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latenightwithpizza · 7 days ago

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aw this was so wholesome and sweet. Mattheo getting to ask reader about her brothers I could cry. I think its so cool how ofc she was hurting to talk about them but everyone else had been to afraid, when half the time someone grieving just wants to remember those who have passed with love and happiness. to focus on the sweet memories, i know thats what i do and i think that moment was just so lovely. the whole 'thank you for sharing/ thank you for asking' is so realistic :)

All he could think was that for the first time in his life the sea didn’t call to him like it had before, in fact, he felt a lot like staying on land, here, with you.

In fact, he was kinda mad he hadn’t thought of the idea himself. PLEASE I SNORTED

I think I’m falling in love with you you thought. BRUH

“Don’t fuck it up” she rasped before she walked away. MAE LMFAO the sound that came out of me hahahahah I cant

ch5: the boys of the stella marina - sea captain!mattheo riddle

summary: "They were…assholes." word count: 1k a/n: this ones a little shorty, plot-building, feeling feelings, etc. ♡ please read the series warnings. this chapter heavily discusses grief and loss of family members.

« chapter four | chapter six »

Mattheo eyed you across the counter in the low light of the candles that twinkled like stars in a midnight sky.

You were in an oversized Dutch Harbor sweatshirt and he felt resolute that he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

All he could think was that for the first time in his life the sea didn’t call to him like it had before, in fact, he felt a lot like staying on land, here, with you.

You reached for his hand, spreading it open between you to rest on the counter where you gently stroked a finger across his palm absentmindedly as you talked, your eyes focused on the movement of your finger over the ridges of his callouses, his scars, from his tattooed wrist to the pads of his fingertips, like a whisper, the touch so soft, so intimate he felt it from the top of his head down his spine. He was keenly aware that if his body reacted like this to the brush of your fingertips… well…he let that thought go as quickly as it formed.

Something had shifted that night you’d come to his place. All pretense was gone between the two of you and you felt closer than before, but that didn’t mean that the sting of your rejection didn’t still twinge and ache; spending time with you was like spending the season on his boat, there was nothing he loved more, but it was dangerous, and he was never on even footing, ever aware of lullaby of fear that threatened to overtake him.

He swallowed and tried to focus on your touch until his eyes quirked over your head, to the picture behind the counter, to your brothers.

“Can you tell me about them?” he asked.

Your strokes stopped and you looked up at him, your eyes swirling like a storm on the horizon before you looked over your shoulder.

Despite their coveted spot on the wall no one brought them up anymore, too afraid to upset you, and in fairness, your stomach roiled with pain, and a touch of anger that Mattheo thought that he could.

But you turned back around to see him looking at you wide-eyed and gentle and then he tangled his fingers warmly in yours.

“—Only if you want to” he interjected quickly. “I just thought it might be…nice… I don’t know…”

You tilted your head, considering that as you looked back at them, smirking a bit as you let happy memories wash over you, lapping you like a gentle wave that you’d been running away from, too afraid that it might pull you under.

“Anthony” you pointed to the guy on the left. “Jacob”, the one on the right.

A pause.

“They were…assholes” you whispered and then laughed even as tears lined your eyes. “Two fucking assholes. They were stereotypical trawlers, with egos too big to fit in a room this size; they thought nothing could touch them. They loved drinking, girls and being on the water, maybe in that order, and they loved dredging up all sorts of holy hell” you laughed again.

“Ant caught a squid once and kept it alive long enough to bring it all the way back here and let it loose on the floor. It inked everywhere. I was so mad at him, but they thought it was hilarious.”

Mattheo laughed genuinely. It was hilarious. It sounded like something he would do. In fact, he was kinda mad he hadn’t thought of the idea himself.

“Jake was a bit more reserved” you continued, your head tilting as you looked at him. “He was Ant’s sidekick in everything, but he was also the one that made sure I was okay, that I was taken care of. They were only 16 months apart, but they never made me feel left out, even though I was their annoying little sister; they’d drag me into the water to catch oysters or clams, taught me how to use a net, all of that.”

Mattheo liked picturing you like that, carefree and wild. He smiled softly at the thought.

“When they were finally old enough to join a crew, and they made their first big paycheck, they bought me this” you said, reaching into your sweatshirt and pulling out your necklace, on it a small silver charm. “Stella marina” you said. “A starfish.” You twirled it in your fingers in a way that betrayed the fact that you did it quite often before you tucked it back.

You sniffed and smiled as you looked back to Mattheo. A tear slipped, cascading down your cheek and before you could react he reached and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb, cupping the side of your face as he did so in a way that was so tender you blushed and couldn’t look at him any longer for fear of telling him in that moment exactly how you felt.

