#sometimes you just say something vulnerable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elikajinnie · 2 days ago

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HI!!! can you do the enhypen prompt 16 and 17 with jay?? thank yoouu

P: Boyfriend!Jay X Fem Reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Whipped!Jay, we love a man who begs

note: i had time.. so yeah :) This for all my ladies who wear lacey underwear underneath the baggy clothes ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

16. "Do you want me to beg? Because I will." 17. "One more taste, and I swear I’ll lose control."

Jay absolutely loved seeing you, no matter the occasion or what you decided to wear. It didn’t matter if it was a casual hoodie and jeans, a simple summer dress, or the formal gown you once claimed didn’t suit you—it all reminded him of how breathtakingly beautiful you were. And to Jay, there was no arguing against that fact.

He could never understand why you sometimes doubted yourself, saying things like, “I don’t feel pretty today” or “This outfit doesn’t look good on me.” To him, those words simply didn’t make sense. He saw you through a lens tinted with love and admiration, one that made every aspect of you seem flawless. Your beauty wasn’t just about how you looked; it was in the way you carried yourself, the way you laughed, the way you treated others with kindness even when you didn’t have to.

In Jay’s mind, no other woman in the world could ever compare to you. Sure, there were plenty of beautiful women out there, but they weren’t you. You were the one who made him smile just by walking into a room. You were the one who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, who made him feel safe, valued, and loved. You were the one he’d chosen, and to him, that made you irreplaceable.

There was also a quiet possessiveness about the way he adored you. Not in a controlling or overbearing way, but in the way he took pride in calling you his girlfriend. When he introduced you to his friends or casually mentioned you in conversation, there was always a flicker of pride in his voice. Jay loved showing you off, not because he wanted others to envy him (though, secretly, he didn’t mind if they did), but because he couldn’t help being proud of the fact that you were his.

And in his heart, Jay already knew he wanted you to be more than his girlfriend one day. He often imagined the moment he would ask you to marry him, rehearsing it in his mind and wondering how you might react. He didn’t want to rush you—he’d wait for as long as it took for you to be ready to take that step. But until then, he was more than happy to call you his girlfriend. To him, the title meant everything because it meant you were his, and he was yours.

Every day spent with you was a reminder of how lucky he was, and Jay never wanted you to forget how much he cherished you. In his eyes, you weren’t just beautiful; you were the kind of special that made him believe in soulmates.

He wanted you to be his forever. The thought of waking up next to you every morning, seeing you smile at him as the sunlight filtered through the curtains, was a dream he was determined to make a reality. Jay had no secrets when it came to you. He was like an open book, willingly laying himself bare in front of you, no matter how vulnerable it made him feel.

He trusted you with every corner of his soul, even the parts of himself he once thought were too messy or complicated to share with anyone. With you, there was no hesitation. If something was weighing on his mind, he told you. If he had a silly thought or a random idea, you were the first to hear it. If he made a mistake, he admitted it without shame, knowing you would never judge him harshly.

This honesty, though, also meant that his feelings for you spilled out in the most unfiltered ways. He would often find himself confessing just how much he loved you, even in the smallest, most casual moments. You could be doing something as mundane as scrolling through your phone, and Jay would blurt out, “I love you.” He couldn’t help himself really. His emotions for you were always bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest excuse to overflow.

But there was more to his honesty than just his love—there was his desire, too. Jay wasn’t shy about how much he was drawn to you, how you had this effortless ability to captivate him in ways no one else ever could. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long when you weren’t looking, or the way he would lean in just a little closer than necessary when you spoke.

Sometimes, his words would betray just how deeply he craved you. It wasn’t always something he could control, especially when the thought of you consumed him in the best of ways. You could feel it in the way his hands would gently brush against yours, as if he was trying to be close to you without seeming too eager, but you both knew better.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he’d admit sometimes. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He often found himself lost in thoughts of you, even when he should have been focused on other things. He would catch himself daydreaming, imagining the soft curve of your smile or the way you looked when you were nestled against him, your head resting on his chest.

Jay was always ready to voice what was on his mind, he wasn’t one to hide his thoughts, especially when it came to you. He didn’t even try to filter his reactions, which made everything he said feel honest.

You had just finished drying your hair after stepping out of the shower, the warmth of the dryer against your skin leaving a pleasant feeling while the bathroom smelled of the shampoo you liked. You stood in your simple, comfortable clothes, the fabric of your loose clothes falling over your skin, paired with a pair of lace underwear that you had bought on your birthday months ago.

It had been tucked away in the back of your closet, forgotten until now. You had never gotten the chance to wear it before, so when you found it still in its bag, the tag untouched, you decided today was the day. You had ripped the tag off without hesitation, and slipped it on, and now you found yourself rediscovering exactly why you had bought it. The way it felt against your skin, the way it hugged your curves, and the way it made you feel undeniably feminine—it was all so perfect.

You stood there for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, admiring the way it made you feel. But you were quickly pulled from your thoughts by the sudden knock on the bathroom door. “Are you finished in there?” Jay’s voice called out.

You quickly turned off the blow dryer and put it away, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face as you made your way to the door. You opened it to find Jay standing there with a laundry basket in his arms, his usual smile gracing his face. But when his eyes met yours, they flickered down for a brief second and up. Then, in a split second, they darted downwards again, clearly noticing the lace peeking out from under your clothes.

For a split second, he didn’t react—his eyes widened, and you could see him processing the sight in front of him, almost as if his brain couldn’t quite catch up with his eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and it was impossible not to notice the way his expression shifted slowly. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching as his eyes darted back up to yours, now a little more intense.

“Is that... lace?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the question wasn’t one of curiosity, but more of surprise.

You could see his mind working, his thoughts clearly running wild as he took in the sight of you standing there. He swallowed hard, and for a moment, you both just stood there.

It wasn’t often that you saw Jay lose a bit of his usual composure, but now, his hands tightened around the laundry basket, his knuckles white as he tried to remain cool.

“You know,” he finally spoke again, his voice slightly more strained than before, “I was going to help with laundry, but I think I need a moment.” He was trying to regain some composure, but the way his eyes never left you made it clear that the sight of you had ignited something he couldn’t easily ignore.

Jay placed the laundry basket down slowly, the sound of it hitting the floor almost too loud in the silence that hung between you both. His eyes never left you, and his body seemed to move on its own, drawn to you like a magnet.

Without a word, his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until his body was pressed against yours. The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, as his hands trailed around your waist, fingers grazing the fabric of the lace, the sensation sending a wave of warmth across your skin.

“God…” Jay groaned, the sound low and strained as his fingers gently ran along the edge of the lace, tracing the delicate pattern against your skin. His touch was tender and slow, as if he wanted to savor every second of feeling the lace beneath his fingertips.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he fought to hold back, but there was no mistaking the desire that pulsed in him. “You’re killing me right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. The words came out almost like a confession, so unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hide what he was feeling any longer. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved down, caressing the lace at your hips before pulling you even closer. The way his body responded to the touch, the way his groan escaped him, it all showed just how much he wanted you. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Unable to resist, Jay leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, testing, exploring. But it didn’t stay gentle for long. The kiss deepened as he lost a bit of his composure, his hands gripping you more firmly, pulling you closer to him. The heat between you both surged, and you kissed him back just as eagerly, matching his intensity.

Jay guided you across the bedroom, your bodies moving together in sync. He broke the kiss for just a moment, his breath ragged as he led you toward the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. As he spun you around, the sudden shift in perspective made your heart flutter. Now, you were facing the mirror, your reflection staring back at you, and Jay stood behind you, holding you close, his chest pressed against your back.

For a moment, you both just stood there, breathing in sync, before Jay’s lips found your shoulder, kissing it softly while his hands slid to your waist, holding you tight as he whispered sweet compliments in your ear. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin as he continued to kiss along your neck. “So incredible... everything about you…”

You tried to glance away from the mirror, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Jay wasn’t having it. His fingers gently but firmly grabbed your jaw, guiding your face back so that your eyes met your reflection once more. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as he held you there, making you face yourself again.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, “don’t look away.” His words were like a command that made it impossible to do anything but meet your own gaze. His hand remained firm on your jaw, gently guiding you while his other arm stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against him. “You see what I see?” he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “Do you see how beautiful you are?”

Your reflection stared back at you, and though you felt shy under his attention, there was something about the way he held you that made you feel secure. The way his hands moved—one tracing lazy, gentle patterns at your waist while the other stayed steady at your jaw—was grounding.

He dipped his head again, pressing his lips to your neck, just below your ear, lingering there as though savoring the moment. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and his grip on you tightened slightly. “Every part of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection, “is perfect.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as you tried to process his words, his touch, and the way his gaze flicked up to meet yours in the mirror.

Jay’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling against your back as his lips trailed along your neck. The delicate lace seemed to have an almost visceral effect on him, his hands roaming your waist and hips. His fingers brushed against the lace, as if he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it again, marveling at the way it clung to your skin.

“This…” he murmured, his voice rough, nearly a growl, as his hand traced the hemline of the fabric. “You have no idea what this is doing to me.” He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, his lips brushing against your ear. “You look so—God, I can’t even think straight.”

You couldn’t help but let a soft laugh escape you, the sound teasing in its lightness. “You really like lace that much?” you asked playfully, though you knew full well by the way he was reacting.

Jay groaned, his hand tightening slightly at your waist as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Like is an understatement,” he said, his tone low and almost desperate. His lips hovered near your ear again, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with so much intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. “You have to wear more of it. All the time. For me.”

His bluntness made you smile, and you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Oh? Are you saying I should go shopping for more lace?” you asked, turning your head slightly to glance at him, your tone light and filled with playful mischief.

Jay groaned again, his head dropping against your shoulder for a moment as if your teasing was physically affecting him. “Don’t play with me,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Do you want me to beg?” His voice was shaky now, his desperation seeping into every word. He pressed another kiss to your neck before continuing, his voice barely above a growl. “Because I will. I’ll beg if that’s what it takes. Just—please, wear more of this, want more of it.”

You couldn’t help the way your smile widened at his reaction, the teasing in your expression making his jaw tighten. “Jay,” you said, feigning an innocent tone, “you’re really going to beg for me to wear more lace?”

His breath hitched, and his hands moved to grip your hips more firmly. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, though there was no real bite to his words. His forehead pressed against the back of your head for a moment before he groaned once more, almost as if he was fighting to keep control.

“I’ll do it,” he muttered, his voice low but filled with conviction. “If it means I get to see you like this every day, I’ll fill your closet with lace. Every color, every design—you’ll have so much, you’ll never wear anything else.”

You turned slightly, your smile softening as you reached up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing against his skin. His eyes met yours in the mirror, filled with so much love that it almost overwhelmed you.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that much lace,” you said, but your tone was softer now, playful without being dismissive.

“Try me,” he challenged you, “I’ll prove it. I’ll make it happen. Just say the word.”

Jay would do anything to show you just how much he adored you, and if it meant filling your wardrobe with lace to see you smile—and to indulge his newfound obsession—he would gladly do it, no hesitation.

.....

And he did do it. After that day, it was as though a switch had flipped in Jay. He started bringing home lace in every imaginable color and design—soft pastels, bold blacks, rich jewel tones, delicate florals. Every type he could find was soon tucked away in your closet. It was thoughtful, sweet even, a little peek into how deeply he cared about you. But his reaction every time you wore it? That was something else entirely.

You weren’t used to seeing him like this, so utterly undone, so out of touch with his usual composed demeanor. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved it. You loved the way he folded for you, how a single glimpse of white lace beneath your clothes could derail him completely. Oh, you had him hooked. So much so that every time you wore it, his eyes would darken, his breaths would hitch, and whatever train of thought he had? Gone, like it had never existed.

Lace was his weakness, yes. But lace on you? He was gone—reduced to a pleading man, desperate for just one look, just one touch. And when you finally gave him permission, the transformation was instant. His hands would tremble slightly as they reached for you, his lips brushing reverently over the fabric like it was sacred.

“One more taste,” he’d whisper, his voice rough with need, “and I swear I’ll lose control.”

But the truth? He’d already lost control. The moment his fingers skimmed the lace against your skin, he was a goner. You saw it in the way he looked at you, like nothing else in the world mattered but you in that moment. His touches grew hungrier, his kisses turned sloppy and uncoordinated. And the marks? Oh, you had plenty. They were proof of just how completely he surrendered himself to you, his passion for you spilling over in ways he could hardly contain. Jay never held back when it came to you, and the lace only seemed to amplify that desire.

It wasn’t just about how beautiful you looked in it, though that played a part. No, it was the way you made it look—how effortlessly you wore it, how it became a part of your natural allure. He was mesmerized by you, completely at your mercy, and he didn’t care one bit.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he’d groan, his voice shaky as he traced the edges of the fabric with his fingertips. And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t realize just how thoroughly you owned him. But every time he dropped to his knees for you, every time he lost himself completely in the feel of you, the sight of you, the essence of you—you were reminded of just how deep his devotion ran.

Jay was yours in every way, and he wasn’t ashamed to show it. Especially when you wore lace.

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fear-is-truth · 3 days ago

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Wanna try out some freaky positions? The Evans and their favorite positions

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans & their fav positions .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers | content warning : nsfw. mdni

a/n: the way my jaw dropped when i read the first sentence.. you really got me with that one, anon

⟢ 𝓣𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝓛𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s preferences in the bedroom are deeply tied to his need for emotional intimacy and reassurance.

missionary would be his favourite. it’s vulnerable, intimate, and allows for maximum connection, which is what tate craves more than anything else. he’d interlock fingers with you, pressing your hands into the mattress or holding them tightly.

eye contact would be everything to him. he’d want to look directly into your eyes, searching for reassurance, love, and validation. to tate, that kind of closeness makes him feel safe.

he’d constantly check in with you, softly asking, “is this okay?” or “how does it feel?” not just to make sure you’re comfortable, but because he genuinely needs the verbal affirmation to know he’s doing something right—something that makes you happy.

