ana clara

Peter’s entire body locked. A low, guttural sound tore out of him that didn’t sound entirely human. His muscles flexed hard under your hands, denser and tighter than usual, like every fiber had suddenly drawn taut with unnatural strength.

His eyes flooded pure black from edge to edge, reflective and hungry, pupils vanishing completely. Fangs pressed faintly against the inside of his lip. The new spider mutation—stronger, more instinct-driven—took complete control without changing his shape.

He didn’t pull out.

Instead he slammed forward to the hilt and stayed buried deep, grinding hard as he came with a harsh, animal growl. Thick pulses of heat flooded you, over and over, no hesitation at all.

“Peter—!” you gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, you’re still—oh my godd”

One hand shot up, not rough but firm, cradling your jaw and gently parting your lips with his thumb. He leaned in and spit a slow, warm strand of saliva straight onto your tongue, watching it land with those pitch black eyes.

Then he kissed you messily—open-mouthed, wet, tasting you and himself, tongue sweeping deep while his hips kept twitching through the last of his orgasm. The kiss was frantic and claiming for several long seconds, then softened into something almost sweet, like the human part of him was still trying to be gentle even while the mutation ruled.

You made a small, startled sound against his mouth, hands flying up to grip his wrists. “Peter… Peter, what’s happening? Your eyes—”

The mutation receded as suddenly as it had come.

The extra tension drained from his limbs. His eyes cleared back to that familiar dark brown, blinking rapidly. Peter froze, still buried inside you, still kissing you.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face, pupils blown wide with pure confusion. Then his gaze dropped between your bodies.

He stayed buried for a second longer, watching with dazed intensity as he finally eased back the slightest bit. A thick, pearly strand of his cum immediately welled up around his cock and began to drip out of you in a slow, heavy trail, sliding down to the sheets. Another pulse followed, warmer and messier, coating him as he stared. His breath hitched hard.

“Oh my god…” he whispered, voice cracking. He didn’t yank away; he stayed carefully still, eyes locked on the steady drip of white leaking from you around him. “I—fuck, look at that… it’s everywhere. I came so deep and it’s just… pouring out.”

His cheeks flushed dark with a mix of horror and residual heat. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t— I was gonna pull out, I swear I was. Something just… took over. It—fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Please tell me you’re okay.”

You stared up at him, still catching your breath, heart racing from both the intensity and the sudden shift. Your voice came out soft but steady. “Hey… hey, look at me. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“…But I came inside,” he whispered with a small pout coating his face, panic rising as another slow drip slid free and he tracked it with his eyes. “I just— I couldn’t stop. And the spit, the kissing like that— fuck, what the hell was that? There’s so much of it… it’s still coming out of you.”

He swallowed hard, gaze still fixed on the mess between you for a long moment. A new, flustered expression crossed his face. “And the worst part is… part of me liked it. Like, really liked seeing it. Filling you up. I think—god, this is so messed up—watching it drip out of you is doing something to my brain and I feel terrible about it.”

You reached up, cupping his face with both hands so he had to meet your eyes. “Baby. Breathe. I’m right here. It felt… intense. But I’m not scared of you. And hey… finding something out about yourself doesn’t make you a bad person.””

His lower lip trembled. “I love you. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do whatever you need—morning-after stuff, anything. Just please don’t be mad.”

You brushed your thumbs over his cheekbones, voice gentle. “I’m not mad. Surprised? Yeah… but if anything that was really hot”

Peter let out a shaky breath and carefully lowered his forehead to yours again, still half-buried like he was afraid moving would make the mess worse. His eyes flicked down one more time, watching another thick trail of his release slip free. “I hate that it happened like that. I never want to take choices away from you.”

You slid one hand down to rest over his racing heart. “I know. And I trust you. We’ll figure the rest out together, okay? Just… stay close for a minute. Don’t pull away yet.”

He nodded against you, pressing a soft, apologetic kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your cheek. “Okay. I’m here. I’m so sorry… and thank you for not freaking out on me.”

You gave a tiny, breathless laugh, fingers carding through his damp hair. “We’ll talk about the mutation later. Right now just hold me. You’re still my Peter.”

He wrapped his arms around you carefully, burying his face in your neck with a quiet, relieved sound. “Always. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, stroking the nape of his neck. “Even when your DNA decides to get dramatic mid-orgasm.”

That pulled a small, watery chuckle out of him, and he held you tighter—still apologetic, still a little shaken, but softening into the comfort of knowing you weren’t going anywhere.

dividers — @/pixopix

an — just saw the movie today and im going crazy just mmm i need him

you’re sprawled across his dorm room floor, textbooks and notes scattered around you like academic shrapnel. your Organic Chemistry problem set is due tomorrow, and Peter's trying to explain electron orbital hybridization for the third time while you're trying not to notice the way his hands move when he talks.

"okay, so—wait, are you even listening?" he glances up from the molecular model he's been gesturing at, catching you staring.

"yes," you lie. "orbitals. hybridization. very sexy stuff."

Peter's ears go pink. they always do. "it’s actually kind of cool if you think about it. like, the atoms are literally reshaping themselves to form stronger bonds—"

"Peter."

"—which is sort of romantic in a way? no? okay, yeah, I hear how that sounds."

you grin, nudging his knee with your foot. "you’re such a nerd."

the contact makes him freeze for just a second—so brief you almost miss it. but you've been Peter's best friend since freshman orientation, when you found him eating lunch alone in the dining hall, and you've gotten good at reading him. the way his breath catches. how his eyes track the movement of your leg as you pull it back.

"takes one to know one," he manages, but his voice is slightly rough.

you’ve been noticing things like this more lately. the way he leans into your touch when you grab his arm. how he finds excuses to be close—sitting next to you even when there's a whole empty couch, walking you home when your dorm is barely three buildings away. the looks that last a fraction too long.

at first, you thought you were imagining it. Peter Parker, who spent freshman year obviously pining after someone he wouldn't talk about, who kept a careful distance from everyone like he was afraid of breaking something. but somewhere between late-night study sessions and 2 AM bodega runs and him falling asleep on your shoulder during movie nights, something shifted.

now he's watching you chew on your pen cap, and there's heat in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"we should take a break," you suggest. "my brain is melting."

"yeah, okay." Peter runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up adorably. "i’ve got—uh, i think there's some leftover pizza? and definitely Red Bull, which is probably not great to mix with the coffee we already had, but—"

"Peter."

"hmm?"

you’re not sure what you were going to say. something about how he's rambling, maybe, or how cute he looks when he's nervous. but you're sitting close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the words dissolve on your tongue.

he swallows hard. "you’re looking at me weird."

"weird how?"

"i don't know! like..." he trails off, and you watch his gaze drop to your mouth before snapping back up. "never mind."

the air feels thick suddenly, charged with something that's been building for months. you think about all the almost-moments—hands brushing when passing coffee cups, the time he caught you when you slipped on ice and held on longer than necessary, the way he said your name last week, soft and wondering, like he was testing how it felt.

"Peter," you say again, and this time his name sounds different. heavier.

"yes?" it comes out barely above a whisper.

you lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away. he doesn't. instead, he tilts forward like you're gravity and he's been in orbit too long, and when your lips finally meet, the small sound he makes goes straight through you.

the kiss is soft for maybe two seconds before Peter's hand comes up to cup your face and it turns desperate. he kisses like he's starving, like you're air and he's been underwater for years. his other hand finds your waist, gripping tight enough that you can feel the tremor in his fingers.

"sorry," he gasps against your mouth. "sorry, i just—"

"don’t apologize." you thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently. the noise he makes is almost pained.

"i’ve wanted—" he breaks off, kissing you again, harder. "god, i’ve wanted this for so long."

you end up in his lap somehow, textbooks scattering as he pulls you closer. Peter's hands are everywhere—your hips, your back, sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin. when you roll your hips experimentally, he actually whimpers.

"fuck," he breathes. "fuck, you can't—i’m trying to—"

"trying to what?" you do it again, feeling him harden beneath you.

his head falls back against the bed frame. "be good. go slow. not just—" his hips buck up involuntarily. "not just maul you like some kind of—oh fuck, are you taking off your shirt?"

you are, in fact, pulling your shirt over your head. "is that okay?"

Peter's eyes go wide and dark. "is that—are you seriously asking if—yeah. yeah, it’s okay. are you kidding?" he reaches for you with shaking hands, then stops himself. "i need you to tell me this is real."

"it’s real." you guide his hands to your waist. "i’m real. touch me, Peter."

he surges up to kiss you, lifting you and gently laying you back against the bed, he follows you down—his weight pressing you into the mattress. he’s kissing the spot behind your ear now, your neck, your jawline, your collarbone, working his way down with single-minded focus. all he can think about is you. you, you you you you.

