#gifts fer me

[alixcitement]

heeyyyit’s weird but many years ago I used to follow your WoY drawings and I like your style a lot! now that I can draw I can gift you my fav OC of yoursI hope you like it!

Nothing weird about liking a thing, mate! Thank you for the awesome fan art! B;D Glad to know she’s still relevant even after all these years 💝

[alixcitement]

HOLY CRAP! They look so freakin' cool AND pointy!!! (I even have physic powers in this hehe) Thanks for the kick-ass b-day gift, my gurl! ツ👍

Alixcitement's Birthday Adventure 2!!!

starring @alixcitement

don't ask about aba1...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

REAL AND ROTATABLE!

Thank you so much to my wonderful and talented friend Coy, who made this! This is now my most treasured belonging!

[skalidris]

thought of reading some danmei after a while to give my brain a break from mlc only to be forcefully reminded how many fucking danmei-tropes they slapped into that damn show

[rosetintedgunman]

( @stageplayhero , @xshatteredreflectionsx )

Wilford shrugged. "These blogs have had th' worst luck when it comes ta romance over th' years. If I wanna get some sorta self-indulgence I gotta go find it somewhere."

[paint-the-walls-white]

I don't share

Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader

Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..

Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!

König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,

"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.

"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.

"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"

König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."

Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.

"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.

"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"

He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.

"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.

He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.

The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.

You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.

König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.

He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.

"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"

The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.

"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"

You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.

"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.

"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.

"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.

"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.

König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.

He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.

"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"

"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."

König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.

"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."

You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.

"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.

"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."

He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.

You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.

He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin

"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"

"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."

You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.

"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."

You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.

König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.

A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.

"Braves Mädchen.."

You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.

"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."

Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.

He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.

"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.

You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.

He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."

He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.

König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.

"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."

He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.

"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."

König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.

"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.

He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus..

You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."

His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.

[quarterlifekitty]

Expanding on your nasty Soap.

His birthday week he makes you wear the same pair of underwear the entire week saying some stupid shit like "Its a gift" to coax you into agreeing with such, and even makes you wear them till the end of the day on his birthday to make sure he really gets the full week experience.

follow up, i think abt like if soap was an incel he'd 1000% be like that guy on youtube who buys used panties and then reviews them, not like he'd make videos like that (Soap would) but like he'd for buy used panties if he was an incel. (Shoot might write for this one on my blog)

If you write that…. Tell me 👀

Also, I forgot where I originally saw this concept— but I love the idea that Soap is terminally not get fucked and terrible with women because he’s just too intense. Doesn’t know how to turn the freak off. He tries to sink his teeth in straight away— doesn’t realize that you’re supposed to raise the temperature slowly so the frog doesn’t jump out, etc.

Like, you could meet him for the first time and he’d open with “Give ye twenty quid fer the panties yer wearin’ right now. Name’s Johnny, by the way. Anyone ever tell ye tha’ ye smell like pure heaven? Be willin’ tae bet yer pussy smells even better. ” And he’s already half hard.

[fictionismyreality3]

Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So were Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon knocked but didn't wait for Price to answer before he barrelled into his office. Four heavy footfalls carried him over to the desk on which he dumped an open parcel.

"Wossis?"

"Good fuckin' evenin' to you too," Price grumbled as he threw his biro down and leaned forward to peer into the brown packaging.

It was a small hamper of teas from Whittards of Chelsea, a flat cap and a Barbour scarf, all wrapped up in neat brown paper. Price reached for the label on the side and turned it over to see 'Simon' written in a neat hand he would recognise anywhere.

Price grinned crookedly as he slumped back in his chair, hands folded over his belly. "S'a gift, Simon. He's courtin' ya. This," he gestured vaguely at the hamper, "is what he does."

Simon stared at Price intensely for a long moment, both palms planted on the desk like they were pouring over a particularly difficult blueprint, and then back down at the collection of items. "A flat cap," he said, finally. "Is he takin' the piss?"

"S'the accent. You sound like ya up at Billingsgate for five every mornin'. Probably figured you had a few knockin' about."

Simon's eyes narrowed on Price, gauging him for sincerity. Broad shoulders squared as he straightened, thick arms folding over his chest as his chin tucked down. "Wot does he expect in return? I already bend over fer him."

"Nothin'. Least nothin' he's ever asked me for an' he's been doin' this t' me for years, even before it all became official."

"Hm."

"If you don't like 'em--"

"I like 'em."

"Then stop bein' a grumpy cunt and get outta my office, 'm busy."

Simon gathered his gifts up, turned to leave, and then doubled back to rub his masked face over Price's beard, scenting him, before finally departing. Price shook his head, muttering something about fuckin' alphas and betas and their bullshit, and returned to work. If he was smiling quietly for the rest of the shift, then that was nobody's business but his.

Two days later, Nikolai stepped into Price's flat to pick them up for dinner and Price watched him puff up, his face lighting up with a smile as he looked past Price's shoulder.

Simon, who had been looking for some cologne in the bedroom moments before, stepped out with his scarf wrapped around his neck and the lower half of his face, flat cap pulled down low.

"I am glad you like them," Nik said softly to Simon after he had scented Price.

"They're olrigh'," Simon murmured, fixing Nik with his standard level stare. Nik chuckled, bumping his forehead into Simon's jaw, Simon leaned in with a soft chuff, letting Nik scent him, and Price just felt all sorts of warm and fuckin' squishy on the inside watching the two men he loved deepen their bond.

[random-thot-generator]

Simon is slow to share his past with Johnny, but sometimes he'll share memories that are 'safe'.

One memory he shares is about the cuddly toy he had as a little boy. His grandmother gave it to him when he was still in nappies, and he'd kept it for years after she passed because it reminded him of her.

"Bloody thing was ugly as sin," he'd muttered, describing it. "S'posed t'be a penguin, but it had bald patches an' a missin' eye, beak all chewed up an' smashed in its face." He huffed a laugh. "Kinda like mine is now."

When Johnny asked what became of it, a pained look crossed Simon's face, a slight blush riding high on his cheeks.

