner. 

The dinner. 

Quickly jolting away from Katrina, wiping your face as you look behind her to see if you could see the into foyer. You see some of the girls standing around, wearing those stuipd jumpers. Quickly frankly you wished you’d never have to see those jumpers again. 

“You have the team dinner, what are you still doing here?” turning your attention back to the blonde in front of you. 

Katrina, turns her body to look towards the foyer too, shrugging her shoulder. 

“Bus doesn’t leave for a few more minutes” 

You let the silence fall over the two of you once more, your attention moving down to the ring on your middle finger - a ring Sam had gotten for you for christmas last year.

“Sam and I had a fight” you whispered it out, almost like saying it out loud would start it up again. You twirl the ring around, a sigh leaving your lips. “Probbaly the biggest fight we’ve ever had to be honest - and all over a stupid jumper” 

Katrina lets out a little snort, your head shooting up. 

“What?” you scoff out almost offended. 

“I doubt the fight was about the jumper Y/N” 

You go to agrue, tell her everything that was said word for word before you understood what she meant. 

“I know it’s shit that Sam blew up, especially at you - but she’s going through a rough time right now. I mean lord knows you see how much pressure she puts on herself and that loss to England wasn’t the outcome she, or any of us were hoping for.” you nod along, listening to every word she spoke. It must be the mum power or something because you were just entranced with what she had to say. “I’m not excusing what she did at all, but I think you need to remember that when the two of you talk again, which you will, that Sam isn’t angry at you, she isn’t angry about the jumper or whatever other crap she was going on about. She’s angry at herself and she’s feeling so much stress right now that she can’t properly let it out” 

You let the words sink in, knowing that what she had said was one hundred per cent true. You knew that if it had been any other day, Sam wouldn’t have given a second thought to the jumper - happily taking one of the others. But with all the added pressure of the World Cup and the loss of the trophy, you knew Sam had put all that blame and anger on herself. 

Katrina pulls you in for one more hug, rubbing your back and planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“It’s gonna be okay - I promise” 

You nodded your head as you thanked her, turning you attention back towards the bar. As much as you were upset about the fight you knew Mini was right. It was going to be okay. 

…

Sleep hadn’t come easy for you, you were so emotionally tired from the fight that not long after Katrina and the rest of the team had left you took yourself upstairs and into bed. You tossed and turned for an hour or two - the overly empty bed not helping your mind relax. 

It must have been way past ten before you finally fell asleep. You body laying on Sam’s side, you face flush with her pillow - her scent sending you to sleep. 

It couldn’t have been too much longer when you felt Sam slide in bed besides you, her arms immediately wrapping around your body and pulling you into her chest. She plants a kiss on your forehead before slotting her head down on the pillow. 

Although you wake, you’re too tired to make any sort of movement or noise to let her know you are awake. You let yourself relax in her embrace, and almost slip back off to sleep before you’re pulled back by Sam’s voice. 

“I know this is probably cowardly of me, apologising as you sleep but I can’t let today end like this.” You feel her grip tighten a little - not uncomfortable, but more noticeable. “I love you Y/N, so much. And I know I should have told you the second we got off that field after we lost how I was feeling but I just didn’t know how to get the words out and in some sick way I felt like I deserved to feel like this. So helpless. I’m so sorry I let it get this bad, and I’m so sorry that you were the one I blew up on. It was a stupid jumper - you were right. I honestly didn’t matter if I had it or not but I was just so stressed with everything else not going how it was meant to that I finally just cracked. I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself for yelling at you like that. I mean you-” 

She pauses for a second, catching her breath, you feel her body shake as you realise she’s started to cry. 

“-You flinched away from me, and god. I- I never ever want that to happen ever again. I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t. You’re it for me. I mean i got the ring to prove it, had it for months now waiting for the perfect moment. Had kinda hoped on asking with the world cup trophy in my hand but none of that matters anymore. The world cup is the world cup, they’ll be more of those - there’s no more yous.” 

You feel your heart beat faster, Sam had just practically proposed to you. 

“I love you Y/N. So so much. And i’m going to fix it all. I promise you, I will” 

She kisses you once again, her grip loosening back up. You almost convince yourself to turn your body over, so you could be face to face with her and kiss her tears away but sleep takes over before you get the chance. 

