#panini anon

[roguelov]

Hi rogue I have been possessed by these thots and so I shall share: what if when Morpheus is having sex with his s/o when it feels a bit too intense they try to squirm/crawl away? Maybe try to push against his stomach/thighs/hips to slow him down? Push his head away when it's too much? Idk why but I feel like that would just make him pin them down and go harder lmao (after making sure you're actually ok ofc) truly this won't leave my heart and soul so I'm sharing 💗

-panini

Morpheus loves toeing that line overstimulation you cannot convince me otherwise 🤭

Like you already came and he keeps teasing you letting you ride out your high but soon it becomes too much so you push in his shoulders and he immediately grabs your wrists pinning them by your head.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispers, almost like a low growl.

He buries his head into your neck, letting his lips skim over your one of your many lovebites. You squirm more and whimper.

“Can I continue,” he breathes so softly into your skin. “Or am I truly being too much?”

You sigh craning your head to the side allowing Morpheus more access to your neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

Your mind may say it’s too much, yet your body and heart craves more. It is such a carnal need and hunger, and Morpheus is the only one to satiate it.

Morpheus smirks, “Of course, I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Then Morpheus becomes nearly feral, almost nightmarish, as he loses control. He doesn’t hold back in the slightest and you are grateful because you haven’t experienced such pleasure in your life. Perhaps, a few tears stream down your cheek and your voice becomes raw but you love every moment. You will be sore tomorrow but it was so worth it.

[dotieeee]

dawww I'm getting a lil shy now (≧∀≦)ゞ I'm glad you enjoy my thirsting of the sad wet cat man, I'll have to stop by here as well for when I'm containing my Thots

-panini 😘

PANINI ANON IS ON MY DASH OMGOMGOMG

You are welcome here anytime my dear, I have cookies and cinnamon rolls 😊😊😊 and we could have a cuppa while going insane over spicy Thots

[freak-n-ready]

Painis cupcake, what is the tastiest body part?

(@dragonslayer40)

(@precioussniper )

— YOU ALL ARE MEAT TO ME! —

[startistdoodles]

how's the progress on the Pancake Baby™ going? still cooling off?

Baby still Flat™️

[dutchimagine]

Can you put eddie in a panini press for me pls

here you go ❤️

"This is very tight, babygirl"

[eoieopda]

https://www.tumblr.com/bisexualsdeservebetter/713223240030568448/i-just-saw-a-post-of-a-reddit-guy-posted-on

Maybe read and comprehend and realize why you and that here2bebtshoe are so wrong and loud.

But ofc you’ll ignore it💜

babe, reading the opinion of another tumblr dot com user hasn’t changed my mind, lol. i still disagree with you and with the person you linked here as…. what, an authority on this issue? idk.

i’m still not sure why you think speaking to (let’s be honest, at) people like this will leave them willing to hear you out, let alone change their mind. i’m also not sure why you believed this was the right place to slut-shame someone i care about — in the very same breath you called someone else “wrong and loud” ☠️

further, i’m not interested in having an ongoing discussion — about this or anything— with someone who is 1) still messaging me on anon, and 2) this needlessly combative. because i don’t owe you mental real estate, i’ll leave you with a warning: you will be blocked if you feel the need to keep this hostility going.

[seductive-snail]

WHATS HAPPENED HAVE I MISSED SOMETHING?

bored bitches can't handle my swag 😔 💅🏾

[whump-queen]

It's very hot in here is this a conductive metal-

OWWw it burnnns

-👾

oh no my bad, want me to zap the bars with this taser that should fix it right up

[kalpasio]

I was messing around in my art program when I started wondering what kind of kitchen kalpas would like to work in… which resulted in accidentally binge reading the domestic kalpas fic and I have gotten absolutely NOTHING done 😆 the brain rot is REAL

anyways, what do you think? I bet he’d be the type of person who would get pissed off by smart appliances

(P.S, I literally cannot read your works without covering my face with my hands and squealing— Keep it up)

-yo hey “anon”

imagining kalpas happy is one of my favorite pass times so I relate lol

I think you're right, there's no way he has smart appliances unless like we're talking golden courtyard and vill-v put them in but even then I think he would throw a hissy fit

I think I've always pictured him in the big industrial kitchens? partly because he runs a restaurant in that fic but also I think the steel is more his style. if he was in a mostly wood kitchen there is no way he doesn't set it on fire lmao

[roguelov]

I've had a Thot. Consider if you will, Morpheus cannot be harmed or marked by mortals that we know. But can he allow people to cause him more enjoyable marks? And I have two branches of thots here:

Thot one, he specifically allows his s/o to mark him be it the more deliberately given hickeys and love bites or the more in the heat of the moment scratches on his back or other places (does he feel the sting under his shirt afterwards? I like to think so, it reminds him in the coming days till it heals 🤭)

Thot two, he doesn't verbally tell you you can, (he does allow it but doesn't tell you) rather challenges you saying if you really want your mark on him you should work for it and just letting you just maul him so he looks like he was attacked by a giant squid by the end of it.