⟢ 𝓚𝐈𝐓 𝓦𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

missionary would be kit’s favourite position most of the time. it feels intimate, allows for deep connection, and fits his “good ol’ fashioned lover-boy” nature perfectly. he’s all about closeness—pressing his forehead to yours, whispering sweet nothings, and holding you tightly like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

he’s the type of guy who cherishes the little details, like brushing hair out of your face, kissing your shoulders, and holding eye contact.

that said, cowgirl would also be a common occurrence, especially after a long day of work. kit works himself to the bone providing for your family, so sometimes he’s just exhausted when he gets home. he loves when you take the lead, because it makes him feel so loved to just lay back, relax, and let you take care of him.

he’s a little shy at first with letting you take control, but once he sees how much fun you’re having, he’s all in—hands on your hips, guiding you on his cock, his face in awe like you’ve hung the moon.

psychologically, kit’s approach to intimacy is about balance. he wants to feel needed and strong, like he’s protecting and loving you in the best way he can, but he also loves it when you take charge because it shows him how much you trust him.

no matter the position, kit’s main goal is making sure you’re happy. he’d always put your comfort and pleasure first.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝓚𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝓢𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle is a hopeless romantic at heart, so missionary is definitely his favourite. this position lets him stay close, keep eye contact, and show you how much he cares.

face-off (you in his lap) would also be a favorite. kyle loves having you close, with your arms wrapped around him. it’s perfect for when you’re both in a lazy, cuddly mood, plus he gets to kiss you all over.

⟢ 𝓙𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

doggy style/ backshots? oh absofuckinlutely. he’s got that intense focus that comes out when he’s in control. guiding you with his hands on your hips, setting the pace in a borderline animalistic hunger.

standing positions are another go-to for jimmy. he’s the type to sweep you up, pin you against a wall (or a caravan) and let’s just say that the whole camp would know that y’all are having a good time.

despite the roughness, jimmy’s incredibly attuned to your reactions. he’s always making sure he’s not crossing a line, even if he doesn’t always verbalise it. his care comes through in the way he adjusts to you—whether it’s slowing down, holding you tighter, or kissing the back of your neck to reassure you.

⟢ 𝓙𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓜𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

at the beginning of your courtship, james would stick to missionary. it’s traditional, intimate, and allows for eye contact, which he values deeply—especially in those early moments when he’s still courting you with his old-world charm.

but as the relationship progresses, james lets his more “adventurous” side take the wheel. his love for theatrics and flair seeps into everything he does. suddenly, missionary evolves into backshots, or a shift in scenery to somewhere unexpected, like the grand dining table or on a bloody mattress with someone’s corpse on it. he loves variety and drama.

james is also a switch. there are times when he’s completely dominant, but when he’s in the mood? it’s a whole different story. he would relinquish control willingly, finding an almost masochistic joy in being at your mercy. his love for you transcends his ego—he enjoys seeing what you’d do with him, as long as it’s tasteful (or, in his words, “inspired”)

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝓚𝐀𝐈 𝓐𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

doggy-style would absolutely be his top choice most of the time. it’s the most dominant position, and kai thrives on power—control, detachment, and him being the one to dictate the pace. it also lets him keep a certain emotional distance when he’s not in the mood to be vulnerable. if he’s feeling particularly guarded, he’d focus entirely on the physical aspect, avoiding eye contact altogether.

but when he’s in a more open headspace (which is rare but happens when he’s really invested in you), he’d shift to more intimate positions like missionary. he’d want to see your expressions, study the way you react to him. eye contact in this context would feel like a way to assert emotional dominance, as if he’s drawing something deeper out of you without having to say anything.

psychologically, kai’s interest in these positions ties into his obsessive need for control. missionary and doggy are not only great for physical connection but also align with his breeding kink. both are often touted as best for conception would appeal to him (….messiah baby. yeah)

ultimately, kai’s choice would depend entirely on his mood and his level of trust in the moment. when he feels secure, he craves the intimacy of seeing your face; when he doesn’t, he defaults to positions that allow him to stay in charge and keep his emotions in check.

⟢ 𝓐𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝓢𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

69 is a definite go-to for him. he enjoys the balanced give and take, both physically and mentally. the equal focus allows him to be in his head while still being present. and let’s be real—between eating you out, he’d probably says something like, “i need this, it helps the inspiration flow” because, to him, sex is both a release and a source of creativity.

cowgirl is another favourite, especially when he’s feeling a bit lazy or wants to just enjoy the view of your tits. he likes how it allows him to sit back, relax, and watch you bounce on his cock, all while he gets to think about whatever creative project he’s working on. it’s almost as if he’s got his mind on his latest writing but still completely invested in you. he’d probably appreciate the rhythm and focus, using it as an opportunity to zone out while still being completely physical.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 days ago

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hi sex witch! I (a teen) was talking with my friends (also teens) about sex, specifically hookups with people you aren’t necessarily romantically involved with. They said that as a teen that’s a bad idea, since hormones or whatever fuck with uour brain and cause an unhealthy obsession or smth we watched rocky horror immediately after and I forgot the details. Is that true? That sounds not true, teens have sex and oftentimes have sex with people they aren’t in relationships with, and I’ve literally never heard anything like that before they said it. Anyway, as a horny teen who wants to engage in some no-romance hookups I’d like to know if this would idk turn my brain to mush or whatever

hi there, friend,

listen: there is no existing age where sexual and romantic entanglements don't put people at risk of getting their feelings hurt if things don't go the way they hoped. that's not something you grow out of when you're done being a teenager; it comes free with being a person. a hot tip that nobody wants to talk about is that this also isn't exclusive to sexual and romantic relationships; caring about your friends or your family or your neighbors or your pets or anything at all comes with the potential to get burned because giving a shit is inherently vulnerable. and yet, we do it anyway! isn't that beautiful?

teenagers have a reputation for having very high drama relationships because most teenagers are experiencing a lot of firsts - first crush, first date, first relationship, first kiss, first partnered sex, first heartbreak, etc - and firsts are exciting and scary and engender a lot of big feelings. your that's quite understandable; everything is more stressful when you haven't done it before. as I'm shuffling towards 30, I find that the times I feel youngest are when I'm most uncertain and out of my element, because such a big part of being young is having a very limited frame of reference and no idea how to cope with a great deal of things.

(conversely, getting older mostly involves mellowing out because you know how to handle way more situations and solve way more problems than you did when you were younger.)

a lot of moralizing panic around teenagers' sexuality tries to paint teenagers being sexual as A Bad Thing Always, No Exceptions, and try to push the idea that teenagers just shouldn't be permitted any form of sexual exploration. I think that's bullshit, partly because it's impossible to actually enforce and mainly because denying sexual expression is deeply cruel, and also because the teen years are a really important window for practicing for adulthood. including intimacy! great time to practice intimacy, and I sorely wish every teenager had the space and security to comfortably explore with support from their guardians.

when I caution young people about sex, it's just to say that, yes, sex can sometimes cause new problems and new feelings that you don't know how to deal with. fear or anxiety or insecurity can make people say and do things that hurt them and others all the time, especially in intimate relationships, so be careful and do your research to cut down on the risks you can control (for instance: following safer sex practices, keeping your body clean and healthy, talking to partners about boundaries and emotional well-being). not every sexual or romantic partner has to be forever, but partnering with people you like, trust, and know how to talk to will make it easier and less scary to figure out what to do together if/when unexpected problems do arise.

being a thoughtful and communicative partner is GREAT skill to start practicing as early as possible, trust me - I get plenty of very grown adults in my inbox who are still figuring out how to do it.

in conclusion: there's nothing inherently dangerous about sex with someone who's not a romantic partner, just make sure you're picking people wisely and looking out for everyone's safety.

#sex edventures 2025

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cayleeuhithinknott · 2 days ago

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❛ BEGGIN’ ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉��chris loves to make you beg. asshole.

cw: SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), begging, freaky, dumbification, creampie

based on this from like 17 years ago LMAO

you couldn't help but feel a familiar tingle between your thighs as chris’ voice filled the room, his words dripping with that familiar mix of dominance and playful teasing. it was a game you both loved to play—well, chris more than you—but sometimes, his stubbornness could be frustratingly arousing.

“come on, angel," he said, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "you know the rules. y’want something, you gotta ask for it."

you pouted, knowing exactly what he was referring to. the bulge in his pants was evident, and you craved every inch of him.

but chris—that mean motherfucker—had a thing for making you beg, and today, he seemed to be in a particularly teasing mood. every time he acted like this, it was like he was just sucking the dignity out of you.

“please, chris," you whined, batting your eyelashes at him. "you know i want it. why do you have to be so mean?"

he chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. chris loved to see you squirm, and your feisty attitude only fueled his desire to tease.

“mean? me? oh, i’m just making sure you learn some manners, pretty. you can't always get what you want by pouting." that’s…such bullshit! chris was, in fact, mean.

frustration and desire battled within you. you wanted to straddle him and take what was rightfully yours, but something about his dominant demeanor always made you hesitate.

chris had a way of making you submit, and you secretly loved the power he held over your body.

"fine," you huffed, crossing your arms. “i want you. happy now?"

chris’ eyes darkened at your bold words, but he maintained his playful facade. "that’s a good start, but i think you can do better. i wanna hear you beg, baby. you know how much i love it.”

unfortunately, you did know how much he loved it. and it drove you absolutely fucking insane.

you felt your cheeks flush, both from anger and arousal. chris was pushing your buttons, and you were determined to show him you could play this game too.

“i—fuck—i need you, chris," you stammered, feeling a little embarrassed but also excited by the vulnerability in your voice. "please, don't tease me anymore. i’m so wet for you." you’d finally given in and dropped any ounce of dignity you ever had to the bottom of the atlantic ocean.

he took a step closer, his tall frame towering over you. "wet, hm? well, that's a start. but i want to hear you say it like you mean it. tell me how bad you want my dick."

is he fucking serious? this man must be insane.

your heart raced as you actually processed his words. chris was demanding, but you craved his touch. you wanted him to know that you were desperate for his hard length inside you.

"...i want your dick, chris," you whispered. “really want it…”

a satisfied smirk played on his lips, and you knew you had finally hit the right note. chris loved to hear you surrender to your desires.

“that’s my good girl," he purred, reaching out to stroke your cheek gently. "but i think we should take this slow. i want to savor every moment."

fuck.

as he spoke, his fingers trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. you shivered, craving his touch everywhere.

"please, chris," you begged, your voice breaking. “i can’t take it anymore—i need you now."

he chuckled low, his breath hot against you. "impatient, aren't we? but i think i’ll make you wait a little longer. you want something, you use your words, pretty. or maybe i’ll just stop right here and leave you hanging. you wouldn't want that, would you?”

your breath caught in your throat. the thought of him stopping now, after teasing you to the brink of madness, was almost unbearable. you needed release, and chris unfortunately held the key.

“no, please," you pleaded, your voice thick with need. "i’ll do anything. just don't stop. i need you, chris. please fuck me." wow! where the hell did that come from! guess you just really have your sights set…

his eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took a step back, enjoying the power he held over you. "on your knees, baby, cmon. show me how much you want it."

complying without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. his strained against his pants, and you couldn't wait to set it free.

“that’s it," he encouraged, his voice husky. "now, tell me again how much you want this." you reached for his belt, your fingers trembling.

“i-i want your cock, chris. so bad—please, i—“

with a swift motion, he unbuckled his belt, and you eagerly pulled down his zipper. his thick, hard length sprang free, and you couldn't resist leaning in to lick his tip.

“oh, fuck," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair. "that’s it, baby. take what you want, go ahead..shit..”

you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. chris hissed, his grip tightening in your hair as you took him deeper, savoring the taste of him.

“fuck, yes," he growled, his hips thrusting gently. "suck it, pretty—c’mon.”

you moaned around his length, the vibrations driving him wild. chris was already close, and you wanted to taste his release, but of course he had other plans.

“enough, baby," he said, pulling you away gently. "i want to feel your pretty pussy—i’ve teased you enough, haven't i?"

oh, he definitely has!

you whimpered, craving his touch between your legs. "yes, please. i need you inside me…”

chris smirked, his eyes full of promise. "oh, i’ll give it to you, baby. but first, i want to hear you beg for it one more time."

seriously.

as he spoke, he trailed his fingers along your inner thighs, making you squirm with anticipation. you were putty in his hands, and the both of you knew it.

“please, chris," you begged, your voice hoarse. "fill me up—i can't take it anymore."

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "that’s what i like to hear, baby. now, let's see if you can take all of me."

with that, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasingly rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, making you gasp and arch your back.

"please, chris—" you cried out, desperate for him to fill the void he had created. and just as you thought he would deny you again, he thrust forward, stuffing you full in one smooth motion. you cried out, your body adjusting to his size as he stretched you deliciously.

"fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his hips moving in a slow, torturous rhythm.

he pulled out almost entirely, leaving you gasping, before slamming back into you, hitting all the right spots. you clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to pull him closer.

but chris was relentless, his thrusts calculated to drive you wild. he knew exactly how to make you beg, and he wasn't going to let up anytime soon.

“mmph—chris—i—y’so big…so full—mmh!” you pathetically stammered out. chris chuckled darkly. “yeah, baby? fillin’ you up so well, hm? fuck—take this shit so well..•

as he continued to fuck into you, your body trembled on the edge of release, craving the climax he was withholding. you were putty in his hands, and you knew that this time, chris was going to make you work for it.

“pl-please, chris," you whimpered, your voice raw from pleading. "i-i can't! i need to cum—please—“

he smirked, his eyes full of mischief. "not yet, baby. i want to hear you beg some more. tell me how much you need it."

you were beyond words, your body trembling with need. you could hardly think—your mind was foggy, barely any thoughts flowing through. chris was fucking you absolutely stupid. he had pushed you to the brink, and you were desperate for release.

"...i need—ngh—it, chris," you managed to gasp. “fuck—please—so close."

with a growl, he complied, his thrusts becoming more urgent, slamming into you with abandon. you cried out, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

"that’s it, baby," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. "cum for me. let me feel it, cmon.”

and as if his words were the final push you needed, you shattered around him, your orgasm ripping through your body as you cried out his name. “fuckkk, that’s my girl.” chris followed soon after, his release hot and intense as he filled you with his essence.

sure, chris was mean, especially with all this shit he pulled.

but, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

a/n: HI so this kinda sucked but i needed to write one of my annual singular smuts in between all of the fluff and angst ive been doing LMFAO hope you liked it anyway

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @strnilolover @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @slctsblogana @emely9274

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

#cayleeuhithinknott #yap yap yap #caylee yaps a lot #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #smut #chris smut #𝜗𝜚 cayleeuhithinknott sensitive!brat!reader au #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo

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oldsoul007 · 3 days ago

Text

every breath you take

joel miller x reader

summary: jackson was perfect for the most part until it wasn’t, you get really worried when Joel and Tommy go out on patrol and never come back

a/n: angstyy, this is sorta a “rewrite” if you will, let me know if y’all want a part ii…

joel miller masterlist

The warm glow of the lanterns strung above the Jackson town square created a magical ambiance, the laughter and music of the town dance filling the crisp night air. I was in Joel’s arms, my hand resting gently on his shoulder as we swayed to the melody. Despite the crowd, it felt like we were the only two there, lost in our own little world. Joel’s rugged charm and quiet confidence had drawn me in months ago, and every moment since had only strengthened my feelings for him.