…

Something was tracing your face as you finally awoke from your slumber, a groan leaving your lips as you felt the tightness of your muscles. A small laugh causes you to freeze for a second before relaxing once again. 

Opening your eyes, you come face to face with the brown eyes you had fallen in love with. You look over her whole face, not wanting to miss an inch of it. Her top lip is in between her bottom teeth - a nervous habit of hers. 

“Good morning” you smile out, your hand resting on her cheek as you graze her face. She happily sighs into your hand - a small smile appearing on her face. 

“Good morning” she whispers back, just watching you. “How’d you sleep?” 

You nod your head, trying to convince yourself if you should tell her that you heard everything she had said the night before. Ultimately you decide against it, leaving it up to her to tell you about it or not.  

“A lil rough, but good for the most part. You?” 

She shrugs her shoulders in response, you don’t try to push. 

“Excited for the game?” 

She nods her head, her fingers still tracing your cheeks, moving down to your neck then back up to your face. “Yeah, we all talked about what we wanted out of this game and I think we have a smart gameplay set up for the night so” You nod along as she speaks, letting her control the conversation from here on out. You didn’t know how sensitive the whole situation was since last night. 

“That’s good, should be good to see you girls out there tonight” 

The conversation doesn’t seem to pick up from there, you could tell Sam was in her head, her smile gone once again. You bring you hand up to her forehead, trying to straighten out the worried lines appearing. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

“I’m so sorry about last night, I just I was so-” You cut her off with a kiss, her breath already picking up. “I know baby, it’s okay. I forgive you” 

“I- What?” 

“I forgive you” 

The look on Sam’s face makes you laugh, you can tell she’s trying to understand what just happened, as you give her another kiss - it takes her a few moments before she kisses you back. 

“But I was horrible? I yelled at you - you fliniched away from me” 

“I’m not saying what you did was right, but I am forgiving you because I understand how stressed you were. And I didn’t flinch away from you, I was more shocked than anything and my first reaction was to get away so I could sort my own feelings before I started yelling back - which wouldn’t have helped either of us” 

“So, you weren’t scared of me?” 

Your heart breaks at how small she sounds, your arms flying around her body as you pull yourself into her. 

“I was never scared of you baby, I was worried. I wanted to help you and I knew at that moment I was going to start yelling back and that was the last thing you needed. I’m sorry I made you feel like I was” 

She shakes her head, managing to pull you even closer to her. 

“You have nothing to apologies for Y/N, you were just trying to help me out and I just let one to many things get to me and lose control of everything”. 

“I know baby, but that’s what I’m here for - to share the load so you don’t have to carry everything on your own. That’s what partners do” 

She seems to nod her head in agreement - last night’s conversation coming back to your head as you pull back so you could see her face once again. 

“That’s what fiancée’s do”

Her eyes shoot up, her mouth opening. “Fiancée’s?” 

You nod your head, a smile on your lips. 

“I know you didn’t officially ask me yet, but when you do it’ll be a yes” 

And although they lost against Sweden, Sam wasn’t nearly as upset because when she walked into that change room with her teammates - all their families waiting for them with proud smiles on their faces. Sam got to walk over to her fiancée and kiss her, cheerings erupting throughout the room and she couldn’t be happier. 

(Expect maybe later that night in the shower when Y/N did exactly what she had promised the night before - sex with your fiancée is just a hundred times better.)

[cameronspecial]

hi! are you taking requests rn?

if so, i would love to read about rafe x reader with ocd like cleaning, checking windows & doors. how would he handle it? like pls soft!rafe calming her down when she’s having a meltdown after the hopper etc step inside with dirty shoes

ty<3

Dirty Floors And Wrinkly Hands

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x OCD!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

It’s a constant voice in her head. Telling her that it needs to be clean. That any possible germ could enter a family member’s or her body and get them sick. She spends so much of her day obsessing over everything being clean and then the other half just making sure she did something right. She knows the way she obsesses over things is unhealthy, but she does it to keep herself safe. To keep her loved ones safe. The compulsions are just as bad because they make her feel like she is in a constant state of déjà vu. She gets home and locks the door. As she steps away from it, she doubts that she did it properly. She locks the door again. But what if by relocking it, she did it incorrectly? She has to try again. After all, the third time’s the charm. She relocks it one more time before stepping off of the doormat. Shit. She forgot to take her shoes off before she did it. Now, the floors are dirty. The germs from her shoes are slowly infecting the whole front entry room. She takes her shoes off and heads to the laundry room. She thinks about taking the mop out, except if she uses a sponge, she can really put elbow grease into getting the floor clean. 