Just some Thursday Thots I've had

-panini😘

This wonderful thot has now became a spicy Saturday thot 😂 and that taunting from him is making me feel things

You stared lovingly at Morpheus as you both sat side by side on the love couch in your shared bedroom. A fire crackled, casting a dim lighting. It was relaxing … it was stirring a feeling inside your chest.

“Yes, my love?” Morpheus glanced over at you from the corner of his eye.

“Nothing,” you hummed. “I’m just happy I’m yours.”

Morpheus smiled to himself. He turned his head, facing you. “Do not forget I am yours too.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He asked in a tone you could not decipher. What was he playing at now?

“Then show me.”

You cocked your head. “What?”

“Make me yours, show me who I belong to.”

You blinked, stunned by his sudden proposition. Morpheus pulled you into his lap, staring up at you with mischief and delight in his eyes. He slowly tilted his head to the side, giving you access to his unmarked neck.

“That is, if you dare to do so,” Morpheus purred in a challenging tone.

A switch flipped in your brain. If that was how he wanted to play, then so be it. You twisted Morpheus, forcing him to lay across the couch. You continued to straddle his hips, but now you stared down at him. Your fingers danced at the hem of his shirt and slowly inched upward.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his, “If I dare then I am leaving a piece of me everywhere. I will be engrained into your skin, my lord.”

You said his title with a teasing tone which made Morpheus’s heart skip. “Oh?” Morpheus smirked, playing off this fluttering in his chest.

You pushed his shirt up and up. Your fingers skimmed over his unblemished skin, sending sparks of electricity through the Endless. You gently kissed his jaw, then his neck, then you jumped down to his exposed stomach. Your kisses were delicate like touches from a butterfly. It was the sweetness before a monster came out.

You murmured against his skin, “I want a few of them to be between just you and me.”

Your hands then changed trajectory. You began to buckle his pants. Pulling away, you tugged down his pants off then amused your position between his legs. You peered up at him, with a twinkle in your eyes. You kissed his thigh slowly and deliberately.

“Does my king truly want this? Because I will not be responsible for what happens?” You smirked.

“Your king is only wondering why you are hesitating so much,” Morpheus matched your smirk. “Perhaps you do not have the power to do so.”

“I do believe my king is playing with fire.”

“Then burn me, my love.”

“With pleasure.”

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Is there anyone you would want to trade for diani?

Diani already went but I will keep an eye out and if anyone reading has a dupe Diani, this anon is looking for a swapsie

[wosobot]

Why did the young one in the discord day she was in the shower after like 2 hours😭😭

She really doesn't want to give you that steph card🫠

i know and it’s so painful i need steph so bad 😭😭

the struggle is real.

[herejusttosufferalong]

I’m too shy to go off anon and make a post about it but as someone who’s been following this ship on multiple platforms and subscriptions, I understand how confusing things can get in the fandom in terms of miscommunication and fomo.

But in light of recent cryptic tweets and decoding it all, all I can confidently say is buckle up for the next 6 months. The restaurant has been perfecting a new dish but it’ll more time than expected to be served. However, the one guarantee is that lettuce most certainly won’t be included in the final deliberation. Through multiple phases of trial and error, the ingredients must be in the right condition to fully be savory and sweet so it will take time 💛

The long awaited Triangular Panini and Long Cookie Special that has been years in the making will finally make its debut likely during the winter season 😉

Shout out to Suffer for keeping this restaurant going strong and keeping us all in good company. We’ll all be gathering around, eating good, and singing sweet sweet victory soon 🙌🏼

💜🥃

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Coach Miguel and the hot aunt of one of the kids he coaches. He coaches her nephew and she picks him up from practice a good portion of the time. Miguel gets a little messy around her. She's kind, doesn't shameless eye him like a hunk of meat, and total milf material without a ring.

They hit it off great. Making time to go to lunch with her was rather difficult, but it was worth it. She's a genuine sweetheart and didn't try anything on him. They have more lunches, which soon enough turn into dates. And more dates. And more dates.

This is the one. And the kid couldn't be anymore mortified that the terrifying coach is gonna knock up his aunt lol

Ooohh Coach! Miguel, 👀

He couldn't help noticing you when you came to pick up one of his students, Mikey.

His parents could never meet him, when it came to the parents meeting. Instead, you showed up in their place.

"He's a good kid, just needs a bit more discipline." He mumbled and Mikey would only recoil behind you.

"Ready to go, sweetie?" He nodded

"Go pack your stuff and wait for me on the entrance, okay?"

Mikey left, leaving you and Miguel alone.

"I'm really sorry if he's giving you a bit of trouble. My sister and her husband... well, they barely have time to come because of their jobs." You gave him a nervous smile.

You had no children on your own, but loved Mikey as your own and would gladly take care of him whenever your sister and husband would be too busy. You almost felt sorry for him, He was a great kid that just happened to have emotionally detached parents.