I caught the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a rare sight that made my heart flutter. Joel was complicated—worn by the weight of his past—but with me, he seemed to allow himself fleeting moments of peace.

Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a loud commotion. My gaze shifted to the edge of the dance floor, where Ellie and Dina stood, their smiles replaced by tense expressions. A man was shouting, his words venomous and cutting through the cheerful atmosphere like a knife.

“That’s just what we need, another loud mouthed d*ke,” he spat, his tone laced with hate.

I felt Joel stiffen beside me, his entire body tensing. I knew that look, that spark of protective anger that flared in his eyes. Before I could say anything, he was already moving toward the source of the disturbance.

“Joel, wait—” I called after him, but he didn’t stop.

By the time he reached the man, Ellie was already closing in, her hands clenched into fists. Joel stepped between them, shoving the man back firmly but not violently, creating space before Ellie could get any closer.

“Get the hell out of here,” Joel growled, his voice low and commanding.

“Get your hands off me” The man stumbled but didn’t retreat entirely, glaring at Joel with defiance.

“You alright kiddo?” Joel asked walking toward Ellie.

“What is wrong with you?” Ellie demanded, her voice sharp as she fixed Joel with a glare.

“He had no right,” Joel replied, his tone firm but calm.

“And you do?” Ellie shot back, her anger cutting through the air. “I don’t need your fucking help, Joel”

Joel faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read. I could see the tension in his jaw, the quiet battle between his need to protect Ellie and the reality that she didn’t want him to.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff with frustration. I hesitated, glancing back at Ellie, who was still fuming, before deciding to follow him.

I found Joel near the outskirts of the square, his back to me as he stared out into the dark horizon.

“Hey, You okay?” I asked softly, stepping beside him.

Joel didn’t look at me right away, his gaze fixed on the distance. “She don’t need me no more,” he said finally, his voice tinged with sadness.

“That’s not true,” I replied, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “But Joel… Ellie could’ve handled Seth.”

He turned to look at me then, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “She shouldn’t have to,” he muttered.

“I know,” I said, my voice steady. “But sometimes protecting someone means letting them handle things their way.”

He nodded slowly, my words sinking in. The two of us stood there in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the dance continuing behind us. I laced my fingers with his, offering silent reassurance.

Joel didn’t look at me right away, his gaze fixed on the distance. “She still hates me for what I did,” he said finally, his voice low and heavy.

“She doesn’t hate you,” I replied, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“She’s got every reason to,” he muttered. “I lied to her. Took away her choice. It ain’t something you just forgive.”

I sighed, squeezing his arm gently. “Maybe not, but she’s still here. That means something.”

Joel turned to look at me then, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “It’s hard watchin’ her hate me when all I wanna do is protect her.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the dance continuing behind us. I laced my fingers with his, offering silent reassurance.

Whatever storm raged inside Joel—whatever distance still lingered between him and Ellie—I was determined to help him navigate it. We’d made it this far together, as a family. I wasn’t about to give up now.

Whatever storm raged inside Joel, I was determined to weather it with him. Together.

The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wooden floor beneath my feet as I moved through the kitchen. I’d been tidying up, distracting myself from the heaviness of the night’s events. The front porch window was open, letting in the cool night air, and through it, I could hear the soft, familiar strumming of Joel’s guitar.

I paused for a moment, leaning on the counter and letting the sound wash over me. There was something about the way Joel played—steady, thoughtful, like every note carried a piece of him. It always managed to soothe my mind, no matter how tense things felt.

But then, just faintly, I caught the sound of footsteps on the porch. My brow furrowed as I turned toward the window. Joel’s playing had stopped abruptly.

Peeking out, I saw Ellie standing there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked hesitant, like she’d been pacing before finally working up the nerve to stop. I stayed inside, watching quietly as Joel set the guitar down and stood to face her.

Their voices were low, too quiet to make out, but I could see the tension in their stances. Joel stood still, his hands resting on his hips, while Ellie shifted from foot to foot, her face a mix of frustration and something else—something softer.

I let them be. Whatever they were talking about wasn’t for me to interrupt.

A while later, after finishing up in the kitchen, I climbed into bed. Joel still hadn’t come up, but I figured he needed time to think. He always did after heavy conversations, especially when it came to Ellie.

When I heard the soft creak of the door opening, I looked up. Joel stood there, framed by the dim light from the hallway. He didn’t step in right away, just lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should. His shoulders were slumped, and the way he avoided my eyes told me everything before he even said a word.

“You okay?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.

He finally closed the door behind him and nodded, but it was the kind of nod that didn’t mean much. “Ellie stopped by,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet.

I nod as I sat up slightly, resting my weight on my elbows.

Joel let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “She said… she’ll try.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning.

I reached out, placing my hand on his back. “That’s something,” I said softly.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Yeah. It is.”

I nodded, though the heaviness in his tone left an ache in my chest. Joel wasn’t one to open up easily, not about things that mattered, but I’d learned to read him over time. The tightness in his jaw, the way his hands hung at his sides like they didn’t know what to do with themselves—he was carrying too much again.

I didn’t ask him to explain. He would, if and when he was ready. Instead, I patted the space next to me on the bed.

“Come here,” I said quietly.

Joel turned then, finally meeting my eyes. There was a hint of relief there, though it was guarded, like he didn’t quite dare to hope. I gave him a small smile, sliding closer to wrap my arms around him.

“She loves you, Joel,” I murmured. “She’s just trying to figure out how to deal with it all.”

He rested his forehead against mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you’re right.”

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before settling my head against his chest. His hand slid up my back, warm and steady, and I felt the tension in his body start to melt away.

We didn’t need words tonight. The quiet was enough, his presence beside me enough. As his breathing slowed and evened out, I brushed my fingers through his hair absently, watching him fall asleep.

It wasn’t long before my own eyelids grew heavy, and I let myself drift off, safe in the warmth of his arms. For this moment, at least, the world outside didn’t matter.

The faint sound of boots on the wooden floor stirred me from sleep. At first, I didn’t move, my body still heavy with the warmth of the blankets and the lingering pull of dreams. But when I heard the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, I blinked my eyes open to see Joel standing in the dim light of dawn, his broad frame silhouetted against the faint glow coming through the window.

“Joel?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. I pushed myself up onto one elbow, squinting at him. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, the way it always was when he was trying not to wake me fully. But there was something in his tone—something careful.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting up fully now.

“Maria’s sendin’ me and Tommy out. Couple folks said they heard infected near the ski lodge, just outside the fences.”

That woke me up completely. I sat up straighter, the blankets pooling around my waist. “What kind of reports?”

“Couple folks said they heard ‘em,” Joel said with a shrug. “Probably nothin’, but we don’t want to take chances.”

I frowned, rubbing at my eyes before meeting his gaze. “Then let me go with you.”

Joel shook his head immediately, stepping closer to the bed. “Ain’t no need for that, y/n. Me and Tommy can handle it.”

“It’s not about whether you can handle it,” I argued, my voice sharper now. “If there’s a group of infected, wouldn’t it be better to have more people out there? Just in case?”

Joel sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He reached out to rest a hand on my knee, his touch warm and familiar. “It’s not gonna turn into somethin’ bigger. We’ll be back before you even start to worry.”

I gave him a look, folding my arms. “You know I’m going to worry the second you walk out that door, right?”

He gave me a faint smile, the kind that softened the hard edges of his face. “I know. But you don’t need to be out there every time somethin’ like this comes up. You deserve a night off, y/n.”

I huffed, leaning back against the headboard. “Fine. But you’d better come back in one piece, or I’m dragging you and Tommy back here myself.”

Joel chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about that.”

I watched as he stood, grabbing his gear and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me with that faint, knowing smile.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.”

I studied his face, trying to decide if I should push back, but the way he looked at me—steady and reassuring—made me stop. He always had a way of making me believe him, even when I didn’t want to.

“I love you,” I said quietly, the words slipping out without much thought.

Joel paused, turning back to look at me. His expression softened, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I love you too, y/n.”

I watched as he stepped into the hallway, his boots creaking on the wooden floor. The door closed a moment later, the sound faint but final.

I laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the unease in my chest. I’d said “I love you” a hundred times before, but something about this time felt different—like I hadn’t realized it might be the last.

And with that, he was gone, the door creaking shut behind him. I laid back down, staring up at the ceiling as the quiet settled back over the house.

Joel always came back—but that didn’t stop the unease from sitting heavy in my chest as I listened to the distant sound of his boots fade into the night.

The cold bit through my gloves as I fastened the strap of my pack. Patrols were usually dull—staring into a white wasteland of nothing and praying it stayed that way. But something about the morning felt… off. The sky was too heavy, and the wind howled like it knew something I didn’t.

“Y/n!” Jesse’s voice cut through the noise as he jogged toward me, snow crunching beneath his boots. His breath puffed white in the air, and his expression was tighter than usual. “You ready? We’re up for the lookout.”

I pulled my hood tighter and nodded. “Tommy and Joel are still there, right?”

“Supposed to be,” he said, his tone clipped. “Let’s go check in and swap shifts.”

We trudged through the snow, the trees around us bending under the weight of frost. Jesse kept the conversation light—something about a stupid bet with Manny—but I could see the same unease in his eyes that I felt in my gut.

When we reached the lookout, my stomach dropped.

Empty.

The door hung ajar, snow drifting into the cabin like it owned the place. No sign of Tommy. No sign of Joel.

“This isn’t right,” I muttered, scanning the room. “They wouldn’t just leave.”

Jesse stepped in, jaw tight as he swept his flashlight across the interior. Supplies were scattered, but nothing screamed fight. No blood, no overturned furniture. Just… absence.

“They didn’t radio in,” Jesse said under his breath, almost to himself.

“What now?” I asked, heart thudding harder.

The wind howled outside the tower as I adjusted my scarf, pulling it tighter around my neck. Jessie sat across from me, fiddling with the straps on his rifle, his expression tight with concern. We’d been here for hours, long past the point when Joel and Tommy were supposed to relieve us.

“Something’s wrong,” I said, my voice tense, glancing out the window at the snowstorm swirling outside. The visibility was getting worse by the minute, and my chest tightened with worry. Joel wasn’t one to miss a patrol, not without a damn good reason.

Jessie stood, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “We should head out. Let Ellie and Dina know.”

I didn’t argue. The unease in my gut had been growing since the first hour they were overdue, and sitting around wasn’t going to do us any good. Grabbing my gear, I followed Jessie out into the biting cold, where our horses were waiting just outside the tower.

Ranger, my chestnut gelding, pawed at the snow anxiously as I mounted up, his breath visible in the freezing air. I leaned down to pat his neck, trying to calm both of us. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go.”

We rode back to where Ellie and Dina were as quickly as the storm would allow, the snow biting at my face and stinging my eyes. By the time we reached the stables, I was frozen to the bone, but that didn’t matter. I needed to find Joel.

Ellie and Dina were in the Eugene Linden's hideout. They looked up the moment Jessie and I burst in, snow clinging to our clothes.

“Why aren’t you at the fucking look out?” Dina asked, her brows furrowing.

“Tommy and Joel never showed up,” Jessie said, cutting straight to the point.

“What?,” Ellie asked as she stood up.

Dinas expression immediately serious. “How late are we talking?”

“Hours,” I said, my voice tight as I brushed the snow from my jacket. “We waited as long as we could, but… something’s not right.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, and she grabbed her gear without hesitation. “Then we go find them.”

The four of us were out the door in minutes, the urgency unspoken but understood. We saddled up and split to cover more ground.

Ranger’s hooves crunched through the snow as I urged him forward, my eyes scanning the white expanse for any sign of Joel or Tommy. The storm was relentless, the wind cutting through my layers and making it harder to see.

My chest felt heavy, the cold sinking into my bones as my mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Joel wasn’t invincible, no matter how much I wanted to believe he was. If something had happened out here… I shook the thought away.

We pressed on, the snowstorm making the search feel endless. Every second that passed without finding them made my heart pound harder. Joel was out there somewhere, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

“C’mon, Joel,” I muttered under my breath, gripping Ranger’s reins tighter. “Where are you?”

The storm raged on, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t stopping until I found him. Until I brought him back.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller

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winters-on-the-wing · 3 days ago

Text

safe - a jily oneshot

Lily wasn’t the kind of person to flinch upon being touched. Sure, she didn’t like being manhandled or grabbed without warning, but she could compose herself well enough to keep fear from showing in her face or body. It was what she had to do. If she expressed that she was afraid, then it would only make her that much more vulnerable. Lily had long learned to train her nerves.

So then why did she shudder when she felt a cold hand firmly grasp her arm?

“Lily, what is going on with you?” Severus implored, his dark eyes wild with a strange, feral kind of fright, “First, I’m hearing all of these insane rumors, and now you’re late to class. You’re never late to class, Lily.”

“Hold on, what kinds of rumors have you been hearing?” Lily asked, sitting down beside Severus, in her favorite place at the front of the class, “You know by now not to listen to stupid rumors.”

“These rumors are different,” Severus practically snapped, “Everyone is saying that you’re dating Potter.”

Severus spat the word like it was poison, and Lily couldn’t help but crack a smile. Now that she had let her guard down around James and their rivalry dissolved, she could fully see how silly it was that she and Severus had ever considered James an enemy.

“Well, maybe that’s because I am,” Lily said cautiously, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she thought about her new lover. “We made it official yesterday after the big Quidditch game. Neither of us like labels all that much, but we also couldn’t excuse calling each other friends after, well…it’s improper to talk about this sort of thing. Let’s compare homework. Did you get C for the second question?”

Severus placed his hand on Lily’s, keeping her from taking her schoolbooks from her satchel. His grip around Lily’s hand tightened, and Lily realized with an odd sort of dread that though Severus’ hand was small, it was surprisingly small.

“Lily, this isn’t some joke,” Severus hissed urgently, “You can’t be- you can’t be dating James Potter! He’s treated us like shit ever since we first got here! He doesn’t care about you, Lily!”

“He has not treated us like shit,” Lily protested, “Sure, we’ve had our squabbles, but he doesn’t ever go too far. And he’s defended me. You’ve heard him defend me, Sev. Not even you have ever defended me the way he does every day.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Lily!” Severus snapped, and Lily’s eyes widened. She froze as Severus continued. “He’s a Pureblood, obviously, he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying! He’s just pretending so he can seem like a hero and get close to you! You know how James and Sirius and them are. Everything they do is a fucking act. So that people will treat them like they’re the kings of the world!”

