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overnowsfcb · 6 months

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halfway out the door; fermín lópez

summary: fighting to keep a little flame alive underwater, you couldn't lose the only stable thing in your life

warnings: ANGST!!! (no good ending) mature language, mental health issues (panic attack, anxiety, emotional distress), relationship struggles, unhealthy dinamics, brief mention of smut themes. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 3,3k

note: hiii! it's me again, this time posting for my sweet boy (who is not as sweet in this story) fermín. im planning to do something with all the 1989 vault tracks x barça players. so take it as the first from the series!! also, apologies if the angst hits hard, promise to post fluff next time (its a bit of challenge for me haha) super excited about this and would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions! – venus 🫂💐🫧 p.s.: im so proud of this one tbh

He didn’t seem to have enough time for you anymore. You didn’t want to see the subtle twist, but you knew him all too well and an imperceptible change for everyone was an imposing earthquake in your world.

It was in the hours that your messages would be waiting for a response and the way he wasn’t starved to taste your lips anymore. Once, he’d find an excuse to be with you, even if only for brief minutes. He’d dash to your apartment bearing your favorite chocolate with the pretext of keeping you fed. A smile brightening and your stomach still produced the same fluttering butterflies, as the first time he kissed you underneath the moonlight at fourteen.

Back then, everything was perfect, the chill air in your faces as you ran with sand getting between your toes, you could still feel his timid hands and tender touch on your waist as you both shared a breathtaking kiss.

Your mother's words echoed - relationships don't last forever. You'd always dismissed her musings, attributing them to the bitterness stemming from your father's departure. But now, that thought held a glimmer of truth.

He was your soulmate, your solid backbone, he would hold the candles for you even if his arm grew weary, drawing strength from unimaginable places. Unseen pictures would fill his phone, capturing your candid moments, proudly setting you as his lock screen. One cherished memory stood out: a photo of you, pajama-clad, returning from a late-night ice cream run, a victorious smile on your face. You had lost a bet that day, darting to the store at 1 AM, just a street away from your building.

However, now everything appeared to be falling apart; the last picture in his gallery folder, titled 'I love, mine, mine, mine,' dated back to July, and it was already November. It contrasted the warmth of July with the chilling absence of recent affection.

Yearning for something to blame, tears seemed futile as memories replayed relentlessly, etched deep within your heart. Each sob felt like a painful reminder of the emptiness in the cold, desolate bed without him by your side. Staring at it blankly, your mind echoed the silent void, your chest tightening with every expelled breath.

Sleeping alone always felt unbearable. You reached for your phone, gazing at the lock screen displaying a snapshot of both of you in a summer pool. His outings with friends never bothered you; you accepted that he was now part of Barcelona's first team, and you weren't his priority. However, deep down, a simple goodnight message like "Sweet dreams, Pip, I love you" was all you silently longed for. Was it too much to ask from someone who claimed to love you?

The absence weighed heavily as you saw the clock strike 4 AM. This hour always induced a sense of dread, a time too late to sleep, opening the gates to wandering thoughts about life's choices. Moving to Barcelona for him might have been a hasty decision.

In Sevilla, there wasn't much to lose. Your little town overwhelmed you, especially under the weight of your living nightmare, your mother and her pursuit of perfection. That was until she married your toddler brother’s father, her focus shifted almost forgetting about your existence.

He was your escape from that suffocating environment. Initially, it felt liberating, but gradually, it became confining again. The cage expanded as you became his pillar while his name was in everyone’s mouth, especially girls who found him attractive. The weight of being his support, witnessing the attention he received, caused an internal storm. But he wouldn’t change you, right? Yet, the conflict brewed within, the tug-of-war between being the support he needed and holding onto your own identity.

You grew tired of waiting for him, tossing and turning in bed for ten minutes, before finally succumbing to sleep, cocooned in blankets to ward off the cold.

Abruptly opening your eyes, hours later, your body spasmed and your heart raced, reflecting the recent struggles with sleep these days. Observing to your side, relief washed over you; he lay there peacefully, an arm draped over your waist.

Tears welled in your eyes, a sense of loss filling your chest. Deeply in love, you realized your first waking thought was about him, albeit taking a negative turn.

What if I lose him? What if I lost the lighthouse in the middle of the sea? The uncertainty of the waters and the potential fall weighed heavily.

You wanted to get back to those times when you smiled as you landed your eyes, his body next to you, where blonde strands of messy hair framed his face and you delicately organized them while you talked and kissed every morning, staying in bed like an old married couple, feeling each other's warmth, laughter used to fill the air as he playfully booped your nose.

The weight of invisible hands squeezed your chest, making each breath a desperate gasp for air.

You didn't want to feel this anxiety; your breath became erratic. Rushing to the terrace, you breathed as if your mind forewarned a trailer of what has to be.

Struggling to regain control, your hands tightened on the cold railing, a reminder of the grounding reality you struggled to grasp.

Peering down, the height induced paralysis, intensifying your vertigo. "y/n, estás bien?" (are you okay?) His concerned voice, muffled and distant, struggled to penetrate the thick fog of panic, fear rooted you in place, afraid the floor would fall through if you made a step.

"Amor, háblame." (darling, talk to me) He approached, unsure. This panic attack was the first in years. His hand on your shoulder offered reassurance like an anchor, and you emerged from the state, meeting his gaze with your tear-stained eyes; he was still your gentleman. He was still yours.

And you needed to repeat it to stave off madness.

"Abrázame," (hug me) you whispered in a fragile plea. His arms enveloped you, he was the refuge that you needed; his familiar scent eased your breathing.

His head on yours, he sought to share his heartbeat, attempting to quell the sudden anxiety and the questions that haunted your mind. His furrowed brows hinted at his confusion, but conversation could wait. For now, it was about you. The one who never failed him; he couldn't fail you now.

When your body distended completely, he gently guided you back to bed. You clung to him, as if he could run away at any moment.

You walked to your side of the bed and he tucked you in like no one ever did before, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead, an attempt to dissipate the negativity.

“What time is it?” you inquired, looking up at him.

“Six a.m., sleep. ok?” He stroked your head, and your eyes closed under the weight of fatigue. “I love you so much.”

Days passed after the incident. He chose not to ask more about the reason behind your anxiety, he decided to act as if everything was fine.

This didn't imply he lacked concern for you, but it certainly felt that way. His demeanor towards you was still unchanged.

Feelings unaddressed hung in the air, manifesting in the cold kisses and the superficial small talk that never deepened. But, in front of everyone, you maintained the façade, accepting compliments from everyone about your seemingly perfect relationship. Only if they knew the underlying truth…

Yet, you personally sensed his gradual withdrawal, a palpable feeling of him slipping through your fingers. The strain became evident as you found yourself having to repeat things that were important to you at least three times, only for him to continually forget. Or the lackluster pecks he gave you, making you feel pathetic.

Although feeling unwanted, you weren't a resentful person, so you would religiously sit in the stands at every game and witness how he gained fan's hearts with outstanding performances on the pitch, earning the title of man of one of the champions league matches and you loved how the stadium echoed his name as he made an incredible goal.

You found joy in his happiness, doing his thing with the team of his dreams. In that moment, your mind transported into a different time – those moments when you stood by his side, offering comfort during his moments of self-doubt, back when he believed his dreams would forever be just that – dreams.

His satisfaction meant the world to you. Meeting him as he emerged from the dressing room, already showered, you couldn't help but admire how his wet hair framed his face.

A big smile adorned his face as he approached you. Opening your arms, your bodies collided as he effortlessly lifted you spinning around, creating a whirlwind of laughter that filled the air.

Once he gently set you down, you couldn't contain your pride. Cupping his cheeks, you locked eyes with him. The sense of accomplishment and joy was overwhelming. Your lips met his in a deep, meaningful kiss – one that hadn't been shared in weeks, but in that moment, it felt like the perfect reunion.

You believed this moment marked a fresh start, a much-needed rejuvenation to propel you forward. That optimistic outlook, however, disintegrated after he bid you farewell at your apartment, scrolling through TikTok on your couch, a video of his post-match interview caught your eye, and an involuntary smile crept onto your face.

His voice echoed through the video, captivating in its beauty. The interviewer's final question lingered in the air, "Who are you going to celebrate this with?" Anticipating a mention of teammates, family, and you, you were bewildered as the final words left his mouth – your name conspicuously absent.

And in that instant, the realization struck: he hadn't kept his promise to do a heart gesture to include you in his celebration either. But you decided to let it slide; perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins that caused him to forget, and you were willing to overlook it.

You turned on the TV to avoid your thoughts. He no longer watched movies with you, and lately, the time you spent together felt like his phone held more allure than anything you did to catch his attention.

Without even mentioning that he wasn't fucking you lately, offering excuses of exhaustion from training or unexpectedly halting any progress when things got heated and leaving your folds wet.

But still, your mouth stayed shut, justifying every action. What you didn't know is that only one drop was missing in the glass before it overflowed – the last straw.

And eventually, the bomb exploded in the least suitable scenario. You stood by his side, his arm around your waist, desperately wanting to take his hand out and shout your feelings in front of everyone.

You didn't want to be there; you longed to be at home with your fluffy cat, who offered more comfort than Fermín did in these past months.

He was so smooth about it, engrossed in the conversation with his friends, seemingly oblivious to your distress. You whispered in his ear that you needed to get home, you weren’t feeling at your best, the strobe lights blinding you, the music pulsating louder than your heartbeat. It felt like water was reaching your nose, and you feared you'd stop breathing any moment.

Yet, you stayed, like a naive girl striving to make everything perfect for her lovely gentleman. But was still that gentleman who put you above all else?

The voices and laughter from his friends overwhelmed you. While you genuinely liked them and had never encountered an issue before, this night seemed a challenge you couldn't survive.

Your gaze darted around, hoping for a savior amid the sea of faces. But there was no one.