"you’re so soft," he murmurs against your skin. "so fucking soft, i can't get enough. so soft, and smooth.”

his hands shake as he reaches for your bra clasp. it takes him two tries, and he laughs breathlessly against your shoulder. "sorry, i’m—it's been a while.”

your heart clenches. you know Peter has secrets—everyone does—but sometimes he lets things slip that make you wonder what he's been through. "we can slow down if you want."

"no." it comes out fierce. "no, i don't want slow. i want—" he drags his hands down your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "i want to touch every part of you. want to taste you. want to—fuck, i want so many things."

he gets your bra off and just stares for a moment, reverent. when’s the last time he’s seen tits up close? then he's ducking his head to take your nipple in his mouth, and the feeling shoots straight between your legs. his tongue works in circles while his hand palms your other breast, and you arch into him with a gasp.

"Peter—"

he’s grinding against your thigh now, seemingly unconscious of it, completely focused on mapping your body with his mouth. when he kisses down your stomach, just above your navel, your muscles jump under his lips.

"can i?" his fingers are on the button of your shorts. "please. pleasepleaseplease."

"yes." you lift your hips to help him, and he drags your shorts and underwear down in one motion like he can't wait another second.

Peter sits back on his heels, just looking, and the expression on his face makes you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world. "holy shit," he breathes. "you’re so—i can't believe you're letting me—fuck.”

"Peter." you reach for him. "come here."

but he shakes his head, lowering himself between your thighs instead. "i need to taste you first. i’ve been thinking about this for months—i felt like a pervert but.. i just couldn’t stop thinking about you. shit, baby.”

the first broad lick of his tongue through your folds makes you both moan. Peter grips your thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading you open obscenely as he buries his face between your legs like a man starving. there’s no technique to it at first, just raw desperate hunger—he's licking and sucking messily, his tongue exploring every fold, every inch of you like he needs to memorize the taste.

"oh my god," you manage, watching him devour you. watching his messy curls between your legs. “Peter, that's—fuuuuck!”

he moans against your cunt, the vibration making your legs shake. his tongue finds your clit and circles it sloppily before dipping lower, the tip of his tongue pushing into your entrance. "fuck," he gasps, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin already shiny with your arousal. "jesus, you're so wet. you’re dripping—all for me?” he dives back in, licking into you deeper, his nose pressed against your clit as he tries to fuck you with his tongue.

you can feel how soaked you are, can hear the obscene wet sounds as he works you over. Peter's completely lost in it, grinding his hard cock against the mattress as he eats you out like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. because you are. if he knew, he would’ve confessed long ago.

"you taste so fucking good," he mumbles against your pussy, words muffled and desperate. "could do this forever. could just live between your legs—fuck, you're getting wetter. fuck, honey."

he slides two fingers into you without warning, and you cry out at the stretch. your walls clench around the intrusion, and Peter whimpers at the feeling. "oh god, you're so tight. so fucking tight and warm. holy fuck.” he curls his fingers, searching, and when he finds that spot inside you, your back arches off the bed.

“there!" you gasp. "right there, Peter, don't stop—"

"here?" he does it again, his fingers pumping in and out while his mouth seals around your clit. he sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly, and the dual sensation has you climbing fast. you can see him grinding desperately against the mattress, seeking friction, his hips rolling in time with his fingers fucking into you.

"Peter, i’m gonna—"

"please," he begs against your clit, the word vibrating through you. "please cum for me, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my fingers, wanna taste you cumming on my tongue. please? will you cum for me, baby? please, i need it. i need you.”

his encouragements and the fullness combined with his mouth on your clit sends you over the edge. your orgasm crashes through you, and Peter moans like he's the one cumming as your walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. he works you through it, fingers still pumping, tongue still lapping at your clit until you're shaking and oversensitive and have to physically push his head away.

when he lifts his head, his face is a mess—lips swollen and shiny, chin glistening with your arousal, eyes absolutely blown black with lust. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever done," he says, voice completely wrecked. he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning at the taste. "you’re the hottest thing i’ve ever seen. i can’t—i need to be inside you right now or i’m gonna lose my mind."

you reach for his shirt with shaking hands. "off. please."

he strips so fast he nearly falls over, hopping on one foot as he shoves his jeans and boxers down. it’s almost comical, if you weren’t so desperate right now. when he's finally naked, you take a moment to appreciate him—lean muscle, the cut of his hipbones, his cock hard and flushed, curving up toward his stomach. the head is already leaking precum, and as you watch, another bead forms at the tip.

"come here," you say, and he practically lunges back onto the bed.

the first touch of skin on skin makes him shudder violently. "oh shit," he breathes, his cock sliding against your wet pussy. "ah fuck, you feel so good. jesus. your skin. fuckfuckfuck.”

your wrap your hand around him, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily, fucking into your fist. he’s hot and hard and silky in your palm, and when you stroke him once, experimentally, precum leaks over your fingers. the sound he makes is almost pained. he bites his lip so hard, you’re afraid he’ll break skin.

"i’m not gonna last," he warns, voice breaking. "i’m already so close, i’ve been so close just from tasting you, from feeling you cum on my face.”

"it’s okay." you guide him to your entrance, notching the head of his cock against your opening. you’re so wet that he slides through your folds easily. "i want you inside me. want to feel you cum inside me.”

Peter’s hand shakes as he reaches between you, gripping his cock to line himself up properly. "i don't—do you have a—"

"pill," you manage. "i’m on the pill. clean. are you—

"of course i am. i—i mean. yes.”

you’d normally never do this raw. but right now, all you care about is the way he's looking at you like you're everything, as he slowly pushes inside.

the stretch is intense—he's thick and the angle is deep and you're so sensitive from your first orgasm that every inch feels like too much and not enough all at once. you both groan as he sinks in, and you can feel your walls fluttering around him, trying to accommodate the intrusion.

"oh my god," Peter gasps, his whole body trembling. "oh my god, you're so tight, i can feel—fuck, i can feel everything—" his arms are shaking with the effort of going slow, his face buried in your neck. "you’re squeezing me so tight, oh, fuuuuck.”

when he's fully seated, buried to the hilt inside you, he stops, breathing hard against your skin. you can feel him pulsing inside you, can feel how close he already is. "need a second," he pants. "just need a second or i’m gonna cum right now.”

you run your hands down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he's holding himself perfectly still. "it’s okay. take your time."

"don’t want it to be over." he lifts his head to look at you, and his eyes are almost desperate, pupils blown so wide there's barely any brown left. "feels too good. you feel too good. like—like you were made for me, like your pussy was made to take my cock.”

you rock your hips slightly, and his eyes nearly roll back. "Peter, you can move. please move. i need you to fuck me."

he does, pulling out slowly—agonizingly slowly—and you can feel everything. every ridge, every vein, the way his cock drags against your walls, the way you're stretched around him. the sensation is so intense it makes your toes curl, makes you whimper at the loss of fullness.

"oh, fuck," Peter breathes, watching where you're joined, watching himself slide out of you. "you look so good taking my cock. so fucking good.”

then he slides back in, just as slowly, and you both moan at the same time. the sound he makes is broken, almost pained, like it feels too good to bear. his whole body shudders as he bottoms out again, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. he does it again, pulling out painfully slow—before sliding back in. the feeling is so perfect. yet, your body craves more. he sets a rhythm that's deep and steady, but you can feel him holding back, trying to maintain control, his jaw clenched with the effort.

"can’t—" he gasps. "can’t believe how good you feel. so tight and wet and warm. how are you so tight, baby? god.”

he sets a rhythm that's deep and steady, his cock plunging deep inside of your pussy, over and over. each thrust is deliberate, controlled, like he's trying to memorize every sensation. but you can see the effort it's taking him—his jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping, his arms trembling where they're braced on either side of you, sweat already beading on his forehead.

"ah—yes!" you encourage, running your hands up his back. "you feel so good inside me."

his hips stutter slightly at your words, the rhythm faltering for just a second before he regains control. "yeah? you like feeling me fuck you?"

"yes, pete! love it! love feeling you stretch me open—!”

"fuck—" his next thrust is slightly harder, slightly faster, and he immediately tries to slow down again. "sorry, sorry, i’m trying to—trying to go slow but you feel so fucking good.”

"let go," you tell him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "i want to feel you lose control. want you to fuck me like you've been dreaming about."

he groans as he feels your walls clench around him. “i’m sorry, honey. m’sorry. i’m too rough, aren’t i? m’so sorry.”

"don’t apologize." you roll your hips to meet his next thrust, and the angle makes him hit deeper. "want to feel you."

the pleasure is building steadily, a warm coil tightening in your belly with each stroke. Peter's breathing is getting heavier, his control visibly slipping. his thrusts are getting incrementally faster, harder, like his body is moving on instinct despite his attempts to hold back.