I think I’m falling in love with you you thought.

“Thank you” you said quietly. “For asking.”

“Thank you for sharing them with me.”

He let you go and leaned back, tangling his hands with yours again, the distance enough for you to breath steadily once more, but not so much that the next thought didn’t slip from your lips.

“I-I think you would’ve gotten along. I think… I think they would have liked you.”

Mattheo felt pressure well behind his eyes and he swallowed as his throat felt scratchy beneath the weight of that sentiment.

“I wish I could have met them.”

“Me too.”

The next morning Mae watched you smile, humming as you flitted between one customer and the next like you were hovering inches off the ground. She also pointedly noticed that Mattheo had earned himself a daytime counter seat directly across from you and she watched as his eyes tracked your every movement, a lopsided, lovesick smile on his face.

She pushed through a few bodies to stand behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down so her mouth was level with his ear.

“She’s happy, you know” she whispered, her gravelly voice raspy against him. “Happier than I’ve seen her in years.”

He smiled wider and hung his head in an attempt to hide it.

“Don’t fuck it up” she rasped before she walked away.

⪼ chapter six

⚓first mates: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @revesephemeres @midnights-with-him @rositxespinosa @breathingstarlight @lovely0neptune

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #sea captain! mattheo

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latenightwithpizza · 7 days ago

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The morning was bright but gray, the sun hiding behind a large cloud like it was a blanket it could pull over its own head.

HELLLO - Can you hand over some of this amazingly stunning talent, because how is this line DESCRIBING THE WEATHER so beautiful. im speechless. there is so many lines like this throughout your work in general and in this series that i want to highlight, because they make me want to scream with happiness. i love the way you write vee <3

“I don’t want to love anything the ocean can take away from me again” you said, even as you worried that you already did as Mattheo ran his thumb over your hand in soft, soothing circles.

this is utterly beautiful and painful at the same time fr

You looked up at him and cracked a smile. In your tears, in your deepest grief, you smiled. And then you shoved his chest and he caught your hand, tugging you out of your stool to him as he laughed and you laughed back, and the ache in your heart was still there, but it felt more like a bruise than a wound.

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE. A MAN WHO CAN MAKE US SMILE WHEN WE'RE ABOUT TO CRY STOP ITTTT

So he stood and tugged you into his arms, engulfing you in his warmth as he hugged you, pressing every inch of you to him like he could take your pain and wear it instead, one hand at your lower back, one behind your head.

WAAAAH knowing they want to kiss each others brains out but he does this ^^^ that is so wholesome and its making my heart flutter. its so sweet and loving and caring and KIND MATTHEO IS SO KIND!!! and she (we) needed this so badly.

ch4: dutch courage - sea captain!mattheo riddle

summary: “He made it clear what he thought...I disagreed." word count: 1.9k a/n: have i mentioned this is a slow burn? also, please read the series warnings. this chapter heavily discusses grief and loss of family members.

« chapter three | chapter five »

DUTCH COURAGE (n.) - False or foolhardy courage that comes from being intoxicated.

The morning was bright but gray, the sun hiding behind a large cloud like it was a blanket it could pull over its own head.

Mae sighed deeply as she pushed open the door to The Salt and Shadow and saw the pile of baked goods overtaking the counter: cookies, coffee cake, brownies, three kinds of muffins and cinnamon rolls and she thought that things were either great or much much worse than she’d hoped.

She eased onto her wooden stool as it creaked in reply and she noticed the bags under your eyes which were puffy and red-rimmed, the powdered sugar on your cheek.

Though your head was bowed, hands and attention focused on the mixing bowl in front of you, she leaned far over the counter to wipe it off, brushing it away with the pad of her thumb.

You looked up and smiled weakly at her like it took every ounce of your energy to proffer happiness.

She could read you better than anyone, your emotions like the familiar pages of the well-worn books on your shelves and yet she couldn’t find the words to tell you that at some point you had to bury the past, had to acknowledge that you deserved more, so much more for yourself.

She watched your eyes glide to the pair of old, weather-worn sailors at the end of your counter whose gruff whispers reached your ears despite the cacophony of the morning, of cutlery and conversation.

“What did you say?” you asked.

They turned their attention to you like chastised schoolboys caught in the act.

“Jus’ said Capt’n Riddle’s alright by me, that’s all” one offered dismissively before hiding behind a large sip of his coffee.

“That’s high praise coming from you, Alvin” you pushed, the mixing bowl forgotten as you wiped your hands on a dishtowel and walked closer to him.

You quirked an eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to say more.