"Guess I was close t'ten. Still had the ratty ol' thing, kept it hidden under the mattress. Sometimes I'd get it out if I had a bad dream. Helped me get back t'sleep." He shrugged, embarrassed. "Was too old t'be sleepin' with cuddlies, least tha's wha' m'dad said. He caught me wiff it one night, took it away, ripped it apart. Tol' me only babies slept with cuddlies."

He went quiet for a moment, then blew out a breath. "Tha' old teddy on the bookshelf, tha' was yers?"

"Aye. Da bought in a gift shop fer me after mam had me. Had ever since."

Simon nodded. "'S good ya kept it."

Three weeks later, Johnny's on loan to another task force and calls Simon, who's at home. During their video call, he spies his old teddy bear poking out of the bedcovers near Simon. He doesn't say anything, but it chokes Johnny up.

Next mission they're apart, it's Simon who's out and Johnny's home. He calls to check in to find that Johnny's relaxing in bed, drawing. Perched on Simon's pillow beside him is a brand new plushie, a fuzzy black and white penguin with yellow feet and beak.

"Wha's tha' on the pillow?"

Johnny grabs it and holds it in front of the camera, grinning wide. "Saw it an' it reminded me of ye. Had t'get it. Sleep wi' him while yer gone. Makes me feel better."

They ended up buying each other tinier versions to keep tucked away in a pocket when on assignment.

And no one dares say anything to the scary lieutenant when they see him sleeping with a wee bear clutched in his hand.

-

[shotmrmiller]

Valentine's day with Pathetic!Simon

You should've known Johnny had been serious when he talked to you that morning.

"LT's never had anyone to gift fer Valentine's. Just...let him give ye the flowers 'n accept the chocolates, aye?"

Simon stood in front of you, pinning you in place with his beady gaze, a bouquet of red roses in his clenched fist.

The ends of them look torn. You really hope he didn't just rip these off of someone's front yard.

He interrupts your inner musings by forcefully presenting them to you— velvet petals brushing your lips, causing you to jerk your head back slightly.

Allllrighty then.

Tenderly, you raise your hands and grab them— encircling the base of the rose just above his hold.

"Thank you for these, Simon. They're very beautiful," you croon. His delivery might be awkward, but you truly are grateful for them. Every individual rose is pristine, colours vibrant, stems strong and firm— not a brown petal nor wilted leaf in sight.

They're perfect.

Until your fingers are pricked by something pointed.

What?

You let go quickly and turn your hands up to inspect them. Sure enough, there's blood beading up on some of your fingertips, and the soft flesh of your palms.

And you grab Simon's wrist to lift the bouquet to eye level.

Thorns.

They're everywhere, and Simon's knuckles are white from how tight he's holding the roses.

"Jesus! Simon! You've got to be kidding me! Put them down!" As you let him go, you quickly spin around to fetch your first aid kit, but a forceful grip on your shoulder stops you in your tracks and spins you right back around.

"Just get a vase for them," he rumbles.

In disbelief, you protest, "What? No! You need—" but he swiftly interrupts you, his grip on your shoulder tightening marginally.

"What I need is f'you to get a vase." His firm response is resolute.

"O-okay, I...I er, got a few under the sink." With a silent stride, Simon stays close behind you, his hand that had touched your shoulder now curling around the back of your neck— only letting go when you reach for the sink base.

Placing it on the countertop, you ask him if he would now put them down.

"No. Fill it with water."

Simon nods when you do as he says, then drops them inside the vase— and you can't look away as red furls inside the once-clear water, turning it pink.

He clears his throat, catching your attention, and when you turn to face him, Simon's handing you something else.

It's a flattened snickers bar. You can see caramel peeking out from one corner, and the wrapper is streaked with some of his blood.

Delicately, you grab it with your thumb and index by the sticky edges and place it on a paper towel.

"How did you know that snickers are my favorite?" Simon doesn't answer, only looks at you unnervingly expectantly.

Right. Let him give me the flowers and chocolate.

"Thank you so much for all of this, Simon. Happy Valentine's Day."

He lets out a deep sigh (of relief?) and opens long arms. You walk up to him, wrap your arms around his waist— the side of your head flat on his broad chest— and let out an undignified squawk when you feel your spine pop as he returns the hug.

You blatantly ignore the bulge firmly pressing itself into the soft flesh of your lower stomach, and definitely don't think about how large it feels.

"Happy Valentine's Day, pet."

Later, Johnny laughs so hard that he cries when he sees the rust-colored streaks of blood on the Snickers wrapper.

"Simon's an intense man, what can ah say?"

[cumikering]

Gym bro Soap x reader 2

3.4k | angst You were perfect for each other, couldn’t you see? (part 1) (part 3)

Johnny didn’t want to admit he started wearing tighter shirts to the gym for you - the ones that underlined the width of his broad chest and stretched over the generous bulge of his biceps.

He, too, found excuses to respectfully lean into you from behind, be it to help you with the pulldown bar or with reracking your weights. He might have imagined you stealing a glance or two at his arms, but he prayed that he was the one making you chew on your lip.

Like then, when he stood a little closer as he held your gaze for more than a few moments. This was working, wasn’t it? Wait until he busted out his compression shirts.

“Are you free Saturday fer dinner? I want to take you to that Italian near the park.”

“Oh, but that’s so expensive!”

“We’ve been consistent with our workouts, and yer making wonderful progress.” He shot you a reassuring smile. “I think we deserve to celebrate.”

“You know we can go to other places, yeah? It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

“Aye, but I want to go there with you. Please, hen?”

You averted your pretty eyes before nodding. He’d never get tired of calling you hen. If he knew he had that effect on you, he’d have started far sooner with the nicknames.

As the butterflies stirred in his belly, he balled his fist as to not reach out to cup your face like he’d wanted to for too long.

Saturday couldn’t have come sooner, but that morning Johnny’s body weighed a ton as he dragged himself out of bed. However, when you smiled when he walked into the gym, he forgot the odd ache of his body for a moment. You both stretched and warmed up before proceeding with each other’s routine.

But when he could barely complete a set, he knew something was up. He reracked his weights with an irritated grunt.

“You alright, Johnny?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“Feelin’ a bit off today.” He reached back to massage his tense shoulder.

“You do look a bit pale actually. Are you going down with something? Are you burning up?”

“No, don’t think so.”

You placed a hand on his forehead, and he would be lying if his stomach didn’t flip from the contact. Could a blush induce a fever?