"you’re so—ah!—perfect," he pants against your neck, his hips snapping forward a little harder. "so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well—" another thrust, faster this time. "been dreaming about this, about being inside you, about feeling you on my cock.”

his rhythm is getting less controlled now, more erratic. you can feel him starting to lose it, his careful restraint crumbling with each thrust. he’s sweating more, his skin slick against yours, his breathing ragged and desperate.

"Peter—" you dig your nails into his back. "more. need more."

he shakes his head. “can’t—if i go harder i won't be able to stop—" but even as he says it, his hips are moving faster, driving into you with more force. "what are you doing to me? fuuuck, i can't—i’m trying to be gentle but you feel too good.”

“then don't be gentle." you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "want you to fuck me harder."

he makes a sound that's almost a whimper, his hips stuttering before he slams into you harder than before. "like that? you want it like that?"

"yes!—fuck, yes—"

his control is slipping faster now. each thrust is harder, faster, more desperate. he tries to slow down, you can feel him trying, but his body won't listen. his hips keep moving, keep driving into you with increasing intensity.

"can’t stop," he gasps, his voice breaking. "can’t fucking stop, you feel too good, your pussy is so tight—" he’s babbling now, his face pressed into the curve of your neck. "want to fuck you so hard, want to make you feel so good, want to hear you scream my name.”

"m’trying to—trying to hold back—" but his hips are moving faster, pounding into you with a force that makes the bed shake. "don’t want to hurt you—"

"you won't. please, Peter, i need it.”

his next thrust makes you both cry out. he’s completely losing it now, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic, his body taking over despite his attempts at control. you can feel him shaking, trembling with the effort of holding himself back even as his hips betray him.

"i’ll hurt you—i’m stronger than i look—“

"shut up, Peter." you pull him deeper with your legs, and the angle makes you both gasp. "stop—fucking—ah!, stop apologizing. i want all of you. want you to use me, fuck me as hard as you need.”

his eyes roll back at the depth and his fragile restraint snaps. he eyes go dark and feral, and suddenly he's pounding into you, his hips snapping against yours with force that would probably hurt if you weren't so turned on. the bed frame slams against the wall with each thrust, and Peter's completely gone, his filter destroyed.

"fuckfuck, shit, your pussy feels so good," he babbles against your neck, his voice broken and desperate. he reaches up, his hand palming your breast, squeezing the weight in his hand. his thumb circling over your nipple as he moans into your neck. "so tight and wet and perfect—can't believe i get to have this, have you. been wanting to fuck you for so long..” he changes the angle slightly and hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "there? can you feel me there? can you feel how deep i am?"

"yes!" you’re clinging to him, nails digging into his back. "Peter, oh my god!”

"shit—! wanted to bend you over the library table," he confesses, words tumbling out in a rush as he fucks into you relentlessly. "wanted to pull you into the bathroom at that party last month and fuck you against the sink. wanted to wake up with my face between your legs, wanted to fall asleep with my cock still inside you—" he’s rambling now, completely unfiltered, telling you every desperate fantasy as his hips piston. "used to jerk off thinking about this, about how you'd feel, how you'd sound, what your pussy would look like stretched around my cock.”

the world outside his dorm room falls away, all you can feel is his cock pumping in and out of you. you can barely think, he’s barely giving you time to think. all you can hear is his moans, your own desperate cries and the wet slap! of his skin against yours.

you can feel another orgasm building, the angle hitting perfectly with every brutal thrust. your walls are fluttering around him, and you know he can feel it because he moans and somehow speeds up even more. like he’s superhuman.

"Peter, i’m close—"

"i know, sweet girl. i can feel it." he reaches between you, his thumb finding your swollen clit. the touch is almost too much on your oversensitive flesh, but then he's rubbing tight circles and you're flying. "cum on my cock. please baby, need to feel it, need to feel your pussy cumming on my cock. just like you did on my fingers.”

tne combination of his thumb and the relentless thrust of his hips and his desperate words sends you over the edge. your second orgasm hits even harder than the first, your whole body seizing as pleasure whites out your vision. you clench around him rhythmically, and Peter makes a sound like he's been punched, his rhythm faltering.

“oh shit, shitshitshit, you're squeezing me so tight, i can't—i’m gonna cum—where? tell me where. please.”

"inside," you gasp, still riding the waves. "cum inside me, Peter, want to feel it.”

he buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a broken moan of your name.

you can feel it immediately—the first hot pulse of cum flooding into you, but it doesn't stop. it keeps coming, wave after wave, his cock jerking violently inside you as he empties himself. there’s so much—more than should be possible—each pulse filling you fuller, the warmth spreading deep inside as he shakes apart above you.

"oh god, oh god.” his voice is completely destroyed, words slurring together as another massive wave hits him. "i’m sorry, baby. i know it’s a lot—fuuuuck. imsorryimsorryimsorry.”

another pulse, his hips jerking involuntarily, grinding deeper like he's trying to fuck his cum even further inside you.

his arms are shaking so badly he can barely hold himself up. you can see tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming intensity, his face twisted in almost painful pleasure.

when his orgasm finally, finally starts to subside, he collapses on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress because he literally cannot hold himself up anymore. he’s shaking like a leaf, gasping against your neck, and you can feel the obscene amount of cum leaking out of you.

"holy shit," he finally says, voice absolutely destroyed. "that was—i mean, i knew it would be good, but that was—i think i saw the heavens. god, i feel like i’m gonna pass out.”

"that was so hot," you manage, because words are hard right now and your limbs feel like jelly.

he lifts his head to look at you, and his expression is soft and wondering and a little hungry. "i love you," he says. "i know that's probably too soon to say, and we should probably talk about what this means, but i love you. i’ve been in love with you for months, maybe longer, and i thought i’d never get over—someone else—but then you smiled at me in the dining hall freshman year and i just.. i don’t know. you definitely don’t have to say it back, because i sound insane, but i just want you to know that—“

you kiss him, cutting off the ramble. "i know. i think i love you too.”

his answering smile is bright enough to power the sun. "yeah?"

"yeah.”

he kisses you again, soft and sweet this time, and you can feel him starting to harden inside you again, his cock thickening and lengthening where it's still buried in your pussy.

"Peter," you say, mock-stern even as your body responds.

he grins, sheepish and hungry all at once, and rolls his hips experimentally. the slide is easy, slick with cum and arousal. "i have months to make up for. hope you didn't have plans tomorrow."

you definitely don't have plans. and when he starts moving again—slow and deep and perfect, his cum making obscene wet sounds as he fucks it back into you—you can't think of anywhere else you'd rather be than here, in his messy dorm room, with the boy who's been touch-starved for too long finally letting himself feel everything.

the Organic Chemistry homework can wait.

every year the bellinghams always outdid themselves with christmas, from a gingerbread contest to a sledding fiesta you wondered what they might’ve done this year. jude told you to “expect the unexpected” which was quite reasonable considering how sneaky his parents were.

now, standing on the doorstep with your beloved glazed-ham which jobe always raved about, the scent of chimney smoke lingered in the cold december air. warm lights glowed behind frosted windows, and muffled laughter seeped through the front door. you balanced the heavy plate in one hand while the other pressed the doorbell,

as soon as the bell rung jude scrambled all over the place, nagging jobe to watch the mac & cheese in the oven.

the door flung open.

he looked as though he’d sprinted the entire length of the house just to be the one to greet you. a pastel pink apron was tied somewhat crookedly around his waist, flour dusted across one sleeve of his jumper, and a wooden spoon was still clutched loosely in one hand. his hair was slightly messier than usual, as if someone had run their fingers through them one too many times while cooking.

for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

his cheeks coloured slowly the same shade as the apron. “don’t laugh.” he muttered, already smiling despite himself.

a laugh slipped free as your eyes wandered ridiculously over the sight of your boyfriend in front of you. “mac & cheese requires a lot of work i see.”

jude groaned, the embarrassing grin only widening. “you’ll love my recipe, it’s one of a kind!”

without another word, he stepped aside, one hand holding the door open while the other instinctively reached for yours the second you crossed the threshold.

warmth wrapped around you instantly.

the house smelled like cinnamon, roasted vegetables and fresh bread, with christmas music humming softly somewhere in the background. fairy lights curled around the staircase banister, stockings hung neatly above the fireplace, and a decorated tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments catching every flicker of light.