“Held his own at the Maiden last night” his companion offered, his eyes shifting to Alvin as if asking for silent permission to continue and doing so anyway when he got none. “Joey was giving him shit and then took a swing at him. Riddle wore it like a ruffian and then nearly fuckin’ killed him.”

He smiled and let out a breathy laugh at the memory, a few people did, but there must have been something in your gaze that made him stop, the enjoyment dying on his lips the moment he met your eyes.

“What the hell did Joey say to deserve that?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the creeping anxiety and interest in your voice.

His eyes remained fixed on his shoes. “Oh, you know… jus’ runnin’ his mouth about this and that...” His eyes shifted to Alvin again, this time in a silent cry for help.

Alvin cleared his throat. Kept his eyes averted.

“They were just talkin’ about the season, you-you know how it is, all competitive” the other tried, stumbling over his words.

“Bullshit” you said firmly.

A moment of silence.

“They shared a few choice words…about…you” Alvin said finally.

His ally sighed in relief and the sound echoed off the walls, the cafe silent as everyone stared at you.

Your cheeks heated in embarrassment and anger as you huffed and rolled your eyes, returning to your mixing bowl, stirring vigorously, like you could whisk your feelings in with the batter.

But you couldn’t help but spend the rest of the day wondering what had actually happened, no one brave enough to say another word about it.

Night fell like spilled ink and the candles in your windows flickered, your only companions, as you eyed the clock.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. You had been holding out hope that even after you’d said no to a date with Mattheo, after he'd left arm-in-arm with two other girls that he’d still want to spend time with you, still cared about you enough for that. Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was selfish, but you wanted it all the same.

Your mind replayed your conversation on an endless loop, the sour words on your tongue, the way he’d gripped his mug and then refused to meet your eyes. It made your throat burn with the threat of tears you didn’t think you had left.

God you hated this. Hated the way the pain, fear and regret clawed at you unceasingly. Hated everything, you thought, even as you pulled a fresh pumpkin loaf from the oven, filled a thermos with coffee, and grabbed your coat, walking quickly to the door before you could change your mind.

You stood outside the captain’s cabin for a long time before you raised your hand and knocked. The wind whipped your hair around wildly and you looked after it like you might see it taking shape down the narrow, empty street. Your courage and conviction were crumbling and just as you made to step off the small stoop the door opened.

And you weren’t sure which of you looked more surprised.

“YN?” Mattheo said, his brow furrowed, dropping your nickname that he so often favored.

Your lips parted in surprise, an explanation on the tip of your tongue but then your eyes traced his bruised cheek, his split lip; you weren’t a stranger to knicks and bruises, but it felt different seeing them on him in a way that startled you.

“I – here” you said, thrusting the food and coffee at him.

He waivered a moment before he broke your gaze long enough to look down at them.

“Thanks...” he offered slowly. Then, “Do you want to—?” he gestured behind him, inside.

You swallowed as you shivered as much from your nerves as the frigid temperatures.

He took a small hesitant step back.

And you walked carefully, cautiously into the warmth.

He shut the door and brushed past you towards the small kitchen ahead of you. You followed slowly, looking around as you tugged off your jacket and realized that he didn’t have a single personal effect in view, no pictures, no trinkets nor mementos, just bare furnishings and bare walls.

You pulled yourself onto a stool at his counter and he joined you, eagerly pouring himself a large coffee from your thermos.

You allowed him one sip before you broke the silence.

“What happened?” you asked quietly, pointing to the side of his face.

He shrugged and hid behind another longer sip of coffee, trying to be evasive. But then he lowered the mug to see you looking at him, eyes wide with concern and the smallest pout on your lips that he desperately wanted to sooth.

“Joey made it clear what he thought about…” he gestured between the two of you. “Y’know, my, uh, late night visits” he said.

A pause. Another shrug.

“I disagreed.”

You desperately wanted to ask what he meant by that.

“S’why I didn’t come by tonight” he offered, his warm eyes meeting yours, soft with an apology, and with hurt.

And that look alone was what finally broke you.

The words spilled out of you fast and harried. You didn't pause, and you didn't look anywhere but your hands in your lap, knowing that even one more earnest glance from Mattheo might be your undoing.

“I don’t want to be alone all the time. It’s not like I want to die by myself or anything. I’m like a bad joke, a girl at port who won’t date a sailor…” you said, laughing humorlessly.

Your face scrunched as you swallowed fresh tears, and Mattheo stopped breathing as he realized he may be seeing a side of you very few people had.

“…But it’s the only way I know how to protect myself” you whispered softly, quietly.

His gaze narrowed. He had a thousand questions, but he was afraid if he opened his idiotic mouth he’d say the wrong thing. Again. He bit his tongue.