“You seem fine, but I think you better get back and rest. Don’t want to injure yourself.”

“But… we’re still on fer dinner, yeh?”

“Don’t worry about that! We can go when you feel better.”

He lit up. “Ye know what’s goin’ t’make me feel better? My maw’s stew.”

He could cook and impress you with his mum’s recipe. Your weekly shopping was in order anyway.

Johnny did light cardio as he waited for you to finish your workout. While you cleaned up before going to the supermarket, he made sure nothing embarrassing or incriminating was on the floor or surfaces of his flat.

When he knocked on your door 30 minutes later, you emerged in comfy clothes and damp hair. You looked like you’d give wonderful cuddles, just what he needed when he was under the weather.

“Johnny, I almost forgot. I got you this.” You handed him a papercraft kit. “It’s Edinburg castle. I thought of you when I saw it.”

He gasped, clutching the gift to his chest. You thought of him? “Thank you so much, hen. I love it.”

You gave him one of those smiles again in reply. Well, he definitely had a fever now.

As you strolled through the cereal aisle, Mrs. Mactavish called back.

“Ye alright, Johnny? Ah was just in the garden.”

“No bother, maw. Am feelin’ a bit ill. Wanted tae ask for yer stew recipe.” He picked up another box of cereal to read its nutrition label on the back.

“Ye mean… yer cookin’?”

“Aye.”

There was a pause. “How..?”

His brows furrowed, placing the box back on the shelf. “What d’ye mean how?”

“Johnny,” she said gently, concern in every word. “Don’t ye remember wha’ happened last time?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggle.

“Maw! I will not leave it this time. Promise! Now, can I get the recipe?”

“Alrite, alrite, I’ll send a photo,” she relented. “But don’t say I didn’t warn ye!”

He grumbled a thanks before his mum hung up.

He turned to you with a grimace. “I promise am no tha’ bad.”

“Well, you know I’m not that good at it either,” you said with a chuckle. “I need to step up my cooking game.”

“Only one partner needs t’be good at it anyway.” He shrugged. “Been told I’m a fast learner.”

You blinked.

“I mean,” he sputtered, cheeks heating up. “Find someone who can cook, if you can’t, ye know.”

Was his game off when he was ill? He grabbed two boxes of his usual cereal and rounded the corner into the next aisle.

You finished up and got the ingredients needed. Back at his flat, you helped him greatly with the recipe (you caught him almost burning the meat, and once more, the onions). Didn’t higher heat mean faster cooking?! No matter what you said, you were still better than him, even that it was a pathetically low bar to begin with.

The incidents didn’t help his morale. Despite the comforting smell of home that wafted in the kitchen, he kept peering nervously into the simmering pot as both of you cleaned up. After the stew had thickened, you both grabbed a spoon for a sample. While you hummed in delight, Johnny’s shoulders sagged. It tasted nothing like his mum’s.

“Please don’t tell ma maw I messed it up,” he pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “I promise the recipe isn’t shite,”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s mediocre at best.”

“No, I think it’s really good! I like it,” you reassured. “I’ll make some garlic bread to go with it.”

A relieved smile teased his lips. You always knew how to make him feel better. “You’ll have to taste the real thing.”

“I’d love to.”

You really should have been extra careful with the things you said, because how could he not imagine taking you back home to meet his parents now?

Unfortunately, Johnny felt worse by the evening.  On the couch with a runny nose, he grumbled to himself about not being able to go out for dinner with you.

“It’s alright, Johnny. We’ll go next weekend, in time for your deployment too.” You placed the steaming mug of tea on the coffee table and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you want me to get takeout instead? Or I can cook something if you want.”

He should get sick more often.

“Actually, I’d like it if you could cook something, please. But only if ye want tae.”

Johnny wanted to help with dinner, but you insisted he worked on the papercraft at the dining table instead. He chuckled, feeling like a little boy being kept busy with his toys. He didn’t hate the feeling. It was wonderful to be pampered, being fussed over by you, only to be rewarded with some godly carbonara.

“Why’d ye say yer a bad cook?” he asked after his first bite.

You shrugged. “My family don’t usually like my cooking.”

“Missin’ out. They’re all missin’ out. I’ll eat this every day.” He shoved another forkful into his mouth.

He thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have to learn how to cook after all, lest be burnt the kitchen down. He could always compensate by doing the cleaning.

You took care of Johnny over the weekend, bringing him hearty meals to share. You even kept him company as he continued working on the papercraft. Having you at his doing your own thing, lounging around on his couch existing together… It was hard to not imagine that you lived there with him. Like you were a permanence of his life, just taking care of the sick love of your life.

He was, wasn’t he? Oh God, the fever was making him extra delusional.

You sent him little texts at work over the week. While he giggled and kicked his feet as he clutched his phone, he didn’t miss the way Gaz nudged Ghost at the other end of the rec room.

“He’s trying real hard to crawl out of the friendzone,” the sergeant quipped with a laugh.

Johnny gave him the stink eye, but he couldn’t blame Kyle. He was just jealous he had no pretty little thing making sure he was eating and drinking enough, let alone one who would wait for him at home with a warm meal.

You were doing just that, weren’t you? You cooked extra for so he could eat healthier and didn’t have to fuss about dinner. Thanks to your care, he recovered fast; he only had to skip another workout before getting back to his routine.

The following Saturday night, the anticipated dinner finally came. Johnny dressed up in a crisp button down and had gone to the barber the day before and even got his boots polished.

Did you understand how important this was to him? He wasn’t living another night without you knowing his intentions, especially after how selfless you’d been when taking care of him. He was going to make you feel like the only woman in the world.

But when you opened the door of your flat, he froze. You looked gorgeous in your outfit, it made his knees weak. He almost forgot the mission he was on because he needed to bury his face in a pillow and let out a squeal.

He cleared his throat, blinking as he struggled to keep his eyes off yours. “Wow, y- you look lovely, hen.” He didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but how could he not stare?

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead biting down a smile as you locked up.

He swallowed. It took everything to not pull you in for a kiss. He could already imagine how perfectly his hands would fit on your waist.