“you made it!” his mum smiled warmly from the kitchen before pulling you into a hug that somehow erased half your nerves.

his dad greeted you with an easy smile, already insisting you make yourself comfortable, while jobe wandered over moments later wearing an amused expression.

the entire afternoon drifted by effortlessly. helping carry bowls to the table. laughing whenever jude accidentally burnt another batch of yorkshire puddings despite insisting he had everything under control. watching his mum tease him every single time he hovered a little too close to you.

every so often, your eyes would meet across the kitchen.

he’d smile. you’d smile back.

by the time dinner was served, every seat around the table had been filled. his mum sat at one end, proudly carving the roast while his dad reached for the gravy. jobe was midway through another story that had everyone laughing, except jude.

he wasn’t really listening.

because he was looking at you.

you sat opposite him, illuminated by the warm glow of candles and the twinkling lights from the tree just beyond the dining room doorway.

every now and then he’d glance away whenever someone caught him staring.

it never lasted long.

underneath the table, hidden by the tablecloth and entirely unnoticed by everyone else, you slipped your foot out of your heel, gently grazing it across jude’s leg. jude’s eyes shot up at you while you purposely busied yourself by cutting a potato on your plate.

yet the corners of your mouth still betrayed you.

your foot continued to move upwards all the way to his crotch, by then he was rock hard. jude adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat as he stared at you warningly. you ignored his glare and kept rubbing your foot against the bulge in his pants, your pace roughened and accelerated just enough for jude to drop his head back. he played off the sudden gesture by stretching his arms out, groaning exaggeratedly.

with every manoeuvre it drew another low groan from the boy, and every abrupt halt earned a relieved sigh.

once, when his dad asked him a question, he answered entirely the wrong thing because he’d been too distracted by your foot resting against his clothed boner.

“earth to jude?” jobe laughed

“hm?”

“dad asked how madrid is goin”

jude flapped his lips, rubbing the back of his neck at the sudden spotlight. “same old y’know, uhm—“ he cleared his throat, signalling you to get your foot off him, instead it only urged you to grind yourself faster.

“you okay, jude?” his mum asked, suspicious of his relentless shuffling.

“your mac & cheese giving you the jitters?” you teased, knowing that you were the reason why he was becoming so stutter-y.

“i’m fine. i’m— just happy that y/n is here!” the families gaze shifted to you, where you just smiled softly. “thank you guys for having me again.” you thanked shyly, hoping they would avert the conversation so they don’t notice how shakey your were too.

by the time the last plates had been cleared and the conversation had dissolved into the familiar post-dinner haze, the house seemed to settle into a quieter rhythm. his mum disappeared into the kitchen, refusing all offers of help. his dad switched the television on in the living room, already half-asleep before the opening credits of some christmas film had finished rolling.

jobe stretched dramatically from the sofa. “i’m raiding the dessert.”

“save some for everyone else” his mum called from the kitchen.

“no promises.”

jude caught your eye from across the room. with the smallest tilt of his head towards the staircase, he silently demanded you to go upstairs.

you smiled before quietly following him. the sounds of laughter downstairs softened with every step until they became nothing more than a comforting murmur beneath the floorboards.

his bedroom door clicked shut behind you.

it was exactly as you’d imagined—tidy enough to suggest someone had cleaned it in a hurry that morning. football boots sat neatly beneath a chair, medals hung from a hook beside the wardrobe, and fairy lights had been lazily draped along the headboard, casting a warm amber glow over the room.

jude leaned back against the closed door, jaw tight as he faced you.

“what was that?”

you frowned. “what?”

his brows pulled together, “you know exactly what i’m talking about.” he let out a frustrated breath, taking your wrists and pulling you close to his chest.

“get on your knees”

you didn’t hesitate, you dropped to your knees so fast it was almost comical. the sight of you like that—waiting and obedient—only made jude’s cock twitch in anticipation. jude scrambled, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling his dick out. you stared wide-eyed, pussy already aching for him but he couldn’t resist teasing you for a bit.

“you want it?” jude asked, stroking his dick letting you observe the way his thumb smeared the pre all over his tip.

you nodded, “please jude”

“please what?” jude asked, already knowing the answer.

“let me suck it.”

jude groaned, fisting his cock and stepping closer till the tip brushed your bottom lip. “open up”

you did, and the second your mouth wrapped around his dick, he groaned, his hips jerking forward without thinking. you took jude deep, your throat relaxing around the head, and he tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth. you gagged a little, tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, your tongue swirling around the underside of jude’s cock.

“fuck. . just like that” jude panted, grip tightening in your hair. “take it all like a good fuckin’ girl.”

you did. every inch. until your nose pressed against his groin and your throat worked around him, swallowing around the tip. jude couldn’t hold back any longer—he pulled out with a wet pop and yanked you up by your arms, spinning you around so your hands flattened against the door.

“bend over,” he commanded, voice rough with need. “ass out.”

jude shoved you against the wall. his hand slid under the hem of that shirt, fingers brushing your bare hip before gripping your ass. you arched your back, your tits pressing against the wood as you stuck your ass out for him. he didn’t waste time. he kicked your legs wider, lined himself up, and in one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you.

you cried out, your fingers curling into fists against the door. “jude—fuck—”

he didn’t let you finish. jude pulled back and slammed into you again, harder this time, balls slapping against your clit with every stroke. you were so wet, so tight, and the way your pussy clenched around him made his vision blur.

“you like that?” jude grunted, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “like it when i fuck you hard?”

you moaned, pushing back into him, trying to take him deeper. “yes fuck!”

jude reached around, his fingers finding your clit, and he rubbed tight, rough circles as he pounded into you. the door rattled with every thrust, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. you were close—he could feel it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your breath came in ragged gasps.

“cum for me,” he demanded, voice a growl. “cum on my cock.”that was all it took. jude brought a palm to your mouth, muffling your orgasmic screams as your back arched, your orgasm ripping through you, your pussy clenching around him so tight he couldn’t hold back. with a groan, he buried myself to the hilt and came, filling you up with thick, hot bursts until he was spent.

he collapsed against your back, chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside you. “fuck,” he muttered against your shoulder, nipping at your skin. “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

he chuckled, pulling out slowly and spinning you around to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. “let’s get you cleaned up” he murmured against your mouth. you nod, taking the folded gym cloth on his bed into your grip. you wiped his cum trickling down your thigh before slipping into your velvet dress.

jude watched with intent, “your so beautiful” he peppered kisses all over your collar bone before jude opened the bedroom door, waiting a second before stepping into the hallway. you followed a pace behind him, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs.

the smell of melted chocolate and cinnamon drifted up from the kitchen. voices followed shortly after.

his mum stood by the kitchen island, dish towel slung over one shoulder. jobe, halfway through stealing another mince pie, slowly lowered it back onto the plate with the grin of someone who’d just been handed ammunition.

“there they are.” jobe laughed

jude sighed.

“jude. honey. you need to remember that these walls are like paper.” you and jude stood frozen at the words of his mum.

"pleasure to meet you," he murmured, his deep voice carrying a soft, deliberate warmth. you could’ve melted on the spot.

djed stepped in right after, his smile sharp and playful as he took your hand next, his thumb gently grazing the back of your knuckles. "yeah, real pleasure."

your mind went to how good he would sound uttering your name in bed, as you ran your fingers through his ginger locs.

a soft flush crept up your neck, but you somehow managed to maintain your composure while introducing yourself. "welcome to the states. ready to get started?" you asked, taking your seat across from the two boys.

throughout the interview, the professional dynamic quickly melted into a competition for your attention. every time you asked jude a question about england’s midfield strategy for the world cup, his answers were directed straight to your eyes, his gaze heavy and focused.

"we're just staying focused on the objective," jude said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "but being in the us has its perks. the scenery is definitely top tier." his eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

you tried your hardest to keep your breathing even as you seen the two sets of eyes on you.

"so, outside of training," you asked, crossing one leg over the other and resting your hand on your thigh, "what have you guys enjoyed the most since landing in the states?"

"we went to our first baseball game," djed added, chuckling softly. "the vibe was crazy. still trying to figure out all the rules, but i loved it."

"you spent half the game asking me what a strikeout was," jude chimed in, rolling his eyes playfully before turning his attention back to you. "as for me, it's just been the overall culture and warmth. people here make you feel welcome straight away." he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping a notch, smooth and warm. "makes you want to extend the stay, really."

you nodded, leaning forward as you asked the next question. "when you're out there on the field, with thousands of people screaming and the entire world watching... what's actually going through your minds in those key moments?"

"well, when we score, you get about ten seconds to enjoy it then it’s immediately back to business," jude said, his tone shifting into that natural intensity he carried on the pitch. "the adrenaline is unbelievable. but there’s nothing else like it."

djed nodded along, leaning his chin on his palm as he looked between jude and you. "yeah, he's spot on. that ten seconds feels like complete slow motion. total high. but you have to flip the switch right back to focus."

"must take incredible discipline," you observed, glancing up from your notes with an appreciative smile.

you pivoted slightly toward djed, lowering your cards to give him your full focus. "djed, this is your first england senior tournament, and you're stepping straight into a semi-final. how are you feeling about your debut?"

djed sat up a bit straighter, the effortless charm softening into a grounded, genuine expression.

