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joelslastofus · 20 days

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[SUMMARY: Joel becomes protective of his alcoholic neighbors daughter. ]

“I am very protective of those I care for” his words lingered in the air as his eyes found yours..

PART TWO of my last story

smut TW: abuse

It had been a week since you spent the night at Joel’s house. He found himself looking out his window more often yet he hadn’t seen much of you since. Your dad continued drinking as usual but somehow you managed to avoid anything escalating.

That evening you got home and saw Joel in his driveway half way under his truck fixing something. The sight of his long legs resting on the ground caught your eye.

“Joel?” He quickly rolled out from underneath and sat up.

“How ya doin’, darlin, everything alright?”

“Yes everything’s fine, I just wanted to give you this.” You handed him a small container of cookies you made.

“Just a thank you from me, Sarah told me a while back you and her loved home made chocolate chip cookies”

“Thank you, sugar. That’s nice of ya, let’s hope she don’t finish it all in one night” he squinted from the sun with a smile.

“Oh and this is yours” you returned his t shirt and sweats in a bag.

“You could’ve kept it, I think it looked better on ya anyway” he smirked, his words making you blush.

Joel Miller was flirting with you and you had no damn clue how to respond. His flirting making you think of the way he was looking at you that night, remembering how he almost kissed you until the sound of your dad’s voice distracted you both in that moment.

“Hey! Did you get what I asked for already?” Joel’s expression quickly turning serious at the sight of your father one foot out of the front door.

“Yes, I got it. I’ll be right there!” You assured him before he realized you were beside Joel.

“Oh hi Miller,” he waved at him as Joel did a rather serious nod.

“Mick”

“I better go” you whispered as you turned away, your father walking back inside.

“Remember you call me if you anything, I’m right here” Joel called out to you before you stepped inside.

“Thank you, Joel” you smiled before closing the door behind you. Joel silently watched you enter your house, he didn’t trust your alcoholic father being alone with you, but there wasn’t much more he could do in that moment.

Walking into your house you caught yourself still smiling to yourself, you remembered laying on his couch with him. You remembered the way he looked at you…the thought of him almost kissing you… Neither of you had spoken of it, but both of you were thinking of it more than each other knew.

Sarah ran out of the house excitedly, distracting him asking if she could once again sleep over her best friends house.

“Come on dad, I’ve been keeping my grades up and doing my chores” Joel smirked knowing his daughter was right.

“How could I argue with that?” he chuckled.

“I’ll drop you off in an hour” Joel resumed working on his truck while Sarah ran inside and called her friend.

A couple hours later Joel had returned to see a car pulling up in front of your house. Sitting in his driveway he watched through his rear view mirror two men practically stumbling out of the car and another with a six pack of beer in hand. These men must’ve been those friends of your fathers you had spoken of last time. Taking it upon himself he decided to call your cell.

“Hey Joel,” you sat at your desk surprised he was even calling you.

“Hey, sorry to call late I just pulled up in front of my house and saw-“

“Oh god not again” you sighed hearing the men loudly come in through the front door. Joel could hear the discomfort in your voice as the men could be heard in the background.

“Listen, I’m here again tonight. Why don’t you stay here till they leave” Joel suggested.

“I…I don’t know. I-“ you suddenly screamed jumping up from your chair at the sound of something loudly running into your door.

“What’s the matter you alright?”

“Jesus, yeah sorry. I think one of them just ran into my door or something, scared the shit out of me.” You explained making sure your door was locked.

“I think you should stay with me for the night” Joel was now more insistent on it and you yourself didn’t think it was a bad idea.

“Ok, but I’m not telling my dad where I’m going I’m just-“

“Don’t say a thing. Just grab what you need and stay on the phone with me till you get to your door. I’m right here in the front” Joel got out of the car waiting for you to make your way out while listening clearly to make sure you wouldn’t be bothered. With relief you opened your door to see Joel hanging up his phone a few feet away from you. His eyes lighting up as soon as he saw you.

“I seriously owe you” you whispered with a sigh as you walked beside him to his door.

“Just you being safe is good enough for me darlin’” he unlocked his door letting you in. This time more prepared you bought a bag with a change of clothes which was the first thing Joel noticed.

“Didn’t wanna wear my clothes again huh?” He teased making you blush.

“I mean, they were super comfy” you responded playfully noticing the grey sweats he wore himself, what a sight it was.

Joel hadn’t felt this excitement in a long time with a woman but he was still struggling with the idea of you being so young. You were mature, you were smart but Joel had never been with a woman this much younger than him.

That night the two of you ordered Chinese and played a movie you both liked. Next door you would hear your father and his guests going in and out of the house getting more alcohol, you could see them straight from the window. Joel caught you shaking your head looking over at them before looking back at the movie.

“He always been like this?”

“He’s gotten worse” you sighed.

“He never used to bring strangers over like that and now he expects me to be welcoming to drunk men gawking at me” Joel didn’t like the sound of that. Looking up out the window he could see those very men and the way they acted. He couldn’t understand how he couldn’t take the thought of them being near you but your own father didn’t think twice of it.

A few times Joel called his daughter making sure she was ok, it was always sweet hearing him talk to Sarah. Once he hung up he caught you staring at him making you giggle.

“What?”

“I just think it’s cute all the questions you ask her, you know…to make sure she’s ok”

“It’s a must when she’s at her friends house, she knows that” he responded.

“I can tell you’re very protective of Sarah” you looked over at him as he nodded facing you.

“I am very protective of those I care for” his words lingered in the air as his eyes found yours. He meant what he said and he wanted you to know you were becoming very much included in that. He felt you deserved to have someone who could make you feel safe and he wanted to be that someone. Adjusting yourself on the couch you looked away not sure what to say.

“I think you’re very sweet, Joel… I just don’t want you getting caught up in my mess and having a problem with my dad and-“

“I’m a big boy, sweetheart” he smirked.

“I assure you I could take care of myself” you chuckled before noticing he moved more closer to you.

“I’m sure you can..” you whispered realizing he was looking at you the same way he had been the other morning when you woke up beside him. Joel was doing his best trying to fight the urges he felt, the last thing he wanted you to think was that he was trying to get his way with you. Yet, the more time he spent with you, the harder it became to ignore. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t have to. Silently leaning in closer he brushed his hand across the side of your face looking deep into your eyes before placing his lips on yours. Maybe it wasn’t smart for him to do but at that moment he didn’t care. Shocked yet excited you let him do as he pleased. His kisses were passionate, his tongue parting your lips as he kissed you deeply, his hand sliding down to your waist pulling you closer against him. The soft sound of your moan making him abruptly part his lips from you, turning his face away toward your shoulder.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked out of breath, you reached your hand up to his face noticing how fast he was breathing. His hands still on you as he took a deep breath. Joel couldn’t remember the last time he felt this hard for a woman.

“Not a thing” he whispered low before turning back to you and kissing you like he never stopped. His body ready to jump yours, his hand brushing up your blouse squeezing one of your breast. A steamy make out session with Joel Miller wasn’t something you expected, being caressed by him in a way that you knew he had been yearning for this turned you on. You could feel how much he ached for you, you felt him unexpectedly yank down at your top hard enough where he ripped it making you gasp.

“Sorry” you could hear the genuine hint of regret in his voice, it’s like he felt like he had to be gentle with you knowing what he was capable of.

Knowing the strength he had.

Yet, that’s not what you wanted.

Tugging down at the same spot he pulled, you lowered your shirt and bra enough to reveal your breasts to him, just like he had wanted.

His hand very slowly brushing up your waist gently cupping one of your breasts as if he was appreciating every detail he could see. He wondered if you knew how much power you had over him in this very moment. His tongue sliding between his teeth before he leaned in and took your nipple in his mouth. The feeling of his tongue flicking at it made you squirm, your hands running through his thick hair as you moaned. Taking his time with each nipple before pulling you on top of him making you feel how hard he was through the thin fabric of your leggings. His eyes were hungry for you like an animal, his hands tightly on your waist as you began to grind your hips on him. You could feel the length of his hard cock through his sweats.

How badly he wanted you.

His hands grabbing your ass guiding your body on him.

“Shit, honey you’re gonna make me cum in my damn pants” his voice was husky turning you on more until the sound of his phone vibrating caught you both off guard.

“Fuck- not now dammit” he looked over to see Tommy’s name and silenced it with a push of a button.

“Nothing important?” You whispered just as another call came in.

Tommy again.

“God dammit”

“It’s ok….just answer. It could be important”

Answering a phone call was the last thing Joel wanted to do with you straddling him but Tommy never called this late.

“Yeah?” Joel picked up the phone irritated as you slowly got off his lap. Laying his head back Joel rubbed his forehead listening to what Tommy had to say. You couldn’t help but look down and notice the very pronounced shape of his cock pushing up against his sweats.

Damn Tommy, you sighed as you tried fixing your top that Joel had broken.

“God dammit, Tommy. That’s gonna have to wait till the mornin’” is all you heard Joel say. Grabbing your bag of clothes you went off to the bathroom to change into your pajamas you bought with you.

You could hear Joel arguing back and fourth with his brother as you came out before he finally hung up. Standing in the kitchen you watched as he rubbed his eyes and cursed at himself.

“Everything ok?” You asked as he made his way to you.. He stopped before you not saying a word, grabbing your waist he pulled you against him and continued to kiss you. Your arms wrapped around him, he gently pushed you up against the counter. His cock hard against your pelvis.

“Joel” you whispered brushing your hand down his chest.

“I can just go back home if there’s somewhere you-“

“No no, that won’t be happenin’” he quickly shook his head, his eyes still in a trance not leaving your lips.

“Tommy’s just gonna have to wait” he looked back up into your eyes, realizing what the hell he was doing, realizing what it looked like.

“Listen-“ he caressed your waist.

“I don’t want you thinking just cause you’re staying here that you have to do anything, I promise you I wasn’t expecting none of this” you couldn’t help but smile.

“I promise you” you wrapped your arms around him.

“I wasn’t thinking that way of you. Besides…” you unexpectedly turned around leaning over on the counter, pressing your ass against his length.

“I like what we’re doing..” you teased looking back at him as stared down at your ass mesmerized. Wearing a pink pair of shorts you began to pull them down slowly swaying your hips, Joel was at a loss for words.

Pressing your bare ass against him, you bounced yourself against his cock.

“Fuck…shit-“ Joel knew he needed you in that moment.

“I don’t wanna hurt cha-“ he spoke in a deep whisper as his hands grabbed your waist.

“You’re not” you looked back and watched as he finally gave in pulling down his sweats. Spitting on his hand he lubricated his cock and placed his tip right at your entrance. Feeling the heat of your cunt he slowly thrusted in as you both let out a simultaneous moan of relief at the first feel of each other. The girth of his cock filling up your hole, your hands flat on the counter as he took hold of your waist and began moving in a steady rhythm. He watched your ass bounce off him making him bite his bottom lip. The sounds of your moans filling up his home only encouraging him to move faster. He couldn’t believe he was actually fucking your, his pleasure overlapping any doubts.

His hand creeping up to your shoulder giving you a squeeze before he grabbed a chunk of your hair and tugged at it. You squealed as he pulled you up against him by your hair, your body molding perfectly against his. His arm wrapped around you allowing his hand to take hold of your breast. Grunting in your ear he fucked you hard and fast as you whimpered, he knew you were about to cum.

“Joel…” you cried out.

“Yeah baby I’m here” he panted holding you close. Your legs shaking as you came but you felt him hold you up and steady.

“I got cha, baby” you couldn’t respond, each wave hitting every nerve in your body down to your toes. His hands squeezing whatever he could, he knew he was about to explode.

“Shit, baby girl you feel so good..: I’m about to cum-“ his body making yours jump against his until he finished with two last hard strokes. Moaning deeply against your ear he held your body against him. The sound of a man who had wanted you for so long. You could feel him throbbing inside you before slowly slipping out. Your legs slightly shaking you held on to the counter as he threw water on his face from the sink and cleaned himself off. He turned to see you staring at him as he tied his sweat pants, silently brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You alright, baby” you nodded as he walked towards you. Pulling you in close he kissed you, almost feeling as if he still couldn’t keep his hands off you.

“You sure?” His lips brushing against your forehead as you closed your eyes wanting more yourself.

Before you knew it Joel and you were having sex in the shower. The need to feel his body against yours, to feel himself inside you was one he couldn’t escape. Never had you felt such sexual chemistry with another man before…not like this. His wet hair slick back as he stared down at you with intensity, holding your leg up rocking his hips against you. You moaned grabbing onto the wall, your hand slipping down as you tried to hold on.