When he opened the door of his SUV for you, you mumbled a thanks. He wished you acknowledged his attire too, but the way he caught you glancing from the corner of his eye as he drove was enough of a compliment. You were very welcome to ogle. Would it help if he unbuttoned a few buttons?

Sat in a quiet corner, you admired the interior of the restaurant and how polite everyone was. He would never get tired of seeing that enthusiasm in your bright eyes as the conversation flowed.

“You been here before, Johnny?” you started after the waiter had left.

He shook his head as he raised his wine glass. “Was saving it for something special.”

“Which is?” You followed suit.

“You finally hit another lat pulldown PR,” he teased, clinking his glass against yours.

You laughed before taking a sip.

He was used to flirting to be liked and noticed, but with you, he didn’t need to. It was a blessing to be in your presence that his instinct was to admire you and be in the moment. You made him feel like he was enough without having to be anyone else. Was this the reason it was so effortless to be around you?

Unfortunately, the pasta you ordered didn’t turn out to be the best. You didn’t have to tell him - he’d grown familiar with the small tells of your face.

“I think we should order something else. This doesn’t look like enough food.”

“No, no! It’s plenty.”

“Want to have more of mine?” he pushed his plate of risotto closer to you.

“That’s fine, Johnny. It’s your favourite.”

“But you like it more.” He swapped your plate with his. “And we can always come back.”

You gave him a apologetic smile, your shoulders sagging. You didn’t have to feel so bad. The night was all about you anyway, and he was more than happy to ensure you enjoyed your time.

The both of you lingered after dessert. You never seemed uncomfortable with him, but that night the air around you was different, like you were even more open and loose. He could see in the way you leaned in more and held his gaze longer. He scooted his seat closer to the table, his stomach fluttering each time you laughed at his jokes.

Please, please, never stop. It was his favourite sound ever.

With his belly and heart full, you headed home. He wordlessly offered you his arm, but you didn’t seem to notice with the way you averted your gaze when he called you hen or bon. He didn’t mean to! They rolled off his tongue, because he meant every word.

At your door, he grasped your keys from your soft hand and helped you with it.

“Thanks so much for dinner, Johnny. I had such a good time.”

He couldn’t help return the grin. “Pleasure’s all mine, hen. I’m just happy you said yes.”

He didn’t like getting ahead of himself, but this was going fantastically well, wasn’t it? They way you looked at him with those eyes… Did you know what you were doing to him, how fast his heart raced for you?

John Mactavish was just a man.

Maybe he’d get to kiss you soon. Maybe even next week, before his deployment.

However, the optimism didn’t last very long. Because when he stepped in for a hug, you jumped and hurried past your door, closing it behind you with a frantic goodnight.

Johnny blinked. What the fuck just happened? You just said you enjoyed the night. Had he read it all wrong?

He turned on his heels as he blinked fast, hoping it was enough to keep the brimming tears at bay as his chest seized.

Radio silence replaced his joyful days with you.

Johnny tried not to think too much about you, or the fact that you didn’t even text in the following days. He didn’t either – how could he recover from that night? Even the day before he was to ship out, he didn’t allow himself to wonder why you didn’t reach out to arrange something with him like you always did.

But as he lay in bed, with a heavy heart that wouldn’t allow his mind to stop reeling, his phone buzzed with your text.

Wishing you all the best for tomorrow. Take care

He squinted. Did this mean more than what it looked like? Were you brushing this under the rug? He stared and stared at his phone until his head hurt before sighing.

Thanks

It was impossible you didn’t notice the shift – you wouldn’t be this way otherwise, as if keeping him at an arm’s length. It was a hard pill to swallow, but it couldn’t be any more obvious now that you weren’t interested. He just wished it wouldn’t hurt this much, like getting shot in the stomach with a bullet that kept digging and digging.

He was gone for weeks at a time. Did his deployments get in the way of his progress with you, that you had to warm up to him all over again every time he came back? Did he miss his chance? Did the chemistry dwindle over the months? Did you, like most women, not want long-distance? Did you find someone else, someone who treated you better than him?

The longing gazes he could have sworn you shot him had all been in his head. It was clear now you weren’t taking things slow, let alone playing games.

You were simply uninterested.

When Johnny came back weeks later, out of courtesy, he picked up a new gym schedule as to not cross paths with you.

He didn’t text, and you didn’t either. His days with you were gone – the laughter, the quiet afternoons sketching, but the memories remained close to his heart. They pricked more often than not.

Distance was imperative to move on, but he still found it hard to breathe sometimes – his chest heavy with the ache to see your smile. The photos he had of you couldn’t hold a candle to how beautiful you were in real life.

He had no one but himself to blame. As soon as he knew he couldn’t have you, he should have backed away, protected himself, especially when his feelings wouldn’t fizzle after the months. Instead, he was too soft to walk away, settling for any shred of you.

You were perfect for each other, couldn’t you see? You motivated each other, pushing each other to be better. I think I’m in love you, he’d muse to himself as he looked at you. Sometimes the need to say it out loud made him want to cry, like he was choking on the words.

He could have said them outright - maybe he should have, he was a grown man, for fuck’s sake! But he never did, because deep down he knew you’d run. So he carried on, with his feelings buried deep, avoided like a tin of radioactive waste welded shut.

It was undeniable having you out of his life was torture, but it will pass. Eventually. Hopefully. Still, for all the joy you’d brought him, there was not a regretful bone in his body.

What he didn’t expect, though, was how soon this would end.

You, on the other hand, never imagined even a fraction of the depth of Johnny’s feelings towards you.

The radiant Scot didn’t seem like one to be sentimental. He was happy go lucky and… friendly. Attractive men always were, especially when they had such an easy, charming smile. You didn’t want to flatter yourself - and shouldn’t - by thinking this was anything more than platonic. You weren’t his type, and you were smart enough to not fall for someone you could never have.

He was a good man, but not good for your if you caught feelings, so you tried not to. Keyword tried.

It was impossible when he was right there. He was irresistible with that boyish smile you couldn’t help but return. He kept your spirits up with his boisterous laugh and funny stories, and those sky blue eyes… ever grounding on your worst days. Whenever you had an issue, he was the first to offer help. He made the effort to be there for you in any way he could, even when he was away.

It was a slippery slope, and you were losing the battle fast. Before you knew it, his text was the first thing you looked for when you woke, and he was the last thing on your mind before drifting to sleep.