“That’s not true, Sev!” Lily cried out the second she was able to get a word in, “I know he can tease sometimes, but he’s a good person. He makes me feel…well…he makes me feel safe, Severus. Nobody’s made me feel like that before.”

“Seriously, Lily?” Severus demanded. “I’ve never made you feel safe before? I’ve been protecting you since the day we met!”

Lily winced as Severus’ grip on her arm tightened, and her skin reddened underneath the growing cruelty in his hand.

“You’re certainly not making me feel safe now!” she shot back, yanking at her arm to try and take it back from Severus’ oppressive grip. “You’re being ridiculous! How does my relationship with James have anything to do with you? I can be his girlfriend and your friend at the same time, can’t I?”

“No you can’t, Lily! You don’t get it!” Severus’ eyes glinted with something sinister. It made Lily’s skin crawl. “I just don’t understand how you can’t see it. I’ve been there for you, I’ve supported you, I’ve given you everything, Lily! Who else would do that for a Mudblood?”

The world froze as Lily realized what this all was about. It was never about James. It was never even about Severus. It was about her, and what flowed in her veins. What rushed in her ears in this very moment.

“You said you would never call me that again.”

Lily’s voice was heavy and thick with fear. She felt frozen, like she couldn’t move a muscle. This wasn’t like Lily. Usually, when she was afraid, she couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t fathom why the same was not happening now. She wanted to run. She wanted to be away from Severus and those eyes, which burned with hatred for not Lily, but for what she was.

“Why does it matter?” Severus challenged, “It’s what you are. Nothing’s going to change that. You’re a real slut, Lily, leading me on like this, making me think that we had something. I know exactly what you are. You’re a fucking gold digger. First, you wanted to be near me because of my status. And then, someone richer came along, a Pureblood at that. You just want to take from men, whatever you can. Whatever they have. If you think this is some sort of rebellion against the system, you’re dead wrong! Nobody else would genuinely do this for you, nobody else would genuinely let you pretend that you’re an equal! You’re a slut, Lily Evans, and I don’t care who hears it because it’s true!”

A loud crack resounded, echoing off the walls of the classroom. The other buzzing of conversations stopped as all eyes turned to the front of the room. Standing before Lily was James Potter. All six feet of James Potter. Lily was transfixed, unable to stop staring at his eyes. James’ eyes were big and brown, always gentle. Always reverent. They twinkled with a childlike innocence and a mischievous impishness. But none of that was present now. James’ eyes, his big brown eyes, were glimmering with unbridled rage.

Severus was huddled on the floor, clutching the side of his face. Tears sprang from the corners of his eyes almost immediately. James did not falter or frown. His glare was red-hot.

“You’re lucky I didn’t punch your throat,” James spat, “Calling Lily such a name. You know, Lily told me that you’re her best friend, so I decided coming in today that I would try to be nice to you. But I forgot one thing. It’s impossible to be nice to a bigot, Snivellus.”

James kicked Severus in the side, causing the boy to whimper and scramble to his feet, running out of the room, no doubt towards the infirmary. The rest of the morning went by in a blur. James was yelled at. He was sentenced to detention. 200 house points were taken. And then, 100 house points were given. For standing up for equality. Lily felt James stroke her hair and ask if she was alright, but her tongue felt numb. She could not speak. Finally, after a few minutes of concentrated thawing, she whispered in the smallest, shakiest voice.

“You didn’t have to do that, James.”

And suddenly, James’ eyes were the same gentle brown eyes that Lily had fallen in love with. He looked shocked and confused, and his head tilted to the side. Lily was almost tempted to laugh at how innocent James looked. He seemed unable to fathom what Lily had said, and when he responded, his voice was rich with devotion.

“Yes, I did.”

His hands held Lily’s arms, and she felt no fear, even though James’ hands were much bigger than Severus’. His hold was so impossibly tender. Lily felt like a glass figurine, like something that was worth handling delicately. And it made her feel…safe. Lily was safe again.

---

inspired by a conversation with @fauna-flora11

i hope you guys enjoyed! i know the fic is pretty indulgent, but i just wrote it for fun!

#marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fandom #hp marauders #james potter #severus snape #lily evans #lily potter #jily #flowerpott #james x lily #lily x james #marauders fanfiction #the marauders era #marauders fic

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marksbear2 · 2 days ago

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Silco x Enforcer male reader

Warning!!⚠️ Not really deep angst as it was last fic I wrote of him but still angst. It’s like unrequited love, but also Silco using your love for his own gain.⚠️

Beneath the surface

The streets of Zaun were alive with noise and chaos, but within the shadows, where the flickering lights from the neon signs barely reached, there was something different. A silence that clung to the cold walls of the underground lair that belonged to Silco.

You leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the dimly lit room where Silco sat, his back turned as he stared out of the window. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Months had passed since this... arrangement had begun, yet neither of you spoke of it aloud. There was no need. The silence between the two of you had become its own language.

The size difference between the two of you had never been lost on Silco. He was a smaller man, but he carried himself with such a commanding presence that it made up for it in spades. Your height was an advantage, but it didn’t matter in the end. Not in this dynamic.

He didn’t turn to acknowledge your presence, his fingers tapping against the glass. It was something he did often—silent, distant, lost in his thoughts. You could only wonder what was going on behind that cold gaze of his.

“I need you,” he finally spoke, his voice low and cold. It was the same way he always spoke to you. Not with warmth, not with affection—just with the weight of command.

Your heart tightened, but you stayed silent, obeying without question. "What do you need?" you asked, your voice betraying nothing. There was no place for weakness here.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Silco’s lips. He glanced over his shoulder, the faintest glimmer of something darker in his eyes. "Do you ever question why you're still here?" he asked, the power play palpable in his words.

Of course, you had questioned it. You were aware of the manipulation—the way he kept you close but never allowed you too close. The way he twisted your emotions into something that only fueled his ambitions. But you couldn’t walk away. Not anymore.

“No," you said simply, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside. "I’ll always be here."

Silco’s expression softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make you pause. He wasn’t looking for love. You weren’t that naive. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, when his guard was down, he allowed himself a fraction of vulnerability. Just enough for you to see how lost he really was beneath the cold exterior. It was fleeting, but it kept you clinging on.

Without turning to face you completely, Silco’s hand reached up and brushed against your cheek, the coolness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was always calculated, always just enough to remind you of the distance between you both.

“I’ve made you soft,” Silco murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But I think you like it.”

You didn’t argue, not now. There was nothing left to say. He had you in the palm of his hand, and while you hated it, you could never escape it. His control over you was suffocating, but it was also intoxicating. You were too far gone, too deep into this twisted dance.

The size difference between you and Silco had always been a reminder of who held the power, yet every time you were alone like this, it felt as though the roles were reversed. The way he made you feel small without even touching you, the way his silence could break you, it all came together in a power play that neither of you fully understood. Or perhaps you did, but neither of you had the courage to call it what it was.

His hand dropped from your face, and without a word, he moved toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. You knew what was coming—a momentary lapse of control, a fleeting moment of intimacy that would be gone before you could process it.

“Come here,” he commanded softly, the cold edge still present in his voice. You stepped forward, your body betraying your desire to be closer, even if it meant continuing this cycle. His hands were all over you, pressing you against him, your larger frame somehow still dwarfed by his presence as he leaned into you.

He didn’t kiss you—not like lovers did. He kissed you like a ruler marking his territory. There was no tenderness, only hunger, and the need to remind you who was in control. The sharp press of his lips, the way his hands gripped your sides tightly—it all made your breath catch in your throat.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice a quiet order.

You swallowed, the words feeling too familiar, too much of a surrender, but you said them anyway. “I’m yours.”

Silco smirked, pulling away slightly, eyes meeting yours. “Good. Never forget that.”

You were trapped in this world of manipulation and coldness, unable to let go, and even if you could, you knew you never would. No matter how often Silco reminded you of your place, how often he used you emotionally, it wasn’t enough to break the attachment that had built itself so deeply inside you.

In this power play, you were just as much a prisoner as he was—bound by the secrets you kept from everyone around you. And no matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn’t escape the way you needed him.

And in that moment, Y/N understood: this was his place, standing at the edge of Silco’s abyss, constantly yearning for the affection that would never come. But as much as he hated himself for it, he would always return to Silco. The cold, calculating man who used him emotionally, who toyed with his affections as if it were nothing.

But to Y/N, it was everything.

And so, they remained there in the dark, both trapped in their roles. One in control, the other consumed by love. Y/n kept trying, to search his gaze wanting to find anything that had a glimpse of love or affection. But what he saw was emptiness, as he knew loving someone like a Silco will forever will only lead into heartbreak.

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male y/n #x reader #amab reader #x gn reader #silco x male reader #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco #arcane x male reader #arcane x reader #arcane lol #the bear club

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hiddengiggles · 11 hours ago

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Let’s talk about consent and smart ways to play

Yes, consent can be revoked at any time. That’s normal and your boundaries should be reexamined regularly as part of your own check ins.

No, it doesn’t mean either party did anything wrong, it can just be a change of what either wants. Shaming either party for changing their mind serves no one. Don’t act like the person who was receiving the action is unfair or a “tease” for changing their mind. Don’t act like the person giving the action was bad or wrong for doing the thing for which they had consent at the time because you didn’t like it.

Yes, it’s awesome to be able to open yourself up and be vulnerable for different activities and kinks. When you don’t have a partner to engage with regularly, it can be thrilling to finally find a person to play with, I know.

No, blanket consent for EVERYTHING right from the jump is NOT a good idea. If you’re connecting with a play partner the first few times, start slow and expand. Feeling enough trust to give consent for some kinks can and probably should take time so uou can be really comfortably vulnerable

Yes, it is exciting to safely meet play partners from the online world when you are BOTH ready for it! When you’re safe about meeting (getting to know them slowly, setting a neutral meeting point, letting a few people know where you’re going and the name of your friend, etc) it can be a great way to get time with your kinks. When it isn’t forced, rushed, or for too long a time period, the organic connection can be magical!

No, you should not assume each party is on the same page unless you’ve communicated multiple times, especially in writing. If you had a phone call a month ago that talked about boundaries and assume all is well, you’re not actually playing safely. Some people write out rules, some BDSM players sometimes make it a “contract”, but a verbal conversation will not protect you or help you if worse comes to worst. This is especially important for partners still new to playing together. Record the hard conversations in some way.

Yes, you can start a conversation on boundaries and kinks with generalization. Example on my end, my husband and I both are okay with pictures and videos taken of us and posting them. In the early days of our relationship, we checked every time we played “Is it okay if I film this?” but after years together we’ve both agreed it’s okay to take them anytime, though we check with each other if we’re comfortable with what was captured regularly.

No, a general conversation is not enough. Continuing my example, we both have boundaries for ourselves and for each other to make sure we’re okay with it being posted (or sometimes sold). Earlier today, I put on a really pretty lingerie set for some birthday giggles. However, I stopped and asked “If you wanted to film this, would you be comfortable with me being seen in this publicly? Our usually boundaries call for a top and bottoms covering”. He paused, considered, and said no, so I put on a tank top and shorts too. Get specific with every aspect of your play, from your comfortable clothing levels, to where content can be posted, to areas you don’t want touched that day that you might normally be okay with otherwise. Assuming you already know the answer is not enough, say it again.

Consent is a lot bigger and more complicated than just this post, so talk about it A LOT with your partner(s). The biggest key to a good relationship in and out of kink (friendship, mentorship, romantic relationship) is to NEVER STOP TALKING. Communication is key, talk about your boundaries and consent over and over and over. They will change and grow, and so will you.

Mistakes and miscommunications will happen, but it’s important to talk about them like the grown people you are. A lot of consent issues with new partners aren’t malicious, they can easily stem from either party being unclear or simply not thinkinh to ask about something that could be a boundary issue. Unless it was a blatant “I KNEW the boundary and disregarded it purposely because I wanted to do it” situation, be an adult and talk about it. If you’re adult enough to be engaging in activities or kinks for adults, you need to follow through and talk about what went right and wrong. Learn and grow from the stuff you didn’t do as well before, accept responsibility for your part, and move on, with or without that partner.

#risk aware consensual kink #consent is sexy #safe sane consensual #rack #not quite sfw #tips and tricks

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everlastingday · 1 day ago

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one thing i love about the show is how it shows unconditional love, especially when it comes to parents/children. it's aspirational, heartwarming, and it's good escapism.

BUT i just want to put a gentle and loving reminder for anyone who needs it that it is, at the end of the day, fictional. i come from a more traditional/conservative culture, and in that respect, i see a lot of myself in both carlos and marjan. that need to earn the respect of your parents/family, to gain their approval, to never want to go against your elders, is so deeply ingrained into me.

so on one hand, i love seeing these characters work through these struggles on screen - marjan in this last episode, and carlos throughout seasons 2-4. i love seeing them opening up, standing their ground, and becoming more vulnerable with these authoritative figures in their lives. i love seeing their courage to open up be rewarded with complete acceptance, love, and respect.

but sometimes, i do have to remind myself that this just isn't the reality for a lot of people, including myself. we can open up all we want and still never get the responses that we want from our parents. and i don't mean to say this in a discouraging or condescending way (and i apologize if it comes across that way), but more just to reiterate that if you don't get your parents' approval and recognition, that is okay too.

i think it's natural to want it, and it's okay to want it, but you do not need it. just know that if your real life does not play out the way these fictional stories do, it doesn't mean you've failed, or that you could've done something differently to get a different result. it just means that these are fictional stories, and yours is real.

all that to say, if you are someone who has not been able to receive validation from the people you need it most from in your life, i see you, and you are not alone.

#lol remember when i said post-episode essays weren't gonna be a regular thing #anyway just in my feels so might delete later #5x10 thoughts #but also been thinking a lot about this since rewatching 2x04 #911 lone star #911 lone star spoilers

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dreameyess11 · 2 days ago

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Cold cold man

Tangerine x Reader

You’ve always known Tangerine was different. The first time you met him, his eyes bore into you with an intensity that felt like it could shatter glass. He had a way of making silence heavy, a tangible thing that pressed against your chest. Yet, even then, you felt something beneath his cold demeanor—a flicker of warmth that refused to burn brightly but never quite went out.