"No problem, just a heads up. He is slacking off from the rest. If you'd talk to him, I'd really appreciate it." Miguel spoke as his hands went to his waist. You nodded and sighed.

"I certainly will. Thank you, Mr...?"

"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara." His large hand wrapped around yours with ease. You were warm and smooth.

"Right. I'm (Name), Mike's aunt. Nice to meet you and thanks for your time. Have a nice day." You smiled politely at him and his eyebrow rose. It was a first for him to not feel shamelessly oggled at as the other mothers talked with him. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the way you treated Mikey.

The kid seemed comfortable enough to display a bit more range of emotions rather to just brood in the bench. He chuckled.

-----

In small events you would bring a small snack for everyone, him included. He watched the neatly folded and amazing smelling panini and the sports veberage on your hands, offering him a little relief after the competition.

"Thank you for today, Mr. O'Hara." Again, no lust in your eyes, just pure heartfelt kindness. He accepted the treats and gave you a small smile.

"Thank you."

-------

His eyes seemed to always focus on you whenever you entered the indoor gym, simple yet gorgeous looking. High waisted capris that always seemed snug at your form just good, cute flats, a small digital watch on your left wrist and a colorful shirts. Little floral prints seemed your favorite, he observed.

He noticed the solemn look you had instead of the usual breathtaking smile you always greeted him with. Mikey seemed just like you, but you comforted him with a small rub on his upper back. You weren't mad at Mikey, possibly a stupid fight your parents put up and he was caught in the middle.

"Let's get some pizza okay?" You mumbled and Mikey just left.

"Are you okay? I mean... Probably not my business but-"

You stared at him with big eyes full of wonder.

"Thanks for your concern Mr. O'Hara. It means alot. But I'm fine. I'm just worried about Mikey. He heard his parents fighting and it didn't sit well on him."

"Don't worry." He'd pat your shoulder and nod softly, "I've got him."

-----

Little conversations soon turned into a bit more deeper and longer ones. His eyes would linger on your lips and oh the way your ass bent inside those pants.

It took him a couple of weeks to actually ask you out. You talked about everything, specially his athletic back grounds and of course you.

------

You lost the count after the eighth . Mikey was mortified cause sometimes he'd find Miguel at your apartment, expecting something to happen. But you would just bring him to a more private area and would laugh. At least you were happy.

-----

He proposed you after Mikey winning the tournament. And you'd say yes. Mikey just looked in horror as you kissed and celebrated.

He'd see Mr. O'Hara more than he liked to admit.

[munson-blurbs]

Thot of the day: reader is obsessed with Eddie's lips, she has the biggest fattest crush on him, maybe he's a costumer in her cafe, they often speak/flirt and she watches him greedily, thinking about what those lips could do on her. She often fantasizes about making him sucking her fingers while she rides him. Well, she's determined to make him hers 🫠

Combined with this anon req:

Hello hello hello! I love your blog! may I please request a little smutty thing of Eddie losing his mind over fem reader having a tongue piercing when she's going down on him?

I took some liberties and made some changes so Eddie is more subby; hope that's okay!

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), teeny mention of breeding kink, subby!Eddie

WC: 2.5k

--

Eddie hadn’t even meant to meet you. 

He’d only stumbled into the café in a feeble attempt to get out of the pouring rain after the wind snapped his umbrella inside out. The goal was to get to the nearest McDonald’s for lunch, since he’d forgotten his sandwich at home, but the weather had other plans. 

“Shit shit shit,” he’d muttered, shaking out the umbrella haphazardly before giving up and chucking it in the trash. There was no way he was walking anywhere else, so he wiped his hands on his jeans—which were now stuck to his thighs—and approached the counter to get a better look at the menu. 

“What can I get for you?” A voice greeted him, coming out from behind the espresso machine. You gave him a small smile as you grabbed a notepad to jot down his order. 

“Um,” Eddie’s full attention was on you, rather than his food options. “Do you serve coffee here?” 

You gestured at the bags of coffee beans lining the counter. “What gave it away?” you’d asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

He could smack himself—it’s a café, of course there’s coffee. “I mean, I’ll have a large coffee, cream and sugar.” That’s what Wayne gets whenever they go to the diner, so he chooses the same. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows. “Anything to eat?” You pointed to the small chalkboard hanging behind you. “If you need help sounding out any of the words, let me know.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Are you calling me dumb?” he’d balked. “What kind of customer service is this?” But he was smiling, and his silly, overly dramatic nature had you giggling. 

That’s when he saw it. 

The black stud, perfectly adorning the center of your tongue. It flicked against your teeth as you’d told him, “the chicken pesto panini is my favorite.” There was no response from the curly-haired metalhead before you. You’d squinted slightly, waving your hand in front of his face. “Hello? You good?”

“Wha—oh, yeah,” he’d stammered bashfully, breaking from his trance. “I’ll have that, then. The, uh, the chicken thing.”

“So, one coffee and one chicken thing?” you’d teased him. “And who’s this for?” 