You finally looked up at him and the depth of the grief he saw in your eyes was enough to make him put his mug on the counter without his gaze ever leaving yours. He leaned forward and grabbed your hands in his, big and warm.

You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth as you looked down at them. He loosened his grip, but you grasped him tighter.

“They pass the story around like it’s the only thing there is to know about me, like it says it all, and maybe it does” you started with a shaky sigh.

“Hey, you don’t have to—”

You shook your head, plowed on.

“—Three seasons ago, my brothers were on the Stella Marina, having the best season of their lives. They made more money than we knew what to do with, we paid off the mortgage, it’s how I got The Salt & Shadow, they bought it for me” you said, a tight smile on your lips at the memory.

“It was like that, all parties and good times, especially with the two of them. We had everything. But everything wasn’t enough. And even though it was late in the season they wanted to go out. One more haul."

You shook your head.

The next words sat heavy laden on your tongue.

"They didn’t come back” you rasped.

Mattheo went rigid, his hands squeezing yours.

“Fuck, YN” he managed after a moment.

If he'd heard one such story, he'd heard a hundred but this is the first time he felt sick over it.

It gutted him.

He thought briefly of the smiling faces behind your counter, realizing now why they looked so familiar, so like you.

“I don’t want to love anything the ocean can take away from me again” you said, even as you worried that you already did as Mattheo ran his thumb over your hand in soft, soothing circles.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry" he mumbled. "And I’m sorry I pushed you - you told me you had your boundaries, I shouldn’t have—” he stuttered, shaking his head, feeling like a fucking moron.

You sighed and swiped at your eye. “It’s fine, really…I just wanted you to know it’s not you, it’s… me.”

He breathed a laugh and your eyes widened at the sound, at what could possibly be funny at a time like this.

“I mean, damn heartbreaker you sound like you’re breaking up with me before I ever got a chance.”

You looked up at him and cracked a smile.

In your tears, in your deepest grief, you smiled.

And then you shoved his chest and he caught your hand, tugging you out of your stool to him as he laughed and you laughed back, and the ache in your heart was still there, but it felt more like a bruise than a wound.

You were less than an arm's length from him, close enough to see the swirl of cinnamon in his brown eyes that twinkled as they looked at you, the twitch of his lip despite the cut there, and all you could think was how, despite everything you’d just said, you desperately wanted to kiss him.

Your whole body screamed it loud and frantic in the tremble of your hand that grasped his, in the way your eyes skated over his lips and the way you leaned into him, your eyes glazed over with desire.

And fuck if he didn’t want to kiss you too. To kiss you until you forgot your pain, forgot everything except his taste.

But this wasn’t how he wanted it, wrought with mixed emotions and your vulnerability.

You breathed him in, winding your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck, and he held you like that, for far too long, and pressed far too close to be considered friendly.

⪼ chapter five

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #sea captain! mattheo #i cant wait for when they do kiss though!!!

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latenightwithpizza · 7 days ago

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okokok i finally have time and brain power to read with the energy it deserves to be consumed with, and my god how could you do that vee. make it so fluffy and sweet im literally GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET for half of this chapter just to stab a dagger into my HEART i feel so much for Mattheo, the fact he was so sure of himself that we would say yes and describing his wound as if salt was being rubbed into it (love all these connections back to the sea so fricken much) !!!

But he felt sick with rejection that stung like saltwater in an open wound.

It would only be a matter of time. He could only hear the word 'no' so many times before one of them looked like the better, easier option.

THIS MADE ME SO SAD BRUH NO MATTHEO BE PATIENT LISTEN TO MAE REMEMBER YOUR TRAINING TO WIN HER HEART PATIENCE GODDAMIT

but also the cutest wee moments i loved in this: "Hi. You’re pretty. Have a good day." - readers reaction is ALL OF US READIN THAT cuz i giggled so much heheh THE THIRST TRAPS VEE, 'backwards hats, the bouncy curls when he was running, the sweat sticking to his shirt, THE WIPING HIS MOUTH WITH HIS SHIRT AND SHOWIN OFF HIS ABS, THE SMIRK THE TAUTNING LITTLE EYE PLAY' I CANTTT

ok enough, im goin to chapter 4 now

ch3: goodnight & go - sea captain!mattheo riddle

summary: “You know, I had a thought.” word count: 1.8k soundtrack: goodnight & go - imogen heap a/n: nothing worth having comes easy & you can't have flangst without angst babes!

« chapter two | chapter four »

You almost missed his first note.