Tangerine isn’t like other people, not the kind who showers you with flowery words or makes grand gestures. Instead, his love is quiet, hidden in the spaces between his sharp edges. It’s there in the way he listens, the way he notices things most wouldn’t—like how you always fidget with your ring when you’re nervous or how you hum to yourself when you think no one’s watching. He never says anything about it, never makes a point of it, but he remembers.

You wish, sometimes, that he could be easier, softer. You wish he’d hold your hand in public or tell you how beautiful you look without needing to be prompted. But that’s not Tangerine. His compliments, when they come, are rare and understated.

“Nice dress,” he’ll mutter, barely looking at you. But you know it’s his way of saying you’re breathtaking.

His coldness isn’t cruelty—it’s just who he is. And you’ve learned to read between the lines. You’ve learned to see the way his hand brushes yours, just slightly, when you walk side by side. How he’ll stand a little closer to you when the room feels too big, too loud. How, in the middle of the night, when he thinks you’re asleep, his fingers will trace patterns on your arm, feather-light and reverent.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch together, the TV playing some show neither of you is really watching. He’s quiet, as always, his expression unreadable. But then, out of nowhere, he speaks.

“I’m not good at this,” he says, voice low and rough.

“At what?” you ask, turning to him.

“This,” he gestures vaguely between you two. “Us. Love. I’m not good at showing it.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone. “You don’t have to be perfect at it, Tan. I don’t need big gestures or constant reminders. I just need you.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, you swear you see something crack in him. “I know I’m a cold man,” he says softly. “But you make me want to be better. Even if I’m slow, even if I don’t always say the right things. I want to try. For you.”

It’s the most he’s ever said about his feelings, and it takes your breath away. You reach out, placing your hand over his. His fingers are stiff at first, hesitant, but then they relax, curling around yours.

“I don’t need you to be anything but yourself,” you whisper. “That’s enough for me.”

And for the first time, Tangerine smiles—not a big smile, but a small, genuine curve of his lips that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it’s for you.

In that moment, you realize that Tangerine’s love may not be easy or loud, but it’s real. It’s in every quiet gesture, every small act of care, every unspoken word. And for you, that’s more than enough.

#fanfic #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #bullet train #imagine #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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lohotine · 2 hours ago

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``A More Vulnerable Side of the Elusive Moon``

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader

CW: Slight Angst, not heavily proof read

The moon only shines because of the sun; yet it claims that light as its own. It is as greedy as it is illustrious. It appears bigger than it actually is due to an illusion. If placed in a room alongside a certain jester, and you were told to point to the liar, which would you choose?

Despite all of this, you can't help but admire it all the same. Even with all of its flaws, how can one not acknowledge its beauty?

"Thinking about something?"

You turn your head away from the moon only to be met by another. This one has a blueish hue and a signature, masked smile to go with it.

"Nothing you'd find entertaining," you say to Shadow Milk.

He continues to stare at you, unblinking. Despite him only having two eyes, you feel the gaze of hundreds more still on you.

Shadow Milk takes a seat next to you, taking your hand in his nearly instantly. It's cold to the touch.

"Hmmm, you think too much," He takes a strand of your hair and begins to twirl it. "There's no need for all of these silly thoughts to be running around in your mind."

Ever the touchy cookie.

"It's nice to think sometimes," You'd respond.

Shadow Milk Cookie only rolls his eyes before releasing your hand. "But that's so BORING. The only thoughts you should be thinking about anyway should be about me!"

You feel him place his head on your shoulder, and though his face is not visible to you, you're sure he's pouting.

"In a way, I was sort of thinking about you."

He lifts his head and turns to face you, his signaturing smile returning just as quickly as it faded. "Really?" He sounds akin to that of a small child receiving a gift on their birthday. In response, you nod your head.

"Mhm..." You shift slightly so you are behind him before wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

His expression is almost unreadable, yet there seems to be some sort of... annoyance.

"I'm always the big-spoon," Shadow Milk grumbles.

He hates to admit it, but he just loves to always be in control. Sure, this is a small example of it, but not having the upper hand in situations like this causes him to feel stuck.

Shadow Milk absolutely despises feeling stuck.

Even if you read through the dictionary one hundred times, you'd never find quite the right words to describe the disdain Shadow Milk experiences when it comes to feeling stuck.

"Just this one time please... I wanna hold you," you'd mutter.

Shadow Milk thinks it is absolutely pathetic how quickly he folds when you ask like that; yet it doesn't change the fact that he still does.

He may not have said it out loud, but him not moving out of your grasp was his own way of voicing that he would allow it.

Actually, it really was quite odd how quiet Shadow Milk was being. Normally he doesn't shut up.

But as you look up at his face, you can tell that something is different. He's thinking about something.

It's not like he never thinks, though. He thinks quite a lot, actually. He's just never so... obvious about it. So still... silent.

Perhaps he hates it. Perhaps he loves it.

Or... maybe a bit of both?

When it comes to Shadow Milk, it really is hard to tell.

"Thinking about something?" You parrot his way of speech from earlier.

His gaze locks onto yours. It's sharp and filled with something... Hatred? Confusion? Maybe it's something more innocent, like surprise. Whatever it is, it only lasts a moment.

One small, fleeting moment.

Then he's back to grinning, back to hiding behind that mask he's so carefully crafted.

You admit, you're not sure if you love him or the mask.

He, too, is unsure.

"You don't need to worry your little head about it!" He flicks your forehead.

"But I like to worry about you," You'd say.

And once again, Shadow Milk finds it absolutely disgusting how quickly he folds when it comes to your words.

Think about it; a beast such as him, falling for a mere weak, stupid, and frankly, rather gross mortal?

Just what would the other beasts think about him if they were to ever find out?

What would YOU think about him?

No, he simply cannot let you find out. Or anyone! But mainly you.

In fact, there isn't even anything to find out! Since he doesn't like you...

And as you observe him, you realize he's fallen silent once more. There's no grin or anything hidden on his face. He simply gazes at you. Admiring you, maybe? Staring? You're still not sure.

But you do know that this version of him is something different. A more fragile... more real version.

It's something you haven't seen before.

Perhaps it's even a more vulnerable side of the elusive moon.

AN:

This writing is actually pretty messy tbh, but this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week and I didn't know what to do with it.

I might write more using ideas from this, and hopefully that'll give me time to let all of this marinate.

I'm not sure how well the ideas in this work together, since there's a lot of them, but I still think they're pretty interesting to explore.

IE; Shadow Milk's fears, reader's doubt when it comes to loving a liar, and the comparison of SMC to the moon.

Idk what I'm even doing anymore tbh, but um yeah. Here's something to chew on IG

#shadow milk cookie crk #crk #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie fanfic #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk x reader angst #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk #shadow milk x reader crk

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narcissisticsmoker · 19 hours ago

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I am an extremely insecure and shy person but also crave the ability to be confident and cared for. I find that in your writing, some of your pieces. So thank you

Your message made me pause for a moment, and I just want to say thank you for sharing this with me. It means so much to know that my writing resonates with you in that way. Confidence is such a tricky thing, it ebbs and flows, and sometimes it feels like we’re always reaching for it just beyond our grasp. But you already have a spark of it, even in your vulnerability, because it takes strength to admit what you crave and long for.

I hope you keep finding that comfort and confidence, not just in my words, but in yourself too. You’re more capable of that inner strength than you probably realize, and I think anyone who gets to know the shy, caring, and introspective side of you is pretty damn lucky. Keep embracing all parts of who you are. You’ve got something beautiful in you, and it deserves to shine. ✨ :)

#anon ask #send anons #thanks anon!#anons welcome

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mai-komagata · 2 days ago

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negotiation is not giving away your hand

why does halbrand keep telling Galadriel that he doesn't want to be king of the southlands?

We know he wants to conquer the southlands -- that is what is in the documents Galadriel found says Sauron wants. We know he stole that emblem to appear as if he were a royal man. (there is some nice camera shots of him always *appearing* to be putting it down, before he finally claims it at the last moment) So why does he keep saying it?

Because he knows it's what Galadriel wants. So it is the only leverage he has against her.

sometimes in a negotiation you both want the same thing. Party A wants you to do something, and you want to do it -- in fact, you might need to do it. But Party A *doesn't know* you want to do it. So you don't tell them. And now, in the negotiation the thing you want can be a concession you are making.

Anyway Galadriel thinks she is forcing halbrand into this role as king of the southlands. He knew she'd break his promise because Numenor/Miriel/Pharazon would only agree to the plan if a human was spearheading it. So she feels she is in his debt once she broke her promise. She feels that she needs to confess what happened to her; she needs to confess her fears to him when he asks because she feels she asked too much of him.

So now Sauron has exactly what he told us you need to manipulate someone: you need to learn someone's greatest fear, and find a way for them to conquer it.

If he had agreed to be Galadriel's chosen one from day 1, he would not have gotten her confession. This way, he gets everything he wanted, despite having no bargaining position. He wanted to stay longer in Numenor to scheme, he got that.

He wanted a means to control Galadriel -- her vulnerability and trust, he got that.

He wanted to make the best weapons for his army, he got that.

He wanted several ships worth of men to be sent back, not just him and Galadriel, and he got that.

He wanted to destabilize the social order in Numenor, he got that.

(ps: does this mean sauron isn't genuinely in his feelings in this moment? of course not. But his feelings aren't what they seem. He isn't "a person *like* those who died fighting for morgoth" -- i.e. empathy for their common misguided humanity. He IS a follower of morgoth. that was his entire identity and now he has nothing, and he empathizes with loss). (pps. also this isn't to say galadriel is somehow stupid. She believes she is getting everything she wants.)

#sauron #galadriel and halbrand #the rings of power #rings of power #trop #trop meta #rop meta #halbrand #galadriel #numenor #Sauron doesn't always lie #but he is in Numenor for a reason #he isn't just there chilling #i think people are gonna disagree #it is possible im making sauron more scheming than he is?#i dont think so #this is like a bare minimum of scheming

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sterifels-blog · 2 days ago

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call of duty characters - how they react to you falling asleep against them.

alex "ajax" thompson

•ajax isn’t exactly used to seeing anyone vulnerable, especially when you’re asleep on him– so his initial reaction is a stiffening of his posture as if to check if you’re genuinely okay. you’ve been on high-stress missions for days, and your sudden nap is a sign you’re either exhausted or hiding some deeper fatigue that he won’t push you about right now. he’s the type to make sure you’re safe first before anything else, so while you’re napping on his shoulder or chest, you’ll feel the gentle shift of his arm around you, as if he's trying to make sure you don’t slide off the couch where you fell asleep.

•as a man of few words, he won’t wake you up, but he might mumble something low under his breath like, “guess you needed that.” he’ll continue to monitor the situation—always keeping an ear out for any movements or sounds that could alert him to danger. ajax might not be part of ongoing operations, but when you're around, his protective side kicks in full force, even if it’s a little reluctant.

•he’ll sit still for what feels like forever, and when he’s sure you’re safe and sleeping soundly, his grip on you softens slightly, but he doesn’t budge. if he shifts too much, you might stir, and he’s not about to deal with a 'grumpy' you. so, he’ll lean back in the chair or on the couch, even if his body aches from sitting so stiffly. his focus shifts from mission plans and tactical decisions to making sure your breathing stays steady, watching the rise and fall of your chest with an odd sense of peace.

• if you wake up to find his dark eyes staring down at you, expect a quick “you okay?” but nothing more. he’s not about to dive into emotions, but there’s an unmistakable gentleness in his voice. if you seem embarrassed, he’ll smirk just slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your vulnerability, but that’s all.

• ajax doesn’t get affectionate often, but when you’re lying against him, exhausted, he’ll offer the barest hint of warmth—a protective hand on your back or a quick but reassuring squeeze of your hand. he’s not into grand gestures, but these little acts are how he shows care

alex keller

• keller is a quiet yet reassuring presence, so when you fall asleep on him, he doesn’t rush to wake you. instead, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder or lap, his eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp, trained focus. the world around you might be filled with tension, but keller is one of those guys who finds comfort in the stillness. he won’t fidget or try to get up; he’ll let you sleep, knowing it’s been a long and grueling time for you both.

•if you shift a little or murmur in your sleep, he’ll smile softly to himself, his usual stoic expression softening. “relax. we’re good here,” he’ll say in that calm, unshakable tone. keller doesn’t do overtly sweet things, but you’ll notice him leaning into the moment, staying still even as his body is tense, preparing for whatever mission comes next.

•there’s a soft, almost hesitant warmth to his touch when he adjusts your position to make sure you’re comfortable—he never wants to disturb your sleep, but if he has to move, he’ll do it carefully, his large hand sliding over your back, keeping you steady without waking you. his concern might not be voiced, but it's clear in his movements. he's a man of action, not words (sometimes).

•in the safe house, after long missions, when you doze off unexpectedly, alex might keep a quiet vigil over you. his thoughts may wander, but he never stops checking for your safety, even as you sleep like a rock in his presence. he'll offer you a blanket or a jacket if the air turns cold, a silent acknowledgment.

•when you wake up to find him still there, he might ask, “feel better?” his eyes will meet yours, no judgment or fuss, just simple concern. if you look groggy or confused, he might add, “you needed it. don’t worry.” but there won’t be any teasing or push for explanation— he's pragmatic like that.

captain john price

•you and price have had a long, exhausting few weeks— missions, briefings, and constant tension—but now you’re outside, lounging on a lawn bed by the pool, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the world in golden hues. it’s a rare moment of peace, and price is content just to have you near him.

•as you relaxed, the heat of the day still lingering in the air, your eyes had started to flutter. the sound of the pool water gently rippling lulled- and before you know it, your head was resting on his chest, the familiar scent of cigars and his cologne comforting in the warmth. price doesn't move, not immediately— he's too content with the stillness, watching you with a soft, almost proud expression.

•after a while, price’s cigar burns down to its last inch, and with the slightest, almost imperceptible grin, he takes his old, worn hat off and gently places it over your eyes, shielding you from the afternoon sun. his rough, calloused hand lingers on your head for a moment longer than necessary, a subtle gesture of affection, though it’s not like him to make a big deal out of these moments.

•price doesn’t move much, not wanting to disturb you, but every so often, his eyes flick to the pool, then back to you, his mind half on the world around him and half on the rare luxury of this moment with you. he'll hum a low, contented tune under his breath, the sound almost drowned out by the distant chirp of birds and the light splashing of water.