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion. “It’s for me?” It comes out as a question. 

“And does ‘me’ have a name?” You laughed again. He didn’t even care that you were laughing at him, not with him. He’d say or do nearly anything to get a glimpse of your tongue and that godforsaken piercing. 

“Oh, uh, Eddie. Eddie is my name,” he says lamely. 

“Eddie. Got it.” You’d written his name on the side of the Styrofoam cup in permanent marker. He’d felt himself stiffen against his zipper when you’d said his name aloud. He wanted to hear you moan it, scream it, over and over. 

From that moment on, Eddie is totally smitten. He stops by the café for his coffee every morning on his way to work at the record store. The burgeoning caffeine addiction is worth getting to talk to you for just a few seconds. 

After a week of flustered half-conversations, he finally works up the nerve to ask you an actual question.

“Are you from around here? Like, from Hawkins?” It’s clunky and awkward, but it’s a start.

“Kinda?” You chuckle at his puzzled expression. “I lived here until my parents divorced when I was fourteen, right before I started high school. Then I went to live with my dad in Chicago until I started college last year.”

“That’s cool–I mean, it’s not cool that your parents split up, that sucks, but it’s cool that you lived in Chicago and go to college and stuff.” Good God, stop talking, Eddie wills himself, practically clamping his lips shut in an attempt to cut off his babbling. “What brings you back?”

You give an exasperated sigh. “My mom insisted I spend the summer with her; she wants to ‘reconcile our misgivings’ or whatever bullshit line Oprah fed her.” Eddie takes note of your eye roll when you speak about your mother. “So she set me up with this job while she drags me to family therapy once a week.” You pull a cup from the pile in front of you. “Your usual?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, trying to find another topic to keep the conversation from ending. “Where do you go to college?”

Your smile melts him, and he has to grip the counter to keep his knees from buckling. “The Pratt Institute. It’s in New York City,” you elaborate.

Eddie’s jaw drops. “No fuckin’ way!” he exclaims. “I’ve always wanted to go to New York, but to actually live there? That’s fuckin’ awesome!”

“My mom wasn’t thrilled,” you confess through gritted teeth. “She never liked that I wanted to pursue art as a career. It was always, ‘make it a hobby so you can get a real job.’” You slide his cup towards him. “It’s like, she disapproves of everything that I do: what I study, friends I hang out with, people I’ve dated.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?” The question spills out before he can think it through, hoping you don’t pick up on his eagerness.

You shake your head. “Single as ever,” you reply chipperly. “Why, you putting in an application?” Your tongue sneaks past your teeth, just enough to show off the piercing.

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks at your proposition. “Maybe? If you’re interested? If not, I can just pay for my coffee and go.”

You tilt your head, musing his proposition. “I’d be lying if I said I was looking for something serious right now,” you begin, watching his shoulder sag dejectedly, “but my boss doesn’t get here for another hour, if you wanna fool around in the back?”

Eddie’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “You wanna fool around…with me?” He doesn’t wait for your response as he hoists himself over the counter, knocking over the stack of cups and the basket of sugar packets. “I’ll clean that up later,” he mumbles, dragging you to the door marked “employees only.” 

His hands are relentless, like he can’t decide where to put them first. First, he cups your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, but determines that that’s too intimate for the occasion. He brings his palms up your shirt, messily groping at your tits through your bra. “S’perfect,” he growls as he bites your neck. You can feel him twitching in his jeans, and you grind up against him. The groan that leaves his mouth is downright pornographic. 

Your tongues intertwine as he pushes you against the door. He tastes like stale cigarettes and the sip of coffee he just had. His knee instinctively slips between your legs, angled perfectly for you to rub yourself on it. 

“You ever get head from someone with a tongue piercing before?” When he shakes his head dumbly, you take the opportunity to continue taunting him. “Oh, sweet boy; have you ever gotten head from anyone before?”

“N-No,” Eddie admits. “But I’d like to change that.”

You giggle at his candid confession, fingers toying with his belt buckle. He hisses at the mere brush of your hands against his clothed erection. Pulling his pants and boxers down as you drop to your knees, you watch in awe as his thick cock smacks against his stomach, leaving a pre-cum stain on his Dio shirt. “Damn, these Hawkins girls don’t know what they’re missing,” you tell him. You lean over, spitting on his pink tip and collecting the saliva back in your mouth as you lick up his shaft. 

The piercing feels like absolute heaven on the ridges of his dick. You trace along the vein as you take as much of him in your mouth as you can. He’s huge. 

“Holy shit, holy fuckin’ shit,” Eddie breathes, digging his ringed fingers into your hair. “Please keep going, please please please.”

Never one to turn down the chance to torture, you let go of his cock with a pop. “What was that, baby?” You give a mischievous smirk. 

Eddie looks like he’s about to cry at the loss of contact. “No, don’t stop; need you,” he whines, jutting out his lower lip reflexively. 

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” You take him back in your mouth, sucking him off while playing with his balls. He’s not expecting that, and he bucks his hips into you, making you gag.