"yeah, i feel good," he answered, his voice earnest as his gaze stayed locked on yours. "i’m just blessed to be here. ready to make history."

"with that mindset, i don't think anyone doubts you," you said, smiling softly. "you're both jamaican, right?"

djed grinned instantly, nodding his head with a proud, smooth confidence. "that's where all the speed comes from, trust me."

jude let out a soft laugh, leaning back and shaking his head at djed’s quick boast. "yeah," jude confirmed, his deep voice carrying that calm, magnetic warmth as his eyes stayed locked on yours. "it's in the culture. the energy, the competitive side... it all comes from home."

"so, do the two of you see the edits on social media?" you asked, switching the conversation to something more light.

djed threw his head back, letting out a rich, chest-deep laugh that echoed in the quiet room. "every single one," he admitted without a single drop of shame, his dimples on full display as he looked at you. "my mates send them to the group chat constantly. you literally can't escape them."

jude, however, didn't laugh. instead, he leaned a bit closer, l he tilted his head, his dark eyes heavily hooded and intensely focused on your face as a slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"do you see them?" jude asked, his voice dropping into a low, smooth register that sent a sudden thrill right down your spine.

the question hung in the air, shifting the dynamic instantly. djed raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning highly observant as he shifted his stance, waiting for your answer. sitting across two towering, sexy as fuck athletes, the temperature in the room felt like it had spiked by ten degrees.

you cleared your throat, fighting the warm flush rising in your cheeks. "i'm a journalist," you replied, keeping your chin lifted in an attempt to maintain your professional composure. "it's literally my job to stay updated on trending media surrounding the players i interview."

"right. strictly professional research," jude murmured, his smirk widening into a full, devastating grin. "so, strictly professional... which ones are your favorites? the ones of me in the champions league, or..."

"or the ones of me from training?" djed seamlessly cut in, leaning forward from his side. "with the slow-down r&b songs?"

you couldn't stop the soft laugh that escaped you, shaking your head at their relentless confidence. "you two are impossible."

"we're just thorough," jude corrected smoothly, his gaze flickering down to your lips before locking back onto your eyes with that quiet intensity. "we just want to make sure your research is accurate."

“whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

you adjusted the cue cards in your hands, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you asked the next question. "okay, next one... who is the most famous person in your phone that you could facetime right now?"

jude opened his mouth to answer, but djed didn't hesitate for a single second.

"well, after this, it’ll be you," djed said, his voice smooth as velvet, his brown eyes fixed entirely on you.

the response was so fast and slick that jude burst out laughing, throwing his head back before turning to djed. jude grinned, raising a hand as the two of them dapped each other up, the sheer confidence of the move making even the production crew behind the cameras chuckle.

you instantly brought the cue cards up to cover the lower half of your face, shaking your head as a deep, undeniable blush rushed straight to your cheeks.

"okay, last question," you said, lowering the cards and catching your breath. "hypothetically, if the team was to do a hundred-meter race to finally determine who was the fastest, who would you guys put on the lineup?"

jude spoke first, leaning forward with a light chuckle. "oh man, djed for sure… rashy… ant."

"noni maybe," djed added smoothly, his voice low and confident.

"but the real question is, what place are you coming in?" you asked, turning your attention back to djed.

the two of you locked eyes as he relaxed back on the couch, stretching his long legs. "what do you think?"

"from what i’ve seen this tournament, you’ve been going crazy," you said, a genuine smile breaking across your face as you met his steady gaze.

"yeah, but what do you think?" he pushed playfully, his dimples showing as he kept his eyes pinned to yours.

"i'm putting my money on spence," you said.

djed’s smile widened, and without breaking eye contact, he reached out and took your hand in his, his fingers warm and gentle against yours.

"smart woman," he whispered softly.

jude watched the exchange from beside him, crossing his arms and resting his chin in his hand. a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes flicked between djed's hand wrapping around yours and the quiet blush creeping back onto your face.

“what?” he pushes up on one elbow, his hand already hovering over your hip like he’s afraid to touch you. “what happened? did i—”

you shake your head, breath shallow and weak. “not you. just—” another wave rolls through your, and you press your palm flat against your stomach, as if pressure might hold it back. “cramps, sometimes this happens.”

“sometimes?” his voice cracks upward. he’s sitting up now, sheets pooling at his waist, scanning your face like he’s missed something. “this is normal?”

you manage a thin laugh. “for me, yeah.” but you’re wincing as you says it, and jude’s expression crumples into something distraught.

he moves then, suddenly, yanking the blanket up around your shoulders before he’s even fully unraveled himself. “heating pad,” he mutters, already reaching for his discarded sweatpants. “do you have one? where—”

“bathroom cabinet, under the sink.” you watch him stumble slightly pulling on his pants, his usual silliness abandoned in a rush of importance. the door clicks shut behind him, and you let yourself fold forward, forehead to knees, riding out the next cramp in the momentary quietness.

he returns with the heating pad clutched in both hands, its cord trailing behind him. he’d found your lotion too, you notice, set carefully on the nightstand, and a glass of water accompanying it.

“here.” he plugs it in with steady fingers, tests the temperature against his wrist twice before settling it against your abdomen. the warmth seeps in slowly, and you exhale.

jude doesn’t relax. he sits on the edge of the bed, spine stiff, watching your face like he’s waiting for you to confirm he’s to be blamed.

“jude.” you reach for his hand, finding it cold despite the room’s warmth. “this isn’t your fault.”

“i hurt you.”

“you didn’t.” you tugs until he lies down beside your, until you can fit yourself against his chest and feel his heartbeat still pounding against his ribs. “my body just… does this. it’s annoying, but, not dangerous.”

he doesn’t answer immediately. his arm tightens around your shoulders, his chin pressing to the top of your head. when he speaks again, his voice is rough. “tell me what you need, yeah?”

“just this, judy. thank you.”

you feel michael’s body pressing down on yours, his hips thrusting deep and steady, filling you completely with each roll.

the room is thick with heat and your mixed moans, his hair swinging loose as he leans over you.

those long twists keep brushing across your face, tickling your nose, your cheeks, your lips, and even your eyes, making you squirm underneath him even as pleasure builds.

“michael... fuck– your hair,” you gasp between thrusts, trying to turn your head away but failing as another dread drags lightly over your eyes.

it keeps happening, soft and annoying, pulling you out of the rhythm. “tie them, it’s tickling me so much.”

he chuckles low, not slowing down, his breath hot against your neck.

“sorry baby, i got you,” he murmurs, but the next deep push makes his locks spill forward again, one curling right into your mouth.

you sputter and push at his chest.

“michael olise i swear if you don’t do something about your fucking hair i’m gonna lose it,” you snap mid-moan, irritated, clenching around him as he hits that perfect spot.

he groans at the squeeze but you reach up, grabbing a fistful of his twists.

“come here.” you sit up just enough, still connected, bodies slick and moving together.

he lets you guide him, amused and turned on by your bossy tone. you quickly gather his locks, twisting them back and tying them into a ponytail with the hair tie from your wrist.

“there,” you say, pulling him back down on top of you. “now fuck me properly without tickling me to death.”

michael grins wide and slams into you harder, the new angle making you cry out. “yes ma’am,” he breathes, lips crashing onto yours as the pace turns relentless again with no more distractions.

@ priscillaaa : girlieee who's dat boy over there??? 👀👀

⤷ @ notyourangel : he’s a bit shy >_<❣️

⤷ @ kittycat : but you aren't go on drop the name bb

⤷ @ louise.mp4 : oohh someone's in love 🩷

@ fashionglow : all girl bosses should have a yearner to lay their heads on

⤷ @ vannet : where can I get mine? 😭

⤷ @ bialovergirl : manifesting this fr 🙏🏾

⤷ @ models_archive : euro summer + hot guy yep she's living the dream

@ aesthetic_life : manifesting this aesthetic for my life all year round

⤷ @ babydoll : work your ass off girl or marry some rich guy

⤷ @ bibisbia : why not both 💅🏻✨️

@ m.olise : ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

⤷ @ bayern_zone : olise what are u doing here bro????