•you'll both take a nap together because his old ass can't keep himself awake for that long, either. not when he's finally got you all to himself, away from the chaos of everything. being back in a domestic environment is something he adapts harshly to, after each mission. but this time around, it's a little easier— with reason.

captain john "soap" mactavish

•after a particularly brutal mission, the helicopter ride back to base is nothing short of tense, but when you fall asleep next to him, soap’s hardened exterior softens immediately. he’s not one to openly express care—he’s always been about the mission, always the leader. but when you rest your head against his shoulder, there's a protective warmth that floods his chest, and he can't help but shift to accommodate you. his arm, though bruised and worn from the day's battles, instinctively drapes around you, pulling you a little closer, like he’s got to protect you at all costs—even in the quiet moments.

•soap, despite his rough demeanor, has a massive soft spot for those he considers his own, and you're no exception. he’ll look down at you with a slight smile, his tired eyes scanning the surroundings but making sure you're safe. he might mutter something to himself, something in his thick scottish accent, almost like he’s reassuring himself as much as you: "aye, ye’re alright, hen. get yer rest.."

•if you shift slightly in your sleep or start to stir, john will instinctively reach for your shoulder to steady you. his hand, large and calloused, will gently pat your arm or rub your back without a word, the kind of motion that’s familiar and comforting, like it’s second nature to him. he's been through so many missions, so many battles, but holding you close in this moment makes him feel like he’s got something real, something of his own worth protecting. his voice, usually loud and commanding, lowers to a soft hum. "you’ve earned yer sleep, lass."

•he’ll occasionally glance down at you as the helicopter rattles through the air, his gaze softening each time. he’ll probably mutter something like “i've got ye” under his breath, as if to remind you— and himself —that he's there for you, and nothing will harm you while he’s by your side.

•when you wake up, the helicopter’s interior has grown quieter, the hum of the blades a steady backdrop to your grogginess. soap’s arm is still around you, his presence grounding you as you come to your senses. he won’t make a fuss, but you’ll notice a subtle tenderness in his expression. "hope ye got a good rest,” he’ll say with a gentle grin, his usual cheeky tone a little more softened. "you’ll need it for what comes next."

david "hesh" walker

•hesh is a bit of a softie under his tough exterior, and he’d never admit it, but when you fall asleep on him, it’s like the world stops for him. his first reaction might be a slight chuckle, followed by him adjusting his position so you’re more comfortable, even if that means bending in ways that aren't easy for him. he's the kind of guy who’ll let you nap on him without a second thought, but he’ll occasionally glance down at you with this unreadable look in his eyes.

•he’s got this protective side that isn’t super obvious, but it’s there, and it’s in full force when you’re asleep on him. you’ll catch him softly muttering things like “yeah, we got this,” as though reassuring both of you. he’ll keep his movements minimal so you don’t wake up too soon— he knows the value of a good nap, especially in their line of work.

•if you stir in your sleep, he might smirk a little. “didn’t mean to make you move,” he’ll joke, but there’s a certain softness in his voice. when you wake up, you’ll catch him looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a small grin, almost like he’s trying to hide how much he cares. “you’re good, right?”

•if you seem restless, he’ll toss an arm over your shoulder to keep you close, offering the kind of silent comfort that comes naturally to him. "shh.. relax.. i'm right here, just shut your eyes." he’ll whisper, and you can tell he means it, running his fingers through your hair.

•kisses your forehead as you sleep. it's a silent action, one he knows you won't remember come your waking; but that's entirely the point.

derek "frost" westbrook

•frost is the type of guy who’ll act like he’s bothered, but deep down, he’s probably thrilled that you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him. if you’re in a safe house, curled up on the couch or leaning against him, he’ll give you a look at first; but it’s not disapproving. instead, he’ll just throw his arm around you with a smirk, muttering, “you’re lucky i’m nice.” but there’s no malice in his words—he actually enjoys the company.

•he’ll give you a gentle nudge if you start to lean too much one way or another, trying to avoid you from slipping off or looking uncomfortable. his hand will rest on your head for a while, just making sure that you're alright. he’s not about to make a big deal out of it, but he does care about your well-being.

•if you wake up and look a little embarrassed, frost will throw a playful grin your way. “don’t worry about it. i got you.” his tone is light and teasing, but underneath that, there's a layer of genuine concern. if you get up or look restless, he might toss a blanket over you without saying anything, not because you need it, but because he knows it’s a small way to show that he’s there.

•second note: he loves pulling you against his chest, and tucking your head beneath his chin.

dipaolo

•dipaolo is a natural protector at heart, and when you fall asleep on him, he takes it very seriously. he’ll gently adjust his position so that you’re lying more comfortably, never rushing, never shifting too quickly. he’ll let you rest, even if the mission around him is still ongoing. he’s the type to give a quiet sigh, almost resigned, as though he’s just going to wait for you to finish resting so that he can do his job— or for the job to finish so that way he can hold you on the rest of the way back home.

•there’s a warmth to dipaolo that you don’t see from others. even if his eyes are sharp and always scanning the environment, he’ll subtly make sure you’re comfortable, maybe even offering to rub your back or neck if you seem stiff. "you look like you could use a little rest," he might murmur, though he won't push you to sleep more than you need, even though he thoroughly enjoys having you snagged to his side.

•if you're asleep on him, he knows where you are, always. simple solution; he won't have to worry.

•he’ll be the first to offer you food or a drink once you wake up, something to help you regain your energy, and he’ll do it without asking, always anticipating your needs. his gestures are simple but filled with care, whether it’s covering you with a blanket or making sure you’re hydrated.

•on the way back, he's ditched the seat belts, keeping you close to him.

elias walker

•elias is no stranger to tough situations, so when you fall asleep unexpectedly, he doesn’t make a fuss about it. he’ll simply let you rest, adjusting his position slightly so that he’s comfortable without disturbing you (he's not sacrificing his back for your sake). his protective instinct runs deep, and you can tell that he’s not just letting you nap for the sake of it— he’s watching over you.

•his usual calm demeanor doesn’t change when you’re near him, but there’s a quiet gentleness in his touch when he adjusts you or shifts his arm around you. elias is a man of few words, but if you wake up groggy or disoriented, he’ll be the one to reassure you. “rested now? we’ll be fine,” he’ll say simply.

•his favorite thing to do when you’re just beginning to wake up is tilt your chin up, and softly rub his thumb alongside your jaw. type of guy to rub the sleep out of your eyes for you, and then cradle your heavy head to his chest.

•elias might even hold you in his arms a little longer than necessary if you're restless, letting you find your peace, all while keeping an eye on the surroundings. his actions are silent but caring, a subtle contrast to his more intense nature.

enzo reyes

•enzo’s got a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, but when you're with him in a hunting blind, you start to see a different side—a side that’s way more soft and attentive than he lets on in other situations. as the two of you crouch in the quiet of the woods, waiting for the perfect shot, he notices you shift and yawn, clearly exhausted from the hours of stillness. you don't even realize when your head starts to droop, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep against him, your shoulder resting against his chest

•at first, enzo’s a little surprised, but then he lets out a small, affectionate chuckle, the kind that’s a mix of disbelief and fondness. "guess you couldn’t last much longer, huh?" he doesn’t want to wake you, though, especially not when the air is chilly and you look so peaceful leaning against him. so, he adjusts his position carefully, making sure you’re secure and don’t slip off the bench you’re sitting on.

•the longer you stay asleep, the more relaxed he gets. enzo's usual alertness fades, and instead, he settles into a more comfortable position, keeping one arm around you loosely, almost like it’s second nature for him to keep you close.

•you might shift a little in your sleep, mumbling a bit, but enzo just lets out a low chuckle and adjusts the collar of your jacket so it isn't choking you. his movements are careful and deliberate, trying not to wake you, and there’s a warmth in the way he holds you steady. he murmurs under his breath, “rest up, sweetheart. i've got this."

•enzo doesn’t let go of you immediately, when you wake up. he keeps his hand resting on your arm or back, rubbing it gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, almost absent-minded way. "you good now? you know, i don’t mind you napping here. i’m comfy, too."

erikson

•erikson is a bit of a contradiction—he’s gentle and charming, the kind of guy who makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room without ever needing to say it out loud. the moment you fall asleep next to him, he doesn’t see it as an inconvenience but an opportunity to be close to you. he’ll pull you towards him carefully, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that reflects his true nature. it’s almost like he’s afraid of being too rough, so he keeps his movements soft and considerate, ensuring you’re comfortable.

•you’ll find that erikson doesn’t try to control or possess in the way others might; instead, he settles into the moment with you, as if savoring the peace you bring. he might lean his head back against the armrest or wall, his eyes drifting shut, but always keeping you near, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he's memorizing every part of you. his touch is delicate, never forcing you to stay, but always making sure you feel secure and cared for.

•if you stir during your nap, he’s quick to adjust his position, making sure you’re still comfortable, maybe pulling you in closer just a little. his smile, soft and warm, will appear if you meet his gaze when you wake up. "you okay?" he’ll ask, his voice light but full of genuine concern. he’s not just asking because it’s polite; he wants to make sure you’re not just physically okay but that you feel safe and content in his arms.

•even if you’re not technically sleeping—just resting with your head on his shoulder or your hand in his— erikson’s presence is soothing. he doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t pressure you to be anything but comfortable in the moment. he simply enjoys being close to you, letting the calm wash over both of you.

•if you fall asleep completely, he’ll stay quiet, keeping his breathing steady so you can rest. his hand might gently stroke your hair or rest on your side, nothing too intense but enough to reassure you that he’s right there. he doesn’t need to be possessive or overwhelming— he’s secure in the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep near him.

farah karim

•farah is all about strength and resilience, but when you fall asleep on her, a softer, sisterly side of her emerges. she doesn’t show it outright, but there’s a deep care in the way she handles the situation. if you’re leaning on her during a long night in the safe house, she won’t push you away or disturb you. instead, she adjusts her position carefully, making sure you’re comfortable without waking you up. she might drape an extra scarf or jacket over you if you start to shiver, murmuring quietly to herself about how you "never take care of yourself properly".

•if this happens during downtime on a mission, farah is quick to take on the role of protector. she’ll keep an eye on the surroundings, rifle resting across her knees, while letting you rest on her shoulder. she might sigh softly, shaking her head with a small, affectionate smile, as if you’re her little sibling she has to watch over. “you never know when to stop, do you?” she’ll whisper under her breath, though there’s no real frustration in her voice— just care.

•when you stir or wake up, farah’s expression is calm and reassuring. “you needed that,” she’ll say, her voice steady but warm, like an older sister who always knows what’s best. if you try to apologize, she’ll wave it off, giving you a firm but kind look. “don’t. you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. rest is just as important as the fight.”

•farah might tease you a little if the situation allows for it, but her words are always meant to encourage rather than scold. “don’t let the general catch you like this,” she’ll say with a raised eyebrow, but her smile gives away her affection. if you’re still groggy or upset when you wake, she’ll quietly offer some advice or comfort. “you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. i am here. let me help."

•by the time you’re fully awake, farah’s already back to being her composed, no-nonsense self, but the way she looks at you—steady, protective, and full of quiet affection—makes it clear that she’s got your back, no matter what. she treats you like family, always ready to stand by your side and make sure you’re okay, even if she doesn’t say it outright. you mean the world to her. more than you'll know.

frank woods

•woods is the kind of guy who'd act like he’s annoyed if you fell asleep on him, but deep down, he secretly enjoys it. he might grumble under his breath, but when you’re knocked out on him—whether it's in the back of a jeep or leaning against him in the safe house—he’ll stiffen for a moment before letting you settle in. woods doesn't do vulnerability well, so having someone depend on him like this is a rare moment for him, and he’s reluctant to admit it, even to himself.

•his rough exterior doesn’t mask the care he’s quietly showing. he’ll gruffly put his arm around you, making a big show out of it, making sure you stay in place, but it’s not just out of duty. he’s also making sure you’re comfortable, though he won’t ever say it. if you wake up, you might find him looking at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk. “that comfortable, huh?” he’ll tease, but underneath it is a hint of softness in his voice that he doesn't often display.

•he might? throw a jacket over you or offer a blanket if he sees you shivering, all while muttering under his breath about not letting the mission go to hell (but, he's the type that as soon as you fall asleep, he's cracking his extra handwarmers and slipping them into your gloves, and into your boots). woods is a man of action, so when you fall asleep on him, he makes sure you’re safe and protected—even if he’s still grumbling about how inconvenient it is. “ain’t no one gonna get you while you’re asleep on me,” he’ll mutter, though the sentiment is clear.

•if you wake up in the middle of a tense situation, you’ll see him scanning the area with a sharp focus, his protective instincts on full display, but when he catches your eye, he’ll give you a wink and an assurance: “we’re good.”

•nonchalant, but the most caring of out them all, by far

gary "roach" sanderson

•roach doesn’t say a word when your head drifts onto his shoulder in the back of the humvee. the engine hums softly, the tires crunching over dirt roads, and the faint chatter from the team up front fills the air. he freezes for a split second, caught off guard, but quickly adjusts himself so you’re more comfortable. his body language softens in a way only those close to him would notice—shoulders relaxing, his posture slightly leaning toward you to provide more support.

•he’s not one for grand gestures, but his care is in the details. roach tugs his sweater off and drapes it over you, careful not to jostle you too much. he doesn’t mind the cold seeping through his shirt if it means you’re warm. his hand hovers for a moment, debating whether to brush the stray hair out of your face. instead, he settles for tucking the sweater collar closer around your neck to keep the draft out.

•the others might glance back and chuckle at the sight, but roach ignores them completely, his focus entirely on you. he’s silent, as always, but the way he keeps still—despite the bumps and jolts of the humvee—speaks louder than words. every movement is calculated, making sure you can rest without interruption. he doesn't want you to wake up.

•when you stir a little in your sleep, maybe shifting or mumbling, he tilts his head slightly to check on you. there’s no dramatic display, just a quiet vigilance, his gaze flickering between you and the terrain outside. if the vehicle jerks or lurches too hard, his arm instinctively comes up to steady you, his gloved hand resting lightly against your shoulder to keep you from slipping.

•when you wake up, blinking groggily and maybe a little humiliated by the reality, roach doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he doesn’t say anything, just gives a small nod and a faint, understanding smile. his sweater stays draped over you until you hand it back, and even then, he doesn’t let you apologize. he simply takes it, shrugs it back on, and taps your arm lightly before resuming his quiet watch.

•for roach, actions always speak louder than words. you won’t catch him teasing or making a fuss, but the way he lets you rest on him—how he adjusts to make sure you’re safe and comfortable—shows just how deeply he cares in his quiet, unassuming way.

general shepherd

•shepherd’s got a lot on his plate, so when you unexpectedly fall asleep on him, it’s not something he’s used to. he’s far more accustomed to being the one calling the shots than being in a position where someone is leaning on him for comfort. however, when you do, he takes it with a stoic expression, still sitting straight-backed like a military leader should, but his gaze softens for a moment as he watches over you.