That’s how Rafe finds her when he gets home an hour later. She is on her knees, hunching over the tile floor. Her fingers are shrivelled up and ache from the pressure she is putting into digging the sponge into the floor. Rafe locks the door as hard as he can to reassure Y/N that he did it. He wipes his shoes on the front mat and then takes them off. Before he greets his girlfriend, he washes his hand like a surgeon. Even if she can’t see how he washes his hands, he will know he didn’t do it correctly. 

He pads back to the front room and carefully walks over the drying floor. He squats down to be closer to Y/N, cringing at the sight of her hands. He slowly reaches out to place his hands on hers. Her movement stops as she flicks her eyes over to him. “I stepped on the floor with my shoes,” she cries, trying to get back to cleaning. The corner of his lip curves a little, “And it’s okay that you did, Sweetheart. Remember what Dr. Palmer said. You only need to clean things once. The germs can’t hurt you if you do that.” “Yes, but I cleaned it and then I accidentally touched it before I washed my hands. So it made it dirty again,” she explains, wiggling her hurting fingers. Rafe shakes his head, “I understand, Sweetheart. I just saw you clean it now, so it means it is clean. Right?” She nods her head. “Then how about we go wash our hands now? It would mean your hands and the floors are clean.” He stands to his full height and offers his hand. She takes it so that she can stand as well. He leads her into the bathroom and steps back while she washes her hands. When he sees she goes to wash it again, he gently pulls her away from the sink under the guise of needing to wash his own hands. 

———

The next day, Y/N is watching TV in her living room when a knock comes at the door. Rafe calls out that he is going to get it and he lets Topper in. The boys are stuck in a conversation, so Topper forgets to take his shoes off before stepping off of the floor mat. The boys don’t notice it, yet Y/N does. They turn at the sound of her running to the laundry room. Topper looks down and notices his shoes are still on. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Man,” he apologizes as he takes his shoes off immediately. Rafe claps his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, “It’s okay. Do you mind just going into the other room while I help her out?” Topper’s head moves from side to side as he makes his way into the living room after putting his shoes away. 

She comes running back into the room with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. Rafe’s hands drop on her shoulders. “Hey, why don’t you let me clean it? You know I know how you like to get it clean and you can watch to make sure I do it right,” he offers, taking the clean tools into her hand. She quietly agrees and steps back. Her eyes observe as he follows every single step she has talked about when it comes to cleaning. He goes over every square of tile twice and puts as much pressure onto the sponge as he can. Once he is done, the nagging voice in her head has died down. He looks at her for approval and she gives him a tiny nod. He gets up, putting everything away for her. He washes his hands under her surveillance before giving her a kiss. They make their way hand and hand to the living room so they can watch TV. Y/N can’t help but thank the universe for giving her a boyfriend, who is so understanding and doesn’t mock her for her OCD.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @wickedlovely121 @starkowswife @drewsmusee @maybankslover

[fa1rydr3ams]

First Christmas Together

Shouta Aizawa x Gn! Reader

| cw: light intimacy

| a/n: day 13 of ficmas check the ficmas tab on the pixie list for the next update!

| wc: n/a

It was your first Christmas together as a couple, and everything about it felt like a new chapter. You and Shouta had been together for a while now, but between his busy work schedule and your own, this holiday marked your first real celebration as partners.

The apartment was small but cozy, decorated with string lights that glowed softly in the dim room. A small tree sat in the corner, adorned with mismatched ornaments—just how you liked it. No pressure to make everything perfect, just a warm, comfortable space to spend the day with the person you cared about.