“Hold on to me, sugar” he panted continuing to slam into you. Tonight was a night that neither of you wanted to end. After he finished, the two of you silently held each other in the shower, letting the hot water fall over you.

“It’s getting really late” you whispered, half a smile appearing on his lips.

“Got somewhere to go, darlin’?”

Joel couldn’t help but smile watching you sit beside him on the couch picking at your leftovers.

“This is so good” you sighed before looking up and realizing the smirk he had as he stared at you.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just-“ his deep eyes devouring you.

“You look beautiful” the sincerity in his voice making you feel as if you were on a cloud when you were both distracted with your father coming out of the house arguing with one of the men. The two men shoving each other making you quickly stand up.

“Oh God” you quickly grabbed your keys until Joel caught your arm pulling you back.

“Stay inside” he went on to walk past you and headed out as you watched nervously from inside.

Joel quickly ran out pulling the drunk man off your father.

“Please just leave” you whispered to yourself referring to the other men. Joel yelled out something that you couldn’t make out while motioning for them to leave. Thankfully they backed away as Joel got your father on his feet, a bloody nose and black eye you could see forming right from where you were.

“You alright?” Joel asked with slight irritation remembering this was the same man who locked you out of the house on a late night.

“Fine, thanks Miller. I’m fine” he pulled himself away stumbling inside as Joel watched him close the door behind him.

Just as he made his way back to his front lawn you came out worriedly.

“Is he ok?” You asked as he gently pushed you back in the house.

“He’s fine, little bruised up but he’ll be fine”

“I should go check” Joel quickly shook his head not approving.

“Joel that’s my father-“

“And what if those men come back, you would’ve been in that house in the middle of a bunch of drunk men fighting had you not stayed here.” A look of defeat from you made him feel slightly guilty.

“I’m sorry baby, I just don’t feel you’re safe there right now” he tried to explain. You nodded in silence walking inside without looking back.

After getting some rest for a few hours you got up early before Tommy would return. Joel was already awake, you found him in the kitchen making breakfast.

“I better get going” your voice making him look up.

“Slow down, honey, I’m making us breakfast”

“Save it for you and Tommy, I don’t wanna risk him seeing me here again.” Joel followed you to the door before gently pulling you back against him. His hands on your waist he didn’t say a word resting his head on yours.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave” he whispered.

“Me neither” you sighed.

“By the way, I’ll pass by the pharmacy and get you some of that mornin’ after pill” his words making you blush.

“Sorry about that” the two of you chuckled.

“I’m on the pill, it’s ok” He kissed you once more before you turned and left back to your house. Joel watched until you got inside, wishing you didn’t have to stay there at all but what else could he do.

Returning home you found glass broken all over the floor, a broken chair and food thrown everywhere. You sighed, after an amazing night reality set in.

Your father must’ve still been sleeping not hearing a sound and so you began cleaning up the mess. As you cleaned you heard Joel’s truck out front knowing he was leaving for work just as Tommy drove in.

Hours later in the evening you heard your father wake up. Making his way down the hall as you stood by the open front door with a bag of garbage, instantly you noticed his bruises.

“Hey, dad-“

“Where were you?” His tone was filled with anger catching you off guard.

“Dad…I was at a friends house-“

“Did you see what they did to me?” He stepped closer pointing at his face.

“Where the hell were you?!”

“Dad, I stayed over a friends house I didn’t want to be here with all those drunk men and-“

“So this is your fault” he continued, his accusation causing you to shake your head with confusion as he stepped closer.

“This is all your fault!” He yelled loudly, Tommy who was throwing out the garbage looked up at the sound of your fathers voice.

“How the hell is it my fault?! Those are your friends that you insisted on having here!” You yelled back when an unexpected hard smack to your face made you stumble.

“Shit” Tommy whispered to himself. In shock you stood not saying a word before your father marched off outside slamming the door behind him, eager for another night of drinking.

Once the door closed you slowly moved your hair out of your face. Never had your father lay a finger on you, feelings of betrayal and hurt taking over.

Tommy watched as your father walked off unsure if he should check on you. Being that he never spoke to you that way he felt he was better off minding his business, besides, he knew you weren’t aware he saw anything.

A few hours later Joel was home with dinner for Tommy and Sarah. The day passed and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night he had with you, wanting you the more he thought of you.

“You’re in a good mood today” Tommy chuckled opening the box of pizza.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Joel shrugged before taking a quick bite of a slice.

“Better than that asshole next door seemed today. Giving that friend of yours a hard time” Joel immediately took interest in what Tommy was speaking of.

“What do ya mean, what happened?” He leaned back on the counter crossing his arms.

“The girls dad, they were arguing..he ended up-“ Tommy motioned a smack to the face so Sarah wouldn’t hear what was being spoken of.

“He hit her?” Joel blurt out, his expression instantly changing with what he was told.

“Where is he now? Why didn’t you call me?”

Tommy confused with how invested Joel was, with how angry Joel became.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked confused.

“Not now honey, go to your room. Uncle Tommy and I are talking” Sarah looked at her uncle who gave her a nod before she quickly did as she was told.

“Joel I didn’t know I was suppose to call you, and he left after that. I haven’t seen him return since” Joel didn’t respond quickly patting his pockets for his phone until he found it and giving you a call.

Laying in bed with your door locked you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing.

Thankfully it was Joel.

“Hello?” you quickly sat up relieved to hear from him.

“You alright?” Joel turned his back to Tommy.

“Y-yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You responded confused, you didn’t understand why he sounded so concerned. No one had seen what happened earlier…not that you realized. Joel stood silent realizing you weren’t going to tell him about what happened. Realizing that protecting you was going to be something much harder than he expected…but he wasn’t giving up on it…

Tags: @sushiumex @pinkiec6-rubi @princesatracionera

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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7ndipity · 7 months

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When He Thinks You’re Gone

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When You and Jk have a fight before he has to leave for promotions, he wants to assume that you can fix things when he returns. But what if your things are gone when he gets back?

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of reader being sick(nothing detailed tho)

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The final words he’d spoken to you last night kept rolling around in his head as he stared out the plane window, waiting for take off, guilt blooming heavily in his gut.

Fighting with you before having to leave for a week was not how he’d wanted your last night to go at all. He couldn’t even understand how things had escalated so suddenly; one minute you were telling him about your frustrations about him being gone so much recently, the next both of you were yelling and saying things you didn’t mean and he was storming off to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have lost his temper the way he had, he was just stressed with the comeback and frustrated, feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, and your words had been the badly timed final straw.

By the time he’d returned to the bedroom, you were already asleep, or at least pretending to be, he didn’t check, laying down facing away from you and falling asleep without a word.

The next morning, he’d left early before you’d even woke up, choosing not to risk pushing things further on the way out.

Shaking his head at himself, he fished his phone out of his pocket, sending you a short text.

“I’m sorry about last night, we’ll talk when I get back. See you next week, I love you.”

Sighing, he sat back in his seat, not feeling any better.

Over the next few days, his sense of unease over the incident continued to grow, his only contact from you coming in the form of flat, often single worded texts. He knew you were still

upset with him, and he couldn’t blame you, but he knew the two of you could sort everything out when he got home. Just a few more hours to go…

It was quiet as he entered the apartment, most of the lights off other than a few lamps.

“Y/n?” He called gently as he sat his things down, Bam appearing from down the hall and bounding over happily to greet him

“Heya, buddy.” He said softly, kneeling to give the dog a few pats and scratches, still glancing around for any sign of you. “Where’s your other parent, huh?”

When he straightened back up, he headed for your shared bedroom, thinking that since it was kinda late, maybe you were already in bed. As he pushed the door open though, he felt his stomach drop as he scanned the space, finding no sign of you and realizing that your things were also no longer there.

Your charger on the nightstand, your clothes, even the fluffy throw blanket that you kept on your side of the bed were all missing.

“Well if that’s how you feel, then maybe you should just stay at your own place!”

The words echoed mockingly in his head as he stared around the suddenly sparse looking room. You wouldn’t have actually taken his stupid suggestion, would you? Without saying a word?

“Y/n?!” He called again, voice shaking.

“What?” His head whipped around at the muffled reply from the guest room across the hall.

Bolting across the landing, he pushed open the door to reveal a very tired looking you, curled into a ball in the bed, blinking back at the sudden light.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, I was so scared!” He moved forward, but you quickly raised a hand up to stop him.

“Stay away!”

“What?!” He froze, staring at you in confusion.

“I’m sick, the flu or something, and I don't want you to catch it, so please just stay away.” You croaked, pulling your shirt over the lower half of your face as a makeshift mask.

“I don’t care about the stupid flu!” He said, trying step closer, but you backed further across the bed. “Hold on.”

He ducked out of the room, coming back in less than a minute with a mask now covering his own face. “See? Now can I come closer?”

Reluctantly, you shrugged, which he took as an okay, coming over and carefully sitting down next you as he took in your appearance. You were pale, your eyes tired and heavy with dark circles under them, you looked like you hadn’t been eating well either.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked softly, feeling your forehead to check your temperature.

“You were busy.” You said stuffily, avoiding his eyes.

He frowned, not missing the lingering meaning behind your words, before getting up to make you some tea.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he noticed that the rest of the apartment seemed to be well looked after, despite your slightly fragile state, including Bam who was curled up next to you on the bed when Jungkook returned.

“Have you been the one taking him out for walks?” He asked, not able to imagine you keeping the massive dog reigned in in your current state.

You shook your head. “I called your usual service.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He said suddenly.

“For what?”

“Everything. For saying what I said last week, for not being here when you needed me. Just, everything.”

You dropped your gaze. “I should be the one apologizing, I was being stubborn.”

“I still shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He said.

You held your pinkie out. “Truce?”

He chuckled, having almost forgotten your old solution to arguments when you’d first started dating.

“Truce.” He hooked his finger with yours, holding it for a moment before tugging you forward into a hug.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your hair.

“I love you too.”

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, until he insisted on moving your things back to his room so he could look after you, helping you get a shower before ordering you both some food.

The whole evening, his eyes never left you for more than a minute, seeming thoughtful but not saying what about until you were tucked back into the bed next to him, on the verge of sleep.

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes flew open as you looked up at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious, I hate the whole back and forth from your place to mine.” His eyes never left yours, fingers traced patterns over your arm as he spoke. “Coming home and not being able to find you was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt, I don’t wanna experience that ever again.

"So, please, move in with me?” He asked, pressing a small kiss to your hand.

“Okay.” You whispered, swallowing back tears at his sweet words.

“Thank you.” He smiled, pulling you close again, both of you quickly falling asleep in each others embrace.

#jungkook reaction #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts angst #bts drabble #bts requests #bts fluff #bts fanfic #7ndipity

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amsznn · 2 months

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can you do a first time with matt? they’re not together yet but really like each other and hang out together a lot kinda vibe. she goes on a date with another guy to get her mind off of matt and when her date tries to take her home with him and have a one night stand, she’s super into it but then freaks out because she doesn’t feel safe and comfortable with the guy. the date kinda gets frustrated with the reader because she “led him on.” so she asks matt to come and pick her up and she breaks down and tells him everything. she explains that she wants that kind of intimacy with someone so bad but she’s embarrassed and has so much trauma that she needs to feel really safe and comfortable with whoever she crosses that line of intimacy with. basically matt asks her if she’s comfortable with him and she asks him to be her first? he’s SO sweet during sex with her, MAJOR praising towards the female and really passionate and intimate. i’m really wanting/envisioning a side of matt during sex that’s very very sweet and comforting, yet a little dominant and sensual at the same time! but definitely gentle with her since it’s her first time and TAKES HIS TIME WITH HER??? like how sweet would that be you know??? BEGGING YOU FOR THIS. 🤍🤍🤍 love your writing :)

NOTHING LIKE YOU - m. sturniolo

warnings: slight cursing, SMUT (don’t read if you’re uncomfortable), p in v, soft dom!matt

A/N: thank you for the request, hopefully i wrote it how you were imagining. again if you want me to fix anything lmk! <3

“going somewhere?”

you heard a familiar voice call out behind you. you turned around to see matt, your best friend standing in the doorway as you attempted to zip up the black silk dress you were planning on wearing.

“believe it or not, i am going on a date.” you watched his reaction through your mirror, not sure of what to make of it. but ultimately matt just put on a small smile before making his way towards your figure.

“who’s the lucky guy?” he asked before assisting you in zipping up the dress. you didn’t miss how his hands lingered for more than a few seconds, or how his eyes traveled all the way down your body, admiring you.

you simply shrugged off his question. “ill tell you if it becomes anything serious.” grabbing your purse off your bed side table, you took one final look at your appearance, deeming it was good enough. “i’ll see you later okay? don’t wait up.” you said as you grabbed your house keys.

before you could make your exit, matt swiftly pulled you by the waist, bringing you into a secure hug. “what’s up with you?” you asked amused while circling your arms around his torso.