⤷ @ footballgirls : oohh we see you mr. nonchalant 🩷

⤷ @ oliselover : ugh fr?? I thought those where just rumors guys 😭💔

⤷ @ bibisbia : ffs shut up already

@ olisefanpage : MICHAEL OLISE AND PDA ON THE SAME SENTENCE??? Y/N WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM I'M SO PROUD OF YOU GIRL

@ model.updates : Y/N pulled the most unbothered guy in football and now he’s out here dropping flame emojis on her main and holding her waist like the power she holds is insane 😭🤌🏻

@ premier_tweets : michael who used to gatekeep his entire life now is out there clinging to his girl like she's the only thing in the world dudes so down bad 👀 respect for a man in love

@ pop_culture_girl : THE HAND PLACEMENT!!!! like man chill no one is gonna take her away from you, only you get to pull such a baddie

@ oficial.angel : and she said he's shy 😒 michael dear get in the line, there's a whole lotta people here who loved your girl wayyy before you 😋🎀 anyway cutest couple ever honestly I'm obsessed

@ pop_culture_girl : ON MY KNEES IT'S NOT A DRILL GUYS MICHAEL OLISE IS SO IN LOVE 😭😭😭 and I am so single this is not fair but anyway we ball

@ footballgirls : Y/N we know you have a full album on your camera roll with pics of this date 👀✨️🎀

@ bibisbia : STOP PRETENDING TO BE SHY AND DROP THE HARD LAUNCH ALREADY I'M GOING CRAZY HERE

@ vannet : olise holding her hand olise whispering in her ear olise feeding her pasta 😭✨️ Y/N pleeeeease give us the unreleased camera roll I am BEGGING

@ model.updates : aahhh stop gatekeping!!!!! need the official dump like asap, I just know her aesthetic photos of him go crazy

@ lukeluked : LOCKED IN ON WHAT???? BRO REALLY THOUGHT WE WOULDN’T NOTICE LMAOOO

⤷ @ football_daily : bro tried to sneak a soft launch into his pre-season dump like he isn't trending on twitter 💀

⤷ @ bayern_zone : mr nonchalant hiding a whole supermodel in his pics like no big deal 😶‍🌫️

@ mrunbothered : bro was faster than his girl this time 😂 the crop isn't hiding anything tho we know that's Y/N's hand 😭🔍

@ premier_tweets : he really posted seven photos of pure aura and then dropped a blurry picture of his girl and called it a day

@ notyourangel : nice jersey

⤷ @ m.olise : [ @ notyourangel ] give it back then

⤷ @ notyourangel : [ @ m.olise ] no <3

⤷ @ kittycat : THEY ARE FLIRTING IN INSTAGRAM COMMENTS I AM SCREAMING

⤷ @ bialovergirl : "give it back then" OH HE IS GONE GONE 🫠

⤷ @ priscillaaa : why are they so cute 😭 drop the hard launch already

@ m.olise : 🤝🏾 ❤️

⤷ @ veronicas2 : BFR OLISE NOT THE HANDSHAKE EMOJI 💀

⤷ @ kittycat : bro is incapable of being normal on instagram and we love him for that

⤷ @ notyourangel : [ @ m.olise ] stop trying to look cool and leave a decent comment on my pic

⤷ @ m.olise : [ @ notyourangel ] fine MA cherie MA princesse MA puce MY gorgeous queen MY baby MY angel the love of MY life better now?

⤷ @ notyourangel : [ @ m.olise ] not really what I expected but sure mon cœur 🥰❣️ love ya too

@ fashionglow : WE WON GUYS WE FINALLY GOT THE FULL LAUNCH 🥹✨

⤷ @ aesthetic_feed : the hard launch of the century honestly you guys look so ridiculously gorgeous together

⤷ @ vannet : i'm crying she deserves this fairytale so much my girl 😭❣️

⤷ kylianmycaptain : does this mean we might see kylian and ester on a double date with michael and Y/N 👀👀

@ premier_tweets : he really went from "he's a bit shy" to insta boyfriend in less than a week 🤌🏽 the power of a good woman!!

⤷ @ priscillaaa : since the word is already out, olise we're waiting for you to take Y/N to a match day and kiss her in front of everyone 🤭

“Again. And again. And here the same. And on this one too.”

“What are you murmuring over there?” Michael asks me as he joins me by the pool at the house where we are spending a few days before he has to go back to training.

“Nothing.”

“Then you were just talking to yourself?” he chuckles.

“Yes.”

“Ok” he says, putting on his sunglasses and laying down on the hammock next to me, ready to take a nap. “Are you sure everything is alright?” he asks me after a few minutes. “Because I can still hear you.”

“I'm fine.”

“No. You are not. What is it? What happened?” he says, sitting up.

“You, Michael. That's what happened.”

“Me? What did I do? Is this because I forgot to make a reservation for dinner last night? You said…”

“I know what I said, and no, it isn't because of that.”

“Then what have I done for you to be so pissed at me?”

“Have you seen the pics from our holidays with our friends? The ones they've been sharing on the group chat?” I ask him.

“Some of them” he says.

“And have you looked at yourself in them? At the way you look in them?”

“No, not really. Is there something wrong with me?” he says.

“That you are looking away in all of them, Michael!”

“That I'm… What?”

“You are looking away from the camera in every single photo, Michael. As if you didn't want to be there. As if you gave a shit about us. As if…”

“As if?”

“As if the character had gotten to you.”

“The character?” he says with a confused look.

“Mr. Nonchalant!” I say. 

“What?” he laughs.

“You say that you don't care about people calling you that, that it doesn't bother you that they see your shyness as you not having a care in the world, but it looks as if it does bother you. As if you actually like that persona better than who you truly are because it is what people online like about you and praise you for, and now you've started to act like that around those closest to you too. Around your friends and family. Around me.”

“What are you talking about? I haven't been acting in any way! I have been the same I always have! I am myself!” 

“Then how do you explain this, uh?” I say, grabbing my phone and sitting down next to him. “We are taking a group photo, everyone smiling at the camera, and you are looking the other way.”

“Are you seriously acting like this because of one photo?”

“It isn't just one photo, Michael! It's basically all of them! Like this one with the boys. They all are looking at the camera, but you are looking somewhere else. Or this selfie you took with one of them. He is looking at the camera, and you are looking at God knows what. Even in the photos we took together you are looking at me instead of at the camera!”

“I…”

“I think the only photos I have of you actually looking at the camera are the ones I took of you” I say. “But of us together? With our friends? Nothing. There isn't a single photo like that. And I wanted at least one, Michael. One I could print and have somewhere in the house so I could look at it and smile while remembering this trip. The memories we've made” I say, not being able to contain my tears anymore. “Because this probably has been our last trip with everyone the way we are now, you know? Soon we all will start getting married, having kids, and it won't be the same. And now I am not going to be able to remember it as I wanted to because you've let the internet get to your head and… where are you going?” I say when he gets up from the hammock.

“To find my phone.”

“To… what?” I say, furiously wiping away my tears. “Do you think this is the right moment for that?”

“It is, because I want to show you something. So please wait here.”

“I…”

“Please” Michael says. 

“Fine” I reply. “But it better be worth it.”

“It will” he says before running inside the house. 

“Did your run leave you hungry?” I ask him when he comes back with his phone and a chocolate bar. 

“No. This is for you” he says, sitting down next to me again. “I know chocolate always makes you feel better when you've been crying.”

“Bribing me isn't going to make me forgive you, you know?”

“I'm not bribing you” Michael says. “I just care about you.”

“Sure” I snort.

“I do. I care about you. I love you. I love you more than anything” he says. “And that's why I'm looking away in all those photos.”

“What?” I say, now my turn to look confused.

“Like I told you earlier, I have checked some of those photos because some of the guys have sent them to me to tease me about it. Like here” he says, showing me the group photo I had shown him earlier and the comment his friend had written.

“Look at you, bro. She's standing on the other side of the group and you still can't take your eyes from her” I read. “You were looking at me?”

“I was. Same here” he says, showing me another photo with his friends where he is also looking away, and the comments they had written.

“Another one where Michael is looking away? She was around, wasn't she? 🙄”

“The girls were also taking some pics when we took this one. So he obviously only had eyes for her, yes 🙄”

“They, and especially her, are more interesting than you 🤷🏿‍♂️” Michael had replied.

And there were more comments like those. More photos of him looking away and the boys saying if it was because I was around. 

“Look at him. He is looking at her like this 😍”

“And she was just tying up her shoes 🙄😂”

“Mr. Nonchalant leaves the house when she's around 😂” 

“Mr. Nonchalant becomes Mr. Lover boy 😍”

“This, is what was going on in all those photos from our trip” Michael says after showing me a few more and the comments his friends had made. How they were constantly teasing him about it. How they had been doing it even before our trip. “That I can't keep my eyes from you. That I can't stop looking at you if we are in the same room. In the same space. It's like I'm drawn to you, you know? I can't help it. Even when we are posing together like in one of those photos you showed me, I can't stop looking at you. You've bewitched me body and soul.”

“Michael, did you just quote “Pride and Prejudice”?” I laugh. 

“Oh, so that's where it is from” he chuckles. “I saw it online once and it stuck with me because that's how I feel. That's what I feel for you. How much I love you. And I'm sorry if it has ruined your memories from the trip. I know it was a very special one for you and…”

“It's ok, Michael” I say, caressing his cheek.

“Is it? Because I've hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

“It is” I say again. “Now it all makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“It does” I nod. “Not only during this trip, but before too. It was just you being smitten with me” I smile.