“‘M sorry,” he whispers, pulling back slightly to let you breathe. “Didn’t mean to…” He spins a ring on his finger anxiously.

“Maybe I like choking on you,” you murmur, grasping his softening length in your lithe fingers and pumping it, watching it stiffen in your hand. “You know what else I’d like?” He hums his response. “I’d like you to cum in my mouth. Y’think you can do that for me?”

You’re shocked when he shakes his head no. “I don’t wanna cum yet,” he mumbles, hoping you’ll get the hint. “Tryna hold out so, y’know…”

You lick your lips and sneer. “Honey, I bet you can get it back up in under five minutes, if that.” Swirling your tongue over his angry red tip, and grabbing his thighs, you bring him to his climax. He spills into your mouth, moaning your name so loudly you’re worried a rogue customer might hear. 

Eddie gently withdraws, and you part your lips to show him his cum on your tongue. The black stud makes the perfect centerpiece as you swallow his load.

A string of his cum lingers on your pointer and middle fingers. You consider it for a moment before bringing it to his lips. “You should taste yourself, Eddie,” you murmur. “Taste s’fucking good.” He opens his mouth obediently, sucking on your fingers harshly. His tongue tickles against them, and you shiver.

“You’re…oh my God,” he manages. “Is it too forward to say that you’re perfect?”

“I don’t care what you say, as long as you fuck me right now,” you growl into his ear. You can’t act like he’s the only needy one any longer. Ever since he’d walked into the café, drenched from the rain, you’d wanted him. Wanted his soft, pillowy lips on yours. Wanted him to sink his teeth into your skin until he left marks. Wanted him inside you, filling you up completely.

He nods his head, but the rest of his body seems to freeze in place. He snaps out of it as you bring his hands to the button on your skirt, quickly using his thick fingers to strip you of it and revealing black lace underwear. He practically falls to his knees, kissing your wet pussy through the cloth. 

“You’re fucking soaked.” Eddie can’t hide the awe in his voice, tugging at the fabric so roughly that it rips. “Oh, shit. ‘M sorry.”

“No, that was really hot,” you tell him breathlessly, mindlessly bringing your middle finger to your throbbing clit. Eddie pushes it away, running his tongue along your folds. He’s eager but timid, so you encourage him. “Fuck me with your tongue, baby. Oh, that’s it—right there,” you wail as he finds your hole. His thumb is rubbing frantic circles on your sensitive bud, not stopping until you cum so hard, your toes curl. 

“Fuck—yes—Eddie—I’m coming—f’you,” you manage, throwing your head back and biting your fist to muffle your screams. Sweat drips down the side of Eddie’s neck. “Worked so hard for me, didn’t you?” you coo, resuming your dominance. “C’mere; you ready to cum again?” His boner speaks for itself, twitching up against him. 

You lean your stomach against the cool countertop, mentally reminding yourself to sanitize it tonight. “‘S not ideal, but it’ll do,” you say. A lot of people want their first time to be in a bed, or on a beach, gazing lovingly into their partner’s eyes. Well, Eddie Munson was going to lose his virginity by fucking you from behind in the café kitchen, but you doubt he’s complaining. 

“I d-don’t have, um, protection.” He winces at his awkwardness, massaging the nape of his neck. 

“Relax. I’m on the pill.” When he shoots you a dubious glance, you laugh. “Do I look like I wanna have your babies?” His eyebrows raise at the thought of it. “Oookay, we’ll unpack that another time. For right now, for the love of God, put your dick inside me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie sets himself behind you, sliding into your waiting pussy. “So tight; takin’ me so good.” He pinches his face together in ecstasy. 

You press your palms into the counter. “Harder. I l-like it rough.” He takes direction well, pistoning into you and grabbing your ponytail. “Yes, Eddie. Pull my hair. Fucking yank it.” You clench around his length as you feel the familiar strain on your scalp. 

“Can’t—hold—out,” Eddie groans. He wants to make you cum again, but his orgasm is just too close, and he finds himself spilling into you for the second time today. “Thassit. Take it. Take my cum, just like that.” He keeps thrusting even as he gets softer, fucking his seed into you. When he comes down from the high, he’s immediately embarrassed. “You didn’t get to—”

But he’s interrupted by the sound of the bell jingling, signaling an incoming customer. “Y/N? Where are you, dear?” a voice calls out. 

Eddie knows that voice. He knows it all too well. 

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, my mom’s here. I forgot she said she was gonna visit me at work today.” You pull your skirt back up to your waist, fasten it quickly, and secure your hair back in its tie. 

Your…mom? But that sounded like…

Without thinking, Eddie follows you, adjusting himself and fixing his belt as he walks. There’s no way…

“Edward? I didn’t know you worked here with my daughter!”

You turn to Eddie, confused. “How do you know my mom?”

But the older woman answers for him. “Oh, we know each other very well. Mr. Munson took English with me three times over. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Donnell,” he replies miserably. “But I finally graduated this year.”