He’d set his mug down on the counter, smiling quietly at you before grabbing his jacket and making his way out for the day. He’d wanted to stay, had wanted to watch you read it, to see your reaction, to see if he earned the pink flush of your cheeks that he’d come to adore, to crave; it’d taken all of his willpower to push through the door instead, trying to heed Mae’s advice, to be patient with you.

You looked briefly at his departing figure, tamping down the disappointment you felt, an ache that was becoming more and more familiar to you every time he left. You set his mug in the sink before you saw the small paper curled inside. You reached in and unraveled it slowly to see messy, slanted letters.

"Hi. You’re pretty. Have a good day."

You smiled so widely your cheeks ached and you quickly and protectively pressed the small paper to your chest as your eyes squeezed closed, suppressing the urge to laugh, to giggle, as you bit your bottom lip in retaliation. Only when you composed yourself did you turn back around to answer the calls for more coffee.

It wasn’t until much later in the lull of the afternoon that you pressed the small paper carefully between the pages of your favorite book.

The next day Mattheo came by at lunch with a beautiful seashell and a small daisy that you knew grew by the dock. He was in and out before you could say anything, but he noticed later that they’d made their way to your collection in the windowsill.

And then another note appeared in his empty mug, its edges stained with coffee, the paper full of the same slanted writing.

“Are you the beach? Because I’m shorely into you.”

He heard your laugh before he reached the door, and the sound carried him the rest of the day.

The notes came every day, then, short, genuine, funny, and he never stayed long enough to watch you read them no matter how quickly you got to them.

“You’re the best part of my day.”

“Been thinking about you a latte lately :)”

“Hey!” you leaned across the counter the next morning and grabbed his arm before he could make a dash for it. “Thank you… for… these. They…they’re sweet” you said quietly, barely able to meet his gaze.

You should have told him to stop, you should have told him that nothing could come of… whatever this was, but you couldn’t, not when you woke up every morning thinking about seeing him and what his next note would say.

He smiled at you with a warmth that felt like the first touch of the spring sun.

“I mean every word” he said, before he grabbed his jacket. You opened your mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words and he winked at you before walking to the door.

You watched him go, counting the minutes until he’d come back before you reached into his mug and gently unfurled the paper there.

“I love it when you smile.”

You could feel your blush from your cheeks to the tips of your ears and the familiar ache of your smile as his words coaxed the joy from you before you slid it carefully into your pocket and watched him walk down the pier out the large window. And you thought, briefly, dangerously, that maybe this wasn’t so bad…

…And then he got the infuriating habit of going for a run with his crew at lunch, lapping the dock and the pier.

Your eyes were drawn to him and you found yourself completely incapable of looking away as you traced his dark curls under his backwards hat, his full lips resting in his signature smirk, the sweat that caused his unforgivingly tight t-shirt to stick to him, contouring his chest, his abs, and his ridiculously large arms whilst showing off his tattooed sleeve.

And like he could feel the heat of your gaze his eyes slid to yours and he smiled, like a taunt, waving at you and you had no choice but to wave back even though your legs shook like you’d spent a month at sea.

“Is that really… necessary?” you asked, unable to hide the bite in your tone when they came in for water. You watched sweat bead down his neck and slip beneath his t-shirt, could smell the salt on him mixed with his scent, like pine and leather. He caught you staring and his eyebrow quirked as he tilted his head before you tore your gaze away, busying yourself with getting someone another glass of water.

“If you keep feeding us like this it is” he said after you, stuffing a third chocolate chip cookie in his mouth before he took the bottom corner of his shirt and tugged it up to wipe his brow, exposing rows of gleaming abs that had you flushing hot under your sweater.

“See ya heartbreaker!” he shouted as they turned to leave. It was met with more than a few laughs and whistles and you crumbled a napkin and threw it at him which he dodged as the rest of his crew waved to you.

“YN” someone muttered, but your eyes followed Mattheo in a daze all the way out the large window and back towards his boat.

“YN!” you turned to see Joey hulking over the counter at you as his narrowed eyes followed your gaze to the pier and Mattheo’s disappearing figure.

“Hmm?” you asked.

“M’worried about you” he said with a tone filled more with anger than concern as his eyes continued to look between you and the window as he extended his empty mug which you took wordlessly from him. “You’re spending an awful lot of time with Riddle.”

With your back turned you rolled your eyes as you mixed his coffee the way he liked it.

“I mean what do you even know about him? He knows you’re strictly off limits, right? He doesn’t have a fucking chance in hell” he said in a way that sounded a lot like he needed your reassurance.

You turned then, your cheeks flushed red for an entirely different reason.