“I’m not smitten with you” he says. “I am completely and madly in love with you.”

“Aww, Michael” I say. “I love you too. And I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. For getting so angry because of a bunch of photos.”

“Well, it was a very special trip for you” he says.  

“It was. And now you've made it even more special.”

“Have I?”

“You have” I say. “Because now, every time I check one of those photos, I will remember the good time we all had, but also how much you love me” I smile.

“Very much. I love you very much.”

“I love you too, Michael” I say. “So much, that I'm willing to share this chocolate bar with you.”

“Wait. Really?” he says with a fake gasp. 

“Yes. Really” I say, playfully elbowing him in the ribs and making us both laugh. “I love you, Michael.”

@footballgossip on twitter:

looks like michael is having a lot of fun in the turks and caicos after the world cup 😂

you were lying on your bed, scrolling through twitter when the video popped up on that football gossip account. the clip was short but really clear: michael sat on the edge of a yacht under the bright sun, shirtless, drink in hand while a girl in a thong rolled her hips and bounced against him. you watched it once then again as something cold settled in your chest.

you and michael had been nothing more than an arrangement for almost a year now, just late night calls when he wanted you, quick meetups at his place after training or matches, no labels and no expectations beyond the sex.

you had never asked for more and he had never offered it. still, seeing him like that, so open and relaxed with strangers while you sat alone here stung more than you wanted to admit, but you just locked your phone and stayed quiet.

almost two weeks after michael had come back to munich, he showed up at your door one evening without warning.

the intercom buzzed and when you opened it he was already stepping inside, still carrying the leftover tan from the caribbean.

“hey,” he said as he reached for you right away, hands sliding to your waist like always. “missed this.”

you turned your head just enough so his mouth only brushed your cheek. he frowned a little confused, and tried again but this time you stepped back fully, putting space between you.

“so, who twerks better on you?” you asked. “me or the girl from the video?”

michael blinked. “what?”

“the one on the yacht, bouncing on your lap. who does it better, her or me?”

he let out a short laugh embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “come on, you’re serious?”

“i’m asking.”

“you, obviously,” he said, still trying to close the distance. “you know it’s you. that was just holiday stuff. nothing.”

“nothing?” you repeated. “so she was just nothing?”

“yeah. you’re the one i come back to.” he reached for you again. “now can i kiss you or what?”

you let him get close enough that his breath touched your lips then ducked under his arm and walked toward the couch.

“sit.”

he followed, still smiling like he thought this was some kind of game. “you’re being weird tonight.”

“sit down.”

he sat and you stayed standing in front of him, looking down then you dropped to your knees between his legs. his eyes widened a little when your hands went straight to his belt without even a word.

“okay,” he breathed, already shifting his hips to help. “this is more like it.”

you pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough, wrapped your fingers around him and gave a slow stroke.

he was already half hard from the tension so you leaned in and took him into your mouth without another word, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down.

“fuck,” he muttered, one hand automatically going to your hair. “yeah… just like that.”

you worked him, taking him deeper each time until your lips met your fist. every time he started to thrust up you slowed, controlling the pace completely while his breathing got heavier.

“shit, you’re good at this,” he said, voice rough.

you hummed around him and he groaned. you kept going, sucking harder and twisting your hand on the upstroke until his thighs tensed under your free hand.

“i’m close,” his fingers thightened in your hair. “don’t sto–”

you pulled off immediately, leaving him wet and throbbing in the open air. he made a frustrated sound, hips jerking once.

“what the hell?”

you looked up at him. “not yet.”

“you can’t just–”

you took him back into your mouth before he finished his sentence, faster and messier this time, the wet sounds filling the air.

his head dropped back against the couch. “okay, fuck yes... i missed you... i’m gonna com–,” you felt his thighs tightened.

you pulled off again, lips shiny, hand still loosely wrapped around the base but not moving.

michael stared down at you, chest rising and falling hard. “are you serious?”

you didn’t answer, just waiting until the urgency faded a little from his expression then leaned in and started over, slow and deep again, pushing him right back to the edge and stopping the second the words “i'm coming” left his mouth.

he was breathing through his teeth by the third time, voice lower, almost pleading without meaning to.

“please… just let me… fuck, your mouth feels so good, don’t stop again yn–”

you stopped anyway and stood up, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and pushed him back against the couch cushions.

michael watched you with frustrated eyes as you stripped out of your clothes without hurry then climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

you reached down, lined him up and sank onto him in one slow motion until he was buried all the way inside you.

“fuck...” he breathed, hands gripping your hips.

you started moving, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm, taking him deep every time. his head tipped back against the couch.

“never try to replace me again,” you said while you rode him. “not with some girl on a yacht. not with anyone.”

“i wasn’t–” he started, but the words cut off when you clenched around him and ground down harder.

“you were,” you answered. “and you’re never going to do it again.”

“i won’t,” he groaned, eyes closed. “i won’t, i swear–”

you kept the pace controlled, making sure every stroke dragged against him just right. his fingers dug into your thighs.

“i’m close again,” he warned after a few minutes, voice strained. “yn, i can’t–”

you stopped completely, sitting still on him with him fully inside. he made a broken sound and tried to thrust up but you pinned his hips down with your weight.

“not yet.”

“please,” he muttered. “just a little more...”

you waited until the tension in his body eased then started moving again, slower this time, almost lazy watching his face the whole way.

every time his breathing changed and his stomach tightened you stopped dead, holding him there while he cursed under his breath and begged without quite meaning to.

“yn, please… i need to come, i can’t keep–”

“yes you can,” you said starting over.

you edged him like that until his voice was rough and his hands were shaking on your waist. only then did you pick up the pace for real, riding him hard and deep, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

“i’m– fuck, i’m coming–” he said for what it seems the hundred time but this time it was the right one.

he spilled inside you with a broken groan, hips jerking up as far as you would let him but you didn’t stop. you kept moving through it, grinding down on him while he twitched and gasped, oversensitive.

“too much–” he managed, trying to still your hips.

you kept riding him, slow but relentless, feeling every aftershock run through his body. his hands gripped harder, half pushing and half holding on.

“yn... please, it’s too–”

you leaned down close to his ear while you continued to move on him, voice calm.

“this is what you get for thinking anyone else could replace me.”

you kept going until his breath was ragged and his whole body was trembling under you, overstimulated and completely spent.

you kept moving on him even after he had finished, grinding down in tight circles until the pressure built low in your own stomach.

you clenched around him as you came, a low sound leaving your throat, body tightening and then loosening all at once.

you stayed there for a few seconds, catching your breath then lifted yourself off him. he was still half-hard and messy against his stomach.

you stood up without looking at him for long and reached for your clothes.

“get dressed,” you said.

michael sat up slowly, still a little dazed. “what?”

“get dressed, we’re done.”

he stared at you then started pulling his jeans back on, movements less steady than usual. once he was standing again he stepped closer, hands reaching for your waist the way he always did.

“come here,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you.

you turned your face away so his mouth only caught the corner of your jaw. he tried again, slower this time but you put a hand on his chest and kept the distance.

“no.”

“seriously?” his voice was quieter now, the earlier confidence gone. “after all that you still won’t let me kiss you?”

you finished pulling your shirt back on and looked at him. “you can leave now.”

he stayed where he was for a moment longer, searching your face like he was waiting for the usual soft ending, the one where you stayed tangled together for a while but it didn't come.

you walked to the door and opened it, the hallway light spilling in.

michael hesitated then stepped past you. he paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame.

“this doesn’t change anything, right?” he asked. “we’re still... us.”

you did not answer right away. you just looked at him the same way you had been since the video first appeared on your phone.

“go home, michael.”

he nodded once, something like fear of losing your relationship passing through his expression, and left.

you shut the door behind him, locked it and went back to the couch, sitting down. okay, now that you think of it... you were a little too rude with him, no?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ nota: curtinho pq ngm é de ferro, mas sempre tem espaço pra pt 2 (soq eu vou postar uma ask e um do haaland antes)

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Surtos de estética eram cotidianos. Uma hora você queria pintar o cabelo, outra hora queria fechar o braço de tatuagem ou fazer uma onça nas costas. O atual surto era botar piercing.

Dias antes, você bateu o pé na sala de casa, berrando ao seu namorado. — Amor, vou furar um piercing!

O coitado, tentando jogar fifa no ps5, olhou de soslaio e concordou. — Põe, vida, vai combinar.

Ele não botava fé no que você dizia porque quase nunca acontecia, você sempre voltava atrás na ideia quando era pra executá-la. Só que dessa vez estava decidido.

— É sério, Jude! Já até marquei no estúdio.

— Vai furar onde então? — Encarou, juntando as sobrancelhas num olhar investigador, procurando as provas da mentira.

— Segredinho, mas você vai amar.