Shouta was lounging on the couch, his favorite black hoodie draped over him, eyes half-closed in that way he did when he was relaxed. You were in the kitchen, attempting to finish off the last of your Christmas dinner prep, but the smell of roasted vegetables and something sweet was filling the apartment and making everything feel a little magical.

He hadn’t been great at gift-giving in the past, and you didn’t expect that to change this year, but it didn’t matter. The thought of having him here, of sharing this time with him, was everything you needed. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had a little surprise waiting for you.

As you put the finishing touches on dinner, you felt his presence in the kitchen doorway. “Smells good in here,” he mumbled, his voice a little hoarse from the constant use of his voice. You turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his face softening when he saw you.

“I know,” you said, smirking. “I’m cooking, and now you’re just standing there looking like you want something.”

His lips twitched into a small, half-smile, though it was quickly hidden behind a yawn. “I didn’t say I wanted anything.” He took a few steps closer, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your face. You could see the soft expression in his eyes—something unspoken but felt between the two of you.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t burn it,” he added, his tone low and teasing.

You laughed lightly, feeling the warmth of his presence around you. You leaned into his touch, and for a moment, the world outside felt distant and irrelevant. It was just the two of you, in this small, cozy space, making this day your own.

You finished dinner together, laughing over small mishaps and the quiet moments in between. The meal wasn’t perfect, but it was shared—and that was all that mattered.

Later, after dinner, you found yourselves under the soft glow of the Christmas lights, exchanging gifts. Shouta handed you a small, carefully wrapped box, his usual lack of fanfare replaced by a quiet tenderness.

You opened it slowly, and inside was a simple but thoughtful gift—an old book, one you’d mentioned wanting to read a few months ago.

“Not the most exciting gift,” Shouta muttered, looking away, “but I thought you might like it.”

You were genuinely touched. The small thoughtfulness meant more to you than any extravagant gift could. “It’s perfect,” you said softly, placing a kiss on his cheek.

A slightly awkward silence followed, but it was comfortable. Then, you gently nudged him, a mischievous grin crossing your face. “Okay, your turn.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t resist as you handed him a box of his own. He opened it to reveal a soft, hand knit blanket that was a moody dark red. The knits were big but together tightly.

“Something for when you finally take a break,” you teased, watching his face soften. He didn’t say much, but the way his hand brushed against yours, the brief moment of eye contact, said everything.

You leaned in closer resting your head on his shoulder, “I love times like this” you closed your eyes and breathed in the warm scent that came with the holiday.

You could feel him nod and relax his shoulder some. His hand made its way around your waist and he held you a bit closer. You reached for his scarf tugging it down a bit and giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

The innocent intimate moments that you both share is better than anything you may have thought you would enjoy. The TV screen flickered with a cheesy hallmark movie.

The night wrapped up with you both sitting together on the couch, the fire crackling in the background, a comfortable buzz from the TV settling between you. Aizawa, always so serious and composed, had let down his guard just enough to share this small, intimate moment with you.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He gave you that rare, small smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, happy Christmas.”

And just like that, everything felt right.

okay supa cute hope you guys like this!!

dividers by @anitalenia !!

[myntmajesty]

nsfw, minors dni. fem!reader, fem!shidou ryusei. cw unrealistic sex, idk how straps work, fem!shidou is a menace

A/N: a lil something.

You squealed as she pulled you back into her hips, splitting you open onto her fat strap. Shidou simply giggled behind you, reaching under you to pinch meanly at your nipples as she ground her hips into your ass.

“You like that, cutie?” She purred, rolling her hips once more to pull a choked whine from you as you felt her tip in your tummy. “Like it when I pin you down and make you take my strap? My cock?”

“Shidouuu~,” You groaned, trying to lift yourself off her slightly to relieve the constant pressure of her strap against your cervix. 12 inches long, hot pink, completely with the ability to cum into your pussy at the press of a button, you weren’t even sure it could fit completely in you. She sure was gonna try though.

A sob passed your lips as Shidou manhandled your hips even higher, letting gravity force her even deeper into your pussy past your cervix.

“Fuck, just wanna pound this pretty pussy baby!” She whined. “Wanna put a baby in you, see how stupid you can really get.”