The air seemed to get thinner, and your chest constricted, as if locked in a slowly tight embrace. The blue dress discomforting your skin, felt like an additional layer of confinement, fantasizing to shed not only the fabric but also the skin beneath.

It was as if transparent walls were materializing around you, and this was the moment to escape a place to which you didn't belong, feeling like a misplaced puzzle piece, you watched him again with pleading eyes, silently urging him to notice you.

“Fer, really, I need to go home.” You whispered, careful not to let his friends overhear. He scanned your gestures, it took him a few seconds to realize that something about you was off. You wish he had seen it earlier.

Everything he did was later than you needed it, when he did the things, you have already fixed yourself into the uncomfortable.

“Okay, let's go.” He nodded and he finally took out his hand off your waist, allowing a momentary exhale. Greetings were exchanged with his friends and you reciprocated, not wanting to show an impolite image.

Almost running, your feet propelled you outside of the disco, pushing people out of your way, without waiting for Fermín.

The doors swung shut behind you, plunging the abrupt silence upon your ears. Relief washed over you.

Closing your eyes, you took deep breaths. You needed to hold yourself like the grown woman you were and not cry. As the doors swung open and closed again, you turned to find Fermín, a frown etched across his face.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” his voice held a trace of anger, making you shiver. Realizing the street wasn't the place for such a conversation, you began walking towards the car, your feet aching from the high heels worn that night.

He hurried to catch up, the tension palpable. When the car alarm reached your ears, signaling it was unlocked, you opened the door and entered as quickly as you could.

Sitting there, attempting to adjust to sudden silence, you sensed his presence beside you.

Leaning back into the headrest, you brought your hands on your face.

He started talking again. “What's going on you?” you hesitated to face him, reluctant to confront those expressive brown eyes you memorized like the back of your hand.

As he insisted again to hear a response, anger got to your head. Without warning, you exploded, all the carefully restrained words meant to preserve your relationship pouring into a torrent.

“I'm just so damn exhausted! I feel like I'm invisible. I ache to be seen, to matter in your eyes again. I’ve been here, baring my soul, and it feels like you're a million miles away.” Your scream echoed, tears smudging your makeup. You saw the weight of his actions settling on him as his eyes reflected comprehension. A sob escaped your lips, he stood frozen. “I'm just asking you to hear me, to truly see me, and realize that I'm shattering inside because I've already fought too much alone for the person who I thought I would marry.”

He shook his head, a boy who had always the right words now seemed that they left their mind, leaving him defenseless. A hesitant pause filled the car.

Lips parted, but the sentences seemed to dissipate before finding form. It was as if they were navigating a maze of thoughts, searching for the right words to offer comfort or understanding, yet coming up empty-handed.

You got tired of waiting, you've been doing it for such a long time, you almost felt old. But if he just opened his mouth, you knew you would forgive him. “Let's go home.” You whispered, disappointed about a man who you were calling the love of your life.

He gripped the steering wheel and hit the road. Memories flooded back of the anecdotes shared in that white car, now slipping through your fingers like ash.

You pondered the absence of rain, almost expecting the heavens to open up. Wasn't it obligatory for the sky to weep when something magical began succumbing to rationalism?

When you arrived at the house, he finally was able to speak. “I'm so sorry for everything that I caused you.” He didn't know if physical contact would be well received from you. So he gripped even more the steering wheel, needing to make something with his hands, getting out the tension.

“What happened to us, Fer?” your heart-wrenching question hitting him. You were already talking in past tense.

There wasn't an exit for this situation, and he knew that. He wished he could build a time travel machine and make everything alright, fix the first mistake that led to this big snow ball that was making an avalanche. “I-I don't know.”

“I think I'm coming back to Sevilla.” you confessed, stepping out of the car. Your headache due to the tears that you've been letting out and your eyes were puffy.

As you stood outside the car, the quiet suburban street provided a bleak contrast to the storm raging within your emotions.

Fermín, still gripping the steering wheel, searched for words that could somehow mend the gashes that had formed between you two. The realization of the inevitable distance settled on him like a heavy cloak.

“I never meant for it to come to this,” he finally uttered, voice heavy with remorse. “I let things slip away, and I can't forgive myself for that.”

You, caught between the pain and the need for resolution, gazed at him with a mixture of sorrow and longing. The familiar surroundings of the neighborhood seemed to transform into a backdrop for the end of something significant. You already knew you were never coming back here.

In the distance, a streetlamp flickered, casting intermittent shadows on the pavement. You took a deep breath, the chill in the air stinging your lungs, and said, “Sometimes, we have to go back to move forward.”

His eyes, filled with regret, met yours. “Is there anything I can do to make things right?”

But the answer remained unsaid, it wouldn't be fair to give him instructions and keep rowing and carrying him while he was just there. Wounds were already too deep and your energy was drained.

You turned away, the distance between Sevilla and this quiet street growing smaller in comparison to the emotional gap that now separated you two.

The door creaked shut, marking the end of a chapter that perhaps, in the unfathomable depths of your heart you didn't want to admit that you anticipated it.

In the solitude of your apartment, surrounded by echoes of shared laughter and the ghost of a love that once flourished, you confronted the daunting task of rebuilding your world. The faint glow from the streetlamp outside cast a melancholic light on the remnants of what was.

Fermín, still parked, felt the shared years withering in the blink of an eye, something you had been discerning for a torturing amount of time. The engine hummed softly, an averse companion to the lingering regret in the air. As he drove away, the distance between your hearts seemed insurmountable.

You watched as Blaugrana, your Calico fluffy cat, approached you unawarely of everything surrounding her, you sat on the wooden floor with her purring next to you. The sparkle of her collar made you remember how your life was bound to be lived with Fermín forever, in that collar your initials were carved. You didn't want to fall back to this cruel reality.

You even commanded yourself to religion to save your relationship, months before. Night after night, you poured the essence of your yearning into prayers addressed to Aphrodite, beseeching her to weave the threads of love and passion back into your relationship, to restore its former glory. Each whispered plea carried the weight of your sincere desire, a desperate hope that the goddess of love might heed your call and guide your connection to the blissful days of yore.

But even that didn't work. And you realized the hug of what you thought would be a fresh start unraveled into the deceptive clarity of terminal lucidity. Now you would hear the eternal melancholic tone of the complete loss of vital signs. Forever.

#fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez #fermin lopez angst #football angst #football x reader #gavi x reader #pedri x reader #fermin lopez imagine #fermin lopez x you #football imagine

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nanaminsmoon · 11 months

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hiiii, so sorry if this is a lil long but bare w me pls, i love ur writing btw <3

ok: reader & plug!ony broke up about a year ago bc of something ony did (something bad but not like 100% unforgivable) but the feelings never left. he’s been tryna get her back over the year but she wasn’t budging cus she hadn’t seen any growth. recently tho she’s noticed he’s growing & she misses him. then at a function, she sees him pop out w a new girl & all their friends are staring at her like waiting for a reaction and in a littleee moment of jealousy, she goes up to ony like “you’re mine for life right?” and he jumps away from the other girl so fast like he BEEN waiting on this news 😭😭

omg thank you!! i was about to write something just like this but this is so much better!! i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long i just wanted it to be okay😭

cw: kinda angsty, oral (f receiving), car sex, ony calls reader 'ma', n word usage, mentions of breeding.

wc: 3913

atonement is hardly ever easy, and ony knew that first-hand. closing the gap between you and the person you once held closest to you can, surprisingly, be very difficult. even if a year of ‘separation’ is spent showing up at your ex-lovers’ door, or workplace, nail tech, or hair lady’s house. sometimes getting back to where you once where is needlessly difficult. especially if your definitions of said place are vastly different.

from the outside looking in, you and ony’s relationship had been picture perfect. he loved you as much as you loved him, and he wasn’t shy about it. everyone knew not to even look at you wrong, because they knew that they would have ony to deal with—and no one fucked with ony’s girl. except for him. because that picture had been held by a fraudulent frame; purposely hung over the large dent in your relationship. that being, his occupation.

from small kickbacks, to rich white kids who want to snort rebellion off their house keys, everyone had one thing in common—ony. no party started until ony got there and, as happy as you were for him, that didn’t come without its burdens. ony was almost always out dealing, giving you very little quality time to hang out. on the few occasions you got his undivided attention for more than a few hours, your peace would be interrupted by the ear-splitting noise erupting from his stupid nokia burner phone.

of course, small huffs of disappointment would slip past your lips when he told you that he had to leave. but you were used to it now, and that’s what helped ony sleep at night; knowing that you had become inured to his disconcerting disappearances, and abrupt reappearances. you knew that other people needed him, even if it meant that your needs were temporarily pushed aside. one time you had asked him, why it always had to be him that they called, and his response had been:

”my shit is the best, ma.”, said through a chortle, as he put his shoes on by your front door.

”i get that, but what about me?”, your arms crossed, as you tilted your head at your man—ony’s weakness. once you did that, with that look in your eyes, he couldn’t say no to you. but tonight, his priorities were different.

just let me do what i gotta do, and i’ll come right back to you. then i’m yours for the whole night.”, he had reassured, kissing your temple.

”just for the night?”, you scoffed.