•he’ll take a deep breath, continuing to keep an eye on the situation, his mind constantly working through plans and contingencies. but when it’s just the two of you, and you’re asleep on him in his office, he allows himself to relax, just a little. shepherd won’t disturb you, letting you sleep while he keeps his vigil over the room or the window. he’s not one for outward displays of affection, but you’ll find that his protective instinct runs deep, and he quietly ensures that you’re safe and secure.

•if you wake up and find him still there, he’ll just nod in acknowledgment. “we’re still good,” he’ll say flatly, though there’s an unusual calmness in his voice. shepherd isn’t one for pleasantries, but his subtle care comes through in these moments when you’re least expecting it.

•if you seem stressed or worried when you wake, he might offer a few words of encouragement, his tone more fatherly than commanding: “you're fine. come here." he pats between your shoulderblades, rubbing his hand up and down your spine as he works on some extended paperwork that's overdue.

•still an asshole at heart, though.

gabriel t. rorke

•when you fall asleep on rorke, he doesn’t make a big fuss about it, but you can bet he notices. if you’re on a couch or somewhere relatively quiet, he’s the type to pull you into his lap without a word, letting you settle against him while he leans back and continues whatever he’s doing—usually watching TV or lighting up a cigarette. his arm naturally falls around your waist, holding you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t mind the weight of you resting on him; if anything, he seems to like it.

•as you sleep, he’ll occasionally glance down at you, his expression unreadable but with a hint of something softer than his usual tough exterior. he might absentmindedly run his fingers along your arm or brush a hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who carries so much darkness with him.

•if you start to stir or move in your sleep, he won’t say much, but he’ll adjust you without waking you up—propping your head against his chest or tucking you closer into him. the glow of his cigarette and the low sound of the TV fill the space, but his focus is split between what’s on the screen and making sure you’re still comfortable.

•if you wake up, his reaction depends on the mood. he might smirk down at you and say something teasing, like, “you always this needy?” but the way he holds onto you even after you’ve woken up tells you he doesn’t mind in the slightest. if you apologize for dozing off, he’ll scoff and shake his head, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “don’t sweat it,” he’ll say casually, his voice low and gravelly. “not like i had anywhere else to be.”

•rorke might not be the overly sentimental type, but in moments like this, he’s surprisingly accommodating. he likes having you close, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. the way he keeps you secure in his lap, one hand resting protectively on your hip, shows that beneath the hardened exterior, there’s a part of him that relishes in your trust and closeness.

james ramirez

•ramirez isn’t used to this. he’s always been the guy working alone, the silent operator who keeps his head down and his rifle up. so, when you come along, leaning against him during the quiet moments of a post-watch, trusting him enough to fall asleep on his side, he doesn’t know how to process it at first. gor a split second, he freezes, his brain running through a hundred scenarios, none of which included this.

•but as the seconds tick by, he adjusts—just like he’s always done. ramirez doesn’t move a muscle, his breathing slow and measured, knowing even the smallest shift might wake you. you’re tucked against him, and the chill of the night air doesn’t seem to bother him anymore. without thinking, he lets his body warmth do the work, keeping you steady and warm while the cold tries to creep in. his arms remain loose but ready, just in case anything stirs in the distance, his focus now split between his surroundings and you.

•he doesn’t say a word—he wouldn’t dare break the calm. but his thoughts are racing, wondering why you trusted him of all people to let your guard down like this. it’s foreign to him, but not unwelcome. ramirez adjusts the angle of his shoulder ever so slightly, ensuring your head isn’t at an awkward tilt, his movements precise and deliberate. his gloves are off, resting beside him, and though he’s tempted to place a hand on your shoulder to steady you, he keeps his discipline. for now, his proximity will have to do.

•every sound in the distance feels sharper, his eyes scanning the darkness with even more vigilance than usual. if anyone or anything comes close, they’ll have to go through him first. he feels the slight rise and fall of your breathing against him, a quiet reminder that, for once, someone sees him as more than just a soldier. he refuses to let go of that.

•when you stir slightly in your sleep, he glances down, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. he shifts ever so slightly to keep you comfortable, his voice barely audible when he mutters, “it’s alright... i’ve got you.” he knows you probably can’t hear him, but it feels like the right thing to say.

•by the time you wake, ramirez hasn’t moved an inch (bro is 🗿). he glances at you, his expression unreadable at first, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—he wouldn’t know how—but there’s a soft, almost hesitant tone when he asks, “sleep okay?” it’s not much, but for someone who’s used to being alone, it’s everything.

john "soap" mactavish

•soap doesn’t just tolerate you falling asleep on him—he absolutely thrives on it. when you drift off, curled into his side, he doesn’t hesitate to make you as comfortable as possible. you’re on the couch in the safe house, wrapped up in a couple of old, mismatched blankets he found, with his arm securely around your shoulders. his other hand holds a steaming mug of coffee, and his fingers idly trace soothing patterns along your arm as you snooze. he looks completely at ease, even as the rest of the team bustles around.

• “look at this one, proper knocked out,” he’ll say to kyle, grinning wide as he leans back, shifting slightly to pull you closer. “must be my charm, eh? can’t resist relaxin’ when ol’ siap’s about.” he’s not shy (at all) about showing how much he loves having you close; in fact, he basks in it. he’s practically beaming, his voice warm with affection as he chats with the grin of a fox who'd just gotten into the henhouse.

•if anyone comments, he’s quick with a cheeky retort. “aye, they know who’s the comfiest bloke in the room. jealous, gaz?” he’ll quip, but there’s no hiding the pride in his tone. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks—if anything, he’s thrilled to show off how comfortable you feel around him. it's like bragging rights, but tenfold.

•if you stir or shift in your sleep, he’s immediately attentive, pulling the blanket tighter around you and leaning down to check on you. “shh, you’re alright,” he murmurs softly, his scottish brogue low and soothing. “go back tae sleep, love. i’ve got ye.”

•when you eventually wake up, soap greets you with the biggest smile, his blue eyes sparkling. “mornin’, sunshine. sleep well?” he teases, but his tone is so full of warmth that it’s impossible to be embarrassed. he’ll ruffle your hair gently and nudge the coffee mug toward you. “-'ere, take a sip. you’ve earned it.”

•soap loves these moments of quiet intimacy, where he gets to dote on you in his own affectionate, unapologetic way.

keegan p. russ

•keegan’s possessiveness is immediate the moment he feels your weight leaning against him. if you start dozing off next to him, he doesn’t just let you fall asleep on his shoulder—he pulls you fully into his arms, shifting you until you’re sitting in his lap, wrapped up in his hold. his arms are firm around you, one hand resting protectively on your waist while the other cradles your head against his chest. it's as if he’s daring the world to come and disturb this rare, intimate moment.

•he doesn’t care where you are—in the safe house, out in the field, or even in a damn helicopter. the second you relax against him, you’re his, and no one else is allowed near you. if anyone so much as glances your way, keegan’s icy stare is enough to send them backing off. “she’s fine,” he’ll mutter curtly, his tone making it clear that no one is to interfere.

•keegan’s movements are calculated to keep you comfortable, and he’s surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior. he’ll adjust your position slightly, making sure you’re fully supported while still nestled securely in his embrace. his gloved hand will stroke lightly over your back or your hair, a quiet, soothing gesture that feels incredibly intimate coming from him. if you stir or mumble something in your sleep, his voice drops low, barely above a whisper, “shh, i’ve got you.”

•when you’re asleep in his arms, keegan lets his usual guard down, his intense eyes softening as he watches over you. this is one of the few times he allows himself to be vulnerable, holding you close like you’re the most precious thing in his world. and you are—to him, you’re more than his teammate; you’re his to protect, his to care for, his everything.

•if you wake up, his grip doesn’t loosen—if anything, it tightens slightly, as if he’s reluctant to let you go. “stay,” he’ll murmur, his voice low and gravelly, almost pleading. there’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s layered with so much love and devotion that it feels more protective than controlling. he won’t let you leave his lap until he’s absolutely sure you’re fully rested and okay.

•keegan might not say much, but his actions speak volumes. the way he holds you, shields you from the world, and refuses to let anyone else near you—all of it screams that you’re his, and he won’t let anything or anyone take you away from him.

kick

•kick is the kind of guy who would instantly notice when you're starting to drift off, and his protective instincts kick in before anything else. the moment you start leaning on him, he moves, pulling you closer until you’re fully in his arms, practically cradled against his chest. there’s a possessive edge to how he holds you—like a lion, keeping its cub safe. he doesn’t care if anyone notices; all that matters is you’re his, and you’re safe in his grasp. bro adores you more than his ego will ever let him say.

•his arms are firm and unyielding, ensuring you’re not going anywhere. if you make the mistake of shifting or trying to move, he’s quick to pull you right back, his hold becoming even tighter. there’s a low, almost inaudible grumble that escapes his throat if anyone dares to look your way, a quiet warning that you belong to him, and anyone else is unwelcome. he's not a man to hesitate instigating.

•if you- or when you start to fall deeper into sleep, kick is the type to softly hum or whisper comforting words in your ear, keeping the atmosphere calm and soothing. he might tell you, “rest, i've got you,” his voice quiet but heavy with affection, the type of words that let you know you’re more than just a teammate—you’re someone he’s fiercely protective of.

•when you wake up, he doesn’t let go right away. his grip is still tight, and his eyes soften as he looks down at you, taking in the rare vulnerability you’ve shown him. “you good?” he’ll ask, his voice rough but filled with genuine care. his arms loosen only enough to let you breathe, but if you try to move away, he’s quick to pull you back in.

könig

��könig freezes when you first fall asleep on him, unsure of what to do. the massive austrian, already awkward in social situations, is completely out of his element when you’re nestled up against him. but it doesn’t take long for his protective instincts to kick in. alowly, carefully, könig adjusts you so that you’re more comfortable, pulling you against his chest like a shield around you. his sheer size envelops you, and he lets out a deep, steadying breath as he realizes how much he likes having you this close.

•he’s hyper-aware of his surroundings, keeping an eye on everything with an almost predatory focus. no one else is allowed to come near while you’re in his arms—not a teammate, not even a passing glance from a civilian. if someone approaches, könig shifts slightly, his presence alone enough to send a clear message: stay back. he doesn’t even need to speak; his imposing figure and the protective way he cradles you say it all.

•he’s surprisingly gentle with you, his gloved hand resting lightly on your shoulder or softly brushing over your hair. every movement is deliberate, careful not to wake you. if you murmur or shift in your sleep, könig might quietly murmur something in german, his voice deep and soothing, though you can’t quite make out the words.

•if you wake up and try to move, könig gently tightens his hold on you, his voice low and filled with quiet urgency. “stay a little longer,” he’ll say, almost shyly, though his grip is firm. he’s not ready to let you go, not when you look so peaceful and vulnerable in his arms.

•you’re his anchor, and he doesn’t care if the rest of the world sees it. when you’re asleep on him, könig’s softer side shines through, though it’s buried beneath his usual stoicism and protective nature.

kyle "gaz" garrick

•gaz is caught off guard at first, but he adapts quickly, a soft grin spreading across his face as you drift off against him. whether it’s in the privacy of his quarters, or lounging in the common room, he instinctively shifts to make you more comfortable, leaning back slightly and draping an arm around you. he doesn’t mind being your pillow; in fact, he finds it endearing that you trust him enough to let your guard down like this.

•gaz is naturally calm and easygoing, so he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he’ll glance around to make sure no one’s about to interrupt, but he doesn’t get territorial. if someone makes a comment, he’ll just flash them a cheeky grin and shrug, his eyes soft as they flick back to you. “what can i say? she’s got good taste,” he’ll joke lightly, but there’s a quiet protectiveness in his tone.

•as you sleep, he’ll absentmindedly rub small circles into your back or run a hand through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. he doesn’t wake you, knowing how important rest is, especially during missions. if anyone needs him, they can wait; right now, his priority is making sure you’re okay.

•when you wake up, gaz greets you with an easy smile, his brown eyes warm. “good nap?” he teases, his voice light and playful. If you apologize for falling asleep on him, he just chuckles, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, love. you looked like you needed it.”

logan walker

•logan’s love for you is quiet but deep, and when you fall asleep near him, he can’t help but draw you closer. the second you start dozing off, he gently shifts you into his arms, making sure you’re comfortable with a sense of natural care. he doesn’t let you go, pulling you against him in a way that feels protective yet soft. the moment you’re nestled against him, he starts brushing his fingers through your hair, the gesture almost instinctual, like a reassurance to both of you.

•as you rest against him, logan’s movements are gentle but deliberate, making sure you feel safe in his hold. his fingers glide through your hair, combing through it slowly as if savoring the moment. he could do this for hours without a word, but you’ll feel the way his touch speaks volumes—calming, soothing, and possessive in the most comforting way. he loves feeling you relax in his arms.

•if anyone dares to approach, logan’s sharp eyes are already on them. he doesn’t need to say a word; his silent warning is enough. he brushes your hair again, this time with a little more firmness in the motion, as if reaffirming that you belong to him in this moment.

•when you wake up, his first action is usually to smooth your hair back, a small, soft smile appearing on his face as his fingers trail over the strands. "rest easy?" he’ll ask, his voice low and warm, the hint of affection clear in his tone. he’s always so careful with you, never wanting to wake you too suddenly.

•if you start to pull away, he holds you closer. “hey, what's the rush?” he’ll murmur, his fingers continuing to stroke through your hair as if the simple act grounds him. the possessive side of him is subtle, but it’s there in how he refuses to let go. when you’re asleep in his arms, you’re his, and he’s not letting anyone take that from him.

mace

•mace is tough, no doubt, but he’s a sucker for moments like this. the second you fall asleep on him, his tough exterior melts, and he pulls you closer like he’s shielding you from the world. mace isn’t the type to be soft in front of others, but when it’s just you two, he becomes surprisingly affectionate.

•whether you’re in the middle of a mission or chilling in a safe house, mace holds you with a sort of possessive tenderness, like he can’t bear the thought of anyone else getting too close to you. his grip on you is tight, possessive, but he’s careful, not wanting to hurt you. if you start to stir, he’ll press you back into him, a low grunt escaping his lips as he secures you in place.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him staring down at you, that mix of love and possessiveness in his eyes. “you’ve got to stop falling asleep on me like this,” he’ll say, but there’s no real irritation—only affection, the kind of unspoken care he doesn’t know how to show.