Without warning she pulled out all the way before slamming back down into you, a growl leaving her glossy lips. You gasped harshly as she did it again, and again, until she had picked up a rough, fast pace, blinding you with pleasure and the feeling of her cock bruising your walls.

You screamed out as she threw a hand forward to fist your hair, wrapping it around her hand and pulling as her hot pink manicured nails dug into your scalp. Your pussy gushed at the rough treatment as she used it as leverage to fuck even harder into you, the locker room bench she was fucking you on slamming hard into the wall with every punishing thrust.

“Sh… Shidou— Shidou please, oh fuck,” You cried, not even sure what you were begging for as she pressed her lips to your ear and snickered.

“Hm? Does my baby feel good?” She purred, your cheeks turning red in humiliation. Her hand pressed hard into your lower tummy, sending a shot of pleasured pain through your lower half as she felt for her strap bulging your stomach. “Can you feel me in your guts, hmm? You like being bred, being used like your little cumslut? You know no one will ever fuck you like me, right?”

A broken sound left you as Shidou pushed a hand into the middle of your upper back to force you into an even deeper arch, your lower back absolutely aching through the pleasure as her other hand gripped your right asscheek harshly to spread it. A loud moan left her lips as she watched the way her ridiculous girth forced your hole wide open for her. You let out a pitiful whine as she pulled out suddenly, leaving you wide open and gaping.

“Look at you, pussy so ruined and clenching around nothing!” Shidou cooed, slapping your ass hard enough to leave an dark angry handprint before she used both hands to spread your asscheeks and spat a thick glob of saliva over your hole. You moaned, wiggling your hips in her grip as you felt it ooze over your cunt.

You jerked as you felt her suddenly shove 3 fingers in your pussy, trembling weakly and squirming as she fucked them hard and fast into you like you were toy, a lecherous giggle leaving her pretty lips. You sobbed once more as she ripped them away right before you tipped over the edge, resting your head on the bench.

“Please Shidou! God, I just want to cum! I can’t take anymore…” You pleaded, wiggling your hips in hopes of teasing her. Shidou’s little moan was your only warning before she flipped you over, forcing a squeal from your lips as she shoved your legs over her shoulders and placed her arms on either side of your head. She dragged her soaked cock through your folds a few times before knotting her fingers into your hair once more, forcing you to meet her magenta eyes.

“Stupid pretty little cunt, only knows my cock and cum,” Shidou growled, forcefully thrusting herself into you to the hilt as she held your gaze. You threw your head back, letting out a shriek that was undoubtedly heard outside of the women’s locker room as she began to plow into you, forcing your legs higher and scrunching you tighter into the wall with each wild thrust. “This what you want? Huh? Want me to break you, destroy your little brain so all you can do is be my little cumdump?”

You couldn’t manage words, only reaching up to desperately grip her wrist by your head and dig the fingers of your other hand into the bars of the bench below you. Cries and pleads left your lips unbidden, your soccer shorts and panties dangling precariously from your ankle where they’d remained since Shidou had ripped them from your hips like an animal.

She shot a hand to your throat, a wicked grin on her lips as she squeezed hard and fucked you straight into an orgasm, your legs kicking uselessly from their place over her shoulders. A silent scream left you, your eyes rolling back as she only fucked you with renewed vigor.

“Yeah… yeah,” Shidou panted, her pretty eyes half-lidded as they darted between your desperate expression and the way you were split around her strap. “This is how I like ya, hun. Fucked dumb and ready for my cum.”

She giggled as she reached between your bodies to press a soaked button right at the base of her strap, a cry leaving you at the feeling of hot liquid filling your pussy and undoubtedly spilling into your womb. “Gonna get you pregnant, cutie,” she huffed deliriously. “Gonna waste you on this fat cock.”

You shot your arms around her neck and dug your hands into her blonde strands as she only continued, your mixed fluids splattering on her tan thighs as white cum was forced out of your cunt and down your ass. You pressed your lips together, muffling your whimpers as overstimulation washed over you with no end in sight. So much for soccer practice.

[wrathofrats]

Mushy May Day 10- quiet nights

Aethers overwhelmed in the infirmary. Omega and delta calm him down.

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts this month!

Aethers eyes stung.