“call me if you need anything, alright?” matt said while pulling back from the hug, still not ready to let go. maybe your heart stopped for minute, matter of a fact maybe it exploded. from the way matt was looking at you, it was enough to forget about the whole date. but you knew you couldn’t. there was no point on waiting on something that would probably never happen.

“okay matt.” you softly replied before breaking out of his grasp, leaving the house to make your way to your date.

so far, your date was going well. to your surprise your date was easy to talk to. he started conversations easily, and listened to you as spoke, which is why it was easy for your mind not to wonder to the brunette you left back at home.

you two had went to a semi-fancy restaurant and were laughing the whole night through. from cracking jokes, to telling one another funny stories, you thought this might just end well for you.

“how about we go back to my place after this?” your date said while paying for his portion of the bill since you insisted on splitting it. you smiled at this while also putting your card down.

“sure, why not?”

back at his house things escalated quickly. mere seconds after getting past the front entrance, his hands were all over you.

he held you as you two engaged in a heavy make out session, leading you towards his room, never breaking the contact. your arms unwrapped around his neck before falling back onto his bed. quickly climbing on top of you, he dives down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. you sighed and propped yourself up on your elbows, making yourself more accessible to him.

as his free hand road your dress up, your hands were busy fumbling to get his shirt off, just as eager. he paused for a moment, leaning towards his bedside table to look for a condom. upon finding it, he undid his belt, and pushed his pants and boxers all the way down.

his teeth teared open the condom wrapper, as you watched his every movement. you laid back down, shutting your eyes, trying to brace yourself for what was about to come.

the guy placed his elbows on each side of your head. you could feel the tip slowly prying at your entrance.

shit

“wait, i can’t!” you quickly scooted back to the headboard. the guy looked at you confused, before taking the condom off and pulling his boxers back on.

“what the fuck, you serious?” he asked, eyes scanning your face to see if you were just joking. you adjusted your dress, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. “i’m sorry, im just not ready.” you muttered before finding your panties scattered somewhere on the floor, quickly putting them on you rushed out of the room.

the guy followed suit, yelling accusations at you. “you’re just gonna leave like that!?” he called out after you. you didn’t dare to look back, not even bothering to slip your heels back on, you ran out his house and didn’t stop until you were a couple of blocks down. you collapsed on the sidewalk, quickly pulling out your phone to call your pinned contact.

the phone rang and rang, until finally you could hear matt’s groggy voice on the other side of the phone.

“hey, what’s up?”

“matt, i need you to come get me right now.” you said, trying to compose yourself so he wouldn’t worry. on the other side you listened as matt shuffled around to grab his keys, making his way out the house in an instant.

“i’ll be right there.”

matt arrived in less than 15 minutes, since your location was a good distance between his house. he slowed down when he saw you at the side of the road, coming to a complete stop before you fell into the car.

he saw the look on your face. he didn’t need you to tell him, he knew something went wrong.

when you guys made it home, you made your way to matt’s room, not wanting to be alone that night. matt stopped in the kitchen to grab you some snacks before making his way back to your figure laid on the bed.

he shut the door and dimmed the lights, in case they were bothering you. he left the snacks on the table beside your head before laying down next to you.

“wanna talk about it?” matt asked gently. he turned over on his side to face you better. you sighed and ran your palm down your face. tears dropping down the plump of your cheeks. you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“we almost fucked,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “but i freaked out and ruined everything.” your eyes continued to water before you turned to face matt.

“what’s wrong with me?” your voice broke matt’s heart. to him there was absolutely nothing wrong with you. to him you were perfect, there was nothing that compared to you.

“hey, hey, hey” matt gently caressed your face while wiping your tears with his thumb. “there’s nothing wrong with being scared y/n. you don’t have to be ready right now.”

you let out another frustrated sigh. “but i am ready matt. he just..wasn’t the one i guess.” matt pulled his hand away from your face before looking into your eyes.

“then who is?”

your heart skipped another beat, or maybe two. he’s been right in front of you this whole time. the one you wanted, the one you needed. it was matt.

you shifted on your side before your hand made its way to matt’s neck. you watched his expression, for any sort of discomfort before connecting his lips with yours.

although the feeling of your lips on his brought matt to euphoria, he couldnt bring himself to do this while you were in a state of vulnerability, causing matt to back away from the kiss.

“y/n, are you sure about this?”

“yes matt, im really sure.”

matt smiled before pulling you in for another kiss, instead this one was more passionate, and desperate. your bottom lip hung open as matt took this as an invitation to push his tongue past the entrance. the atmosphere in the room only got thicker as matt shifted his body on top of you. you could feel the bulge in his pants rub against your core which made you whimper into the kiss.

“matt..please.” you gasped into the kiss.

“there’s no rush, baby. it’s just me and you.”

matt’s hands made their way down your body, reaching behind you back to undo the dress and reveal your breast out in display for him. matt dipped down, kissing all along the area, but purposely dodging the place you needed him most.

as matt’s hands went further, you could feel them just above your core. he could feel how wet you were through your panties. he made work to take them off, causing you to shiver from the exposure. you pulled at the hem of matt’s shirt, practically begging him to take it off. he complied, while also pushing his sweatpants, and boxers off. you couldn’t help but tense up, and do the same as before and lay back down to brace yourself.

matt grabbed a condom from his drawer, tearing it open and rolling it down his length. he could sense how tense you were. he gently placed his hand on your waist while looking into your eyes, trying to ease any of your worries away.

“i’ll go slow okay? tell me if you wanna stop.”

you whispered an ‘okay’ in approval. matt lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. your knuckles almost turned white with how much you were gripping the sheets to the new burning sensation.

“it’s okay angel, i got you.” matt reassured while caressing your face in hopes to calm you down.

matt groaned until he completely bottomed out. staying in place so you could adjust.

“fuck, you’re so tight.” matt breathed out.

you shivered at his words before taking a deep breath before telling matt he could move.

his thrusts were slow, but deep. enough to make you feel every inch of him.

“matt, can you go a bit faster?” you breathed out. matt nodded before propping himself up on his arms, making the snapping of his hips faster.

“oh god, matt!” you moaned out at the newfound pace. you mind was clouded with pleasure and the with the brunette in front of you. you reached up to push matt back down by his neck so your lips could clash against each other once again.

matt moaned against your lips, the clenching off your walls around him was enough to make him explode right then and there.

“you’re doing so good for me, angel.” matt whispered above your ear.

you whimpered, the combination of matt’s pace and the feeling of his lips peppering soft kisses all around caused your head to spin.

“matt, im gonna..” you could barely finished your sentence before matt’s free hand made it’s way to your clit, rubbing circles helping you chase your own high.

“go ahead baby, im right here.” matt mumbled, talking you through your orgasm.

“matt!” you cried out as you felt the knot in your stomach burst, leaving you a shaking mess as matt, also came undone, moaning your name as he rode out his high as well.

“fuck.” matt muttered before pulling out, which earned a shiver from you, still sensitive. matt made his way to the bathroom to clean himself off before coming back in his black sweatpants and a fresh towel for you. he gently cleaned you up, careful as he knew any sudden movement could cause you discomfort. you sat up before grabbing a clean set of matt’s boxers, and one of his sweatpants before collapsing back into bed.

matt did the same, pulling the covers over you two. his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in closer. “are you okay?” he asked while peppering kisses along your neck.

“i’m amazing.” you chuckled while playing with the hand that held your waste.

“yeah, you really are.”

A/N: yall i………..i have no words, i dont usually write smut, I’ve probably written it like once but i decided to try smth new ig. I WAS GIGGLING THE WHOLE TIME. also message me if you wanna be moots, need some more. (need matt rn)

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 4 months

Note

Okay it’s me again and again about the angst with Lando. I’ve read “You hurt me” and as it was amazing it’s not really what I had in mind.

I thought more about reader being harassed by “fans” of Lando not in an obvious way? Like they tell her she’s not his usual type or they point out she’s not on many races (like give her a break she studies hard), make assumptions about her, point out she’s not rich and it’s awful to her but Lando doesn’t see it because it’s not so obvious.

Hope it’s not too detailed it’s mostly examples so generally harassed!insecure!Reader and oblivious!Lando in shortened version🫣

"Just Don't Be So Sensitive" - LN

Might be a bit short in terms of angst? I don't know if I do angst all that well. We're gonna get Lando getting a little defensive over his fans and thinking better of them (I'm not saying all Lando fans are the devil's children when it comes to evil, but we all know what poor Luisa went through)

A word I use in this is from my dialect (I didn't realise this wasn't a commonly used word till recently when I used it on twitter and people started screaming at me because they thought it was something bad), I could change it but sorry I'm not going to. So instead I'll translate: cushty - very good or pleasing

Themes: Heavy drinking (using alcohol as an emotional cushion), arguing

Lando warned her that things could get nasty towards her. But he seemed pretty elated over the fact that things were not at all as bad as he thought they would get.

When they first started dating, he told her in a very loving manner "that she just had to make sure "just don't be so sensitive and you'll be just fine". He wasn't making any digs at her sensitivity, he was just saying that thick skin would work in favour of any resilience she might need.

Y/n thinks he's either trying to take the piss or is selectively blind and deaf in what he hears and sees.

Y/n has a private instagram but it doesn't stop her from being tagged in posts, tagged in comments, her explore feed brings up plenty of posts all about her. Not all of them are negative. But on the flip side, not all of them are that positive either.

"What's that face about?" Lando asks walking out of the hotel bathroom, freshly showered making her look up quickly from her phone, her brows furrowed and the annoyance very obvious on her face.

"Just receiving so much love from your fans. Like I have all day." Y/n states sarcastically earning Lando's attention a bit more.

It's not really fair for her to be taking her anger out on him, but Lando seems to think everything is cushty between her and his fans.

"Why do you sound so angry?" Lando questions as she tosses her phone onto the bed.

"It doesn't matter. You don't understand and even if you do understand you're in some like I don't know, bubble of ignorance about the fact that your fans hate me."

"Since when?" Lando laughs in disbelief of how quickly this is escalating.

Resisting the urge to shut down like her instincts are trying to force her to.

"Since your fans decided I wasn't good enough for you! They tell me, Lando. They let me know. Online, in person, however they feel like telling me. Trust me, they let me know." Y/n stresses before sighing heavily as she runs her hand through her hair, tugging at it in frustration.

"My fans are not that bad, like they can be bad but come on, they've been so nice to you. So nice to you compared to how bad it could be and if that's all true, why haven't you said anything till now? Like talk to me, tell me."

"Why haven't you noticed? They say it to my face right in front of you. Today!-Today a fan stood right in front of you while you were signing things and said that you shouldn't have to pay for me to be here if I can't afford it without you."

No. She can't do this.

Tears are already escaping as she moves over to grab a jacket.

"W-Where are you going?" Lando panics, very much aware that he's not nearly as dressed enough to chase after her.

"I need some air. Just-Just let me get some air." Y/n mutters as she shoves her feet into her shoes and grabs the hotel room key though Lando is hot on her heels, trying to stop her from leaving the room.

"Can we please calm down and talk?"

"I'm trying to calm down. Can you let me?"

Lando's stubbornness almost keeps her contained but he sighs knowing better than to be that much of an asshole. So he grumbles but lets her pass and she is gone quick.

Though it takes a minute for Lando to realise that she's left her phone, presumably on purpose. He groans knowing that she would've done it on purpose so she couldn't be tracked, since he'll admit they have their locations on and when she's not by his side he does use it.

However, today it would've been a matter of safety since she's in an unfamiliar city.

He decides to try and look online, even just looking up her name on Twitter and while there's some nice things about her, mainly focusing around some cute pictures of them only earlier today.

There is actually even a video capturing the moment that Lando has no recollection of. He's not sure if the person who uploaded the video meant to capture the audio that is of a girl practically spitting on y/n who even flinches from her spot next to Lando where she'd been reaching to help pass him things to sign.

She'd been doing no wrong. And somehow he just didn't hear a word of it in the moment.

"Fuck." Lando mutters then groaning. "Fuck sake."

He's got some grovelling to do. Some real fucking grovelling.

Meanwhile, y/n is only downstairs at the bar. Thank god for being able to charge to the room or she'd be fucked for drinking away her problems.

"Are you sure you want another drink?" The bartender asks after she manages to neck another whiskey neat. It's not really her first choice of drink. But it's the only thing she can drink straight without being sick immediately following that.