”for life. now stay here, and i’ll be back.”, and that would appease you for the evening. but there’s only so much cracking one heart can do, before no adhesive can keep it whole, and it shatters into a million pieces. that night, you stripped yourself of ony’s shirt you had been wearing, and threw it into the corner of your bedroom; it smelt too much like him, and you hated it.

harmless hatred became deep disdain on the evening of your birthday. you had organised a dinner for a few of your closest friends and family, and had vehemently stressed to ony that he had to be there on time. because, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t just be wasting your time, but he’d be wasting that of those closest to you as well. and he had promised you that if there’s something that had to be handled during the time of your dinner, he’d get connie or eren to do it so he could be with you. but 15 minutes of waiting for him became 30. and 30 soon became an hour, and your friends grew reasonably irate due to hunger. so you said they could order, and you’d just call ony one more time. but in a time where all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend’s voice, all you were met with was rings on the other line. that sound resounded all over the side of your face. and that feeling grew once the realisation hit that had you been a client, he wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than five seconds. and that gave you a lot to think about.

you didn’t know how long the dinner lasted because your focus had remained on keeping your tears from falling into your food. you hated how pitiful you looked, lifting your head up every time someone walked into the restaurant, and the crestfallen expression that landed on your face each time you saw it wasn’t ony. it made no sense to you how the man who swore he would do anything for you, the man who placed a band on your ring finger, promising you that one day he’d marry you. the man who swore he had never loved anyone more than you, refused to put you before something so fleeting.

ony finally did show up though…two hours after the dinner had ended. heartbroken cries in your bedroom, had constantly been interrupted by calls coming from ony’s contact. but every single one went unanswered; he needed to feel what you felt when he had embarrassed you in front of your loved ones. though mere missed calls could never compare to the taste of your celebratory dinner food meshing awkwardly with the swallowed cries in your throat, you had to make him feel a morsel of the anguish he had put you through.

if ony could’ve gone full 2000s rnb music video; shirtless, singing outside your window with his chain blowing in the windy rain, he would’ve done. he would’ve even started throwing pebbles if he could, but your apartment was too high on your building. so he just settled on incessantly pressing the button next to your door number. and, after the nth try, you opened the door for him and he ran inside—pressing the elevator button a thousand times once he got in. and, just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. and you stood on the other side, utterly unimpressed; bonnet on, your own pyjamas (instead of one of his shirts), and eyes reddened by tears. the impact caused by his heart unceremoniously dropping to the pit of his stomach caused a soft sigh to leave his mouth. then his lips began moving to explain himself.

“look, i'm sorry. i lost track of ti—”, his explanations were waved off—your own thoughts outweighing whatever he had to say to you.

“we're done, ony.”, was all you said to him before closing the door, and ony’s brain turned off, then back on again because what the fuck did you just say??

“y/n, open the door”, he banged on the door. and, not wanting any noise complaints, you opened it.

“what?”, you scowled.

“the fuck you mean done? talk to me”, ony’s hand reached out to yours, but quickly retreated when you pulled back from him. you had never done that; even when you were mad at him, you at least gave him a chance to get back into your good books again.

“you missed my birthday dinner, ony”, your voice was small, tears about to fall yet again.

“i know, and i'm sor—”,

“two years in a row.”,

“like i said, i'm sor—”,

“and my graduation, the party we had when i finally got my drivers license, the lunch you promised me on my first day at my new job. and you were meant to be my date at my sisters wedding.”, every example was punctuated by your fingertip harshly poking at his chest, and the tears just started falling on their own.

“i'm sorry, y/n”, ony’s voice started cracking, as his hand embraced the hand you had been poking him with.

“sorry isn't good enough anymore, ony. i deserve someone who prioritises me”,

“but everything i do is for us.”, he kissed your hand, “imma use this money to buy you ever—”,

“do you not understand that i don't want your money or gifts? i want you, ony.”, your breathed out, exasperation deeply set in your voice, and in your slumping posture, “anyone could give me bags and shoes, ony. but only you could give me your time. but you won’t, and that's the problem”

“so what, this is it?”,

“until you figure yourself out, yeah.”, you slid your hand from him, “it pains me because i love you so much, but i can’t keep living like this. if you're not ready for a girlfriend then you should've never got with me”

“but i am ready”, he pleaded.

“then act like it.”. were the words that echoed in ony’s head every time he showed up to the places he saw you posting on your story—heart holding hopes that your paths would cross. you didn’t know how he did it, but ony became your shadow for nearly the whole year you spent separated. even when you told him to give it up, he refused; sending bouquets of flowers to your workplace every few days, talking to you through your friends and family, and even showing up to your job to make up for that lunch he promised you. it hurt you to turn him away when you could see in his eyes that he would give up the world to have you in his orbit again. but, when you would ask him about where he got the money to even buy you these flowers in the first place, his silence was very telling.

but word on the street was that ony was a changed man now. your sources told you that he wasn’t dealing as much, and he had gotten a job. those sources being his instagram story that you watched through a burner account. seeing him everywhere made it impossible for you to wash yourself of him completely, so desparate times called for desparate measures. you missed that man so much, it was driving you crazy. it pissed you off seeing him being the man you had asked him to be, but not having the chance to bask in his progress. your love for ony wouldn’t vanish overnight, but it sure as hell hadn’t faded in the year you had been separated either. you kept his shirts and hoodies, and the promise ring he bought you was still on your finger.

so elated didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in your chest when, upon arriving at some house party, one of your girls told you that ony was there too. you tried to not seem so eager, but you had no control over your heart beating rapidly at the idea that you might see him again. all you needed was for him to apologise one more time, and you’d be all his. that was until you came to find that there was a hole blocking your reunion—that hole being in the shape of some girl giggling in his face, as his arm sat around her waist. every fibre of your being urged you to stomp over there, and scream his ear off. but he wasn’t your man anymore so there was nothing you could do but kiss your teeth and glower that them.

no man, not even ony, could get in the way of you and your friends enjoying yourselves. so that’s exactly what you did. for an hour, or two, ony didn’t exist and you just laughed and danced with your friends. however, the end of that would be marked when you stood, talking some guy you had just met, and one of your friends nudged you and nodded in ony’s direction.

“that doesn't bother you?”, she asked, obviously asking about the girl sat on ony’s lap.

“why would it?”, you shrugged back.

“you ain't say you missed the nigga?”, your other friend chimed in.

“okay? that doesn't mean i want him back”, you lied through your teeth.

“so you’re just missing him as hobby?”, sasha laughed.

“leave me alone.”, you chided, and your friends dropped the whole thing. but you wished those saltine whispers of jealousy would leave your eyes, and let you at least pretend to enjoy yourself in peace.

and if it wasn’t them ruining your fun, it was the girl’s friends staring at you.

“why are her friends looking at me?”, you whispered to connie. he had come over to speak to you, and that had caught ony’s attention. mainly because he wondered why you were willing to speak to his friend, but not him.

“they’re gloating.”, connie put a comforting arm around you, and pulled you closer to himself.

“well, tell them to stop.”, as if you could feel ony’s eyes on you, you moved connie’s arm from you, and connie laughed before putting it back where it was.

“they won’t. in their mind, she stole ony from you.”, he explained, and you scoffed.

“pfft, i could get that nigga back anytime i wanted”, you retorted, earning some knowing looks from your friends, before unprecedented words fell from sasha’s mouth.

“then do it.”, she nudged you, “you keep saying you want him so bad, go get him. he’s your man. go collect him”, that didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a dare. and you were never one to back down from a dare.

“fuck it”.

you didn’t know where your strides were leading you until you were barging past ony’s friends to link your arm around his own. at first, his body went into fight or flight because he thought he was about to be robbed, then calm came in the sound of your voice,

“ony, baby, where did you go? i've been looking for you everywhere”, you made sure to stick yourself onto him, and he didn’t move from you because he was too busy comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“y/n?”,

“i thought you guys were done?”, miss.whatever-her-name-was, linked ony’s other arm with her own, and pulled him towards herself.

“yeah, so did i”, ony spoke under his breath, looking down at you in bewilderment as he thought to himself; ”how much did i fucking smoke?”.

“who’s done?”, you looked up at him, “you’re mine for life, right?”, you pouted up at him, and all those memories of that night he had promised you he wouldn’t be long, came flooding back—ony folded immediately.

“always.”, he grinned at you, simultaneously yanking his arm away from whatever her name was.

“ony?”, she complained—now it was your turn to gloat.

“what?”, he sneered at her.

“you told me you guys were done”, she whined, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“well then don’t believe everything a nigga tells you”, was his final rebuttal before he pulled you outside.

at first, you just sat in silence, taking in the cool summer breeze. but ony had questions and, more importantly, he wanted to hear your voice.

“you forgive me then?”, his elbow gently met your arm.

“who said that?”, you stared down at your feet, kicking into the ground beneath you.

“you don't forgive me but you wanna do all that shit back there?”, he laughed.

“she didn't look good for you”, you finally looked up at him, and ony just laughed at you.

“you don't know her”,

“i just got that vibe”, you feigned a shudder, eyes still on him.

“what'd you really want, y/n?”, his index finger lifted your chin.

“you.”, your frank demeanour, and sincere eye contact, blew ony’s eyes wide open.

“well, you got me.”, as much as ony had changed in that year, his love for you remained incorrigible, and he’d be dumb to try and convince you otherwise. so he wouldn’t; he’d been wanting you back for far too long, and he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

“that easy?”, you teased.

“even if you’re not mine, i’ll always be yours, y/n. you know that”, ony’s words directed themselves at your lips; brown irises stuck onto your shining gloss.

“well then…can i be yours again?”, you muttered apprehensively, and the pause after that comment was unreadable.

“y’don’t even have to ask, c’mere”, ony reached his hand out to you.

gentle fingers, interlocked with yours, led you out of the party, and down a road that would end at ony’s car—parked overlooking the local area. he wasted no time; unlocking it before opening the back door, and gesturing for you to get in.

"already? you don’t at least want to talk first?”, you laughed at how keen he was, and a lazy smirk graced his face.