He stared at the speckled white countertop while delta whizzed past him once again to check someone’s beeping iv. His head felt fuzzy, his vision felt far away. A pressure behind his eyes he could only hope wasn’t any real tears, just exhaustion. The sterility of the air made his stomach turn, an absent thought granted to wonder when the last time he ate was.

“Hey, are you doing alright?”

A large hand rested on aethers back. Omegas voice was comforting, almost too much so. Enough that the pressure behind aethers eyes only deepened as he attempted to blink away whatever tears were forming. It shouldn’t be overwhelming, just the knowledge that omega recognized his emotions and cared, but aether can barely speak beyond the handful of napkins that felt wadded in his throat to express that he was ok.

The silence was enough for omega. He remembers his first couple months topside. Always either touring, practicing, or attempting to tend to any sick or wounded siblings. A constant rotation of activity and need. Delta also barely held it together as well when he was first thrown into the rotation of being a quint, mostly being sent down to help in the morgue. Hes always been better with them anyways.

But staff was short, and something was going around the abbey. It was just a couple minutes past midnight before they all had even gotten the chance to breathe. Aether felt as if he was holding constant pressure on a wound. Enough attention and force to hold the blood in, until it eventually stopped. The moment to calm down leaving it to bleed freely.

The beeping from down the hall stopped. Silence fell over the wing as static rushed to fill the space in aethers head.

“Just take a second aether, sit down” omega pulled out a chair and lightly pushed on his shoulder to get him to sit. Aether played with his hands nervously in his lap. He feels like he had forgotten something, like there was a mistake he missed, like there had to be something else to do.

Delta soon walked back to take his own seat in the nurses station, giving omega a concerned look over aether state.

“Jellyfish, can you grab aether some water?” Omega said quietly over his shoulder “and maybe one of the expired granola bars”

“I’m fine omega” aether finally spoke, looking up at the older ghoul. “Just a long night, I can handle it”

“It’s ok if you can’t”

Omega pulled up another chair into their little triangle when delta handed him the small snacks. It was a nice peaceful moment between them, omega wondered how many times they’d been able to sit together without it being band or work related.

“You haven’t drank any water in 5 hours. You’re upset because you’re dehydrated and hungry” delta mentioned matter of factly. Aether had to snort at the bluntness, taking a small swig of his water.

“Again, I’ll be ok. I’ll get used to it, a lot happened tonight but it’s fine” the granola bar made him cringe. The spoiled plastic taste on his tongue making him take another larger drink of water. He would have to tell papa later they needed a better supply of food back here, though he’s sure the others have mentioned it.

“Even delta still can’t handle it aeth, that’s why we banish him to the morgue. So we definitely don’t expect you to be ok with everything so soon” omega joked, sending a lighthearted smile to delta.

“I thought they sent delta to the morgue because he made the siblings uncomfortable?”

“They did” delta said

They couldn’t help but all giggle with each other, half a joke and half a truth, but delta never minded.

“You’re doing great, kid, just know that. I’m proud to have you here with us. Besides, the siblings love you”

“They do?” Aether asked

“Yeah, one earlier said that she wanted you to take her temperature with your-“

“Delta” omega warned

[catscidr]

hi helloooo hope ure doing great !! could i pls req childe who constantly flirts with a shy reader who gets super duper flustered by it ???? childe + opposites attract + mutual pining lives rent free in my head >3>

ur in luck bc i AM indeed doing great!! mostly bc i wrote this. like oh GOD i love him he's so boyfriend agshnfga writing this made me giggle and kick my legs. was actually tweaking. im so weak for him sometimes DAMMIT ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, modern/college au, idiot in love x idiot in love, crack if you squint? childe and reader r just silly. only slightly proofread because i was too excited (sue me) includes: fem!reader, childe wc: 1k

It’s not like you didn’t want to be here, stuck between two very rowdy students cheering for their friends, because you were in the bleachers for the same reason anyways; to cheer on your own friend! But you’d prefer doing it without the constant shouts coming from the other students. 

Previously, Tartaglia had insisted (read: begged) that you come watch his soccer matches, even if some were just for practice. I play better when I know you’re in the stands, he said earlier before he left you to your own thoughts, walking away to change into his uniform. It had been maybe half an hour since then and yet you couldn’t shake the conversation from your head, not when he kept meeting your gaze from the soccer field, flashing you a bright smile as he ran for the ball.