"How many have I had now?" She asks managing to keep herself from slurring by some miracle.

"That was your 4th...but you've had all four in less than half an hour."

"Oh right. Ok...how much for the bottle?" Y/n asks making the bartender sigh and look at her in sympathy. "My boyfriend basically called me a liar...I was mad but I wasn't lying."

"Where is he now?"

"Probably panicking in the hotel room upstairs. I left my phone because if I keep looking at it then one bottle of whiskey will be the least of my bad decisions tonight..." Y/n sighs not referring to anything all that sinister. But if she had tried to leave the hotel and fans said something out of pocket, an assault charge might be under her name.

"Then I guess letting you have a bottle and just keeping an eye on you for the rest of the night is the nicest favour I can do for you." The bartender smiles lightly then moving back and grabbing the house whiskey. "On the room?"

"Yeah."

"He's paying?"

Y/n stomach churns at that reminder and she almost wishes she had cash on her or her phone to pay. Hell she almost even wishes she was angry and bitter enough to not care about how much money she's costing him by drinking.

"I'll send him the money." She mumbles making him pause looking at her.

"Tell you what, birthday girl. It's our gift from the hotel to you."

Y/n doesn't take any time to clock onto the fact that he's pretending it's her birthday for her benefit.

"I can pay for it."

"No. It's on the house. Enjoy. Tell me if you need more ice." He smiles making her sigh then move away to serve another customer.

She gets through just over half of the bottle across the span of the next hour, then she disappears to the bathroom and upon returning she manages to get through some more till there's about a third left.

"I'm done. I'm done. Thank you b-ut I'm done." Y/n hiccups before managing a lazy smile. "You've been very kind."

"Are you ok getting up to your room? I can call for security to give you an escort just to make sure you don't fall."

"I'm good. Honestly. I promise." Y/n insists before she stands up with a sigh. "You have a good night."

"You too...better than it's been so far."

Y/n smiles definitely showing that she is definitely going to crash hard into a pillow and pass the fuck out the moment she is in the hotel room. Hopefully she finds the right one and doesn't just end up just passing out in the corridor.

By some miracle she gets in the lift, chooses the right floor and gets herself to the right door, and while it takes a couple of attempts she manages to use the key to get in. Or at least that's what she thinks till she realises the door opened on it's own accord without touching it.

"Jesus, y/n." Lando sighs being able to smell the alcohol on her breath as he nears her. "What-"

"I'm going to bed. I don't want to talk, I want to sleep and be left alone to sleep." Y/n yawns, uncaring of her heartless approach to this whole situation right now.

The alcohol did it's job, it's numbed out her thoughts and feelings of the whole situation. So now all she needs is to sleep and just let the alcohol work it's magic to help her follow up drinking her issues away with sleeping her problems away.

Lando watches her pull off her clothes, with some real struggle, but when he tries to help she only moves away from him muttering something incoherent but it doesn't sound very happy from the tone.

Eventually she lands on the bed with a grunt, crawling under the covers and shoving her face into the pillow, practically smothering herself. Lando watches her for a few minutes and she very obviously falls asleep hard.

He does join her after placing a bucket next to the bed and climbing into the bed next to her, pulling her into a hug that is probably more for himself than for her.

Y/n groans waking up, the blinding hangover making her roll into the other body. She feels completely oversensitive to the touch of her boyfriend.

"Oh god." Y/n whines pushing him away in a desperate race for some relief, but a wave of nausea hits her at the sudden movement and she throws herself out the bed, tripping on the bucket wit her body smacking into the floor as she trips.

By some miracle she swallows down the wave of vomit that tried to make an escape.

"Baby?" Lando murmurs from the bed.

But she's already up and racing to the bathroom again. The bitter taste of whiskey combine with the sour taste of bile spills past her taste buds, burning her throat as she heaves. Tears from the straining blur her vision as she feels hands pull her hair back, but it hasn't save the strands from being coated in the half-disgested mixture.

He rubs her back which works more to make her stomach really force up the rest before she finally can't feel anything else trying to reappear.

"What a mess." She mutters looking in the toilet bowl that is just not a pretty sight.

"You're ok." Lando states while she rolls her eyes. She's still not happy with him, no matter how much the alcohol let her feel better. The hangover and the return of her sober emotions.

She does let Lando help her clean up, managing to wash her hair in the sink a bit and even brushes her teeth for her.

“Baby, I need to apologise. I fucked up. I should’ve listened to you, I shouldn’t have just dismissed what you were telling me because I thought that my fans had got better. Really I should’ve known you would never lie about that. I need to make it up to you so it’s fine if you’re still mad at me. You should be.”

“I am…or I would be if I didn’t feel like my stomach was trying to digest itself as punishment for deciding that drinking the better part of a bottle of whiskey to myself in less than 3 hours was a good idea.” Y/n whispers, her throat still incredibly raw.

“I saw everything-Well not all of it, but enough to make a post letting everyone know that if i hear or see anything negative then they aren’t a fan of mine and I would rather not have their support.” Lando explains while y/n smiles sadly at him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to because you are the person I love. As much as i love and appreciate their support, you are more important even if they don’t like it.”

“Can we cuddle for a bit?”

“Yes, we can definitely cuddle for a bit.” Lando nods with a smile before he picks her up and carries her back to the bed. “I think I’ll call and see if we can keep the room for another day. You need the recovery time and I don’t feel like paying extra for the private jet to be washed if you’re sick on mid-flight.”

“That’s fair. I don’t think I could handle it either.” Y/n nods as she’s laid in the bed and sighs rolling onto his side breathing in his scent. “Come cuddle. Please.”

Lando knows he still has grovelling to do and he’s sure when she’s not so hungover and clingy, he’ll be held to the usual expectation of apologising more than he already has.

But for now they’re both going to enjoy it till they have to properly face everything else.

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Nine-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theós fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Gagging, Choking, Fingering, Denied Orgasm, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight FreeUse Kink, Sexual Aggression, CNC, DubCon.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"What's it like tutoring him twice a bloody week?" Emily said, her wide eyes pinned on the rowdy ruckus emanating from the Slytherin table, where Mattheo Riddle was of course reigned at the very center. "I'm surprised you even have any hair left. I'd probably pull mine out within the first two seconds of being alone with him."

You chuckled at her words, seemingly brushing her off, but your mind couldn't help to race with the thoughts of how fast everything escalated. In just a matter of weeks you'd gone from absolutely despising eachother, Mattheo seemingly not giving two shits about you or your tutoring sessions--to being unable to keep your fucking hands off each other every chance you got, while Mattheo somehow manages to get grades higher than he's ever gotten in his entire life.

Yeah, the guy was bloody fucking insufferable, and you still couldn't stand him on a day to day basis, but Gods you loved the way he touched you. You loved the way he made you feel.

"Believe me, every moment I manage to keep myself from throttling him is a miracle," you muttered under your breath, shifting your gaze back to your own table, silently praying the blush creeping up your cheeks went unnoticed. "He's beyond insufferable."

"I heard he fought someone for you," Emily's gaze fixated on you, her curiosity palpable as she leaned over the table toward you. "And not just someone...Berkshire, of all people? What on earth happened there? I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Your stomach twisted into knots. You had managed to evade Emily's inquiries about Friday's incident by stealthily steering the conversation toward her favorite book, immersing yourself in studies, and strategically avoiding her whenever possible. Yet, you knew this conversation was inevitable. You had just honestly hoped it wouldn't come today, especially not when you were mere minutes away from your first reoccurring Tuesday meeting with Mattheo's brother.

Navigating this topic was like stepping on shards of glass, the memory of Mattheo's fierce defense cutting through your thoughts. Each recollection was a visceral experience, the clench of his fist, the predatory glint in his eyes, all etched into your mind like a painting of unrestrained intensity. The mere thought of his protective stance sent a shiver down your spine, leaving your skin electrified with the memory of his presence. Discussing the incident meant confronting the pulsating heat between your thighs, a tangible reminder of the way his concern wrapped around you like a cocoon.

"Mattheo skipped our tutoring session, so I ventured into the Slytherin common room to find him," you explained, your voice steady but your hands trembling slightly. "The entire Quidditch team was there, and Berkshire, well, he got upset over something I said and things escalated quickly."

Her eyes widened in anticipation, the unspoken question hanging in the air. "So Mattheo stepped in to save you? Defend you?"

"Both, technically," you responded, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. "But it was his fault to begin with. If he had just shown up for our session, none of that would have happened."

Emily's eyes widened in concern, her brows furrowing. "At least he had the audacity to step up for you," she said, her tone torn between disapproval and understanding. "He's been unhinged lately, picking fights with anyone who glances at him the wrong way. I even heard he got into it with his own brother...have you seen Tom's face? It looks like a bloody war zone."

Dread coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach, a sinking realization seeping into your veins. You'd taken nothing but a small, fleeting glance at Tom yesterday in class, avoiding eye contact in a desperate attempt to avoid any type of conversation--but anyone from a twenty mile radius could notice the blackened skin around his eyes, the split in his perfect plush lips.

The thought of facing him tonight clawed at your insides--the pretense you'd have to maintain, acting as though you were oblivious to the reason behind his battered face, felt like a weight pressing down on your chest. You knew the truth, you knew all too fucking well why he looked the way he did, and the knowledge hung between you like a fragile web, waiting to shatter at the slightest touch.

"I haven't," you said, steeling your shoulders to seem convincing. "But I heard that as well...nothing about that boy surprises me anymore."

You lied not out of malice, but out of self-preservation. Admitting that you knew the real reason behind Tom's injuries wasn't even in the question, wasn't even a thought to be had. Your lie was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the storm you could see brewing on the horizon, a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path. So, you played your part, hoping that your facade would hold long enough to keep you out of the fray.

"Well, it should. He's mad, that one. I'd avoid him at all costs. Tutor him and run," she said bluntly, her words carrying a weight of caution as she packed up her books. "What are you doing tonight? We should study for Herbology."

Your stomach twisted again, tying into a tight knot as her words echoed in your ears. If only she knew the truth behind you and Mattheo's situation, if only she knew how bloody deep you were ensnared in his web. Desperate to change the subject, you cleared your throat, realizing you hadn't even told her about the fact that Tom had asked you to meet with him on Tuesdays.

"I...I can't...I'm meeting Tom tonight." You said, tentatively, pausing briefly in order to choose your next words carefully--knowing that regardless of how you explained it, she was bound to absolutely freak. "He asked we meet one-on-one each Tuesday, in addition to the Thursday guild meetings..."

Your words hung in the air, a heavy revelation that seemed to catch Emily off guard. She blinked, her previous endorsement of Tom Riddle echoing in her mind, seemingly frozen for a moment until her eyes widened with a spark of excitement.

"Woah, woah, woah..." she practically threw herself across the table at you, unable to control herself. "Why? What exactly did he say?!"

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the complexity of the situation without divulging too much. "I don't know," you replied, your voice low. "He just...requested it, and I didn't feel like I could refuse."

"Oh my stars! I must be a fortune teller!" She giggled, revelling in her previous comment from last week. "Do you know what this means?! Do you know the opportunities this can open up for you if it turns into something more?! Imagine the scholarly collaborations, the doors to advanced research, and prestigious circles you could access...your academic reputation would soar, paving the way for extraordinary opportunities in the future-"

"Yeah, Emily, it's all very...exciting," you cut her off, your voice laced with a grumble, your mind racing with thoughts of Mattheo and the impossibility of being with someone like Tom, no matter how perfect he seemed on the surface. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, please."

"But, this is a golden opportunity!" Emily exclaimed, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I mean, it's Tom Riddle we're talking about. The doors he could open for you, the knowledge you could gain from him--it's practically a scholar's dream! Why aren't you more excited about this? Don't you see the incredible possibilities waiting for you?"

Your internal irritation churned like a storm, each pushy comment from Emily adding fuel to the fire. Mattheo's face, his touch, his words claiming you as his echoed in your mind, reminding you of the complexity he brought into your life. Despite the impossibility of a relationship with Mattheo, the mere thought of Tom felt like a betrayal, a path you couldn't tread because of fear of Mattheo's reaction.

"Gods, I get it, Emily," you snapped, your tone sharper than you intended, the pressure of your conflicting emotions bubbling over. "But not every connection is a ticket to social or academic advancement...sometimes it's about...something deeper." Your voice softened as you attempted to mend the sudden rift, regret colouring your words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh...it's just...complicated, and I don't really want to rely on someone else for career or academic opportunities, it just...feels like cheating, you know?"