“Appreciate your concern, Malone, but I’m more than capable of reading people and making my own decisions. There’s… nothing to worry about” you lied.

He scanned your face. Grunted. And turned back to his seat.

At night the door to The Salt & Shadow door remained unlocked and Mattheo wandered in routinely now without invitation, slow and deliberate as he took his seat across from you and offered you his warm, adoring smile that made you feel like you had lightning bugs in your veins.

You’d talk about your day, about his, about everything and nothing until the candles were low, the bar down the street was loud and your thoughts were consumed with him, craving his proximity, dangerously comfortable with his attention and the way he’d gotten closer and closer to you, taking apart the walls you’d put up brick by brick. You leaned over, your chin on your palm and stared at him as he talked, losing yourself in the rich timbre of his voice.

“You know, I had a thought” he said after a brief pause in the conversation.

“Mmm. This should be good” you teased.

“It is. It’s a really good thought” he said as he sat up a little straighter and looked at you with a sincerity that had your heart racing. “What if, and hear me out, you went out with me?”

Your eyes widened as they shot to his. You sat upright in your chair and swallowed, silent, though he could see the quickened rise and fall of your chest and your flushed cheeks.

And unbeknownst to him, for the first time in as long as you could remember you paused. And you thought about it. Because what would the harm be? You enjoyed his company, you liked him. A lot. He listened, he was sincere and honest, he looked you in the eye like an equal not a prize to be won. You liked his smirky mouth, his sense of humor and his persistence, his patience, even the way he held his coffee mug, how he slouched in his chair, his curls under his backwards hat...

Your heart was jumping up and down and screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

But then, like an unexpected punch to the stomach that winded you, you remembered a dark January sky, and the cursed hull of a black ship that came back carrying two fewer people than it should have.

And the words came out on autopilot, robotic, less a response than something you’d taught yourself to say. And even as your mouth formed the words, they sounded like they were coming from someone else.

“I don’t… date…sailors…” you said quietly, resigned.

Your face scrunched and your eyes shifted to your hands as you played with the frayed sleeve of your sweater and you couldn’t understand why you felt like you wanted to cry.

Mattheo had been rejected a few times, not many, but nothing had ever felt like this. Like it hurt. Like you were breaking his heart. Because he’d been sure… so sure… He pushed his tongue into his cheek, his eyes avoiding yours as he fiddled with his mug, struggling with anger, frustration and embarrassment.

After a few seconds you took a shaky breath and opened your mouth to say something and then the door swung open.

Both of you looked up to see a few local girls your age leaning in, all gorgeous, all in barely-there outfits despite the weather as they eyed Mattheo, ignoring you completely.

“Captain!!” they called, cooing. “Come on, the crew wants to buy you a drink, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Their eyes shifted for only a second to you and then back again, “Joey thought you might be here.”

Mattheo didn’t want to go. He really didn’t want to. But he felt sick with rejection that stung like saltwater in an open wound.

His eyes slid to yours.

Your expression didn’t betray a single emotion and he wondered bitterly if he’d ever been good enough to earn your approval.

“I should…” he said as he stood, grabbing his jacket and moving quickly to the door, leaving the rest of the thought unfinished.

You nodded, but he didn’t look back.

You could feel the tears burning in your eyes and your lip wobbled as you watched the girls fawn all over him through the large window.

It would only be a matter of time. He could only hear the word 'no' so many times before one of them looked like the better, easier option.

You slid his mug towards you and stared into the empty bottom before disappearing into the kitchen so no one would see you cry.

⪼ chapter four

#sea captain! mattheo #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #sea capo matty is one of my favs #im so into this series its INSANE #im calling it a book at this point print me a paperback and it can be a novella!!#EVERYONE READ THIS SERIES OMG

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latenightwithpizza · 22 days ago

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“Hey, buddy you can’t come behind here.” You gave him a shove, but he was solid.

Heheheh pls this made me laugh so much and the fact trying to push him would be like a brick wall lmfao

Your eyes didn’t look up as the bell rang signalling another customer.

“Welcome to Bean Rush, can I take your order?”

“2 latte’s and a hot hot cocoa.”

You looked up, not wanting to be rude and your jaw dropped. The man before you was gorgeous. Defined jawline, broad shoulders and black curly hair.

“Holy shit, you’re Superman!” You whispered. Thankfully your cafe was basically empty apart from your regular elderly couple who you adored.

The man, Superman, wasn't wearing his cape and suit though. No. He was wearing a suit, collar button undone and tie slightly disheveled and he was wearing very cute, but dorky glasses.

His eyes grew wide and his hands flew up to his face. He fumbled with the glasses on his face, checking they were still there before he looked all around him. No one had heard her statement. The elderly couple in the corner still held hands, engrossed in their conversation.