Your relationship with the redhead was a confusing one. As one of the popular students, Tartaglia naturally always had his own group of (equally popular) friends around him but, recently, he’s been hanging out with you more often. Saying something along the lines of him needing to take after you to mellow out his loud personality in comparison to your introverted one. You’d argue that it wasn’t necessary, that his energy was one of the things that drew you to him ; and as much as he likes to come up with excuses to hang out with you without you bolting in the opposite direction, you know you’ll always fall for his boyish charm, no matter how shitty his excuse is. 

The sudden sound of shouts pulls you from your thoughts, a surprised yelp leaving your lips. Focusing your attention back on the field you watch as your friend gets engulfed by a group hug, the team cheering loudly- seems like in your daydream he managed to score a goal. The two guys next to you were standing up, cheering for them enthusiastically. 

Overwhelmed by the sheer energy radiating from them, you focus your attention back on Tartaglia. He meets your eyes, his smile widening even further if it were possible, and waves at you energetically. You wave back sheepishly, cheeks flushed. 

✧✧✧ 

“I told you I play better when you’re watching!” Tartaglia says with a teasing grin, lightly pushing your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise, covering it up with a cough as you raise your fist up to your mouth to hide your bashful expression. Whether he noticed the way you stiffened at his touch or not, he does a good job not showing it. “Did a whole hat trick thanks to you. Well, the soccer equivalent of it at least...” he continues sheepishly, mindlessly fiddling with the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. 

“How does that even work, anyways? Usually, people feel more pressure when there’s a crowd watching them...” you argue quietly, matching his long strides as you walked together along campus to go back to the gym changing rooms. Most people that came to watch the match had already left, however you and Tartaglia had been stuck behind due to him getting stopped by friends and acquaintances. Which worked in your favor since you disliked dealing with large crowds. 

“Eh, I don’t care about other people. All I care about is having your pretty eyes on me,” he says with a wink. 

Your legs stop abruptly, a flush decorating your cheeks, gaze never leaving the floor as you try to get your heart to calm down. How can he say something like that so casually? Is he messing with you because he has ulterior motives or is he- 

“Heyheyhey, you doing alright over there? I didn’t break you, did I?” You hear Tartaglia calling your name, waving his hand in front of your face with a lighthearted chuckle. Pulling yourself out of your frozen state, you look up at the playful expression your friend wore, cheeks puffing out as you find yourself lacking a comeback. He notices your sullen frown and places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair playfully. 

“Oh come on, don’t sulk now!” the redhead whines, “that was tame. You and I both know I’m capable of saying much worse than that,” he declares confidently, deep blue eyes looking down at you with a playful grin. A grin that seemed to never leave his face, much to your displeasure- how were you supposed to pull yourself together when he looked like the human incarnation of the sun? 

“Don’t,” you mumble quietly, picking up the pace with your head hanging low, physically unable to face him anymore. Sure, you didn’t have the biggest group of friends and went out less than most people, but you were convinced he was shamelessly flirting with you. Why else would he be so close to you, relentlessly teasing you like this? Oh god, what if he’s like this with everyone? Maybe this is how he jokes around with his friends... Wait, speaking of Tartaglia, where did he- 

You bump into a hard surface. Opening your eyes, you’re met with a damp soccer tee, glistening muscles and freckled skin. Tilting your head up slowly, you’re met with your crush-friend-classmate-guy looking at you with raised brows and quirked up lips. He places one hand on his hip, observing your beet red face with glee. 

“I didn’t even do anything this time, princess. Everything okay?” the redhead asks with an airy chuckle. Oh god, you thought. Wish I walked into a wall instead. 

“Y-Yeah. Uh huh. Everything’s just peachy,” you respond with a thumbs up, the corners of your lips curling up into what you thought was a reassuring smile but seemed more like a nervous grimace to the soccer player. He didn’t buy your excuse. Instead of leaving it as it is, Tartaglia brings a hand up to his chin and looks up, dramatically faking a thought process. 