“And thank God for that,” Mrs. O’Donnell scoffs. “Do me a favor and stay away from my daughter. She doesn’t need any more bad influences in her life.”

Something comes over Eddie—maybe it’s his pure rage towards his former teacher; maybe it’s the confidence he feels from losing his virginity—but he steps closer to you and grabs your ass through your skirt. “Not a problem. I think my work here is done, anyway.”

Mrs. O’Donnell practically faints on the spot. “What—what do you—oh, for heaven’s sake, please don’t tell me you two are dating.”

“Oh, no, we’re not dating,” you smirk, waiting for her to relax before dropping the bomb: “We’re just sleeping together.”

Eddie grins, leaning over to kiss you possessively. “See you tomorrow? Same time and place?” He winks at Mrs. O’Donnell, still in shock from your blunt admission. “Don’t worry; I passed sex ed the first time.”

--

[lifeofpriya]

jannik being protective of reader when they get caught between his fans or paparazzi please :)

you got it, anon!!! <3

A Shield of Love

wc: 3.2k

You're walking down the crowded streets of Milan, the sun beating down on the pavement, making the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread and car exhaust. You're wearing your favorite oversized sunglasses, a hat pulled low over your forehead, trying to blend in with the bustling crowd. The anonymity is comforting, a stark contrast to the life you share with Jannik. His protective nature is endearing, but sometimes you crave a moment of solitude, a chance to breathe without the shadow of his fame following you.

As you navigate the cobblestone alleys, you feel a gentle hand on your elbow. You turn to find Jannik's warm smile, the one that melts your heart and makes you feel like the only person in the world. "I thought I'd lost you," he says, his voice carrying a hint of concern. His eyes scan the area as if searching for threats. He's dressed casually in a T-shirt and shorts, but even in his laid-back attire, he's unmistakable to the eager fans that start to swarm.

Their whispers grow into a murmur, phones are whipped out, and suddenly, you're at the center of a flashbulb frenzy. Jannik's grip tightens around your arm, and he steers you into a nearby café, his tall frame shielding you from the paparazzi's prying lenses. The coolness of the café's interior is a welcome relief from the stifling heat outside. The smell of espresso fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of rain-dampened earth from the potted plants that line the walls.

You slide into a booth at the back, the plush velvet upholstery enveloping you as you try to regain your composure. Jannik orders for both of you in rapid Italian, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with an apology that you know is not his to give. The waiter nods discreetly, understanding the unspoken request for privacy. You sip your cool drink, feeling the bubbles tickle your nose as you watch Jannik interact with the fans outside the café window. He's so graceful, so kind, signing autographs and taking selfies with an ease that belies his young age.

The whispers and camera clicks slowly die down as the crowd disperses, and Jannik returns to the table, his forehead beaded with sweat from the brief encounter. He takes a seat opposite you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low and sincere. "I know you hate this."

You give him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "It's okay," you reply, trying to reassure him. "It's part of the deal." But deep down, you feel a twinge of sadness. You've always been the private type, content with quiet nights in rather than the glitz and glamour of the tennis world. Yet, here you are, navigating the treacherous waters of fame by his side.

Jannik's thumb traces circles on the back of your hand as he leans in closer. "I know it's not easy," he says, his eyes searching yours. "But I'm here for you. I'll always protect you." His words are a balm to your soul, and you find yourself nodding, a silent promise passing between you. You've had this conversation before, but it never gets old. His dedication to keeping you safe is one of the reasons you fell for him.

As you sit there, the hum of the café becomes a comforting backdrop to your conversation. The clinking of silverware, the soft murmur of Italian, and the occasional laughter all serve to remind you that there's more to life than the chaos outside. You lean in and whisper, "Thank you," feeling the weight of his protective gaze as he nods solemnly.

The waiter brings over a plate of warm, crispy paninis and a small dish of olives. Jannik's eyes light up at the sight of food, and for a moment, you're reminded of how much he loves simple, authentic Italian cuisine. You both dig in, savoring the comforting warmth of the bread filled with melted cheese. The tension of the encounter outside seems to melt away with every bite.

You talk about your day, about the bookstore you visited and the old woman who recommended a local author. Jannik listens intently, his focus solely on you, making you feel like the most important person in the world. His laughter fills the small space, and the candlelight flickers across his chiseled features, casting shadows that make him look mysterious and alluring.

As you share a dessert, a rich and decadent tiramisu, Jannik's hand reaches for yours again, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of your palm. His touch is gentle, yet firm, a silent reassurance that no matter what the world throws at you, he'll be there. You look down at your intertwined fingers and feel a sense of peace wash over you. The outside world, with its relentless paparazzi and screaming fans, feels a million miles away.

The café's bell jingles as the door opens, and you both tense up, expecting another round of chaos. But instead, it's just a young couple with a stroller, looking for a quiet spot to enjoy their afternoon. The mother's eyes widen when she recognizes Jannik, but she quickly averts her gaze, giving you both a respectful nod before taking a seat at the other end of the café. You breathe a sigh of relief, and Jannik's shoulders visibly relax.