Emily nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so pushy...it's just, you've never had a boyfriend...and Tom, well, I just think he'd be perfect for you." There was a warmth in her words, a sincerity that softened the edges of the conversation. "I have to meet Michael in the courtyard, we're going to study...I'll see you later tonight then, yeah?"

You managed a small smile, appreciating Emily's concern despite the frustrating conversation. "Thanks, Emily," you said, your voice softer now. "I'll see you later."

As Emily got up and left the table, a mix of relief and lingering irritation settled within you. You couldn't shake the internal turmoil, the conflicting emotions that came with both the budding relationship with Tom and the unrelenting thoughts of Mattheo. It was as if you were caught between two worlds, neither of which felt entirely right.

The tension in the air was almost tangible as Emily's footsteps faded away, leaving you alone at the table. The flickering candlelight danced on the polished wood, casting intricate shadows that seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. You felt like a character in one of the many novels you'd read, entangled in a plotline far more intricate than any you'd ever encountered.

As you rose from the table, your eyes met Mattheo's from across the room, his gaze piercing into your soul with a knowing intensity that sent shivers down your spine. There was something in his eyes, a depth of insight that left you feeling exposed, as if he could see through the layers you desperately tried to conceal. The unspoken connection between you both hung in the air, an invisible thread that refused to be severed.

Making your way to your dormitory, you couldn't shake the memory of Mattheo's gaze. It followed you like a ghost, haunting the corners of your mind as you picked out an outfit for your meeting with Tom. The anticipation hummed in the air, the atmosphere crackling with a strange energy. You opted for a slightly revealing top but still professional, a conscious choice to make an impression, to assert control over a situation that seemed increasingly beyond your grasp.

Walking down the dimly lit corridors of the castle, you felt a knot of apprehension tighten in your stomach. The library loomed ahead like a sanctuary of secrets, its ancient walls holding the wisdom of centuries. As you pushed open the heavy oak doors, your eyes met Tom's bruised face, seated in a secluded corner of the room, the evidence of Mattheo's anger etched into his skin. It was a stark reminder of the forces at play, the dangerous dance you found yourself entangled in.

You moved toward Tom cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the hushed silence of the library. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the reflection of your own turmoil mirrored back at you, a depth of intensity in his stare that seemed to pierce through your very soul. As you approached, he rose from his seat with a fluid motion, his tall, commanding figure casting a confident shadow.

With a faint, enigmatic smile, he extended his hand in a gesture of greeting. "Top of the evening, darling," he said, his voice velvety and composed, the words hanging in the air with a subtle weight. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

As he spoke, his eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze drawing you in further. "Evening, Tom..." you replied, your voice catching slightly as you took his hand, a rush of warmth spreading through you at his touch. "Pleasure to see you, as well."

With practiced elegance, he pulled out the chair for you, his movements precise and deliberate, a testament to his controlled demeanor. You allowed him to guide you into the chair, feeling the subtle brush of his fingers against your skin--once seated, Tom resumed his own place, his posture impeccable, exuding an air of sophistication and confidence.

"You're looking particularly lovely tonight," he said, his tone low and smooth, his dark eyes dipping over your chest. "I've been looking forward to meeting with you again more than I'd like to admit..."

Blush flooded your face, warmth spreading through you. "You are much too sweet, Tom...I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such compliments."

"I appreciate your modesty," Tom leaned back in his chair, smirking subtly. "Perhaps that's precisely what makes you so deserving."

As you engaged in conversation with Tom, your mind raced with thoughts of Mattheo, his presence lingering in your mind like a ghost in the room. Your gaze flickered involuntarily to the fading bruises on Tom's cheek, the scabbing split in his lip, and you simply couldn't ignore the discomfort in your throat. Despite your efforts to suppress it, an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach.

Tom's flirting, though subtle, only intensified your discomfort. You knew all too well how possessive Mattheo could be, and the mere thought of him overhearing even a hint of this conversation made you squirm internally. With a subtle shift in your tone, you ventured to inquire about an answer you already knew; hoping to solidify your innocence, your voice laced with nothing but concern.

"I couldn't help but notice the bruises," you murmured gently, your eyes flickering toward Tom's face. "If it's not too personal, may I ask what happened?"

"It was my brother," Tom admitted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "He can be quite...stubborn, and tends to resort to physicality when he feels strongly about something. But it's nothing I can't handle. Sibling disagreements, I suppose. We've had worse."

He offered a small, dismissive smile, downplaying the severity of the situation, although his eyes betrayed a glimmer of frustration.

In response, you nodded, smiling softly. "Makes me glad I'm an only child."

"I imagine it has its perks," Tom replied, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before he shifted the conversation. "By the way, how has your tutoring been going with my brother? I know he's quite the handful...I imagine your sessions are quite...intellectually stimulating."

Your lungs stalled, pulse quickening in your throat. There was something in the way he said it, a flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of something else that made your stomach twist with unease.

"Oh, intellectually stimulating is one way to put it," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. "He's certainly...unique to work with, but we manage."

The room seemed to constrict around you, the air thick with tension as Tom's gaze bored into your soul, searching for hidden truths. His eyes, sharp and discerning, followed a deliberate path across your face, lingering on every contour as if trying to decipher the secrets etched in your skin. His fingers played with the pages of his book, tracing the edges with a calculated precision, a tangible unease settling between you.

His scrutiny intensified, his eyes dipping lower, skimming over your lips, then your chest, before locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"You know, I've heard what you've done for my brother..." he continued, his voice a mere whisper, yet it echoed with a resonance that sent shivers down your spine. "Improving his grades in just a few short months...it seems you have a talent for reaching him in ways others couldn't, considering how resistant to tutoring he's been..." his tone darkened, a challenge flickering in his eyes. "I can't help but wonder what methods you employ to achieve such...drastic results."

In the charged silence that followed, you shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the weight of Tom's scrutiny like a physical presence. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with tension and unspoken questions--you could tell he was pushing for something, but you refused to even give an inch.

You held your ground, meeting Tom's intense gaze with a steely resolve. "Teaching is about understanding individual needs and tailoring the approach accordingly," you replied, your voice firm. "Every student has their unique way of grasping concepts, and it's my job as a tutor to find that approach. It's not about methods; it's about recognizing potential and fostering it. Mattheo has the intellect; he just needed the right guidance to unlock it. That's what tutoring is all about; guidance, patience, and a genuine belief in the student's abilities."

Tom's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. "A unique approach indeed," he murmured, his voice laced with intrigue. "Understanding someone like Mattheo requires more than just conventional tutoring methods, I suspect."

You felt a flush creep up your neck at his insinuation, his words hanging in the air like a tantalizing threat. There was an unspoken challenge in his gaze, as if he dared you to reveal the depths of your connection with Mattheo, and you were growing increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing second.

"I find your insinuations rather perturbing, Mr. Riddle," your voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with firmness and defiance, your eyes narrowing in challenge as you leaned in closer, the tension between you palpable. "Mattheo may have a reputation, but he's a student here, just like the rest of us...he deserves a fair chance to succeed, without unnecessary assumptions clouding his progress. Don't you agree?"

The intensity in your gaze dared him to challenge your statement, refusing to back down in the face of his probing scrutiny. His lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes dancing with intrigue.

"Indeed, darling," he replied, his tone smooth like silk. "A commendable dedication to your students. It's a quality not often found in tutors."

The glint in his eyes hinted at a deeper curiosity, leaving you with the sense that he was far from convinced by your response, but when he changed the subject, seemingly dismissing it as though nothing even happened, you found yourself expelling a long breath of relief. You engaged in conversation with Tom for a while longer, the topics ranging from academics to shared interests in literature and the intricacies of magical theory. Despite the undercurrent of tension, you found yourself drawn into the conversation, momentarily forgetting the complexities of your situation.

As the night grew darker, Tom glanced at the time and offered to walk you back to your dorm room. You accepted his offer, and together, you strolled through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. Emily's words from early bounced around in your mind, reminding you of how good for you Tom could be, if you let him--but despite the intellectual conversations and the surface-level connection, something fundamental was missing, a spark that failed to ignite the depths of your soul.

In the silent moments between words, you couldn't help but compare the encounter with the electrifying energy that Mattheo stirred within you. With Mattheo, every glance, every touch felt charged with a raw intensity, a potent magnetism that left you breathless, angry, and alive. His presence had a way of awakening something dormant inside you, a flame that burned brighter in his proximity.

You could light fires with the feelings you felt for Mattheo--a passionate hate, one inexplicable by words.

When you arrived at the hall leading to your dormitory, Tom turned to face you, his demeanor exuding a dark, enigmatic energy that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a lingering hesitation in the air, a palpable tension that neither of you acknowledged, yet it clung to the atmosphere like a ghost. With a smile that held secrets you dared not explore, he leaned in, his gesture carrying a weight that made your stomach twist with unease.

"I enjoyed myself tonight." His lips brushed your cheek in a touch that was both gentle and possessive, leaving a cold trail in its wake, his hand curling around your waist. "Until next time, little witch."

His voice a mere whisper against your skin, his words sending an aggressive chill down your spine. His stature remained stoic and composed, his eyes holding a darkness that seemed to mirror the shadows lurking within the castle walls as he pulled back--in an attempt to hide your discomfort, you shot him a small smile.

"Goodnight, Tom." Keeping your voice steady was impossible. "Thanks for walking me back."

With one last knowing glance and a chilling smirk, Tom spun around, his footsteps echoing off the cold, empty corridor as he made his way back into the shadows, disappearing from your view. The silence that settled in his wake was thick with unspoken words, leaving you standing there, heart racing and mind clouded with a sense of foreboding.

You spun around, eager to continue your path down the hall, only managing to make it a few strides when the hushed whispers of the night were abruptly drowned out by a sudden rush of footsteps, too swift and too silent to be anything ordinary. Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into the shadows.

A door to a small closet was whipped open, and you were abruptly pulled inside, a gasp catching in your throat as you were abruptly slammed against the door as it shut behind you, your eyes widening as you found yourself face to face with Mattheo. His dark, stormy eyes bore into yours, a dangerous glint flickering within their depths. His hand pressed firmly against your mouth, silencing any protest that threatened to escape. The contrast of his icy touch against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and a strange mix of fear and something else, something inexplicably alluring, tightened its grip on your chest.

Trapped in the narrow space between the unforgiving wooden door and Mattheo's overwhelming presence, your entire body roared to life, sparking dormant nerves. It was as though he had uncovered a realm of feelings you never knew existed, leaving you in awe and fear of the power he held over your senses. The memories of a time before his stifling dominance became elusive, fading like distant echoes as you grappled with the reality of his suffocating control.

His influence was a dense, intricate web that ensnared you effortlessly, making it difficult to discern where he ended and you began.

"You're a filthy little slut," he hissed, his words laced with dangerous venom, the lingering scent of cigarettes filling your nostrils. You tried to shake your head, but his hand kept your skull pressed firm to the wood behind it. "God, you're fucking filthy, Raven...look at you, dressed like this to meet with my fucking brother..."

You squealed into his palm as his free hand travelled down your stomach, wasting absolutely no time before slipping between your thighs and grazing over your sex--a low, deep growl reverberating through his chest as he pressed you against the door, suffocating you in a whirlwind of barely-restrained sadistic rage.

"You're so fucking lucky I didn't kill him...you're so fucking lucky I didn't rearrange his face until he was begging me for mercy just for fucking looking at you the way he was..." his grip over your mouth tightened, his words a demonized growl in your ear, your body reacting in inexplicable ways as he slipped his hand under the band of your leggings. "Fuck...I think you need to be reminded of your fucking place..."

You mewled, melting against his body and fusing with the wood of the door as he circled two fingers over your clit, teasing you with a quick swirl before he slid lower, slicking his fingers through your rapidly increasing wetness. When he pulled his palm off your lips, he didn't give you a mere second to gasp for air before he gripped your face and forced your jaw open with his thumb.

"So fucking wet for me already." His thumb pressed on your tongue, eliciting a gag, long fingers stretching over your cheek and entangling in your hair. His voice was a growl against your flesh, teeth grazing your jawline. "Tell me who the fuck you belong to."

"Fuck-" you gasped, crying out against him as he slipped a finger inside your cunt without warning, the blissful stretch inspiring a world of sensations you'd never known to exist--your pussy feeling full beyond comprehension with just one of his fucking fingers, every inch of your body trembling in response. "-you!"

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed, shoving his thumb deeper, hand shifting to grip the bottom of your jaw now, nails digging deep into your skin. "Fucking hell...you're so fucking tight, Raven...you can barely take my goddamn finger..."