•if you try to move, mace’s arm is already there, gently pulling you back. “i’m not done holding you yet,” he’ll grumble, as if the thought of letting you go for even a second doesn’t sit well with him.

•side note, he loves tracing his fingers over your hands. when you're awake, he'll guide your fingers up to trace against his alligator scars. he loves the lazy swipe of your fingers against him. it's a sort of satisfaction.

marcus burns

•marcus doesn’t waste any time when you start to doze off. the second you lean against him, he’s pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you with the force of someone who’s not willing to share. he doesn’t say much, but there’s an undeniable possessiveness in the way he holds you, his grip firm and reassuring.

•when you’re asleep, he stays perfectly still, making sure you’re comfortable but also staying hyper-aware of everything around him. it’s like he’s simultaneously watching over you and protecting you from the rest of the world. if anyone dares to get too close, his glare alone is enough to send them away, and he’ll mutter something under his breath about how “you’re with him, and that’s that.”

• when wake up, he’ll be there, his arms still wrapped around you. “you good?” he’ll ask, the roughness of his voice softened just enough to let you know he cares. if you try to move closer, he’ll pull you in as close as possible, refusing to let you go easily.

•there’s a quiet, protective energy around marcus, and when you fall asleep on him, it’s his way of showing you that you belong to him in the most unspoken, but very real, way possible.

marcus "lerch" ortega

•marcus is a greedily possessive guy through and through, and when you fall asleep on him, he lets it be known. he’ll pull you into his lap or his arms and hold you close, his large frame making you feel completely shielded from the outside world. his hands rest possessively on your back, one hand occasionally brushing your hair or running across your shoulders in soothing strokes, but it’s clear he’s not letting anyone get too close to you.

•if you start to stir or try to shift away, marcus isn’t having it. he pulls you back to him, his grip tightening as he mutters, “stay put, sweetheart.” he doesn’t say it like an order, but the possessiveness is unmistakable in his tone. you’re his responsibility now, and he’s not letting go.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him watching over you, his face softening when your eyes open. “you’re alright. resting’s good for you,” he’ll murmur, his words laced with a quiet affection he doesn’t always show. he’ll let you sit up, but you’ll see the reluctance in his eyes as you try to leave his embrace.

•if you try to stand, he’ll grab your wrist, tugging you back with a gentle but firm motion. “no, stay right here with me.” his possessiveness might come off strong, but there’s an undeniable love behind it.

•kisses your forehead when you settle back in.

nikolai belinski

•you don't exactly fall asleep against him.

•nikolai is a grouchy, no-nonsense kind of guy, but when you fall asleep in his hangar, he can’t bring himself to scold you for it. the first time he notices you slumped against some nearby crates, he sighs loudly, muttering to himself about how you’ve managed to fall asleep in his domain. still, he doesn’t wake you up. instead, he grumbles under his breath as he carefully scoops you up, holding you tightly against his chest as if you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever handled—even though he’d never admit that out loud.

•he finds a spot among the chaos of the hangar and sits down, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. his arms are firm and unyielding around you, holding you so tightly it’s as if he’s trying to shield you from the cold metal surroundings. as much as he grumbles about it, there’s a protective possessiveness to how he holds you, his chin occasionally brushing the top of your head. “what are you doing falling asleep here?” he mutters softly, though there’s no real bite to his words.

•while you sleep, nikolai refuses to move, sitting there like a solid fortress. he doesn’t bother pretending to be gentle—he’s all rough edges and gruff care, but the way he keeps his arms around you, ensuring you’re warm and safe, says everything. if anyone happens to wander into the hangar and see the two of you, nikolai is quick to bark at them to leave, his glare sharp and unrelenting. “out. now,” he growls, his grip tightening protectively around you.

•when you stir awake, his first instinct isn’t to let go but to hold you even closer, as if to make sure you’re still there. “finally awake, hm? took you long enough,” he says with a smirk, his voice teasing but layered with a gruff affection that he can’t quite hide. he brushes a few stray strands of hair from your face, his touch rough but careful, like he’s still figuring out how to handle you.

•if you try to get up, nikolai won’t let you go right away. his arms tighten around you as he grumbles, “stay put for a bit. you’re not going anywhere yet.” his voice is gruff, but there’s a quiet warmth behind it, the kind that makes you realize just how much he cares. even in his grouchy, no-frills way, nikolai’s possessiveness is clear—when you fall asleep in his hangar, you’re his, and he’s not letting you go

•makes you wait until he's finished working on his helicopter- giving you the small assignment of handing him small tools, just so later, he can easily pull you back into his arms.

nikto

•nikto’s first reaction when you fall asleep on him is a sharp exhale, the kind that conveys his usual grouchy frustration. he glances down at you, frowning slightly as your head rests on his shoulder. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, eyes flicking back to the road ahead. he’s on a mission, not a leisurely drive—and here you are, completely oblivious to the world, using him as a pillow.

•he wants to be annoyed—really, he does—but there’s a part of him that softens in spite of himself. he shifts in his seat, trying to adjust without waking you. It’s not exactly comfortable for him, but he’s not heartless enough to shove you away. his hand flexes on the wheel, the other twitching slightly like he’s debating whether to push you off or pull you closer.

•“you’re lucky I’m not throwing you out of the fucking truck,” he grumbles, but his tone lacks any real malice. there’s a pause as he glances at you again, and with a resigned sigh, he carefully maneuvers one arm to rest across your lap, anchoring you to him in case the ride gets bumpy. it’s a subtle but protective gesture, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

•if the mission goes long and someone radios in, nikto is quick to shut them down. “i'm handling it. don’t bother me,” he snaps, his voice sharp and irritated. he keeps his answers short and clipped, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone interrupting this rare moment.

•when you stir, nikto tenses slightly, his grouchy exterior snapping back into place. “you awake now? good. about time,” he says, his voice gruff, though there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he glances your way. he doesn’t say anything about the fact that you were leaning on him, but the way his hand briefly lingers on your arm before returning to the wheel speaks volumes.

•if you apologize or try to explain, he cuts you off. “don’t. just stay awake next time,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to his words. his hand brushes against your knee for a moment, grounding you both in the present. beneath all the gruffness and irritation, nikto’s protectiveness shines through in small, subtle ways that speak louder than any words he’d dare say.

phillip graves

•graves is the kind of man who can’t help but smirk when you fall asleep on him. he leans back in his chair or against the couch, letting you settle against his chest like you belong there—which, to him, you absolutely do. his arm snakes around you, holding you securely as he tips his hat back slightly, giving anyone nearby a look that screams, don’t even think about interrupting.

•as you sleep, graves doesn’t just sit still—he watches you, his sharp eyes softening as they trace the peaceful expression on your face. he’s got that southern charm in spades, and it comes out even in the way he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and deliberate. “damn, sweetheart ’,” he mutters under his breath, a low chuckle escaping him. “could’ve at least warned me you were gonna knock me out like this.”

•when it’s time to wake you, graves doesn’t bother with something as boring as words. instead, he leans in close, his lips brushing against your forehead first—soft and slow, testing the waters. then, he moves to your temple, your cheek, and finally, your lips, his kisses warm and lingering enough to pull you from your dreams. “rise and shine, darlin'.” he drawls, his voice low and teasing, but there’s a genuine affection beneath it.

•he’s absolutely grinning when your eyes flutter open, looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “mornin’, sunshine,” he teases, his southern drawl thick and playful. “you were out like a light. couldn’t help myself— you’re just too damn cute when you’re sleepin’.” his fingers trail along your jawline as he speaks, his touch lazy but deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world to focus on you.

•if you try to pull away, which, i would too girl, graves just tightens his hold, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “now, where do you think you’re goin’? you just woke up. stay here a little longer—can’t let you run off after leavin’ me like that.” there’s no real protest in his tone, just that teasing, possessive edge that makes it clear he’s not letting you go until he’s had his fill of holding you.

•he’ll keep teasing you the entire time, but it’s all underpinned by genuine love. and when you finally manage to pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his kisses lingering on your skin, a reminder that graves never does anything halfway—especially not when it comes to you.

rodolfo "rudy" parra

•the moment you start to drift off on him, rudy’s first instinct is to adjust himself so you’re more comfortable. he’s a gentle soul at heart, and his natural charm shines through even in moments like this. he carefully shifts you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely but not possessively. he cradles you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, his touch featherlight but steady.

•rudy isn’t the type to get overly territorial or possessive—he’s too tender for that, knows you can hold your own —but he does make sure that nothing disturbs you. if anyone comes near, he simply gives them a small, polite shake of his head and a reassuring smile, silently asking for peace for the both of you.

•as you sleep, rudy finds himself relaxing too, the soft rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a sense of calm. eventually, he settles back, letting himself rest alongside you. his head tilts slightly to rest against yours, and his hand absentmindedly strokes gentle circles on your back, the motion soothing for both of you.

•rudy hums quietly under his breath, the melody something familiar and comforting. it’s not loud enough to wake you but enough to fill the silence in a way that feels warm and intimate. it’s one of those rare moments where he lets himself enjoy the simple joy of just being with you, no mission, no chaos—just peace.

•when you wake up, rudy is still there, his eyes half-lidded with sleep but full of warmth as he looks at you. “you’re awake,” he says softly, his voice rich with affection. “i guess we both needed that, hm?” his smile is small but genuine, a glimpse of the quiet love he has for you

simon "ghost" riley

•when you fall asleep next to simon, it's a calm, quiet kind of intimacy that doesn’t need any grand gestures. he’s the type to let you rest without making a fuss, keeping his focus on his own tasks. he might be reading a book or going over some intel, but there's a subtle shift in his behavior the moment you fall asleep next to him. he adjusts slightly, making sure you’re comfortable but not doing it in an overly obvious way—he just wants you to be settled, and he’s more than willing to make small changes to ensure that.

•his hand, though, tells a different story. as you sleep, it’ll find its way to your thigh, fingers gently brushing along the fabric of your clothes in a way that’s more soothing than anything else. it’s not possessive, not in the way some others might be, but it's a protective kind of touch—a way for him to silently reassure himself that you're right there, safe in his presence.

•he won’t stop reading or working, but there’s a quiet attentiveness in his gaze whenever he looks up from the pages. his eyes will drift to you now and then, checking that you’re still okay, maybe adjusting the way he’s holding you, or if you shift, making sure you’re still comfortable. he’s not going to wake you up or disturb your rest, but he’ll keep an eye on you, ensuring that no one and nothing gets too close.

•when you wake up, you might notice how his gaze softens a little when you stir, but he’ll stay silent for a moment before offering a subtle smile. “you sleep okay?” he’ll ask in that low, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning you for any sign that you’re not alright. his hand won’t leave your thigh right away, not unless you shift or try to get up, and even then, there’s a reluctance to let you go. he’ll ease you out of his embrace gently, not wanting to disturb the peace, but his focus will always linger on you in a way that says you’re safe, you’re his priority, and nothing will disturb this calm while you’re here.

vladimir makarov

•makarov is a man who doesn’t do affection easily—he’s cold, calculating, and distant. however, when you fall asleep near him, especially with your head resting on his shoulder, it’s a rare moment where you see a different side of him. he doesn’t immediately pull away or brush you off; instead, he allows you to settle into the space he’s made for you, though he’s not about to offer more than that. there’s an unspoken message in the way he lets you rest—he’s not a man who is overly touchy, but he trusts you enough to let your head rest on his shoulder.

•his arms 100% stay at his sides, and he won’t pull you in closer, nor will he cuddle you—he’s simply allowing you this brief moment of peace. his posture remains rigid, not exactly relaxed, but it’s as though he’s guarding you in this silent way. the fact that he doesn’t push you away is a significant gesture on his part.

•if you stir or adjust, makarov will remain still, though his gaze might shift to make sure you’re still comfortable. there’s no rush to move you, but also no soft caress or comforting touch. he doesn’t do that. instead, his presence alone is solid and reassuring. you might feel the slight tension in his body, a constant reminder of who he is, but there’s also something oddly protective in the way he lets you stay close.

•when you wake up, his eyes will meet yours—sharp, calculating, but also with an understanding that, in this moment, you were able to let your guard down with him. he might not say much, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze that tells you he’s content with this quiet moment. “rested?” he might ask, his tone neutral, but the way he says it suggests more than simple curiosity.

velikan

•velikan is a man whose size and strength are intimidating, but when you fall asleep on him, his rough exterior falls away just a bit. he’s not the type to let anyone close easily, but with you, he’s different. when you settle next to him, his massive arms wrap around you without hesitation, drawing you closer to him. his embrace is protective, solid, and there’s a comfort in it that you won’t find with anyone else.

•velikan’s hold is gentle, despite his intimidating presence. he doesn’t crowd you, but he doesn’t let go either. his body is warm, and his heartbeat steady, acting as an anchor for you as you rest. if anyone were to dare approach, his gaze alone would send them away, but he doesn’t need to say anything—his protective nature speaks volumes.

•if you wake up or shift, velikan’s grip will tighten slightly, almost as if to say, don’t go anywhere. he’s not about to let you leave so soon. when you stir, he’ll remain quiet, his eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. he’ll make sure you’re comfortable again before you fully wake up, adjusting you if necessary.

•when you do wake, belikan’s presence remains, unwavering. he’s still holding you, still close, and he doesn’t seem in any hurry to let you go. “sleep well?” he’ll ask in his deep voice, though there’s no rush for you to answer. he simply wants you to know that if you need more time to rest, he’ll give it to you without question.

vance

•vance is a surprisingly relaxed guy when it comes to moments like this. when you fall asleep near him, he doesn’t fight it or pull away—he simply adjusts, pulling you in a little closer, letting you rest without hesitation. he’ll shift his posture so you’re more comfortable, making sure you’re tucked against him in a way that feels natural. his arms, though strong, are surprisingly gentle as he pulls you into his side.

•there’s a tenderness to vance that you just don’t see often. when you stir or adjust, he’s quick to make sure you’re still settled, and if anyone dares to interrupt the moment, vance’s expression is enough to send them walking away. he doesn’t say much, but his quiet presence is more than enough to make you feel safe.

•if you wake up, vance won’t pull away right away; he’ll just let you stretch out, and he’ll give you a casual smile. “how you feeling?” he’ll ask with a warm chuckle, his voice light and reassuring. there’s no pressure to get up, and if you just want to rest a little longer, he won’t complain.

•kisses your cheek, brushing your hair out of your face.

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