”we’ll talk after. get in.”, any anger, or disappointment, built up over the time you were together, had been mollified with just one comment. missing ony was something you never wanted to do again, and seeing the person he had apparently become, meant that you probably never would. all memories of past arguments, and splits, dispersed in ony’s mind once his lips met yours in a fervent kiss. it was one of longing, and regret. the heat emanating off his body causing particles of his internal regret to fill the inside of the car. you could feel it bouncing off your skin, as his tongue met with yours, and his hands kneaded at your flesh through your clothes. ultimately moving south to help you shimmy your way out of your jeans and underwear. he wouldn’t take them off completely, just leave them by your ankles as he laid you on your back, his mouth already placing soft kisses on your upper thigh. that lasted all of five seconds before ony’s tongue was wrapping around your clit, sucking on it gently. for him, this was a meal that was long overdue, and you could feel it in the way he ate you out like a starved man. taking no breaks; wet noises and thirsty moans, omitted by the ever-moving mouth entertaining your core, pervaded the vehicle.

ony had always luxuriated in eating you out, so it wasn’t long until you came; a rivulet dousing his lower face, before he finally came up for air.

”you still taste as good as i remember”, he uttered lowly, moving to give you a taste of yourself as he pressed his lips against yours. his kisses were haste as his hands fumbled to pull down his jeans and boxers, to angle himself at your entrance. the way you took in that first inch of him had him incapacitated; his forehead dropped to meet yours, while deep groans left his mouth.

”fuck…”, ony had to pause to compose himself before he gently pushed the rest of his length inside you. once he did, he just stayed there; eyes locked with yours, thanks to the streetlights, and you could’ve sworn that this man was close to tears with the way his eyes were glossing over.

the way he was fucking you was ineffable; a year was nothing compared to the others ony had spent studying your body, and the things it reacted to. like the way you’d grow tighter around him at his hands pressing your legs against your chest, as he fucked into you. even in the confined space, head crouched down so he didn’t hit the ceiling, ony still fucked you like you were in the comfort of his bedroom—with all the space, and time, in the world. his ireful tip would caress that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again, making your head spin. all those years of learning your body had not been in vain, because a few minutes in that position, and you came around him. keening his name, as your back lifted off the leather seats. ony was planning on taking you back to his place, and making up for lost time properly. but, for now, he would just turn you around and fuck into you from the back—your hands immediately finding the steamy windows,

”don’t do that, ma. people will know what we’re doin’ in here”, he chuckled at you and you moaned out a distorted version of,

”and the moving car doesn’t make it obvious?”. somehow, ony understood you; he was just used to your fucked out rebuttals, and he scoffed at you before giving the moving flesh surrounding your hips two quick slaps. your hands grabbed at anything they could to gain balance, ultimately deciding on the arm rest on the door. and ony’s hands would follow suit, but as he went to intertwine your fingers, his hands were met with cold metal. it was pretty dark in there, so he couldn’t really make out what it was, but a fleeting headlight revealed the ring he had bought you.

“still got that ring on?”, he smiled to himself.

“you p-promised me…”, you stammered out.

“that i’d marry you.”, his eyes softened at the fact that you had been wearing that ring, despite not being together. all because of that lovestruck vow he had made you,

“and imma keep to that promise. imma marry you, then imma fuck some babies into you”, he spoke to you, “that okay with you?”, you moaned out in loud agreement, and that drove ony to fuck you harder.

“good.”, the thought of you being his wife, sat in your marital bed, with his child in your arms sent him over the edge, and ony came in you. deep hums, containing declarations of his love, spilt all over the back of your neck. but his hips didn’t still because he could feel you coming again.

once you both came down from your orgasms, ony laid you down on your side, before pulling his boxers and jeans up and leaving the car momentarily to turn the car on. he opened the windows slightly, before returning to the back of the car. his back would soon be attached to the back door, yours against his chest as your fingers intertwined. even though you hadn’t covered yourself yet, and his nut was leaking out of you onto the leather seats, everything just seemed perfect. in its own weird way; you in ony’s arms again, and his lips pressing loving kisses on your temple.

”y’know it would’ve taken just one more knock at my front door for me to forgive you?”, you looked up at him. and, once the initial shock subsided, he chuckled at you.

”but i kinda think it’s better this way.”, he shrugged.

”how?”, you sat up to face him properly.

”it felt good to finally be able to give you my attention when you asked it of me.”, he smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek, ”no interruptions. just us.”, after all the emotional turmoil, it was nice hearing that word again; ”us”.

”for life.”, you kissed his knuckle.

”for life.”

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #ony x black y/n #aot onyankopon #plug!onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankopon smut

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kalembappe · 10 months

Text

do with that what you will | j.b. 5 (feat. e.h. 9)

a/n: remember when I wrote? back in June? Time flies. Also hi anon who req'd this forever ago, title's yours. also proofread! but don't hold it against me, english is a hard language. wordcount: 4501 nsfw under cut! minors dni 18+...pwp(very little plot), choking, oral(m receiving), public(?), unprotected p in v sex, overusing of italics

You were moody today. He could tell by the way you avoided his eyes to how you’d only talk when acknowledged (by someone else) but not before plastering that scrunched smile that only he could tell was fake. It’s not like your reasons are invalid, if anything he was the one to blame for this but he doesn’t have time for your petty squabbling, you’re in public and you’re both adults. You know well enough that you should act like it.

At least that’s what he thought until he saw his old friend, the one that just completely bodied his team 14 hours prior to tonight is now standing next to his girlfriend, you’re talking with that pretty smile that was the death of him, easily would be the death of anyone else.

He looks like a lamppost, he observes the man dressed in all black; a complete contrast to his bright platinum hair slicked into its normal bun.

You looked more at ease now that you were talking to him, you both did. Compared to your stiffness to other people, you seem to warm up to him. You were so comfortable that you even let him stand by you with your arm pressed against his broader one.

Not as broad as mine, but you know I– Again, he catches himself. He should stop. That’s his friend too. The interaction unfolds, what should be friendly, is anything but to him. To him. He should look away, but he can’t.

This isn’t supposed to bother him. It wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he didn’t know that Erling used to pine for you. Grovel at your feet even. He remembers that boyish grin he makes every time you would interview them post game or before. People would point it out online, saying things such as you favor the Dortmund players or that you’re so critical but praise Erling like he was god and even thought it was funny at first knowing he himself made you see god.

It’s unfair that he suddenly wanted to show Erling his place, he isn’t even sure if he knows that you and Jude were a thing at all and maybe only now had he suddenly found the confidence in himself to finally talk to you; but that was never a priority in his brain when he boils catching sight of a hand that isn’t his resting on your back.

Jude set the shot glass down a little louder than normally, clinking against the marble of the table. He picks up another one, it’s his third…or fourth. Actually, He isn’t sure, he lost count and he doesn’t leave his place. He doesn’t move when Erling’s pinky taps on your back, his patience runs thinner by every inch that finger dips lower than where it’s welcome.

The only thing that breaks Jude from his reverie is when he catches your eye as you turn back for the shortest moment, droopy and paired with a lazy smirk. He didn’t care much until he realized what it implied; you’re tipsy, not enough to be too vulnerable, but enough to let yourself be reckless to do something you shouldn’t. You wink, solidifying his conclusion–you know what you’re doing.

Before he knows it, you’re back to entertaining his “friend” only this time you’re a lot more confident, talking louder, smiling wider, even grabbing his bicep as you slightly tilt your head back from laughing. It irks him, but he’ll play your game. He wonders if Erling knows he’s playing too. *

You’ve been avoiding him all night. Even at home– his home you mean (where you luckily had some appropriate clothes), dodging kisses and pretending like you don’t feel his stare at the back of your head just like he was doing now; seconds before Erling asks you to go dancing. A bit of a surprise since you thought he only approached you to ask where the toilet was and now you’re dancing? He had to lean down to your height to be audible over the music. The question hangs in the air–Should you? Probably not.

“Sure.” It comes out before you realize, but the acknowledgement in his face tells you that you indeed said it out loud.

You have to stop yourself from turning back too fast when you feel Erling’s palm rest lowly on your back, he says something you don’t listen to– he’s getting himself another drink(looking back, his intentions were obvious if he started drinking right after he asked where the restroom was). His attention shifted long enough for you to finally steal a glance at Jude, who’s shot glass threatened to crack between his fingers. He liked to pretend it was Erling’s pinky, grip tightening as he watches it brushes on your back. His stare follows as you take the initiative of walking Erling to where the people are drunk and dancing.

From anyone’s point of view, it seems like the next story on Hello! Magazine, awaits Erling, but contrary to how it appears, your mind was occupied completely and utterly of Jude. How much you hated him, how he looks like sitting with his legs spread, wondering how far you could press till he cracks. It’s all fair play though, he out of anyone should know.

He promised himself that after the game, you would get to hangout. You were excited, you thought maybe you’d go out for dinner, do something intimate; just the two of you, but after a day’s rest (that you so generously granted him) he says he needs to attend a party, for old time’s sake.

You didn’t know how to react at first, should you be mad? You started to feel so, but thought to yourself; do you even have the right to? You shook that thought off your head. Of course you did! You let your insecurities go before settling on disappointment. Jude saw this, thought it’d be better if you spent what could’ve been your date together at the party. With his friends. Might as well bring his mum, she’s better company anyways.

Call it what you want, maybe It’s a bit childish how you hated the thought of sharing Jude to anyone, a bit possessive; but it’s hard having to arrive at a party together only to split up and socialize with other people so you can keep things hush, water down suspicion. You understand why he does it, you think it’s best too. But just for tonight, you hoped; you didn’t have to share him with the world. Alas, another day goes where you have to. Anyway, if he liked to do it so much then he shouldn’t mind if you share a little too.

The music changes once your heels click on the dance floor, the song’s slower. Erling’s stills, “I’m not good at this” Hands hover over your body, he didn’t know where to place them. He’s antsy, it’s cute–you won’t deny that; the drinks wear off when you’re nervous. Suddenly he’s aware that you’re dancing with him. You feel a little bad knowing you’re using him, regardless, he’s still a nice guy. Always thought he was a little sweet. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, watching him blush. Confidently, you push down the hands onto your hips before adding a firm pat to reassure him. “Keep it there.” You sound more serious then you’re supposed to, it makes Erling gulp. All his confidence may have just been the alcohol talking, and if he were being honest, he wished he drank a bit more.