“H-how?” His voice cracked slightly. The higher pitch voice from when he ordered his latte going into the deeper timbre you’d heard from Superman on the news.

Her eyes grew wide. “Shit-sorry. I.” She stumbled over her words.

Clark-no Superman’s eyes squinted, studying her. “You’re human?” He questioned.

“Well, duh. I wouldn’t be working in a coffee shop if I wasn’t. I’d be flying around doing meta human shit.”

“Valid response.”

“Wait…so you’re telling me these glasses things are meant to hide how you look?” You let out a loud laugh. “Do people actually fall for that?”

That seemed to sting a little. “Uhh. Yeah, actually. Never seemed to have a problem with it before.”

“Guess I’m just special then,” you replied. “Anyway. Any syrup in those lattes?” You asked, not really caring that a literal god amongst men was standing before you.

Clark made a move behind the counter.

“Hey, buddy you can’t come behind here.” You gave him a shove, but he was solid.

“You can’t tell anyone. Not for my safety, but for your own. If anyone-”

“Well duh!”

“Can you stop saying that!”

You shrugged, motioning for him to get out from behind the counter with your hands. You made his drinks, not quite caring for Superman behind you. After all, you were on the clock.

“That’ll be 15.65. Even Superman has to pay.”

Clark paid up and picked up the carrier with a smile, “thank you. Remember-”

“Jesus, I know,” you said as you motioned, zipping your mouth closed. “Have a good day, random citizen.”

As Clark left the cafe he looked down at his cup and spied your number written on the side with a winky face.

#clark kent #clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #superman (2025)

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latenightwithpizza · 22 days ago

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AN AU STILL SET IN HOGWARTS TIMES OMG IM HERE FOR IT !!!!

⋆₊˚⊹♡ scare actor!Mattheo

when your girlfriends find out that Mattheo is working at the local haunt, they force you to go. It’s not as if you don’t want to. You’re a sucker for horror and you love a thrill, almost too much.. but they know that. They also know that Mattheo stares at you all throughout potions class, especially when Amortentia is brought up. You’re in over your head when they dare you to go into the house he’s working alone.

…. coming soon

#mattheo riddle #scare actor! Mattheo

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latenightwithpizza · 23 days ago

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adorably perfect Ivy! just how I had imagined 🫂whenever I use to have hard days at school I’d go super quiet and there would always be one friend who would notice and ask me or rub my arm and I could never hold back the tears when she did. I do the same thing with a lot of people including my fiancé and I was imaging Mattheo would do the exact same and so this is super sweet and yes melts my heart 🥺 ilyyyy 💗

Hi Ivy I’m back! You never fail to amaze me so had to req another one 🥹🤍 can I please have a 🧸 with Mattheo! with the prompt: ‘kissing away tears of tiredness and frustration.’ From the comfort/hurt 1 list. Reader is have a really bad day, and they don’t get to see their bf till they get back after classes and at the first touch by them they just breakdown with their comfort. Mwah Ty!!

𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐞 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫) | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

― you come back from a horrible day, ready to hide in your bed forever. but the second you see your boyfriend, you end up melting in his lap and… accidentally leaking from the eyes. good thing mattheo riddle is excellent at kissing problems away.

🧷 mattheo riddle x fem!reader, comfort/hurt (light), fluff with a sprinkle of humour, not proofread, word count: 653

꒰🧸꒱ — divider by @/lavendergalactic

By the end of the day, your limbs felt heavy and your head was buzzing in that unpleasant, tired way—like your brain was a jar someone had shaken too hard.

It wasn’t even one big thing. It was the pile of little annoyances: quill leaking ink all over your hands, missing your favourite seat in Charms, getting called on when you weren’t paying attention, and a headache that refused to go away. It had been hours of pretending you were fine when really, you wanted to crawl into a blanket and hide from the world.

The common room was quiet when you finally stepped inside, the greenish glow from the lake casting soft shadows across the stone walls. And there he was.

Mattheo sat sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown lazily along the backrest, hair still damp from Quidditch practice, cheeks faintly pink from the cold air outside. His head turned when he heard you, and the smile he gave you was warm enough to melt the frost off the windows.

“Hey, angel,” he greeted, voice low and teasing, like he had all the time in the world for you.

You didn’t even reply. The sound of his voice was like undoing a knot you’d been holding tight all day. Without thinking, you dropped your bag with a dull thud and crossed the room in quick steps, collapsing into his lap.

Mattheo gave a startled laugh, arms immediately wrapping around you. “Whoa—hello to you too.” His hands instinctively smoothed down your sides, finding the small of your back. “Long day?”