It was the way he called you hen, wasn’t it? There was something in his powerful yet gentle voice, like he meant it just for you as he looked into your eyes.

You played with fire. You chose to be around him knowing you couldn’t have him, and it was your fault you got burnt at the end.

You couldn’t be happier when he invited you out to such a nice place. It meant the world to you that he’d dressed up and was so accommodating about you not liking the dish you ordered. You could almost pretend it was real – that you mattered - even when it didn’t mean a thing to him.

With a smile and a sunny personality like that, he could have anyone, and you were nothing more than his neighbour and gym buddy.

Still, you didn’t mean to dodge his embrace that night, because of course, you’d wanted it. You wanted his gorgeous eyes to bore into yours before kissing you, just like in your daydreams. But in the midst of telling yourself to be realistic and get over your own feelings, him stepping in caught you off guard.

Why did you have to make it weird, you screamed at yourself. It was a friendly embrace; it wouldn’t have worsened your feelings anyway. You wanted to crawl into a hole. You’d ruined your friendship, without so much as the relief of a confession.

But you’d be fine. You’d get over it eventually, like you always did. You just had to put your big girl pants on.

When the wound had healed, maybe you could be friends once more without having to worry about getting your heart broken.

Masterlist Possessive best friend Soap

@tiredmetalenthusiast @astraluminaaa @noicedog @devcica @ray-rook

@loveergirll @marvelssssssss @wannabhere @vmaxis @asbestos-n-asbesties

@teranyaa @sinelity @solemnlyswearss @rip-cod-brainrot @dilf-luvr-4evr

@eve-lie @cloudynoxx @maskfan25 @winnieb00 @wyverns-and-songs

[miiyas]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIYA !!

little birthday moments with him.

wc: 482, 401, post-ts, fluff, gn reader, may be ooc, slight proof read

ATSUMU MIYA loves his birthday. he’s very vocal about it, bragging to everyone about how he gets to have osamus homemade vanilla-yuzu cake and how he was going to get absolutely wasted with him today. and as much as he loves all the attention and gifts, he also loves you.

everywhere he goes, there always would be a reference to you. your favorite drink, the restaurant you so desperately want to go to, favorite shopping brand, the bundle of smiski blind boxes atsumu always finds himself buying for you— everything reminds him of you.

now, despite his actions towards you, atsumu isn’t one for cheesy sentimentals. he thinks he’d rather suffer through sakusas earful lecture of cleaning his room and which sanitizing products are best for his shared home with you then admit that he’s soft for sweet affection and care. so when you give him his small birthday present after his actual party, he’s a caught a little off guard.

“savin’ best fer last, huh ? what’didya get me ?” he hums, leaning against the bed frame. he watches you crawl back atop of his waist, big hands coming to rest on your hips as you hold the small wrapped gift. it’s dark in your shared bedroom with the only source of light being from a lamp by your bedside.

atsumu almost reluctantly slips his hands off your sides and gently takes ahold of the present. it was no bigger than his palms, maybe a bit smaller, and it lacked weight. with sleep on his mind, the blonde carefully peels off the wrapping with blunt nails, tired eyes widening as he sees a small golden locket drop onto his stomach.

“it’s a keychain.” you whisper to him, picking it up and handing it back in his bigger hands.

“i wanted to get you a necklace so we can match, but i figured because of volleyball, you wouldn’t be able to wear it around as much.”

as you explain, you could see your boyfriends eyes prick up with tears ever so slightly which only engulfed panic in your system. the blonde brushes it of, telling you that he ‘ain’t cryin’ !’ and thumbs the tears away, opening the locket with a hand with a soft click.

“.. there’s nothin’ inside..” he mumbles, a little disappointed to not see your pretty face already displayed. that’s when you tug out your matching necklace already looped around your neck, opening it up to show its similar emptiness.

“i wanted to print stuff out with you tomorrow. y’know, i have your face on mine and—”

“i have yers on … mine.” atsumu finishes the sentence for you, his words a little drifted off as his thumb grazes along the intricate lines on the metal.

atsumu knows for a fact that he fell first and harder, and he can’t help but feel it happen all over again.

OSAMU MIYA doesn’t wish for a lot of things on his birthday.

the only few things he wishes for are for the prices of onigiri ingredients to go down, find a bigger mattress for the two of you, and maybe get sponsored by a good kitchen utensil company and get some free goods. other than that, he likes to think that he’s content with the things already given in life.

he also wishes for people to stop teasing him for taking the second slice of his own cake.

there’s been a small birthday ritual the twins had been doing since they were younger— to give the first and second slice they cut to the people they care about the most.

first slice would always and forever belong to their ma, no matter what. that much would never change. second slice normally was given to one another, but osamu had soon gone irritated with the fact that his brother would always purposely make him take the best slice, only to hand it off later. so overtime, osamu had began to claim the better slice for himself, saving it and giving the third slice to his twin.

he doesn’t think he’s being greedy, just reasonable and fair.

but after starting to date you, he subconsciously sees himself handing you the first bite to all his meals, sharing a bento box when normally he would glare at those who want a bite, and letting you enter the kitchen whenever he’s at work in it which is a surprise in itself.

so when greedy-glutton osamu hands you the second slice to his cake, you’re a little taken aback.

“.. want me to hold onto it for you ?”

you sit right beside him by the table and osamu shakes his head, sliding the plate closer in front of you. there’s a soft look behind his pretty hooded eyes that makes your ears burn red, the atmosphere around you growing quiet until it was just your boyfriend voice you could hear.

“i wan’cha ta have it.”

you blink, eyes wide as you watch your boyfriend continue to slice through the cake with his twin before handing the slice to one another. your lashes flutter as you look down at the plate, you realize how generous of an amount you had received.

osamu likes to say ‘i love you,’ but he loves to show it more.

[dixons-sunshine]

Doggie Bath | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was bath time for your daughter. However, she refused to take a bath unless Dog bathed first, and the furry companion refused to comply with Daryl's requests. Luckily, Dog loved you and would easily comply with your wishes.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Post Bridge (Not mentioned, but Rick doesn't go missing and the Leah plot never happened, hence Daryl being in Alexandria.)