Jude watched as you giggled–he scowled, you’ll have nothing to laugh about if you keep this up. If he was jealous when Erling put a hand on your back, he was livid when he watched you laugh with Erling, like you’re actually enjoying yourself. He’s not one to be insecure, he’d never even entertained the thought but that seemed to change when this jealousy turned into something worse. He couldn’t put it into words. It boils in him as your hips sway, you’re too close to each other, but he’s rooted where he stood. He’s mesmerized and enraged, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Minutes pass and Jude finds himself seated next to his friends, he figured he needed to let loose, maybe people were getting suspicious with how he’d only kept his attention to that girl dancing with Erling Haaland. Gio yells over the music, “did you order this?” his eyes shift to his friend, confusion replacing Jude’s then blank face. He almost said no before catching a group of girls giggling to themselves. Just as Gio was about to return them back, Jude tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be back.” He didn’t wait for a reply, already trekking his way to his next mission.

Erling’s let’s his limbs set loose, even if he’s just jumping to the music, you’re jumping with him. It’s dark, but it was lit enough that he could make out the shape of your jaw and the curves of your body, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed but it drew him in even more. He spins you, back resting on his front, hands are on your hips as you sway to the rhythm. For the first time tonight, Jude was the last thing on your mind.

But from where you stood, you felt eyes on you; consciously, you opened yours only to get a glimpse of something that made your blood cold. Hands were on him. Everywhere. He’s got his arms out with two girls wrapped on him like he was a tree. The music tunes out, the hands on your body disappear, and it’s red. You see red. It makes your fingers twitch. He catches your eye, how your movements slow until your whole body’s rigid, and thought to himself; I’ve won. He grins, satisfied with your reaction. But if anything, you’re the stubborn one in this relationship.

Erling’s voice is soft on your ear, polite as he is. “Are you okay?” You don’t look his way, you’re busy making sure Jude’s watching. You trail your eyes back to Erling with a smile that fooled anyone.

He’s upside down from your point of view, the outline of his jaw more prominent under the shadow. The stare you give makes his cheeks hot. He’s about to say something but the words get caught in his throat when the feeling of your hips grinding back at him registers in his brain. He short circuits, forgetting every word he’s known.

Jude’s smirk leaves as soon as it arrives, dropping and taken over by his wide eyes–ironically mirroring Erling’s expression who’s grip lands on your hips for leverage. Your eyes look blown under the light, big and innocent like you don’t know what you’re doing–but Erling knows, they both know you do. You’re close to his face, enough that he could see the remnants of gloss on your lips.

It happened quickly, someone spilled liquid on you, mostly your shoes but also a little on your dress. It’s beer. You look up, both of you pulled away. Maybe you should’ve cared that you ruined it, the shoes that Jude bought you. Jude. Fuck. You look up, he’s already leaving sans the two girls he had all over him. Maybe you overdid it this time. Taking a quick glance at Erling, he’s occupied with the person apologizing to him, reassuring the man. He’ll be fine on his own, you think to yourself. When Erling picks his head up, you’re already gone.

You follow him amidst the sea of sweaty drunk people, shoving, and pushing. You think of what you want to say, apologize? That’s completely unfair. It’s not like you were gonna actually lean in and he shouldn’t have ditched you in the first place or canceled last second– And where does he think he’s going?

You curse this world for giving him long legs, walking two steps at a time. Everything just decides to be an inconvenience to you today. Your voice is dry with alcohol and the lack of use, but still you yell over the unnecessarily loud club music.

“Jude! Can you please– slow down! Asshole...” You say the last part in a normal tone only to realize you’ve said it loud enough for him to hear. There’s a cold breeze on your shoulders that tells you you’re at the exit, the door’s open and it’s quiet. Jude turns slowly, a more than displeased expression on his face.

“Me? I’m the asshole?” He scoffed.

“Yes. You ditched me!”

“And you seemed to find great company.”

A scowl disturbs your features, “You were doing the same thing!”

Before he responds, he pauses, Jude does something you both have been avoiding all night. He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. His voice is steady, “Look, I can tell you’re upset about tonight,”

“Wonder what gave that away–”

“Let me finish.” You cross your arms on your chest, mumbling to yourself. Jude takes a step in your direction, enclosing your figure on the wall but (as much as you’d hate to admit) it isn’t suffocating, he’s warm and the scent of his clothes are comforting. His fingers stroke your arm up and down till they reach the space between your neck and your shoulder. They linger for a moment before softly brushing the hair clinging to your skin.

“I know why you’re mad, okay? I get it baby.” You sigh when his head ducked to your height. His voice is so soft on your ear that you can’t help but sink into the wall, his body pressing flush on yours. Lips graze the shell of your ear, leaving a soft peck on the sensitive skin. Jude… dazed, you whine his name. “I know you can’t help it..” He continued, “I know you can’t because,” fingers stroke your throat. “Well ‘cause you’re a whore.”

As soon as your eyes open, there’s a grip that tightens at the sides of your throat, squeezing out a strangled noise from you. A whimper or a moan, You aren’t sure anymore. There’s a pause in the air, he waits for you to say something. You don’t–no, you can’t. The damp spot on your underwear strengthens his claim. Heat rushes to your cheeks, you want to tell him off at least, leave a snarky remark but embarrassment floods in your stomach and his hold on you is immovable. His eyes speak for himself, Look at me–it read, but you never had the strength to look away in the first place.

“You think I’m gonna let you off easy? You’re used to that aren’t you. ‘Cause I spoil you too much, isn’t that right?” His tone is sweet, his hand brushes your temple gently, but it isn’t real–the only thing you could register with a lack of air in your brain. Your body shudders when the stroke of his hand travels lower, the one on your neck slacking but he still keeps you between him and the wall. So close that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his knee taking place between your legs and pressing slowly, you gasp.

“Jude not– here.” You curse at yourself. It was supposed to come out firmly, a command, rather it sounded like a meek plea. Jude’s leg bumped against your clothed front like he was playing with you, your thighs tried to shut but it only made things worse. “Please we’re in public–” He paused his movement before scoffing at your words.

“Really? You didn’t seem to mind while you were fucking around with Erling. ‘In public’, for someone in the media, you could lie better than that.” You wince when you recall the events earlier tonight and how he spat your name out in disgust. “Maybe I should just keep you on a short leash so you don’t hump on people like a bitch.” The words are shameless, and the lack of a better term, fucking vile that it makes you squirm. You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why are you so bothered? Thought you liked this...? So open for everyone to see…” His hands massage low on your back, reclaiming what’s his. Jude’s tone was frustratingly cocky that you almost rolled your eyes if his knee didn’t come up and down again to get your attention, a surprised whimper escaped from you. “Hey, Don’t cry for me yet, I’ve barely started.”

Your hands press flatly on his chest, “Jude, can we just– let’s do it somewhere more private.” You do your best to coax the man with eyes he normally can’t just say no to, thinking that seemed to soften him just a little.

He takes a step back, enough that you can breathe your own air, albeit keeping you from sinking to your knees with his hands on your waist. He sighed, “You’re right.” *

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the mascara that you meticulously applied earlier although waterproof is probably running down your cheeks. Drool gathers around your lips, he thumbs under your jaws; a reminder to keep it slack. Jude’s torturously slow with his movements, making sure that you take all of him. You do your best to do the complete opposite and take him in eagerly, the head of his cock reaching the back of your throat causing both of you to moan. Jude, having none of it, sinks deeper in response, causing you to flinch your head back in a fit of coughs. He wipes your swollen lips of the liquid that gathered with a dumb grin on his stupid face, enjoying the sight of you on your knees.

You swallow back spit to clear your throat, holding onto his thigh so the strain on your knees wouldn’t hurt as much. Catching your breath, you glare at him, “Dick.”

He flashes a smile, “Yes, what did you think it was?” He looked completely unserious, relaxed even, bringing down one of his hands to his side. He tucks your chin between his fingers, “Come on, angel. The faster you get me off, the faster it is for you to get up off your knees.” Lightly, he slaps the head of his cock on your cheek. The pout you make is endearing, a glimpse of your usual adorable self that he’d nearly ruined by slotting himself between your lips. “Unless…you want to keep at it till someone walks in and sees the Fox sports journalist giving head to a Dortmund player? I can already see the tabloids– fuck.”

The sound is enough encouragement, Jude’s cock twitches as he watches you (all he ever does) your pink tongue licks a stripe up his length before you suckle on the tip, cheeks hollowing, sealed tight, taking your time. Your answer is clear, Jude doesn’t know whether to celebrate or crumble. His grunts are short and restricted, yet they echo in the wide restroom that you were dragged to on a whim, how you got here happened in flashes of red lights that disappeared when you heard the door shut, unsure if he locked it–you know you didn’t but it adds to the thrill, the thought makes your stomach swirl and your knees shut.

You’re kind enough to sink your mouth deep till you're half way. Slowly, you pick up the pace. The rise and fall of his chest accelerate, gasps turn into moans. His hips meet yours, although his movements were careful, he was desperate. It didn’t help his resolve when your eyes fluttered at him, all pretty even with you gagging on his dick. His hands absentmindedly found their way to the back of your hair, finally letting himself yield and start fucking your throat. You try your best to catch up even if you’re no longer moving in your own accord and just making sure to breathe through your nose. Just as his moans turn ragged, he pulls you off, leaving you gasping for air. He lends you a minute, tilting your chin up at him to meet his eye.

“All good?” he waits for you to nod–you do, still trying to breathe. He strokes your lips with his thumb, wiping it dry. You look up at him, eyes hazy and blown. “Get up.” He commands, tone stripped of all its grit. You’re a beat too slow that Jude forces you up your shaky knees himself. You have to hold onto him and lean into his body. He’s just as wobbly but he tries his best to be steady for you both.