“Hmm... I wonder what you could have been so distracted by? Was it my arms? My charms? Or was it-” 

“Your body odor. You reek of sweat, go shower,” you squeak out, face burning as you scurry away from the source of your (delicious) torment, your heart running a marathon beneath your ribcage all the while Tartaglia laughs loudly in the hallway, speedwalking to catch up to you.

[lliminall]

(Yan) “Chrollo, why were you crying before? ….Are you alright?”

tags: gn reader, yandere, chrollo being big sad and a little bit unhinged

In the dark shadow of the room, you could almost convince yourself that Chrollo is praying as he glances up at you. Sat hunched on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded against his forehead as his dark eyes open to meet yours. It would be a funny thought, if it wasn’t so unsettling to see a man of his composure unraveling before you.

For a moment he says nothing, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything about it at all. If you should have stayed in the bathroom and pretended to busy yourself in the shower for another half hour. It feels almost violative to witness him in this state. Your hand itches to flip the switch of the bathroom light, plunge the room into darkness and wipe the image of that expression from your mind.

Chrollo stands and crosses the room in just a few short steps. His hands find rest on the curves of your cheeks, thumbs meandering along the lines of your face.

“I’ve lost someone very important to me,” he says. “Someone I should have been able to protect.”

His eyes are sad, too sad for a man of his kind. It’s wrong on his face, wrong on his body, for someone who’s caused so much grief to be crumbling under the weight of it himself.

“One of your friends again?” you ask.

“Yes,” Chrollo answers with a sad smile. “One of my oldest friends. And there is someone on this boat who is determined to take more from me.”

Your stomach churns nauseatingly. You aren’t sure if it’s the motion of the sea or the man in front of you causing it. Chrollo pulls you into his body, pressing his forehead against yours. He looks at you like he wants to absorb you through his skin. Catalog every detail, every sight, sound, and touch of you in the library of his mind. It feels too much like he’s bracing to lose it. To lose you.

“I see now that I’ve been an idiot,” he says. “Arrogant. An arrogant fool. I didn’t understand how close I was to losing all of you.”

Nausea. Cold, creeping nausea. You want him to drop this unfamiliar act, to become the strong and unwavering force he has always been to you. He can’t be weak. He’s made himself into the only support you have, and he can’t be weak now.

Something sharpens in his gaze.

“But I won’t make the same mistake again. I’ve been weak before, in a long distant past. Did you know that?” He smiles at you as you shake your head. “No, and I won’t be again, now or any time in our future.”

His hands tighten around your face.

“I will be anything, become anything, do anything it takes to keep what belongs to me.”

Nausea. Nausea. Your hands press against his chest in a weak attempt to put space between yourself and this man you don’t recognize. He can’t be this now. Fraying at the ends. He has to be your only constant. Your strong and unbroken constant.

At the pressure on his chest, Chrollo seems to find himself again. The edge in his eyes softens and he’s looking at you again like you’re his favorite dog, shivering while the thunder rages just outside your shelter. Firm hands press your face into the warmth of his chest.

“Chrollo, please. You’re scaring me.” The tremble of your voice muffles into the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t be afraid, love,” he says. “Nothing is going to to take you from me. And if he tries to—“ his breath catches with a wave of emotion. The fingers in your hair tighten.

The air around you becomes thick with something powerful and suffocating, something cold and cruel that makes your joints lock and skin prickle. It fades as quickly as it comes, and Chrollo breathes slowly, deeply beside you. His hand caresses your hair in slow strokes, an imitation of comfort that does more to ground himself than to sooth you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cause you to worry about this.” Warm lips press into the crown of your head before he tugs you away from his body to look into your eyes. “You’re safe with me. You always are.”

There’s a knock on the door. He leaves you to turn and pluck his coat from the bed, taking the warmth of his body with him, and you are left standing in the chill of the room with cold skin and damp hair.

“I’ll only be gone a moment,” he says. “Dry yourself off quickly. We’ll be moving rooms again tonight.”

He steps into the hallway where another voice greets him, and the door clicks shut behind him.

Your hair is dripping onto the tile beneath your feet. Chrollo’s voice fades into the depths of the hallway, further, further, until it’s gone.

You lock the door with shaking hands.