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes towards the end.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/n: I don't know what this is. I had an idea pop up and I tried to get it written down, but not very well lol. However, I hope you like this!

“Dog, c'mon. Jus' this once, buddy,” Daryl practically pleaded with his furry companion, desperately trying to lead Dog towards the bathtub and into the water, but to no avail. “I'll cook ya a squirrel if ya do this fer me.”

In your arms, your three year old was happily giggling as she watched her dad struggle due to something she requested. “Go, Doggie, go!” Hazel happily babbled as she clapped her hands for added emphasis. “Pick up, Daddy. Put in water.”

You were seated on the closed lid of the toilet with Hazel in your arms as you watched in amusement as your husband struggled with the big dog. “Yeah, babe, pick him up. Put him in the water.”

Daryl shot a small glare in your direction. “The hell ya think I've been doin'?” Dog suddenly barked loudly, making Daryl flinch and your daughter burst out into laughter. Daryl looked at Hazel with a playful glare, but the smile on his lips betrayed his true emotions. “Oh, s'this funny to ya, Hazelnut? How 'bout I put ya into the bathtub first?”

Hazel gasped and hid her face in your neck. “No! Mama, Daddy mean. He promised. He breaking promise.”

You let out a small chuckle and rubbed her back affectionately. You looked at Daryl and shared a smile with him. “You can't break your promise to our daughter, Dar.” Your eyes moved down to look at Dog, who defiantly laid on the ground with no intention of setting his paws into the water. “The deal was Dog, and then Hazel. You can't go back on your word now.”

Daryl groaned in frustration. “He won't fuckin' listen. He—” Daryl suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, all colour draining from his face. His eyes flickered back to Hazel, praying for the first time in his life; he really prayed that Hazel hadn't heard his little slip up. However, Hazel appeared ignorant to his mistake, making Daryl sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

You laughed and lowered Hazel from your lap and onto the floor, handing her your necklace to play with. “Stay here, baby. Mama needs to help Daddy bathe Dog. Daddy can't do it without Mama's help.”

Hazel giggled and started toying with the arrow on the necklace you gave her to play with—a gift that had been given to you by Daryl many years ago.—and nodded. “Mama gonna get it right. Daddy learn from Mama.”

Daryl smiled fondly down at his daughter and shook his head. “Ya have a lot'a faith in yer dear ol' dad, huh?” He stepped back and allowed you to approach Dog, who excitedly wagged his tail and nudged his nose into your hand. “Good luck with tha', Sunshine. If he ain't gon' listen to me, wha' makes ya think—” With little to no effort, you urged Dog into the bathtub, the puppy in a grown dog's body excitedly splashing around in the water, nearly soaking both you and Daryl . Daryl sighed and shook his head. “I thought ya were on my side, Dog. Fu—Freakin' traitor.”

You laughed and scratched Dog's chin. “Good boy.” Dog barked happily and moved around in the water, luckily making no attempts to jump out of the bathtub. You turned your head and sent your husband a cheeky smile. “What can I say? He's a total ladies' man.”

Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed at his furry friend. “Would be alrigh' if he wasn't tryna impress my girl with his tactics.” He stepped back and leaned down, picking Hazel up and adjusting her in his arms. “Ain't tha' righ', Hazelnut? Dog's tryna steal Mama from us?” He gently started tickling her on her stomach, eliciting shrieks of laughter from his baby girl. He chuckled and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple. “Dun' worry. I won't let Dog steal her from us. He'll have to fight me fer her.”

You smiled at the two people you loved the most in the whole world fondly. You leaned forward to grab the dog shampoo—something Daryl found while on a run and something you were surprised actually still existed in the now messed up world you existed in—and lathered some onto your hands. “You just gonna stand there and look pretty, Dixon, or are you gonna help?”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed as he pretended to think about your question, gently rocking Hazel in his arms as she lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. “Nah. I think ya got it. 'Sides, yer clearly tha' traitor's favourite. He'll stay still for ya.”

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “So you're leaving this all up to me while you, what, watch?”

Daryl took your prior spot on the closed lid of the toilet. “M'holdin' our daughter. Ain't tha' the excuse ya used earlier when I originally asked fer yer help?”

“Touché, Dixon, touché.”

Daryl chuckled again and smoothed his hand over Hazel's back. All fell silent between the two of you after that. Dog was relatively still while you washed all the grime from his coat, only moving whenever you tried to wash his paws. In a little over ten minutes, Dog was completely clean and more than eager to leave the cooling water. Before you could even attempt to towel dry him, Dog was shaking himself off, sending water flying in every direction.

Daryl shielded Hazel from the onslaught of droplets. “Dog, no!” Dog simply barked and made a run out of the door, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Your husband simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, standing up from the toilet and holding Hazel close to his chest. “Fuckin' hell. M'wetter than a drownt rat righ' now.”

You laughed and nodded, standing up and wiping the water from your body. You turned to Daryl and eyed your daughter in his arms, a look of realization dawning on you. “She's asleep, isn't she?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. She fell asleep almost fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head and allowed a small smile to spread over your face. “Well, at least Dog's clean.” You took a step forward and pressed a soft kiss to Hazel's head. “Let's just put this little Gremlin to bed. We'll bathe her first thing tomorrow morning.”

Daryl nodded and leaned forward, capturing your lips in a quick, loving kiss. He pulled back and gave you a small, fond smile. “I love ya, Peach.”

“I love you too, Dar,” you replied softly, caressing his cheek. Hazel started stirring in the archer's arms, making your breath hitch. Luckily she only adjusted her head on her dad's shoulder, making you sigh in relief. “I think that's a sign that we should get her to bed. And after that, how about we watch a movie in our room?”

“Yeah,” Daryl quickly agreed, nodding eagerly. “Let's go.”

Daryl knew exactly what you meant by that. The television that came with the small house you lived in with Daryl and your daughter was located downstairs in the living room. There wasn't a television in your shared room. However, with a little one running around and needing to speak in codes around her innocent ears, that particular code translated to something else, something much more enjoyable.

And after Hazel was put to bed, Daryl wasted no time in rushing you to your room and gently pushing you onto the bed for some much deserved “movie watching.”