You’re close enough that he could steal a chaste kiss. What was an intimate exchange turned greedy. You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but you’re not close enough, urging him to lean to your height, his palm traveling from your spine to the back of your head. He needs to feel your body and engrain the scent of your perfume on his. He flips you over, back now on the wall, hands greedy on your skin like he doesn’t know where to with your body. You nibble on his bottom lip a tad too hard that it makes him hiss. You kiss it better, sweet for a moment before swiping your tongue across it. He takes the hint and deepens the kiss and slips his tongue in exchange. You part, he leaves a peck on your forehead, drawing his lips to your cheek then to your neck

You’re getting impatient. Your body’s a lot more fidgety, writhing with every press into you. “Jude can you- I want-”

“Be quiet.” His tone was cold, still he kisses you dumb, he has the lips for it. It’s physical and intangible. He draws you in and lures your soul out, it makes your knees weak and turns you breathless. Your arms settle on his shoulders–they’re taught and big, your clothed cunt brushes against his dick—it makes you dizzy, sinking further into the wall.

He shifts your leg up on his hip, the other following naturally. You breathe heavily, his hands are impetuous on your body while he hikes up your dress roughly, settling for the fabric to hug your ribs. He pushes the flimsy material of your knickers, groaning as he sees you clench on nothing when the cool air meets your throbbing cunt, shiny with arousal. Fuck, baby. He mutters, voice above a whisper, you can’t tell if he meant to say it out loud.

He strokes himself on your clit, rubbing with his cock, goading needy little moans out of you. You feel like crying when his tip finally stretches your hole. You’re loud enough that Jude has to silence you with his lips as he fully fits the head of his cock in. He catches your whimper in his open mouth, gasping together when he places you higher on the wall, pushing deeper. You’re tight with the lack of prepping, but you’re wet. So deliciously wet. Taking him in like butter on a hot knife. He presses his face against your neck, grunting and breathing heavily. You’re left in an even more muddled state, spilling incoherencies, trying and failing to hold in your noises. You’ve completely given up on the silence, fuck it.

A grip on your face stills you, it’s then when you recognize the familiar callous hand covering your mouth–your noises. You don’t have enough time to tell him off, you couldn’t if you tried. His eyes burn on your skin, the warmth in your neck gone, you feel the tightness of his muscles in every buck of his hips, slapping against your skin. His stare is heavy on you– that alone flushes your cheeks. You push his hand away, instead tucking your head in his neck to muffle yourself , holding on for dear life while he thrusts faster and faster still.

Your alternative catches your noises, poorly at that. Your eyes are shut, meeting his movements as you focus on the heat building in your stomach. He’s driving into your pussy like he’s trying to fuck you into the wall. Each word that tries to escape is garbled in your pipes, strangled and aching for release.

“You gonna come? Already?” He mocks you. “Come on, let me see my dumb girl.” Your grip softens around him, Jude maneuvers your face with his hand before fixing his palm to rest on your throat like he does although now looser. “What a mess…” You’re close, he can tell. Your stomach tenses, clenching onto him as if you’re dreading the second that he’ll pull out. He laughs, unsure of why but he tightens his grip, one that’s become so familiar on your neck that it’s grounding. The lack of air and the heaping pleasure turns your brain into a puddle, everything around you clouds, your own voice and the muffled music louder than it was, bouncing off the walls.

It’s when you open your eyes that your stomach drops, it’s a second that slips as soon as it passes. Your legs shake, thighs tensing around Jude. The same eyes you spent looking at the entire night stares back at you, wide and struck. Erling stands there, tense in his spot, taller than the space between the open door, music leaks in, almost blending with your high moans but the sound bleeds into his brain. He can’t describe what he felt strongest; jealousy, shock, or the tightness in his slacks. For now he swallows his own spit, the picture of your writhing body ingraining itself in every memory he has of you. Ruined. You’re completely ruined.

“Oh my–Erling–”

Jude smirks, “No, It’s Jude.” He teased, loud enough that all three of you could hear.

“N–no, I mean– It’s– Fuck. Oh god!”

“Yeah, that one works too.” It’s embarrassing how slippery you are inside, Jude rocking in and out of you like a piston with the stamina of an athlete.

Erling’s planted on the floor, it feels like he’s holding in a breath that’s stuck in his lungs. He should look away, but he can’t.

“Go ahead,” He whispers between thrusts, holding you against the wall. This time his words are close, only for you to hear. You have no choice, unable to utter a word, gasping, forced to take it. “Come for me while you look at him.”

It’s pathetic how you follow, eyes fixed towards the door when your orgasm crests in an explosion that leaves you shaking and trembling, legs wrapping tighter around Jude’s waist. Ultimately, you fail the task at hand, eyes nearly rolling back when your mind goes blank, the sensation tingles all the way to your satin shoes, throbbing and pulsing. His grunts turn into gasps, nails digging into your thighs when he climbs his own high, finally spilling into you.

You recollect, breathing heavily against each other. The last thing you saw were a pair of icy blues. As soon as you pick your head up from Jude’s neck, they’re gone.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham fic #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland

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ifancyharry · 1 year

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Cuddly baby

Cuddling like this with Harry has been a dream of mine since i was like 13 years old 😔 he'd be sooo soft

Word count: 1.3K

What is it: Harry comes back from work and wants needs a cuddle; almost no plot just fluff

YN shut the door behind her, taking a step to enter her and Harry’s home and turning the light’s switch on the side, the previously dark house lighting up in an instant, turning the dark and cold atmosphere into a cozy one.

She loved their home.

Growing up YN never really took part in decorating her childhood home, because it was her mum that bought furniture so she went with whatever her mum liked, and when she moved to London, she was a broke college student, so buying fancy furniture wasn’t exactly her priority.

When Harry had asked her to move in, his house was already decorated, and honestly, YN liked it as it was, but almost immediately, Harry made it clear that was also her house now, and he wanted her to be comfortable in his space, so he gave her his card and told her to buy everything she wanted.

YN didn’t really know where someone with Harry’s amount of money would go to shop for furniture, so she asked him if he was fine with IKEA and he had agreed, because he didn’t really care as long as she was happy.

When it came to Christmas decorating, though, it was a whole other deal.

Harry loved Christmas, and when YN asked him if he wanted her to take care of decorating alone — since he’d come back home on the 15th —, he got a little upset and whined like a baby for the entirety of their call, turning in his usual chatty self only after she’d told him she would wait for him and they’d go Christmas shopping together when he’d be back from Los Angeles.

So, when she walked in their shared living room, YN smiled happily at the sight in front of her, walking towards the Christmas tree to switch on its lights.

She then made her way upstairs, hurrying up the stairs, eager to remove her uncomfortable work clothes to wear something more comfortable.

She walked in her closet and took out one of Harry’s merch hoodie, which ran oversized on her and was honestly so comfy, pairing it with some sweats. YN never really understood people that don’t change immediately after coming home. She cringes at the mere thought of relaxing in jeans. She could never!

After a quick shower to warm her limbs, she changed in the clothes she’d picked out earlier and sighed happily when her skin met with the soft fabric of the hoodie, the scent of the fabric softener Harry always used when doing laundry, filled her nostrils and she felt truly relaxed for the first time ever, the sudden realization that it was the 20th and she finally had some time off of work taking place, soothing her running head. It always took her a while to get accustomed to he holidays, always so busy with work, and she never truly felt free until Harry was free from work too.

He’d just came back less than a week ago, and he still had a couple of interviews and some charity events he was supposed to attend before closing everything on the 24th.

To her, it was truly crazy how someone could work until Christmas Eve, and she told him many times, but he always shrugged it off telling her he was used to it. To YN, it didn’t make it any better.

After picking a book from their office’s bookshelf, she made her way back downstairs, plopping down on the couch.

She rested her head on the arm rest and scooted down so she could be comfortable enough to stretch her legs and lay down.

She opened her book and started reading to occupy the time it would take Harry to come back home.

A couple of hours had passed when YN heard the front door shut softly and the sound of keys tilting in the dish placed by the door. She smiled to herself, not raising her eyes from the book. Harry was finally home.

When he made his way in the living room, he was still wearing his work clothes — just jeans and a sweater, but they were still work clothes to him — but he had removed his shoes. Yn eyed him briefly before tapping the screen of her phone that rested on the coffee table and she frowned at the time, it was past eight o’clock. She knew he must have been exhausted.

“Hey, my love” she whispered, resting her book open on her chest and stretching her arms towards him.

Harry smiled lazily at her and at first sat down on the couch near her feet, resting one hand on her ankle and thumbing at her exposed skin absentmindedly.

YN knew not to question him. It wasn’t the first time he’d come back from work and didn’t feel like talking, so she usually would let him do his thing until he felt like being social again. She understood how hard it must be to always be expected to be happy and laid back, so she didn’t want him to feel like he had to pretend at home too.

Two beats passed and YN picked up her book again, resuming her reading.

She felt Harry shuffle in his place at her feet, and after a while she felt him sneaking up her body, resting his smushed cheek against her chest and she opened her legs a bit so he could rest comfortably between them. She intertwined one of her legs with his and Harry sighed heavily against her chest, moving his head so he could splatter light kisses against her covered skin.

YN switched the book from one hand to the other, holding it open with just one hand and burying the other in Harry’s hair, removing the hair clip from his curls and placing it on the hem of her hoodie. Once his hair was free, she started to tug gently at the roots, alternating the tugs with a gentle massage on his scalps with her fingertips.

His body was starting to get warmer, and she loved feeling his body weighting on her. Harry always used to joke that if he could get inside her skin he would, because he never seemed to feel close enough to her.

After some time, YN closed the book, marking the page folding the ear of the page, and placed it on the ground. Harry had fallen asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him stretching to the coffee table, so the ground would do just fine.