He takes a bite of the tiramisu, his eyes closing in pleasure as the flavors dance on his tongue. "Mmm, this is heavenly," he says, his voice a contented murmur. You laugh softly, watching him savor the dessert, and can't help but feel a swell of affection for this man who finds joy in the simplest things. It's moments like these that remind you why you're willing to share his life in the spotlight.

As you continue to talk, the light outside the window begins to change, casting a warm glow across the café. The rain that had been threatening all afternoon finally starts to fall, creating a rhythmic symphony against the glass. The sound is soothing, a gentle reminder of the world continuing outside your cozy sanctuary.

Jannik glances at his watch, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "We should head back," he says, his voice a soft rumble that resonates in your chest. "I have an interview in an hour." You nod, knowing the drill. Your quiet time together is precious, but it's always cut short by his demanding schedule.

As you stand to leave, Jannik wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the now-deserted café. The rain has picked up, the droplets racing each other down the windowpanes in a blur of liquid silver. He pulls you closer under his umbrella, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, offering shelter from the cool embrace of the rain.

The stroll back to the hotel is a dance of dodging puddles and avoiding the curious glances of passersby. The streets are slick with rain, reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights above. The sound of your footsteps echoes through the narrow alleyways, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder. Jannik's hand is a constant presence in yours, grounding you in the present as you navigate the labyrinth of cobblestone.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, the doorman greets you with a knowing smile, holding the door open with a flourish. You've learned to appreciate these small acts of kindness, the silent allies who understand the need for discretion. Inside, the lobby is a cocoon of warmth and luxury, the scent of leather and fresh flowers enveloping you as you shake off the rain.

Jannik's hand remains in yours as you ride the elevator to your suite, the quiet hum of the machinery punctuated by the occasional ding of the passing floors. The moment the doors slide open, he pulls you in for a kiss, deep and passionate, as if to make up for the moments of stolen glances and whispered conversations earlier. His arms are strong around you, and you feel safe, if only for a brief moment.

When you enter the suite, the warmth from the heated floors seeps through your soaked shoes, and the plush carpet feels like a soft embrace for your tired feet. Jannik shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair, and you follow suit, peeling off your wet layers. He grabs a towel from the bathroom, gently dabbing at the rainwater on your face and neck, his touch tender and careful.

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him move around the room with an ease that comes from years of living out of suitcases. He's so focused on getting you comfortable that he doesn't notice your gaze lingering on the muscles rippling beneath his damp shirt. His dedication to you is as palpable as the electricity that arcs between you when your eyes meet.

As he helps you out of your wet shoes, his hand brushes against your ankle, sending a shiver up your spine. You realize how much you've missed this intimacy, the quiet moments that are so quickly overshadowed by the roar of the crowds and the constant need for vigilance. You lean into him, your cheek pressing against his warm chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Jannik's hand rests on the small of your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he whispers, "I'll be quick. Don't go anywhere." He grabs his phone from the nightstand and heads into the bathroom to prepare for his interview. You hear the faint sound of the shower running, the patter of water against the marble tiles.

Alone for a brief moment, you take in the suite. The king-sized bed with its crisp, white linens calls to you, the plush pillows whispering sweet nothings of a nap. But you know that rest will have to wait. Instead, you wander over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain outside casting a hypnotic pattern on the glass. The cityscape of Milan is a blur of lights and life, a stark contrast to the serenity of your temporary retreat.

Jannik emerges from the bathroom, his ginger hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. He's changed into a fresh shirt and slacks, his skin glowing from the warm shower. He catches you staring and offers a shy smile, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Mind if I join you?" Jannik asks, approaching the windows with a tentative step. You nod, your eyes never leaving the rain-soaked view. He settles in beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Together, you watch the droplets race each other down the pane, the world outside a wet canvas of colors and shapes.

The rain is a soothing serenade, a stark contrast to the tumultuous dance of your emotions. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm, a comforting reminder of the real world beyond the glitz and glamour of his tennis career.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I've always loved the rain."

Jannik nods, his eyes never leaving the hypnotic pattern on the window. "It's peaceful, isn't it?" His voice is a gentle rumble, a soothing bass line to the symphony of water outside.

You turn to face him, looking up into his emerald eyes. "It reminds me of home," you admit, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "The sound of rain on the roof was the only thing that could drown out my thoughts."

Jannik's gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. "I wish I could give you more of this," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "More quiet moments, just for us."

You lean into his embrace, feeling the strength of his arms around you. "I know," you reply, your voice muffled by his shirt. "But these moments are what make it all worth it."

Jannik sighs, his breath warm against your forehead. "I just hate that I can't protect you from all of it," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "But I'll do everything I can to make sure you're happy."

You pull back slightly, looking up at him. "You do enough," you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek. "More than enough." Your thumb brushes against his cheek, and you can't help but smile at the way his eyes light up at your touch. It's moments like these that make you feel like the most cherished person in the world.