[sadplaguedoctor]

grief

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been taking silco’s death rather hard and found yourself doing almost anything to remember him, even if that means masturbating in his chair.

tags: solo masturbation, referenced major character death, scent kink, grief, angst, hurt no comfort, you are going slightly mad

It’s been two months. Two whole months since Silco had gone and died and left you here alone to fend for yourself— something you had gotten used to not having to do after so many years of being with him.

His office was quieter than before, and cold. So very cold. You no longer had the option of pushing yourself up next to him despite his grumbles about “distraction” and “important business”. You no longer felt his arms wrapped around your body late at night. The rise and fall of his chest was now forgotten.

Though, you were determined to keep him alive in any way you could. You slept in his bed, wore some old jewelry of his, wrapped yourself up in the clothes he had gifted you time and time again. Even sprayed yourself with his cologne— just a bit, making sure to get it mostly on his clothes that were saved for bedtime.

His pillows still faintly smelled of him. The amount of times you had turned your head to shove your nose into the fabric all while burying your fingers within yourself was lost to you.

Sometimes, you would cry. Cry because your fingers weren’t his and would never be his again. They didn’t reach the areas that he touched with so much grace, nor were they as rough. It was a reminder of the empty husk he had left you to wallow in.

“I still feel your presence,” you spoke quietly, talking to a figment of the past as you dragged your fingertips across Silco’s desk. “I still see you. In the dark, in our bed.”

There was no doubt that your sanity had been slipping ever since the incident. You would hear his voice speaking to you and guiding you throughout your day. Sometimes, you’d see him duck behind alleys or stand silently in the corner of his bedroom. You often found yourself fighting the urge to follow these hallucinations, but then with one simple blink, he disappeared.

“Jinx tells me I’m going crazy, but I see it in her eyes. She feels the same. We all do.”

It broke you to see the distant look in Jinx’s eyes when she thought no one was looking— but it hurt even more to see the rabid, pure unadulterated fury in them. Sure, you both got to see and feel different versions of Silco, but the pain of loosing him was similar. It was sorrow, it was dejection, it was rage.

But, truly, what good did crying do? It wouldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times you screamed into his pillow, begging for one little sign that he was still watching over you. You remained cold.

His chair still felt the same against your body, the softness of the plush leather stuck to your skin the same way it used to. It kept you warm during nights spent staring off into space, reminiscing on old memories you could never experience again.

Though, you were weak. You could only spend so much time inhaling his scent without becoming eager and internally frustrated.

One arm rest dug into your back as your legs draped over the other— head turned so your nose could press against the back of the chair, taking in as much of his lingering scent as you could without having to gasp for air.

Jeans pooled at your ankles and your legs shook, fingers hurriedly pumping in and out of your cunt while you wriggled and writhed on the leather.

“You were always so desperate with me. I must say, I’m quite pleased to see that spark never dulled.”

You could hear him. His voice echoed in your mind like his lips hovered by your ear, taunting you.

“Damn you,” you whispered, closing your mouth quickly after to muffle any sounds of pleasure that dared to escape you. “Damn you for leaving me.”

A jolt shot through your body and your thighs clenched tightly around your wrist, head thrown back as you choked on your own breath. Your movements were feral, unhinged and like he said, desperate. So were the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your lips which began to part and make way for broken sobs and groans.

When you came, you kept your fingers tucked inside you— not ready to get rid of that stretch, that sensation of being full and his. Silco’s name bubbled up in your throat and died on your tongue, the taste sour and grey.

“Good girl,” he whispered once more, a light pressure pushing against your temple. You clung to that. Clung to the phantom kiss that would fuel your desires and delusions for days to come.

He was gone, you knew that. But the figure that vanished the moment you opened your eyes, promised otherwise.

Even in death, he haunted you.

i wrote this the very moment i woke up this morning and posted it an hour after. this wasn’t the first and will not be the last time i wake up to the thought of silco.

[spidybaby]

We listen, we Don't Judge

Summary: You convince your boyfriend to do a tik tok with you.

Warnings: cursing.

Barca Boys x Influencer!reader

Pedri

"Okay, are you ready?" You ask, placing the phone against the table napking holder.

Pedri nods, checking his hair on the screen. "Vale, all I have to say is" He pauses, thinking what your explained to him. "Qué cosa era?"

You laugh at him. Explaining the game to him. "Didn't you get it?" You ask him, earing a nod from him.

You turn on your ring light that powers from your phone. Fixing the time on the tik tok and checking if you look presentable.

You turn to Pedri. laughing at his worried face. "If you don't want to, we don't have to." You say, grabbing his face and kissing his cheek.

"Is not that." He sighs. "Es que tu sabe' que el inglés no es lo mio" He makes a face. (You know that English is not my thing)

"We can do it in Spanish." You smile.

He smiles, happy that you offer him to make the video in Spanish just for him to feel comfortable. "Gracias, amor. But I think I can handle this."

You kiss his lips before turning to the phone. "Okay, in three, two, one." You say, pressing the record button.

"We listen, we don't judge" You both say.

Pedri looked at you and laughed. You smile and try not to laugh with him.

"Okay, after our first date, I actually Google you cause I thought your name was Ferran." You laugh.

Pedri's mouth formed a perfect "o" He tried to argue, but you stopped him.

"We listen." You say to him, pointing a finger. "Not judge."

"But how am I supposed to not judge you?" He asked, trying not to follow your laugh. "Ferran? Seriously."

"Okay, listen." You say to the camera. "Not that I was expecting Ferran, but in my defense, I didn't knew his number or name, so when they showed me your picture, I just went with the only name I remembered from Barca Boys."

"Ah vale vale, that makes sense." He says, understanding now. "Vale, mi turno. I lost the necklace you gave me in our first anniversary and blamed Fer."

It's your time to be surprised. You loved that necklace so much. "I-"

"We listen, we don't judge." He says, smiling.

You shake your head while chuckling. The way he's smiling at the camera like an innocent child.

"Remember the first time you cooked for me?" You ask him, smiling.

He nods, happy about the memory of that day. "Sip" He nods.

"Yes, I got super sick thanks to that and never told you." You say, covering your mouth.

"In that case, I feel the need to tell you that it was Ferran the one who helped me and cooked." Pedri says.