She kept playing with his hair with one hand, smoothing the hair from his forehead so she could see his face better. He looked so peaceful with his cheek smashed against her chest, his plushy lips red and slightly opened, small breaths puffing out of his round cheeks.

She loved him like this, soft and tender. She brought her other hand down and started caressing his back in circles, hoping to soothe the tension off of him.

“My baby” she whispered, tilting her head a bit so she could plant a kiss on his hair line.

Harry mumbled something incomprehensible at that and she tugged gently at his hair, “what?”

“I’ll get up in a bit” he repeated, muttering, his eyes still closed and his words coming out strangled from his squished cheek.

“No need, you’re like my personal teddy bear” she giggled softly, pressing another kiss to his hair line.

“Love you so much” he mumbled, never opening his eyes. He squeezed her a little harder with his arm and she smiled against his hair.

“Sleep now, I’ll wake you when it’s time for bed”

Harry nodded against her chest and his hair tickled her chin.

“Love you too, cuddly baby” She whispered, resuming her massages with her hands. Harry was already asleep again, and she knew he probably didn’t hear her, but she knew she’d tell him how much she loved him as soon as he’d wake up. She truly did love him, cuddles and all.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles sleeping #harry styles x you #sleepy!harry #soft!harry

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skzpvol · 2 months

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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ THE BRIGHTEST STAR - bang chan ࿐ྂ

pairing: nonidol!bang chan x gn!reader

genre: angst, no comfort (i warned you)

warning: mentions of suicide, cursing, the entire drabble is full of hurt

words: 0.8k

synopsis: Chan visits you again. What will you say to you this time?

a/n (1): this drabble is triggering, so please if you are sensitive to the warnings DO NOT read. Your health is my priority and remember that you are not alone, you will never be. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. English is not my first language, so tell me if I made some mistakes.

«hi my love, i’ve missed you. Do you remember what day is it? It’s our anniversary and I really can’t believe that we’ve come this far. The younger me would be so proud to hear I’ve been with the love of my life for six years now. And I would do anything to spend this special day with you. Actually I don’t really want to celebrate. It would be useless if I’m alone.

«I bought your favorite flowers today. Hope you will appreciate them. Do you remember the first time I bought you flowers? They were roses and you were so scared to tell me you were allergic. I felt guilty but when I saw you laughing I thought it was all worthy. Even tho I tried to kill you, hearing and seeing your laugh for the first time was like being transported to heaven. I immediately felt lighter and happier. You’ve always made me the happiest. It’s a shame that happiness is gone now. But it’s not your fault, if anything it’s mine.

«the boys miss you too. You know, one week ago we met all together for the first time after the accident and I tried, I tried so hard to distract myself. I did everything I could, they did everything, but it was all pointless. I told them I was fine, that I felt like I was already moving on, but they were all lies. I can’t help it. I don’t want them to be worried. They’ve already suffered enough and I don’t to be another burden.

«I wrote you a song. Yes, another one. It seems like you are still my biggest inspiration. I really want to sing it to you, but it’s not finished yet. You need to wait just a little more. I promise you, the next time I’ll come with the lyrics. Just wait for me.

«why y/n? Why did you do this to me? Was I not enough? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust me? Why? Why did you not search for help? I would have been there. I would have listened to each of your worries. I would have stayed with you. I would have told you that everything was going to be okay, that you were not alone. So why did you never told me how you were really feeling? Fuck- why? I know that it’s anyone fault, but I feel like I’m the only culprit. I know that i should not be mad at you, but I am. I’m madly angry. I wanna scream, cry and at the same time let everything go. But you will still not come back to me. So why should I try anyway?

«I’ve always seen suicide like a way to die for cowards. I’ve always thought that people who chose it were selfish. But who am I to think about it like that now, if I wasn’t even capable of helping you? I’m the real selfish because in 6 fucking years I wasn’t be able to look into you, to look through you. You were suffering and I didn’t do anything. I tried to blame you when you told me you needed me, so who am I to fucking say you are the selfish one? I’m a mess. I’m a disaster.

«the last time I saw you, you were happier. I remember that I even asked you why. You just told me “today is a beautiful day” and before I left you said “I love you, always will” for the last time. If I only knew. I read somewhere that a star burns brightest in its final moments and I get it now. Every time I look at the sky I always wonder if you are finally happy. When I look at the glowing stars I always think it’s your way to tell me that you are there. You are there and you are okay. You are protecting me.

«I cry. A lot. Even now, I can’t stop crying. The guilt it’s really hard to bear. I can’t even look in the mirror without feeling disgust towards myself. And you would probably be disappointed too if you saw me like this. You want me to be happy, but I can’t. Not without you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t look out for you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when I was supposed to. I’m sorry that i was the worst boyfriend you could ever ask for. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

«will I ever be able to see you again? I really hope so. But I’ll make sure to look at the sky every single night and look out for the brightest star. Because you are there, aren’t you?

«please wait for me, I still have to sing you a song. You will be proud of me, I promise.

a/n (2): hiii, how are you? I’m finally on school break! Sorry if I’m being inactive BUT, apart from school that is really stressing me out, I’m working on a bunch of things (a long ass fic and a smau :)) ). I probably already said this, BUT I’M GOING TO SEE MY STRAY KIDS IN JULY AFTER TWO YEARS, AND I’M THE HAPPIEST. I cannot really wait. Btw, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it. I also ask you to like it and tell me your opinion about this to help me to improve. Have a good day / night 🫶🏻

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nofacentity · 11 months

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𝕄𝕀𝔾𝕌𝔼𝕃 𝕆'ℍ𝔸ℝ𝔸 𝕏 𝔾ℕ! ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝔼ℝ ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊

Okay, in my mind, I see it this way:

This man lost all of what he cherished and, after which, he made it his work to ensure what happened to him would never happen again. The thing is - it's very personal.

He works so hard not because he's born a workoholic (Idk about comic Miguel, but rn Im talking about atsv Miguel and what we've seen of him) but because hes hurting and feeling guilty, and there's just so much mental baggage to unpack.

🧛🏽Of course he'll be shitting his spider-pants from the sheer thought of having someone close to him again or having any attachments. But if this man ends up with a S/O somehow, it would mean there's already a lot of work done with him opening up and getting attached and, in this case, his priorities will change too.

🧛🏽I don't see him ignoring his SO or abandoning them for work or being mean to them for no reason, he'll get a totally new set of priorities. And his SO is surely his number one priority.

🧛🏽He will try to prioritize work, but if you call him he'll just drop everything he's been doing. (he sure will complain that he needs to do his very important job and all)

🧛🏽He wouldn't ever want to take his anger out on you, but this man does have anger issues. He'll try to manage it to best of his ability if he's around you - he'll just be grumpy and try to be civil with you while holding back his desire to punch a hole through a wall.

If he's furious he won't talk much, will just be frowning silently, he may sound a bit rude atm, he still wouldn't want to harm or upset you. If he ever shouts at you he'll be quick to apologize.

🧛🏽He doesn't strike me as a jealous type, he's concerned for your safety, not for your loyalty. He wont even think about it. Unless you'll give him a rock solid reason to.(but why?)

🧛🏽He'll have separation anxiety soo bad he'll cuff you to himself. This man can't breathe freely if you're out of his line of sight.

🧛🏽He is a family-oriented man. He craaveesss family, this man needs comfort so badly.

🧛🏽He tries to treat his SO as an independent and capable individual, no matter if they are a spider person or not, he respects them. He tries and he fails not to be controlling and protective.

❤️Love languages :

Quality time

"I want a hundred of your time, you're mine."

As I said, he will be glued to your side. He'll have you in his office while he works, just having you around is comforting, even when you two aren't talking. Just hearing your heartbeat and breathing makes his heart feel lighter. To have you in sight and to know you're safe is what it takes for him to stay calm and focused.

Touching.

Two words: touch starved(or is it one word?)

He just likes to feel any part of your body against any part of his body. He'll love it if you fall asleep on his lap while he works (I have no idea if Miguel has a chair in his lair but let's imagine he has one). If you spoil him with light touches, caressing his skin gently, patting his head, running your hand through his hair, he will crumble.

He will always be silently begging for your touch, like a cat that wants headpats, tries to hide it to save its dignity, but fails miserably by being too obvious. He is a cat.

#miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel headcanons #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv fanfiction #atsv headcanons #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse

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wosokirby · 25 days

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Lauren James x Chelsea!reader

“I don’t know what you mean, there’s no flirting going on. It’s just a drink calm down you two”

It wasn’t though.

It was never ‘just’ a drink.

Lauren James x Chelsea! reader

2.7k ish words

Another glass of rosé wine was placed in front of you on the table and you’d have almost missed it appearing if it wasn’t for the grin Erin gave you and the hand squeezing your shoulder.

Looking up above you LJ stood dropping off yet another drink for you almost like your own personal waiter for the evening. She gave you a quick smile before going back to the bar where a few of your team mates were stood.

“God will you two get over this or actually speak to each other” Erin groaned before picking up your new glass and taking a swig.

“Erm excuse me that’s mine thank you”

“You’ve had enough free drinks already!”

“Don’t be jealous you’ve got no friends Erin” you laughed as you took the wine glass out of her hand and setting it back in front of you. “What are you talking about anyway?”

“I don’t think just friends buy drinks all night for each other, and they certainly don’t silently flirt with each other” Erin sighed giving Guro a nudge with her elbow, as she seemed to be pointing out the oblivious, or at least obvious to everyone but you.

“Yes the flirting its so not subtle anymore” Guro agreed with Erin.

“I don’t know what you mean, there’s no flirting going on. It’s just a drink calm down you two”

It wasn’t though.

It was never ‘just’ a drink.

It was four or maybe five drinks tonight… and your dinner that Lauren had paid for before you met up with the rest of the Chelsea team at the busy bar you were now in.