The rain starts to let up, the droplets slowing to a gentle patter as the storm gives way to a soft drizzle. Jannik's hand moves from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that's filled with all the things he can't put into words. You melt into it, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer.

When you break apart, you're both breathless, your eyes searching each other's for reassurance. Jannik rests his forehead against yours, his eyes a mix of green and gold in the dim light. "I'll always be here for you," he whispers, his breath hot and sweet. You nod, feeling the truth of his words resonate deep within you.

With a sigh, he pulls away, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I really have to go," he says, regret etched on his features. "But I promise to make it up to you tonight." You manage a smile, knowing that his commitments are as much a part of your life as his love for you.

Jannik heads out, leaving you in the quiet embrace of the suite. You take a deep breath, savoring the solitude before it's shattered by the whirlwind of his return. You decide to make the most of the time alone, drawing a bath in the marble tub. The scent of lavender fills the air as the water steams, the bubbles rising to the surface like a promise of peace.

As you slip into the warmth, the tension of the day begins to unravel from your muscles. The rain outside taps a gentle rhythm on the window, and you close your eyes, letting the serenity of the moment wash over you. The warmth of the water and the quiet whispers of the city outside lull you into a light doze, your thoughts drifting to the first time you met Jannik.

It was at a charity event, his kindness and sincerity shining through the sea of faces that had all blurred together. He'd been so genuine, so focused on you, that you hadn't even realized who he was until later. The way he'd made you laugh, his passion for his sport and his gentle touch had captured your heart before you knew it was in danger of being claimed.

You lay there, the water cooling around you, as you remembered the early days of your relationship. The secret smiles, the stolen kisses, the way he'd look at you when he thought no one was watching. It was a time when you could still walk hand in hand without worrying about being mobbed by fans or photographed by the paparazzi. You sigh, missing the simplicity of those days.

But as you lay there, the water growing cold, you knew that those moments were a part of a past that no longer existed. You had chosen this life with Jannik, and with it came the glamour and the chaos. You knew you had to adapt, to find joy in the moments of peace that you could steal together amidst the storm of his career.

With a sigh, you climb out of the tub, wrapping yourself in a soft, plush towel. The rain has stopped, leaving the city glistening like a jewel in the aftermath. You take a moment to appreciate the quiet, the only sound the distant wail of a siren and the occasional drip from the rain-soaked trees outside.

The hotel room feels both comforting and oppressive, a reminder of the life you've chosen. You wander over to the closet, selecting a cozy sweater and a pair of sweatpants. As you get dressed, you can't help but wonder what your life would be like if you hadn't met Jannik, if you weren't the partner of a rising tennis star. Would you still be the same person, craving the quiet moments, the simplicity of anonymity?

With a shake of your head, you push the thoughts aside. You love Jannik, and you wouldn't trade the moments you've shared for anything. You just wish you could enjoy them without the constant fear of being discovered. You make your way to the living area, curling up on the plush sofa with a book you'd picked up at the bookstore earlier.

As you lose yourself in the pages, the door to the suite opens, and the energy shifts. Jannik's footsteps are unmistakable, a steady rhythm that fills you with a sense of comfort. He strides into the room, his eyes searching for you. When he finds you, his smile is broad, his cheeks flushed from the cool air outside.

"Hey," he says, dropping his bag by the door. "I'm back."

You look up from your book, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. "How was the interview?"

"It was fine," Jannik says, his voice tinged with weariness. "Just the usual questions." He crosses the room, his eyes never leaving yours, and sits down next to you on the couch. "How was your afternoon?"

You shrug, setting your book aside. "Quiet. I missed you."

Jannik's smile softens, and he pulls you closer, his hand resting on your knee. "I missed you too." He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry I had to leave."

You snuggle into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "It's okay," you murmur. "I know you had to go."

Jannik sighs, his eyes scanning the room before settling back on you. "I hate leaving you alone," he says, his voice filled with a hint of frustration. "But I promise, tonight we'll make up for it."

You smile up at him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "What do you have in mind?"

Jannik's eyes twinkle with mischief. "How does a private rooftop dinner sound?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Seriously?"

Jannik nods, his smile growing. "I pulled some strings. The chef is preparing something special just for us."

Excitement bubbles up in your chest. A private dinner on the rooftop of a luxurious Milan hotel is the kind of romantic escape you've been craving. "That sounds amazing," you say, unable to hide the enthusiasm in your voice.

Jannik's smile widens, his eyes lighting up with joy at your reaction. "I wanted to do something special," he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. "Just us, no cameras, no fans."

You bite your lip, trying to contain your excitement. "It's perfect," you murmur, leaning into his touch. The promise of a private dinner under the stars is like a balm to your soul, a chance to reclaim a piece of the life you once knew.

Jannik's hand slides up your arm, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to feel special," he says, his voice a warm caress. "To remember that no matter what the world throws at us, we have each other."

You nod, your eyes misting with gratitude. "I do remember," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "Every single day."