A whimper escaped your lips, your hands clenching onto the fabric of his shirt as if it were your lifeline, your legs trembling uncontrollably beneath the weight of his touch, slowing finger fucking you while his thumb twirled over your clit, your entire body spasming with pleasure against him, your chest heaving for air, and your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy. You couldn't comprehend the overwhelming waves of pleasure consuming you, leaving you in a state of blissful delirium.

"Yeah, that's fucking right...feel that tight little cunt stretch for me..." his voice flowed like molasses, his curls tickling your cheek. "Fuck...how the fuck do you ever plan on taking my cock, hm?"

"Gods..." A haze of pleasure was clouding your vision, drool spilling from your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his thumb. "Oh, fuck...."

"Tell me who you belong to, Raven..." he ordered, voice a deep growl in your ear. "Tell me who this tight little cunt belongs to."

"You-" you choked, voice hiccuped through your moans and squeals of pleasure, words distorted with his thumb still planted between your teeth. "I-it belongs to y-you..."

"Yeah?" He pushed against you harder, lips attacking your neck, his aggressive erection pressing against your thigh, his body heat swarming you, suffocating you whole. "And who am I, princess...say my fucking name."

His fingers quickened their pace, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. You convulsed in response, beads of sweat soaking the fabric on your back, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. He withdrew his hand from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, and shifted it to your chest, groping and squeezing your tits like his life depended on it. His chest was rising and falling against you as he fingered you, brushing his thumb past your swollen clit, rocking his hand against you. Your pulse picked up, your breath coming faster, head spinning with the rapidly approaching climax on the horizon.

"Matt-" you choked, hardly able to string a cognitive sentence. "Mattheo...oh..."

Mattheo groaned, yanking down your shirt until your tits were fully exposed, his hungry eyes burning wounds into the soft flesh, his fingers working your cunt faster, bringing you directly to the edge of pleasure, ready to explode in his fucking hands.

"Mhm...dirty fucking whore..." his free hand toyed with your tits, his chest rumbled with a deep growl, echoing the intensity of the moment, while you struggled to stifle your cries, attempting to maintain some semblance of control over your escalating noises.

Despite your best efforts, your attempts at silence proved futile, shattering into desperate gasps as Mattheo sank his teeth into your neck.

"You want to cum for me, pretty girl? You want to cum on my fucking fingers?" You bobbed your head frantically, throat more arid than the desert. "Use your words, Raven..."

"Please," you whispered into the fabric covering his shoulder, hands clasping his arms. You couldn't get out much else as he grazed your clit again, bolts of ecstasy halting your ability to make words. "Please, please..."

"Please what?" he said, driving his finger deeper into your cunt.

"Let me cum," you said, voice torn with your irregular breath. "Please let me cum!"

At your words, Mattheo exhaled sharply, his fingers retreating from your cunt, leaving you stranded on the precipice of euphoria. The abrupt cessation of his touch left you in a tormenting state, teetering on the edge of an elusive climax, aching for fulfillment. Your frustrated moan of despair reverberated through the room, a raw manifestation of your desire. But before the sound could fully escape, Mattheo silenced you, his fingers forcibly invading your parted lips, triggering an involuntary gag reflex while his other hand closed around your throat, exerting a firm, possessive grip, ensuring your gasps and cries were swallowed in the stifling air of the closet.

"No," he hissed, voice a dangerous growl against your ear. "Only good girls get to cum...and you...you've been a bad little slut...remember when I said bad girls get fucking punished, Raven?"

A soft whimper escaped your lips, a harmonious blend of need and vulnerability as Mattheo's hand constricted around your throat, cutting off your oxygen supply. The exquisite agony of air deprivation was intertwined with a delightful buzz, amplifying the tingling sensation from your cunt to encompass your entire body. You felt every nuance intensely: the synchronized rhythm of your heaving chests, the pulsating restraint of his touch, and the restrained anger emanating from him like a tangible force.

"Wait until I get you alone tomorrow, Raven..." he murmured, voice laced with a promise of punishment. "You just fucking wait."

With a sudden, abrupt motion, he let you go, his grip loosening as he reached past you to pull open the door. The rush of cool air brushed against your skin as he swiftly exited through the door, leaving you in the aftermath of the intense encounter, your senses still tingling with the lingering traces of his touch.

———————————-

Chapter ten here->

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anadiasmount · 2 months

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airports and late night dates - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: “hi babe! can you do a story when y/n it's not a celebrity or a famous person and she has her first appereance as jude’s girlfriend in public. they are at a airport and paparazzi are very curious taking photos and shit and jude is beeing very protective with her. love you.”

wc: 2k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: HAIII ILYSM AS WELL!! jude being a literal body guard and so protective would so be him 😔🤞🏻 added another cute scene after because bf! jude is soooo 🫂🤍!! tiny insta au at the end 😚, like always hope you enjoy!! 🤍

almost a day of traveling had completely drained you. arguing with TSA about your bags in the overhead compartment, your headphones dying on the first flight, accidentally spilling your snacks before buying them, a baby in the plane with their nonstop crying. all you wanted and looked forward to was being with jude.

almost two months without seeing him, without getting to feel his hugs or kisses, hearing him speak in person or to even smell his masculine scent. studying still in germany, your time with him was very small due to having hectic careers. you in uni while he thrived in madrid.

what you most loved and appreciated was not letting that get in the way when making plans or when together. unless it wasn’t convenient or couldn’t work. besides that he made it a priory to fly out to you when he could or you when you had time off. when you were finally together it was to make up for lost time and to be around each other at all times.

to jude:

just landed! headache is killing me i need OUT this plane right now 😑

from jude:

sorry baby! almost here though to be with me! 😉 i’ll be waiting by the baggage claim for you 🤍

to jude:

winky face emoji? really jude? you can’t even properly wink 🙄😂

from jude:

i will book the first fly out before you can even get out the plane 😒

to jude:

no pls i’m sorry! i’m just being moody today has drained me and i’m in need for water and food 😔

from jude:

no cuddles from me?

to jude:

need those especially ☹️🤍

you smiled to yourself, shutting your phone and quietly playing your music, retrieving your carry on purse and putting away any snacks away. you grabbed your small luggage in the overhead compartment, waiting a couple of seconds before slowly walking out, saying thank you and goodbye to the flight attendants.

you practically were sprinting with anticipation out to the gate and then airport to pass customs quickly. not caring if you looked like a mad woman running around. the lady at customs was sweet and fast, asking your reason for your trip and declaring anything to which you denied.

you went through TSA again, kinda annoyed of having to take everything on for a few seconds to then putting it on again. you put your shoes on quickly, grabbing your purse and luggage and ensuring you had everything before leaving. your body ran with chills and excitement, telling jude you were maybe 20 minutes away, to which he replied saying he was here.

you walked around glancing at your phone then and there to check the time and any texts from him and the airline. it was super late almost midnight when you finally were down the escalator stairs looking around for jude. you put your hood up, feeling the cool air from outside into the building causing you to get cold.

you still look around, texting jude you were finally here, debating to call him or not. your finger cling onto your bag, feeling a body behind you and whispering to your level in your ear. “looking for me?” jude whispered, making you jump and turning around. you hugged him tight, almost tearing up due to the exhaustion and seeing him again.

jude picked you up, legs coming around his waist feeling as he dugged his head into your neck and chuckling. “you’re actually here with me? been waiting for so long, you have no idea,” he said making you giggle and pleading him to put you down so you could give him a proper kiss. “does that make it real for you?”

“nope need one more for confirmation,” he joked but actually leant down to capture you in a heated and messy kiss. “not here jude… what if there is cameras?” you say between the kiss, hands resting on his face as he shook his head, “i know i know, just missed you so much,” he frowned, placing one final kiss on your head.

everyone knew jude had a gf, but they didn’t know who you were as you wanted to be private as possible. the idea of being exposed to his world just wasn’t what you wanted right now. you wanted to finish school first, and start your career before fully having to question your every move. you didn’t want to let their comment or any words to your head.

jude respected that, even so wanted to keep you private not because he didn’t want to show you off but to protect your from the constant flash here and flash there in his life. he was barely getting used to it, and he knew you couldn’t quickly adapt or liked the idea, no matter where you were.

the two of you obviously still went out in public, luckily every time you did you didn’t run into people as often or got recognized. you didn’t let that stop you from having a relationship you loved and deserved together.

“these are for you darling,” he passed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, “and these as well,” he then retrieved some of your favorite snacks from england. he could see the glint of happiness and appreciation in your eyes, as you poured your lip and thanked him. “i have some gifts for you too, they’re in my other bag. thank you baby,” you sealed the moment with a kiss.

you walked hand and hand together to where other people waited by the baggage claim, jude bringing his arm around your waist to protect you from people who passed by in a rush or with their bags. he wore an all black outfit, with a black baseball cap on his head, looking so boyfriend than ever.

you saw a flash from the corner of your eye, looking up to see where it came from, but jude was quick to pull and hide you away. “was that?” jude answer the question with a quickly nod, “yes… idk how they’re here… i’m sorry baby-”

“it’s okay, i doubt more of them more are here. i only saw one of them,” you reassured him following as you two hid behind a pilar. “let’s pray there’s only one. i don’t know how they found me? i’ve been under the radar since my injury,” jude said frustrated, feeling your hand squeeze his to sooth the anger down a bit and showing that you were here with him.

jude grabbed your single bag, putting his hood up like you had and walked out to the car that was parked by the entrance. the driver had the trunk open helping jude with the bags when a van full with cameras proceeded to pull over and quickly flash the scene. jude whispered a small “shit” to himself, going over to you, and pulling you to his chest hiding you away as you got into the car.

you could hear the commotion and pleads to jude, then asking questions who you were, what your name was, how he was doing, about his injury. the whole encounter was making your head spin and race with nervousness, not used to the flash to your face, or the amount of people around you. you knew it came when being with jude but not like this where you were barely with him for an hour.

jude urged the driver to pull away, quickly driving away through a secret path and letting you out quick from the paparazzi. you laughed loudly, throwing your head back as jude stared at you with a face of amusement yet also confusing. “what? what are you laughing at?” he asked laughing a bit himself.

“at the fact we only thought it would be only one of them, but they had their whole crew waiting outside!” you laughed louder clapping your hands and shaking your head. the whole encounter causing a wave of emotions, and it seemed like laughing is the only thing you could do. jude laughed himself, hearing you calm down a place a kiss on the back of his hand.

“can i be honest? for some reason i feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. we’re so used to being careful and having to change routes the times we go out in public together so we can’t be seen. it’s a relief because i feel like i don’t have to hide you or us away, making it real for everyone else including us, you know? at the same time it’s scary but i don’t care as king as i’m with you,” you say honestly, sighing with relief.

“only if you’re comfortable and okay with it, i only want what’s best for us and you especially, to protect you from what just happened there or for what they’ll say. once we come out you know there’s no going back,” jude reminds you. you knew this came when being with him. you shook your head and looked up at him, “i want it all with you. i’ll say it once and i’ll say it again.”

he leaned down and kissed you sweetly and softly, leaning your forehead together before he told another joke, “well that’s having a real madrid player as a boyfriend for you.” you rolled your eyes playfully, kissing his forehead and focused in front to the road.

“you hungry?”

“starving,” you moaned, hearing your stomach grumble at the thought of some food. “we can pass buy to get the street pizza and churros with chocolate you love dearly?" he offered making you shake your head yes quickly. "please! i will love you forever!"

he sided eyed you giving you a look, telling the driver who took a detour, arriving in less than ten minutes. he ordered for you, getting recognized immediately by the guy who almost jumped up and down happily. jude also asked the driver if they wanted anything since they were out for a while, to which they said yes.

"don't you dare," you warned, eyes widening at him reaching for your churros and chocolate, "excuse me? i literally got you these?" he defended not caring and dipping the warm churro into the chocolate sauce. "mhm so good, taste better when it's not yours," he attempted to wink which made you burst into fits of laughter. "leave me alone!" he wailed at you making fun of him.

jude thanked the worker, bringing your food to the table, which smelled like warm bread and pizza. you quickly opened the box, taking a sip from your drink and not wasting time to eat. jude watched with entertainment at how you enjoyed and devoured the street food. taking a picture to have for memories later on.

the two of you spoke quietly as you ate, talking about your eventful day, the lady at TSA who almost didn't let you on the flight, his successful training and photo shoot for the team, the story behind the flowers, the paparazzi and how you would maneuver once the headline was out.

once you were at his house, you wasted no time and got into the shower, unpacking some of your pj's but jude offered his clothes because he loved when you wore them. it didn't get any better than this. cuddled up in his bed, finally together after so long. he spoke quietly to you, knowing how his voiced soothed and made you go to sleep peacefully.

for the first time after many nights, jude slept safe and sound, knowing that if you were;t next to him, he wouldn't be able to sleep as well when with you. his fingertips raked along your skin, then slowly stopped as he fell asleep as well. "you have no idea how much i love you. wish you were with me always, goodnight my pretty girl, sweet dreams, only if I'm in them..."