When you think about it LJ did lots of that, a coffee on your pre match walk. A cup of tea was usually waiting for you when you got to training in the morning. A bottle of water after a match or if you were subbed off after her was silently handed to you.

It had all become a habit, so much so that you’d not really noticed it all any more. And when you did you assumed it was just Lauren being nice. Or at least that was what you had convinced yourself it was after you’d lost all hope that the feelings you had for her were reciprocated.

It must have been all in your head that she could feel the same way after you’d not been so subtle with some of the messages you tried to send her way once you realised the feelings were more than just the one you had for your other friends. Lauren was easily your closest person on the team and with the Lionesses. The two of you were always together.

While you spent a lot of that time taking any chance to glance over at Lauren, slightly mesmerised by her in certain moments, particularly on the pitch. Her talent could be seen by anyone with eyes, but not many people saw more than that. LJ is a private person she didn’t tell anyone much, unless you were a close friend, about her love life. Not that she found much time for that anyway. Training, the gym and focussing on all things football were her priorities.

Still she found time for you, afternoons and evenings were often spent at one of your places or in each others hotel rooms. Chatting, extra training, trash tv watching all just seemed to make the time go by far too quickly for your liking. You truly enjoyed every second you spent with Lauren, it was becoming more difficult to put your feelings aside but you knew it was important for your friendship that you didn’t let it slip. Lauren confessing her feelings or just sweeping you up after a goal celebration and kissing you remained just day dreams that kept you up when you were apart.

She didn’t feel the same, she couldn’t. She would have told you by now, you are each others best friend and no secrets were kept from you. So you were content as much as you could be with what you got, a couple of drinks and the occasional present she picked up just because it made her think of you would be enough for you.

But the candles that were beginning to take over your flat, the soft blankets she knew you could never have enough of and the cuddly kangaroo that sat on your bed every day, as a memory from the World Cup were treasured possessions for you. But just presents from one friend to another you thought.

“Leave it, please” It was not the most convincing argument to put forward to the girls who were at the very least bored of your pinning after your team mate.

“No it’s something you can’t ignore now, you need to speak to Lauren or we’ll make you” Erin boldly stated still with a bit of a smirk on her face letting you know it was at least a bit entertaining to wind you up.

“Make me by doing what guys? There’s nothing to say even if I did like Lauren, which I don’t, it’s not like she would be the same. She just sees me as a friend.”

“Oh come on that’s not true and you know that” Erin exclaimed, taking the lead on the pre planned conversation her and Guro were now launching on to you. They had encouraged each other to ask the both of you what was going on, and maybe with you a few drinks down they could push you and Lauren together.

“I’m going to the toilet, back in a min” You say pushing yourself back in your chair and leaving the table before they could say anything otherwise.

After weaving through the crowd you realised just how many drinks you had consumed that night, as you sat down you could feel the room swaying a little.

Still feeling a little lightheaded you wandered back through to the table, and after rounding a corner you bumped into a figure muttering a sorry before realising who it was.

“It’s alright it’s just me” Lauren said. She had caught hold of your arm to catch you before you had the chance to fall and her hand had come up to rest on your waist, resting on the skin in between your crop top and jeans, as she spoke to you.

“Are you ok? I just came to check on you”

“I’m fine I just think I’ve had a bit more to drink than I realised. I might need to sit down” you laughed. It wasn’t like you were falling over drunk but you were feeling the effects of those drinks Lauren had so kindly got you.

“C’mon then” LJ turned to walk back to where you had been sat before and you followed. The bar was pretty dimly lit and crowded, to keep track of you Lauren reached behind and held her hand out for you to hold. She led you through to the table and pulled out your chair, once you were sat she crouched down with her hand still holding yours.

“I’ll get you some water do you want anything else?”

You shook you head and Lauren left you at the table, you weren’t alone for long as Erin and Guro now joined by Sam and Millie took the opportunity to pounce on you.

“Why don’t you just tell your girlfriend you love her?” Sam teased from the other side of the table while the others giggled. It was harmless teasing and you all knew it wasn’t meant to offend you, it just cut a bit close to home this time.

“LJ told me you went on a date with her earlier you know” Millie said, glancing over her shoulder to check that LJ wasn’t within earshot.

“Ooooh” was the collective sound that came from the rest of the group who seemed to have never heard any gossip more exciting than this as they squealed in delight at Millie’s news.

“Alright, I think that’s me done for the night. Stop shit stirring guys” you laughed along with them, moving round the table you hugged each of them and said a quick goodbye promising to catch up again at training on Monday.

“Sorry it took a while” LJ said placing a glass of water into your hand when you met her near the bar. You downed the water appreciating the gesture. “You heading out?” She asked noticing the bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah I’m shattered, and them lot are getting annoying” you pointed behind you at the girls still giggling away.

“I’ll book an Uber now” She said pulling out her phone.

“No it’s alright I’ll book it, you picked me up on the way, on the way to our date…” you trailed off. You weren’t fully sure if Millie had been joking and feeling quite tipsy you maybe were letting the teasing get to you. You looked at Lauren whose attention had now been turned away from her phone. “Let’s just go it’s loud in here”

LJ took your hand and like she had earlier led you through the bar and outside, she still had her phone in her hand ready to book an Uber to collect you both before you could argue with her.

“You really should let me pay for something at some point you know Lauren” you sighed with a smile as the two of you stepped outside. “Never” LJ smirked holding the door open for you.

“I’d feel much better if you just let me take you home”

“Only if you come back with me then, I get lonely without you”. You said leaving against her, resting your head on her should for a brief moment.

LJ nodded and confirmed she’d booked just one cab to go to your address already, like she already knew what you’d ask her to do. You weren’t waiting for too long it wasn’t a weekend or too late so you were thankful when the car pulled up and LJ spoke to the driver before opening the rear door for you. You climbed in the car shuffling through as far as the middle seat so LJ could slide in next to you without walking round the car.

The window was cracked down slightly letting in a breeze that seemed to help you sober up but the tiredness was setting in. A hand rested on your leg giving your thigh a squeeze, when you turned to look at LJ she was already looking right at you. You weren’t sure if it was the eye contact or the the close proximity that made your stomach do little flips. She had this effect on you a lot more than you’d want to admit. You moved your hand to rest on top of hers giving it a reassuring nudge as she moved it slightly further up and into your inner thigh.

‘Fuck’ you thought, was this really happening? Suddenly you were no longer feeling so tired. You gave a small smile to Lauren that she returned, her eyes glancing down to your lips and back up. The car slowed down as it rounded a corner and you glanced away and out of the front window of the car to see that you were just round the corner from your flat. Once you had thanked the driver you followed LJ out of the car and took her hand as she watched you get out of the car.

Fumbling through your bag for your keys you walked towards the main door for your flat, once you had found them and opened the door you looked behind you to LJ who stood close by. This time as you lead her inside and up the couple of flights of stairs you took the lead and reached for her hand first, you didn’t need her to take you through a crowd just simply to be there. Opening up your door walking through to your lounge you let Lauren shut and lock the door as she quickly follows you.

Flopping down into the corner seat of your sofa you kicked off your shoes and relaxed into the seat, glad to be back home. “Comfy?” LJ said as you sat almost laying down, you could feel her sit next to you getting close once again. “Very, I could fall asleep now” you murmured your eyes closed.

“We should go to bed then”

“Give me a min”

Sitting in what was comfortable single for a few moments grew to another tension filled moment just like there had been in the taxi. When you slowly opened your eyes LJ was looking down at her hands, you gave in to what felt right and moved forward to slip your hand into hers. She moved one of her hands to link with yours and cupped your hand with both of hers still looking down at them.

It was such a comfort you, the soft touch of her hand against yours. It wasn’t just a joke what the girls had said at the bar, it was a date and it really could be that Lauren liked you back. You could feel all of that being expressed just by the physical contact you shared. You had to take that leap and say it. Lauren was the more shy of the two of you so really if you didn’t say it now you weren’t sure she’d be ready to take to leap first.

“Will you kiss me, please?” You spoke softly, almost afraid that if you spoke to loudly, to harshly it would scare her away or disrupt the moment. For no longer than a few seconds, yet it felt like an age, your team mate and best friend sat there not moving away but also not moving to fulfil your ask. It wasn’t often LJ didn’t do want you asked her to, she went out of her way to do a lot for you, to make you happy and smile. But you couldn’t doubt that it was what she wanted too.

Especially not when she turned her head to you, her hands leaving yours as she budged closer to you to sit almost in between your legs leaving some small distance between you and her. You leant forward meeting her in the small gap and she looked straight at you, taking the sight of you in before leaning in her eyes closing and her lips connecting with yours as you did the same.

It was a soft kiss, gentle as her lips moved against yours. It wasn’t just a peck on the lips, you were grateful she put some real effort into the kiss. You sighed quietly into the kiss as Lauren moved you towards her with her hands coming to rest against you, sitting on your hips. She gently pushed you down against the sofa as she leaned over you, while not disconnecting your lips once. One of the arms came to rest above your head holding her up, she moved back to allow you both to breathe for a second.

A quick kiss pressed against her lips as a small giggle passed from your lips as she smiled, that smile you loved to see, a smile you felt so lucky to see more than anyone else got to.

“I’m not sure if I expected that to happen tonight or not” Lauren admitted “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time”.

“Have you really?” You asked tentatively almost still afraid that if you spoke to loudly it would all disappear.

“For so long, I’ve had to stop myself from doing it almost every time we’ve been together lately” She confessed.

“Looks like we’ve got plenty of lost time to make up” You said and pulled her back down for another long kiss.

Hi, this is the first time I’ve ever really written anything like this but I thought I’d give it a go finally after thinking about it for a long time 😂

hope you enjoyed!

#lauren james #lauren james x reader #chelseawfc #lionesses #chelsea womens fc #woso x reader #woso imagine #lionesses x reader

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