You two look at each other, bursting out laughing after a few seconds. You even had to pause the video because of how hard you two were laughing.

You wait a little bit until your laugh gets calmer. You look at Pedri, waiting for him to finish chuckling.

You began recording again. "Do you have any other thing to say?" You ask, looking at him with a smirk.

"I judged you."

Ferran

"Okay, so we are going to do the 'We listen, we don't judge', you have to tell me something that you never told me and I can't judge you." You explain to him, camera already recording.

"Entiendo," He says, nodding. "I pretend I don't see Roma's poop so you pick it up." He smiles.

You blink at him a few times. "Mother fuck-"

"I also-"

"Okay, wait." You say, covering his mouth with your hand. "My turn, Fer!" You laugh.

"Remember the Spiderman your sister gifted you a few years ago?" You ask, biting your nail.

He nods, not thinking bad about your words. He's trying to think of his next move.

"I was the one who gave it to roma." You whisper.

Ferran was ready to argue. That was his favorite toy and even when it's all fucked up by the teeth of his dog, he kept it.

"We listen, we don't judge." You say, smiling at the camera.

You are ignoring Ferran's eyes, but the way he's looking at you with his mouth open.

"Okay, we listen, we don't judge." He says.

He then humms, trying to think of something.

"Oh!" He says, smiling. "When I broke your mother's lamp and I blamed you for it while you were on the bathroom."

"I was grounded for a month." You say to him in a stern tone.

"Te quiero." He says, batting his eyelashes and kissing your temple.

"Te quiero más." You say back. "Okay. We listen, we don't judge." You roll your eyes.

He laughs at your half mad face. He finds your expressions very cute. Like he says, it's hard for him to take your mad expression serious, because it's too cute.

"I threw the shark sandals Pedri got you." You say. "I hated them."

"My sharks!" He shouts. "I thought I left them at the hotel."

You laugh like a villain in a movie. Watching him being sad about his shark sandals. The beloved gift pedri gave him.

"If we are playing like that." He says. "I use your expensive shampoo every time I'm here." He smiles in a cynical way.

"The one I saved up for?" You open your eyes as plates.

"I even double wash." He smirks. "We listen, we don't judge."

He grabs the phone, smiling at the camera and posing like he is taking a selfie. He feels the pride of "winning" the game with the information he just gave you.

"I'm selling your nudes on Twitter."

His hand goes down, and now the angle is the toilet and the shower instead of the two of you.

"Do I look good in them?"

"Ferran!"

Gavi

"Do we have to?" He whines.

"Just a few, Pablito." You say, making puppy eyes to him.

"Only three?" He asks.

"Five!"

"Four!"

You nod, sticking the phone in the mirror. You check the time and everything. You press record, Gavi has this pout that makes you giggle.

"Okay, ready?" You ask him.

He sighs. "We listen, we don't judge." You two say.

"Want to start?" You ask him, making him nod. "Go ahead."

"Joder," He rolls his eyes. "When I'm lazy and I don't feel like load the dishwasher, but I'm hungry and want a snack. I eat almost everything but a small peace so when you finish it, you'll have to load the dishwasher."

The way his now smirking, feeling a little less worried about the camera recording.

You chuckle. "Okay, that's not that bad."

"We listed, we don't judge." You say together.

"When I don't want to go out with my friends, I blame it on you being too clingy to let me go out." You smile.

Pablo lifts his head, eyes about to pop out from surprise.

"Y/n!" He says. "Joder, you told me that I was crazy for saying your friends kinda hate me."

"They don't." You caress his cheek. "Kinda don't."

"Ughh," He snort.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"Venga, when we play fifa, I change your lineup so I can win." He says, proud of himself. "And the best part is that you can't judge me! Ha!"

You open your mouth in a "o".

"We listen, we don't judge." He says, smiling.

"When you start to snore at night, I cover your mouth and nose, so you wake up and stop doing that."

He just shakes his head, laughing at you.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"Sometimes when you ask me to kiss you, and I kiss your cheeks and head. It's because I don't want you to leave me your gloss on the lips."

"I can fix that." You say.

"No, don't." He smiles. "I think you look amazing with that lip gloss." He winks.

You shake your head, blushing a little. "We listen and we don't judge."

"I sometimes annoy you because I love when you get mad."

"Can I judge?" He asks.

"No." You say.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"I don't like how you hurry me in the mornings." He frowns. "I'm slow, let me be."

"Okay, next time they don't let you play cause you were late, don't tell me about it." You say in a sassy tone.

"You are like." He pauses, faking a sad voice. "Judging me."

Fermin

"Lista, bebé?" He asks, excited to do this trend with you for your tik tok.

"Okay, one, two, three." You count and start recording.

"We listen, we don't judge."

"When we cuddle, I like to be the little spoon because your hair tickles me." He says.

You find that cute and funny at the same time, chuckling and giving him a kiss.

"That's cute, I don't know."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"When I help you around and load the laundry. I once stained three of your shirts, and I threw them away because I was embarrassed."

"The ones I got in Ibiza?" He asks.

You nod, your cheeks kind of red.

"I won't judge." He says.

"We listen, we don't judge."

"I broke your favorite blush and blamed our dog." He says, trying to cover his mouth and hide his smirk.

"I knew it!" You point at him.

"We listen, we don't judge." He says, laughing.

"Oh my god!" You snort, rolling your eyes. "I don't like the way you cook my eggs." You confess, making a face.

"We listen, we don't judge." He says. "I don't like your famous spaghetti."

You gasped. That was the best thing, in your opinion, you have ever cooked.

"But I cooked that for our anniversary dinner." You say, worried face.

"I mean, it's not bad, but I don't love it."

"We listen, we don't judge."

"I once drove over a package you forgot at the garage and pretended it was never delivered." He says, a little scared about your reaction.

"Was that the Christmas decorations I fought UPS for?" You ask, not believing he did that to you.

"It was a mistake." He smiles like an innocent kid.

"We listen, we don't judge."

"I hit your car while I was out buying groceries for you. It was with a supermarket car." You whisper.

It's his turn to gasp. He tries his best not to judge you.

"We listen, we don-"

"Wait!" He says, thinking a little into your last confession. "You went out for groceries like two hours ago!"

"Oh, well." You say, cutting the video.

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl yellow!!!