"jude. i love you too. but, shut up or i swear i'll sleep in the next room..."

spottedcelebrity

liked by: user384, username091, judeyfannnnn, user2974, dailymail, popculture, thesun, username22, themadridtimes, 2,384,102 others.

spottedcelebrity: your goldenboy seen recently at the airport but with his apparent long lost lover. recent rumors and dms say that these two have been together since he was at Dortmund, that she has been also seen at games and the real Madrid new years party. any thoughts? stay tuned for our early 9am show for more details on this couple...

comments:

user385: NO WAY. WHAT ON EARTH?

user273: this is what it took to see her? the paparazzi? really hope this won't affect them :(

thesun: 👀

username874: i've seen her at his award ceremony back last year... this isn't tea we've been knowing he has a gf.

popculture: those pics? 👀

username85: oh lord... this is just the start, hope they're okay, saw the video and she looked super scared, jude even more concerned but for her...

↪️ user09: the way he pulled her into his chest to protect her? he is so boyfriend!!!

ynusername added to their stories! 🔒

judebellingham added to their stories!

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #football imagine #football one shot

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1-marigold-1 · 4 months

Text

An AU thingy that umm, please listen to my ramble I beg you :[

Hello!!! Had this AU in mind for a bit too long decided to dump it all here :] sorry if it's all a bit messy I'm bad at organising those stuff hghghgghg <-- delusional (explanation and story below the images)

So:

I call it the FMN AU [Forget-Me-Not] and it's set in a fantasy world of course, in a great Empire of Heremitaran.

Because of how big the Empire is, it's divided in two, with two rulers: Ren The King of the North known for his bravery, plenty of victories, feared by those outside of his Empire , and the other one in the Sout is ... well... Mumbo.. (yes he's a king because his father died, he sucks at it tho, can't help but be that wet poor cat and not knowing what to do).

And that's when we come in with Grian and Scar.

There's a crown, to be specific, called the Vacivus Halo which is safely kept in Ren's vault , away from the rest of the world. It's the most powerful thing ever known, and Watchers are ready to fight for it against Listeners, who are worshipped by most of north people and Ren himself. The war those two spiecies of angel-gods started over a crown has been going for many centuries and now when Listeners has had it for themselves for so long, Watchers start to fear that they might use it against them to finally get rid of the enemy.

The crown has been under Watchers' control for some time too, that's when they tasked Mumbo's father with protecting it, but he died at war, crown got stolen, landed in Ren's hands and now all they got is Mumbo... They quickly realized that he's definetely not... well.. worthy? So they give the task of getting it back to an orphan living near the palace. He's a poor chicken keeper until he meets one of The Watchers disguised as a snake, asking him for help, the snake promises him everything he wants. So he agrees.

He gets powers such as:

Manipulating others' minds [putting images and memories that never existed before into anyone's head ]. It's his most powerful ability that he uses by just looking into their eyes, yet there's one thing about it: he can't make people forget the things he puts in their heads.

Flight, he has a cape that turns into wings when needed.

He can see what his snake sees whenever he wants, so he can use it to spy on people.

With those abilities he fools everyone at the palace into believing he's Mumbo's new guard and personal assasin, so he can be always close to the ruler who should be visiting the North very soon... he also makes friends with the young king, they get along pretty well.

Meanwhile Scar has a simmiliar story, though he was an assasin and Ren's guard before Listeners chose him. Ren is still in a good shape and probably will still be a good protector of the crown, but they felt like they need more than one If Watchers ever plan on getting the crown back, so they chose Scar by appearing to him as a cat, they wanted to tell him that they are ready to give him anything he wishes for but he was like "KITTY!!!!!!!! HELLO YOU SO CUTE!!" and agreed right away, just to have a scarf that turns into a cat...... he likes cats alright, he's been feeling pretty lonely recently too...

Scar's powers are:

Super speed [he got it with the boots]

Sensitive Hearing

Completely silent walking

He also got his cat [he named it Jellie because it's semi-transparent like a jelly when in not-scarf form lol] that can transform into a tiger like creature sometimes.

Yeah guess what.

They meet. Grian and Scar. They. Meet.

And they uhhh kinda make friends with eachother and don't really think that they might be enemies.

Watchers don't know that Scar is Listeners' servant, and the other way around, Listeners don't know that Grian is Watchers' servant.

Things escalate from here...... and that's where the story starts!

I have plans on making short comics and stories to tell you the lore piece by piece, but be aware that updates won't be very often, I'll try tho!

ASK ABOUT ANYTHING I WILL ANSWER THE QUESTIONS

Also

Just wanted to add that I made this AU long time ago and Jellie is a fundamental thing in it, very important, as much as she was important to all of us, may she rest in peace <3

#trafficblr #hermitblr #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #traffic life smp #grian #grian fanart #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #gtws fanart #desert duo #renthedog #rentheking #mumbo jumbo #fmnau

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munson-blurbs · 10 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner.

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship.

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.”

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks.

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on.

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum.

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5.

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for.

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth.

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison.

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm.

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have.

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera.

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate.

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself.

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around.

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking.

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly.

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life.

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables.

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts.

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room.

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide.

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue.

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp.

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own.

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today.

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied.

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

“That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day.

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face.

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is.

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom.

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight.

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust.

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl.

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing.

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch.

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence.

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hoe4sports · 10 days

Text

Two blossoms on a single branch.

Ona Battle x reader

Triggers; Post partum anxiety. Angst.

Summary: After struggling with a crying baby for months and 100s of doctor appointments, you finally realise why the baby is crying.

Ona was always very clear on that she wanted to be a mom. She wanted kids, multiple of them. A family, a golden retriever, an suv: the whole shebang. The process from you getting pregnant through ivf wasn’t very long, you got lucky and it sticked on the first try. Or, she sticked. Your sweet daughter, Sofia was born on her duedate a bright sunny day in July. She was the most perfect newborn: she slept through the night fast and would only cry if she was hungry. She was all over just a very happy baby.

That lasted until she was 3 months, and let’s just say; hell broke loose. Your normally happy daughter had started crying at every chance she got. She would only be quiet if she was being rocked in her stroller or if she was being bounced back and forth. Sometimes, bouncing wasn’t even enough. You had spent hours upon hours each night trying to calm her so that Ona would get her sleep as her restitution was a part of her job. Being one of the best footballers in the world had its benefits.

You were pacing in the downstairs living room while walking back and forth between the couch and the kitchen in hopes that it would calm Sofia down. The now 1,5 year old was crying even after food, diaper, cuddlesand bathing. Nothing seemed to help. Her high pitched screaming was awful, and you knew that Ona had been developed postpartum anxiety that she was still working on. It was normal for partners, especially female partners to develope it as they naturally would fear that the baby wouldn’t connect. Ona hadn’t felt connected to the baby since the era of crying had begun. Every time Ona stepped into the room while she was crying, it would only get worse and you wouldn’t be able to calm her down. You were trying your best to support her, but sometimes you wished that you could have some support as you were running on 3 hours sleep every night for the last 9 months.

“Shh, baby, come here, you are okay. Mamma is here, princesa” You shushed as the high pitched screaming started just five minutes after you had put her down sleeping in her stroller. The stroller was where she usually slept best leaving you to have an inside stroller and an outside stroller. The little blonde was red from crying, her icy blue eyes full of tears as she grabbed your arm. You stood up and started rocking her again. Her crying was only escalating, and you were just hoping that Ona wouldn’t wake up. “Baby, mamma dosent know what’s wrong” You said as you tried to adjust her position to a more upright one. You had done everything we could; taken her to a bunch of doctors, chiropractors and therapists. Nothing was wrong with her, she was just fussy. You brushed her hair back from her face as it was drenched in tears. “Ai, mamma wishes she could understand you better, preciosa” you said as you walked towards the kitchen hoping that she was wanting her bottle. It was more of a comfort than a source of food as she was getting older, but she was still taking it. You pressed the baby brezza. The machine buzzed as the milk was mixed and warmed at the perfect temperature. You grabbed the bottle and tested it on your arm before taking it with you to the living room. You sat up in the big larger chair and supported your daughter on a pillow as you offered her the bottle. She thankfully accepted it as she kept drinking making the cutest whines you could ever imagine a baby making. Everytime she stopped crying, you were reminded of how sweet she was and how much you loved her.

The clock was now 6.30 and Ona entered the living room. You quickly gestured for her to not talk as Sofia had finally settled down. When Sofia would finally sleep, you wouldn’t dare to move. “Hi” you whispered as she shoot you an apologetic smile while slipping into the bathroom. You frowned. You missed your wife. You missed how she kissed you on your forehead, how she could hug you, how she would hold you and how she would cuddle you when you went to bed. Life hasn’t really allowed for any of that lately. Sofia wasn’t at a place where you could bring her to the trainings as she only cried. You loved being a football player, but you loved being Sofia’s mamma more so going back to work was paused.

After some time, Ona reappeared from the bathroom as she was fully dressed to go to work. “No breakfast, grabbing something at the arena” she said as she kissed your forehead and walked fast towards the door. “Baby?” You asked as she stopped with her back towards you holding tightly on to the door handle. “Mmm?” She responded, not turning around. Almost like a deer in the headlights. Sofia then woke up and turns her head towards her mami while blinking slowly. “Que, mi-» Ona started before she looked at Sofia in horror. “Ai, no-“ she said again as she was cut off by the familiar sound of Sofia fussing while she was looking at her mami. Her little lips forming into a pout as her feet was kicking and her hands were reaching towards Ona. Ona quickly walked out the door before saying “sorry” as she left. When the door closed, Sofia was once again screaming. “Ai, mi princesa, what’s wrong” you cooed as you tried to cradle her in your arms. It didn’t work as she only became more wiggly, and you were forced to put her down to give yourself a minute to breathe. She had been walking for a few months, so as soon as you, put her down she shot up while launching unsteadily towards the door only to fall on her butt when she tried to reach the doorknob. “Mama” she said as she started crying. You sighted and walked towards her to pick her up. “NO, Mama! Mama!” She screamed as she tried to throw herself backwards. “Baby, I’m here, mamma is here” You said as you catched her and leaned her body into you and she grabbed your sweater with all the might that her tiny fists could hold. “Mama” she cried as you stood confused while bouncing her back and forth in the living room. You stopped in front of the window to see Ona pull out of the parking lot in her Mercedes. You could hear Sofia fumbling with something behind your back as if she was playing with the shelf. “Baby, be caref-“ you said as you shifted her position to sit on your hip. Except she had something in her hands. A frame of you and Ona before Sofia was born. Ona holding your waist as you laughed together. Your absolute favourite picture of you together.

The little girl pointed to the picture as she sniffled. “Mama” she said as she pointed and hugged the frame into her body. You sat down with her in the couch and grabbed the picture as you held it up infront of her. “that’s Mamma” You said as you pointed towards you. “And that’s Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. Sofia sniffled as she wiped her nose with her hand before pointing towards Ona. “Mama” she said as you took a look at her and realised that she was trying to talk. “Mamma” you said as you pointed to yourself. “Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. “That’s mamma and Mami” You repeated as she sniffed. “Mami” she mumbled as you started at her in shock. “Yes Sofia! Mami, that’s right! Estas mami!” You said as you cheered, Sofia almost immediately clapping for herself. It was the first time that Sofia had been able to separate mamma from mami and you couldn’t be more proud as I wished that Ona would be here for it.

