bottom ronaldo oneshots

🔪 nevermind, never let me go

tw: self-harm

Both Cristiano and Luis sat down at a table after a Champions League match— the first leg against Marseille— they'd just beat them 4-0, both of them scoring a brace.

"Suarez, where do you think you'll be going next?" An interviewer asks almost right away, holding the microphone up.

Cristiano grabs Luis's arm tighter at the question, leaning on him. Luis chuckles, trying to play it off. "I plan to stay at Barcelona for as long as my career goes," He replies simply, trying to ignore the Portuguese currently burrowing himself in his neck.

"And, Cristiano, how did you score that goal from outside the box?"

"It was easy..." he murmurs, the microphone barely picking up his voice from being buried in Luis's shoulder, the Uruguayan clearly a little mad about that. "I just had to see what my surroundings were and calculate it to be the correct angle, and I did,"

The interviewer looks between the two of them, raising an eyebrow. "Anything... going on here?"

Luis feels his ears heat up as Cristiano murmurs something, as if about to fall asleep in his neck. "N–no, nada," He says quickly, moving his head before turning to whisper to him. "What are you doing, Cris? You're being way too clingy!"

"But..." Cristiano whimpers quietly, not letting go of his arm, but he moves his head. Luis sighs. He's been way too clingy since 2 days ago. He'd apologized a million times for hitting him and did what he wanted for the night, kissing, cuddling, being a sweetheart, and Cristiano clearly has an interest for that sort of thing, because they're like two magnets recently, the Portuguese always holding him in interviews like these and always talking to him in training, clearly, people started to suspect something.

"When we get home, we're having a talk, you and I,"

Cristiano frowns, whimpering again.

***

Cristiano lays in bed, scrolling through Instagram, squeezing himself. Ever since Luis told him he's being too clingy and needs to let loose, he hasn't talked to him. He's desperate, texting him despite being right next to him right now and not receiving any replies. "Luis, please, I'm sorry," he turns to him, frowning. "Please?" He pokes him, however just receives a glance, which makes him want to cry.

Cristiano turns to his side, feeling a few tears run down his face. "You're so evil," he chokes, sniffling. Luis just sighs, as much as he wants to comfort him, he has to make him learn his lesson. "Why did you change so suddenly? From being so nice t-to so mean..."

Luis stands up and gets out of the room. He's not going to be able to make him learn if he was to comfort him. Cristiano cries harder, huffing as he slams his phone down on the table, sitting up. "What did I do wrong?!" He can't process what he's done, running his hands through his hair as he cries harder.

He whimpers, gripping the sheets before laying back down and wrapping himself with them, the only thing providing him warmth. They feel like he's in Luis's arms, which just makes him feel worse.

He breathes heavily, and suddenly he looks down at his arms, and they feel itchy, in some way? He knows what he has to do. He pulls the covers off himself and opens the last drawer, the one he told Luis he doesn't use, but he actually uses it to store his razors and knives.

He grabs one of his sharper razors, and takes a deep breath before turning his arm, and cutting down vertically. He bites back a pained whimper, not wanting Luis to hear him from outside and walk in on this— he doesn't know about this yet. It's a miracle that Luis has never walked in on him or noticed the scars on the back of his thighs.