Não foi o suficiente para convencê-lo, apesar de que você podia furar até na testa e Bellingham te elogiaria igual.

O dia marcado chegou e você estava morrendo de medo, será que iria doer? E se não cicatrizasse corretamente? Pensou até em desmarcar, mas você ansiava tanto por esse piercing, ficaria tão lindinho. Não custava arriscar.

Você mandou uma mensagem avisando estar no estúdio, Jude respondeu: "🫪", "não era brincadeira?, "você não me disse qual piercing é!" . Seu sorrisinho cresceu, imaginando como seria a reação alheia.

A perfuração ocorreu sem problemas, doeu só na hora de passar a joia, rapidinho terminou. A profissional era indicação de uma amiga sua, o ambiente bem limpo e você amou o tratamento, já colocando mais ideias de furos na mente pra voltar ali. Primeira vez que você não se arrependeu de mudar algo na aparência.

E sinceramente, os piercings ficaram excelentes. Colocou dos dois lados para combinar. A sua camisa marcava o formato dos mamilos, causava um pouco de estranheza e eles estavam ultra sensíveis, o simples atrito do tecido te arrepiava, além de aparentar que toda hora você tinha os faróis acesos.

Uma excitação corria no seu ventre toda vez que pensava no momento de Jude vê-los, o que ele faria, o que ele diria. Estava roendo as unhas, ansiosa para chegar em casa.

Quando enfim pisou os pés na casa de vocês, correu para mostrar a novidade. O pretinho cuidava de si no banheiro, a toalha enrolada na cintura, cheirando a sabonete floral e colônia masculina, com a cara suja de espuma de barbear, a navalha deslizando sobre a pele dourada com cuidado.

Ah, que homem gostoso. Você nunca ia cansar de desejá-lo, nem parecia real. Demorou alguns segundos para Bellingham perceber a sua presença, distraído com o autocuidado, enxaguava o rosto na pia.

Olhou para você, desconfiado, te cumprimentou com um selinho. — Oi, gata. — franziu o cenho, analisando seu rosto e procurando algo de diferente. — Desistiu do piercing? — o olhar foi baixando para o pescoço, para o busto... E aí, ele se deu conta. — Nem fudendo! Peraí! Não foi um homem que furou, né?

— Óbvio que não, louco! Eu furei com uma mulher. — Você riu, levantando a barra da blusa até a clavícula, mordendo o lábio inferior com entusiasmo. — Gostou, meu preto? — Nossa, ele ficou hipnotizado, as pálpebras nem piscavam, as mãos dele automaticamente tomaram as curvas dos seus seios, apertando-os e seus indicadores tocaram os mamilos, você teve um leve espasmo de dor. — Ai! Cuidado, amor, tá sensível...

— Porra, vida, que delícia... Pode chupar? — Os lábios carnudos estavam inquietos, um leopardo lambendo os lábios ao ver o cervo na beira da água. Aquele homem estava salivando.

— Não. Só quando cicatrizar, se não vai machucar. — Deu de ombros, virando o corpo, entretanto, Jude segura seus quadris e passa os dedos bem devagarinho nos seus mamilos.

— Nem um beijinho? Oh, vida, como que você faz uma maldade dessa comigo? — Um beicinho do tamanho do mundo aparece na boca roxinha, os pés inquietos. — Ficaram perfeitos, seus peitos já são incríveis, assim então...

— Beijinho pode, mas com carinho.

Um sorriso diabólico surge na cara lavada, ele chega pertinho, esfrega a pontinha do nariz no seu mamilo esquerdo, adorando a sensação gelada do aço. Assoprou suave, arrancando um gemidinho seu, beijando o peito direito, alternando entre os mamilos, mordendo a curva dos seios, cheirando sua pele entre eles. — Não doeu, bebê? Meu Deus, eu quero muito mamar eles...

— Amor, eu preciso seguir as indicações da bodypiercer. — Você mordisca o próprio lábio, os toques simples atiçando o suficiente pra você pressionar suas coxas uma contra a outra. — Doeu um pouquinho, mas tá de boas.

— Vai demorar? — Os olhinhos dele ficam iguais aos de um cachorrinho, quase se ajoelhando na sua frente por misericórdia, alisava sua pele repetidamente.

— Não sei, depende. Acho que rapidinho sara.

— Caralho, imagina na espanhola... Eu vou meter tanto neles... — Pressionou um seio contra o outro, tendo a visão de como as joias raspariam no pau dele. — Você tá proibida de usar blusa aqui em casa!

— Jude! — Você dá um tapinha nas mãos dele, doida pra sentar naquela carinha de sonso com as mãos enormes no seus seios.

both your families had talked for years about renting one huge villa together somewhere and finally, everyone had found the time. this is how it had become one enormous family vacation.

but there was a suspicious thing about these vacations, your mother kept smiling every time she looked at you, désiré’s mum couldn’t stop asking whether you were happy, and every single time you asked what was going on they all gave exactly the same answer.

“nothing.”

obviously, it meant something, you just didn't know what.

on the fifth morning, you walked downstairs and immediately noticed how quiet the villa was.

“hello?” you frowned.

you checked everywhere, but it was empty.

just as you reached for a mug, you noticed an envelope sitting on the dining table.

your name was written across the front in familiar handwriting. it was désiré's.

inside was a small note.

good morning <3

follow the clues, i’ll see you at the end!!

your eyebrows lifted as you turned the card over.

written on the back was the first clue.

first clue: where every morning begins (and where someone always steals the last croissant.)

it was the kitchen terrace.

you walked outside and started to search. that's where you saw, waiting on one of the chairs, another envelope.

inside sat a polaroid of the two of you from your first holiday together.

behind it, another clue.

2nd clue: you're good!! :) where did you insist the sea was warmer than the pool?

it was where the wooden steps leading directly onto the beach and when you arrived, another envelope waited beneath a towel.

by the sixth clue, your chest already felt tight because this wasn’t random. every stop was another piece of your relationship, a memory carefully chosen.

when you reached the final envelope, it was tied to the branch of a palm tree overlooking the ocean. your hands shook slightly as you untied it.

last clue: walk until you can’t hear anyone except the waves. i’ll be waiting <3

you looked ahead and saw a a narrow path curved around the rocks, hidden from the main beach.

you had never walked that far before but, you followed it and with every step, the sounds of the resort disappeared.

a small private beach stretched out in front of you, completely empty except for one person, désiré.

he stood barefoot near the shoreline, wearing a simple white linen shirt and a pair of pants that go with. his hands were clasped together and you frowned, immediately noticing how nervous he looked.

he smiled the second he saw you, the biggest smile you have seen in your whole life, a smile that only ever belonged to you.

you walked toward him slowly.

“was this all you?”

he nodded. “mostly.”

“mostly?”

“our families helped,” he laughed.

“so that's why everyone’s been acting weird all week.”

“they’re terrible liars, especially my sister,” he smiled. “she almost ruined everything yesterday.”

you laughed then noticed he wasn’t laughing anymore. he looked completely terrified.

“dez?”

“i had a whole speech.”

you smiled softly. “you still do?”

he looked down at the sand, laughing nervously. “it’s gone.”

“that’s okay.”

he looked back at you, his eyes already shining. “i spend every day thinking about you. every good thing that happens, you’re the first person i want to tell. every bad day, you’re still the first person i want. every trip, christmas, birthday, every ordinary day.”

you felt tears beginning to burn behind your eyes.

“you’re my favorite part of all of them, people always ask me what my biggest dream is,” he smiled. “it’s coming home to you. i don’t want a life without you.” he continued as tears rolled down your cheek. “i want all of it, for the rest of my life.”

he slowly reached into his pocket and your hands immediately covered your mouth as he got down on one knee.

“désiré…”

he smiled. “will you marry me?”

you laughed through your tears, there was no universe where your answer wasn’t yes.

you nodded immediately. “yes.”

“really?”

you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“of course really.”

his hands shook as he slid the ring onto your finger and before either of you could say anything else, you threw your arms around his neck. he held you so tightly your feet left the sand.

“i love you.”

“i love you more.”

“come with me,” he took your hand still smiling.

“where?”

“one more surprise.”

“there’s more?”

he only smiled and the two of you walked back along the narrow path together, hand in hand unable to stop smiling.

“surprise!” you jumped.

both your families suddenly appeared from behind the dunes.

your mother was already crying and désiré’s mum was not better, wiping tears from her eyes.

your dad laughed before pulling désiré into the biggest hug imaginable.

désiré's sister ran straight toward you. “I KNEW IT!”

you looked around in complete disbelief. “you all knew?”

a hundred of guilty faces looked at you.

“they’ve been keeping the secret,” désiré laughed.

you looked back at him, he was already looking at you with the same soft smile he’d had from the moment you’d walked onto the beach. so... the mission was a success.