Later that day you tried to feed Sofia lunch after her midday nap. She wasn’t having it throwing the soft boiled paprika to the ground before the potatoes and the carrots followed. She cried, and cried, and cried and cried and cried. You let out a sight as you picked her up. “Preciousa, mamma knows that you are hungry” you said as you looked at her while she was crying. You closed your eyes and let out a sighed before taking a couple of deep breaths like the therapist had advised Ona to. “Okay preciousa, how about mamma make you some porridge, si?” You said as you reached over to the little girl and picked her up. She was still crying, but not as bad as before. It had probably something to do with the smell of the familiar porridge spreading around the house. It was one of the few things she liked, and it was the same porridge Ona had grown up with. The smell of milk, oats and cinnamon was wrapping your house in a feeling of bliss, comfort and familiarity. As the porridge was done, you buckled Sofia into her chair again before feeding it to her. She was luckily eating this time, but you could see that the exhaustion was taking its toll on her. You picked her up and got her all cleaned off as you headed towards the living room. Originally, you had wanted to keep her toys in her playroom but motherhood was rough and toys were now in every room. You sat Sofia down as she reached for her train. It was a blue train that Ona got her for her first birthday. She loved the train and would always bring it to bed when you tried putting her down for the first time at night. After a good 20 minutes of Sofia playing soundly on the floor giving you some well needed time to refresh your mind: the lock in the door clicked. Your eyes shot up as you immediately got scared. Ona was at practice and all of your family were busy. You grabbed Sofia terrified of whoever was behind the door. You held Sofia close as she looked up at you and was feeding off of your nervous energy. Your hand searched for your phone to be ready to dial for help as you gulped. The door-handle suddenly twisted and Sofia started her high pitched crying when she saw the face behind the door. It was Ona that had been told to go home early as she seemed exhausted. Sofia cried as she screamed and Ona looked like she was about to fall apart in the middle of the hallway. Sofia screamed as she reached her arms out and threw herself back in your arms trying to wiggle loose.

Then it hit you like a brick. Like a train. Like a trailer. As if the sky had just fallen down. Sofia wanted Ona. She wanted mami, not mamma. She was missing mami, and her little heart was longing for her mami’s warm touches. Sofia and Ona had a good relationship before the crying started, and you were just now able to put two pieces together. You sat down Sofia on the floor as you stood up and looked at Ona. Ona gulped as the toddler was stumbling towards her terrified of what would happen and her hand instinctively reached for the door. “Ona, stay.” You commanded as your daughter made her way towards Ona. She reached her front and stood at Ona’s legs trying to be picked up as she cried. Her little arms reaching up to Ona as she wanted to be close. “Mami,mami!” She yelled as Ona closed her eyes and took a breath while once again, looking like she was about to break down. She took a step a side causing your daughter to fall on her butt making her cry even louder. “She wants you” Ona said as she ushered towards the staircase and your master bedroom. You sighted as you picked up Sofia, and just as you were about to try and soothe her; you decided that it was time to try something new.

You walked after Ona with the screaming baby in your arms. Ona was sitting on the bed, her face in her hands while she was sobbing. Sofia stopped crying as she looked nervously at you. “Mami” she said as she pointed towards Ona. “Si princesa, estas mami, Mami is feeling sad. Maybe you wanna give her a cuddle, si?” You said as you slowly moved towards Ona scared that she was gonna leave again. You sat down next to her on the bed as your daughter sobbed. “Ona, what does Sofia call me?” You asked as Sofia sobbed in your arms. “Mamma” Ona responded still with her face hidden. “Si, and what is she saying?” You asked as you tried to console Ona. “Mamma” Ona said as she looked up at you, eyes red from crying. Just as you were about to continue your rambles, Sofia reached her arms for Ona and got out of your grip leaving her to bolt at Ona. “Mami, Mami” she cried as she grabbed the fabric of Ona’s sweater tightly, like she was scared that she would leave again. “She’s saying Mami” you said as you looked at Ona who wasn’t able to put the pieces of the puzzle together even thought you were basically giving her all the clues. “Mami” Sofia muttered as she frowned and sat down on her butt after not getting any attention. Ona’s eyes lit up as it finally clicked. She looked down at Sofia and instantly grabbed the little girl holding her close like she did when she was a baby. Sofia’s big blue eyes met Ona’s and a small smile formed on her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed. “Ona, she wants you. That’s why she’s crying. She wants her mami.” You said as you rubbed Ona’s back. You could see tears forming in Ona’s eyes as she studied the little girl suddenly seeing how eyes were icy blue, just the the most beautiful glacier she had ever seen. How her skin felt like the most expensive silk she had ever touched. Her finger traced her noce as she saw the little ski jump nose already making its mark on her face. The roses in her cheeks making her look so vulnerable. “Baby, mami’s here. Mami is so so sorry, but Mami is here now. Mami is never gonna disappoint you again, princesa. Mami is gonna get better, for you and for mamma.” She said as Sofia’s body finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep. You looked at Ona who looked like she had just discovered oil. She looked over at you as tears were forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m gonna take the week off, and we can have time together as a family. I haven’t been the best mami, but I’m gonna try to figure this out for you, for us. I’m sorry for diss-“ you cut her off with a kiss knowing this was finally it. Ona was finally ready to try to connect with her daughter again.

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #woso imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso x reader

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yanderestarangel · 1 month

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Okay, so I was thinking about yandere Peter B and Miguel O’Hara with FTM reader. Both men obsessed and possessive with them ever since they joined the society.

And they both share them. Kinks could be breeding, size difference, degradation, praising kink? Miguel could be a hard dom and Peter a soft dom. You could add more if ya like.

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

🕸️🕷️ 》 OUR LITTLE SPIDER || PETER B. PARKER AND MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER ||

A/N: I made it in headcanon format because I was too lazy to make a one shot, but I hope you like it.

THIS WAS A LITTLE TOO LONG SORRY--- ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

TW: age gap, smut, yandere content, dark romance, daddykink, praise!kink, size!kink, possession, manipulation, ftm reader, betrayal, breed!kink, v!sex, anal!sex, overstimulation, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, aphrodisiac use, dub con, threesome, creampie.

Being in the spidersociety was a big responsibility role for you, but you accepted it anyway, after all you had the sense of hero that each spider variant had. You didn't expect so much attention or flattery for you but that's what you received from two specific people ─ Miguel O'Hara, your boss and Peter B. Parker, the most peaceful and sweet spider man you met in Spider society. You swore you saw hearts form in the two older men's orbs simultaneously.

You quickly saw things escalate to a strange level. Miguel was very protective of you, even putting you on "easier" missions like staying at the spider society headquarters and giving him boring reports.

"You're safe here. Being a spider-man isn't just about battling villains, it's about learning responsibility. You're still a little spider, carinõ." the Mexican would speak as he gave you more papers to fill out. While on the other hand, Peter agreed with everything the leader said, complementing even more.

"Miguel is right, baby boy. You still have a lot to learn." The older man gestured excitedly and you accepted, defeated and sighing.

O'Hara watched everything with a chill passing through him, he tried not to let his thoughts speak loudly but he knew that Peter was also interested in you, just like the Mexican was.

"You shouldn't be so close to him, Peter. Your wife will be jealous." O'Hara hissed the words like venom coming out of his fangs, while the other spider-man just smiled relaxedly and looked at the younger man.

"You want to compete for him? Is that it Miguelito? You liked him too, didn't you? We can share." Peter spoke as he saw you oblivious to the dark conversation you were both having.

The proposal for a share was denied in the first instance, but every day it seemed more tempting for the spider leader, for several reasons. The main one was that you were getting closer to other spider variants and Peter, being more social, was keeping up with your pace ── at the same time that you realized that some spider variants no longer wanted to talk to you, if that variant presented romantic interest in you, they disappeared and came back with deep bruises, diverting topics with you and leading you to turn to Peter.

Little did you know that the nice family man was the cause of that. He was sick for you, to the point of abandoning his purposes and character ── you and his daughter were the only things that mattered to him at that moment, he told himself that he still loved Mary Jane... But he also loved you.

Peter was getting rid of another spider variant using threats and pure blackmail to do so, but the poor victim that time had no chance after Miguel appeared and took out his fury on them. The tall man sloppily wiped the blood off his hands as he turned to Peter.

"Okay... I accept your proposal, let's share the ninõ." O'Hara spoke in a calm, cold and insane tone, while he saw Parker smile and nod his head ── after this previous peace agreement between them, it was his life's turn to become a sweet hell.

You had no one else inside or outside the spider society, Peter and Miguel were the only ones who spoke to you. (Peter's threat + Miguel's tyrannical power with the other spider variants in secret was the reason for his involuntary isolation.)

In addition to the fact that the Mexican used his entire database to find out about your family, friends and possible love interests outside the society he had control over ── some were bought with money, others were threatened and others... They were found in alleys and became news on TV channels.

Everything was falling apart in your life, even your college grades and your mental state and all you had left was the comfort of the two older men... Exactly as you both planned.

You ran into their arms while crying and venting ── an Oscar award was supposed to be presented to the duo, both of them pretended shock and indignation while you told them every detail. So when you were weakened enough, they acted, bringing you into their possession, protecting you from the cruel world that was made worse in their minds.

Compliments, gifts, words of positive affirmations and everything sweet and warm in the world they gave you. Miguel was more desperate for touch, placing you on his lap while he worked on the panels of the multiverse or giving you small, intimate but not vulgar kisses, something that asserted a silent and slow dominance ── away from curious eyes, after all he was still the leader of that society.

Peter on the other hand would give you more affection in public, you and him would even go for a walk together with mayday as a family, away from Mary Jane's eyes. He would also lie to you saying that he and his wife were separated and even show the old divorce paper to prove something to you... You were trapped in a spider web of lies and dirty manipulations.

And when you realized, you were in a relationship with both men ── they asked you if it was okay for you to deal with both of them at the same time, which you denied, too drunk with pleasure to think about anything more than both filling you to the brim (an effect that was also the fault of the aphrodisiac Miguel had put in your drink that day.)

Peter's hands took off your spider uniform while O'Hara's thick hands went towards your wetness, playing roughly with your clit "mi hermoso" the spider leader growled in your ear as one of his thick fingers entered inside you, making you moan ─ at the same time that Peter sucked your nipples and gently squeezed your breasts, his experienced hands were working magic on your body. Raw kisses were left by the older man on your abdomen, as Parker knelt and licked your clit, helping O'Hara prepare you even more for what was to come.

"You're already dripping for us, aren't you? Such a good little slut." The tanned man teased as he stuck a second finger in your cunt, stretching you in scissor movements, back and forth. Peter got out on his knees as he captured your lips lightly moaning huskily against your flesh: "Such a beautiful and good boy for us... You make your daddies proud like that little spider." He said as Miguel pressed his hard, pulsing erection against your ass, making you moan loudly against the other man's lips.

The two bodies fit perfectly inside you, practically crushing you with their heat as you tried not to cum on O'Hara's fingers, but the effort was in vain as you felt him easily reach your cervix. You felt one of Peter's fingers soon find your other hole, making you moan even more against his lips.

"That's it, my spider boy. Show us how much you want it." The voices mixed together as you felt like you were going to explode at any moment and it actually happened ── you came, squirting onto Miguel's forearm and dripping onto the floor as all your muscles contracted involuntarily.

"I knew it was going to be a fucking squirt." The spider leader said, laughing, as you left for the next step ── you just left yourself there, your body for the two of them to use as they wanted, you just wanted to feel good and they would guarantee that.

With careful coordination and chemistry between the three of you, you found yourself sitting on Peter's lap, your back pressed against his chest as he guided his cock to your tight hole. Meanwhile, Miguel positioned himself at your front, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered your dripping pussy. "Te ves tan hermoso."

Peter couldn't help but let out a groan of satisfaction as he finally buried his cock deep inside your tight ass, the feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness was overwhelming for him, he had to fight against the urge to just thrust into you with abandon. Instead, he took deep breaths to steady himself, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, you feel incredible, baby boy. So tight and eager for me... You wanted that, didn't you? Being filled by two dicks, a greedy, needy boy..."

Miguel's primal instincts took over as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock, the blissful sensation causing a guttural moan to escape his lips. "I'm going to breed in that beautiful pussy of yours, boy... You're going to be our breed whore... We're going to always leave you full of cum, in that beautiful hole of yours." Miguel's hips moved in sync with Peter's, his thrusts gaining speed and force as he aimed to push you over the edge. "So beautiful and obedient, If you continue like this, being a good boy will be rewarded ok?.." the older man moaned as you felt Peter and Miguel's cocks stretch you to the edge, letting you drool on both of their cocks like an animal in heat. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you moaned their names. Parker and O'Hara continued their relentless thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and riding the waves of your ecstasy, but they hadn't stopped yet. Peter's thrusts grew more frantic as he felt your body convulse under him, the pleasure building within him as well. He knew that his release wasn't far behind.

"You're so damn tight, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna come--" His voice was filled with a mix of pleasure and urgency as he increased the pace of his thrusts. O'Hara felt his own release drawing near, your tight pussy milking his cock with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hips tightened as he neared his own climax. "Holy shit little boy, you're really going to get pregnant with us, aren't you?" As both men reached their climaxes, they filled you with their seed. Peter's hot cum filled your tight ass, while Miguel's release spilled into your pussy, marking you as theirs. Their bodies shuddered as they reached their peaks, their gazes locked on yours. Nothing needed to be phallus, not when both of your eyes reflected their red, sickly hearts, surrounded by possession and pleasure for you.

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