Your face was already buried in the soft fabric of his jumper, breathing him in—grass, parchment, and the faint trace of smoke. “Everything’s yucky,” you mumbled, voice muffled against him.

He huffed a quiet laugh, the vibrations rumbling through his chest under your cheek. “Yucky. Very technical term.”

“Don’t mock me,” you muttered. “I’m fragile.”

“Alright, fragile girl,” he said softly, one hand stroking up and down your spine in slow, grounding motions. “Wanna tell me about it?”

You shook your head, curling closer. You didn’t want words—you wanted the solid weight of his arms and the warmth seeping into your skin.

He got it immediately. “Okay,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head. “No talking. Just me.”

The tears snuck up on you. One second you were fine, the next, your throat was tightening and your eyes blurred.

Mattheo felt the shift instantly—how your shoulders trembled just slightly in his hold. He tilted your face up with gentle fingers under your chin. “Hey… don’t cry, love.”

“Not crying,” you sniffled. “Just… leaking from the eyes.”

His lips curved, but his eyes stayed soft. “Leaking, huh? Guess I’ll just have to fix that.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips feather-light against the corner of your eye, catching the dampness there. Then the other eye. Then your temple, lingering just long enough to make your lashes flutter. He kissed your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose, the tip of it.

By the time he pressed one to the corner of your mouth, you were giggling through the remnants of your tears, your chest loosening for the first time all day.

“Stop,” you half-laughed, “you’re making it worse.”

“Impossible,” he murmured against your skin. “I’m making it better.”

And he was. Each kiss felt like it was brushing away another layer of the day’s heaviness, leaving only the safety of him—his warmth, his steady breathing, the way he held you like you were the only thing worth holding onto.

You sighed, sinking into him until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. “You’re comfy,” you whispered.

“That’s me,” he said, smirking as his fingers traced lazy circles at your waist. “Your personal, incredibly handsome pillow.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you murmured, not moving an inch away.

“And you love it,” he said simply, kissing your hair.

And you didn’t argue.

a/n. ahh hii pizza !! tysm for the request ( again ) i’m so so sorry this one’s been sitting since feb ! but hope it still makes your heart melty

#mattheo riddle ᯓ★#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #utterly cute!#I would 100% break down if he held me

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latenightwithpizza · 24 days ago

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omggg this is super cute! this idea was so fun! i love the relationship between reader and lois *squeal* the way i giggled out loud giddily when superman just appeared in the alleyway and the ending HE SAID OUR NAME, CLARK YOU SLIPPED UP MY BOY - running to part two

Flash & Focus pt.1/?? series masterlist

pairing: Clark Kent x photographer!reader wc: 2k

series description: new to metropolis and the daily planet, you find yourself falling for your deskmate, Clark Kent, who you're convinced will never look your way. a rescue from attempted mugging becomes many late nights spent with superman on your apartment balcony... god why does he seem so familiar?

tags/warnings: use of yn, attempted mugging, saved by superman! lois lane coffee addiction, fluff and new beginnings

---

Moving to Metropolis had sounded more romantic on paper. Big city, big chances, and bigger stories. In reality? It was loud, smoggy, and somehow every cab driver had tried to kill you on the way to work.

But as you stood in the massive lobby of the Daily Planet building, one thought cut through the mental static: Lois Lane owes me dinner.

You took the elevator up with your camera bag slung over your shoulder and a fresh blister forming on your heel. New city, new job, new shoes. All at once. Genius.

The doors opened onto an organized chaos. Phones were ringing, reporters shouting, someone laughing at something that was definitely not work-appropriate. And then there she was.

“Hey, hotshot!” Lois Lane, your oldest friend from college, strutted toward you with a coffee cup comically large in her hand. No doubt her third cup this morning. She pulled you into a hug.

“You made it,” she said. “And on time. Miracles do happen.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “I had to bribe a cab driver with my breakfast!"

Lois took your camera bag and motioned you forward like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she kind of did in spirit.

“You nervous?” she asked as you wove through desks and people.

“Only about… ninety percent.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re talented, hungry, and you don’t oversaturate your shots. Perry’ll love you. He hates drama and loves a Canon girl.”

You smiled. “Still think this wasn’t a pity hire?”

“Don’t make me slap you on your first day.”

She stopped next to a desk near the windows. “You’ll be stationed here. Next to Kent. He’s...” she lowered her voice, “...a little awkward, but very sweet. Doesn’t bite, I promise."

You turned just in time to see him look up.

Clark Kent.

You recognized him from his bylines. He had made the Daily Planet front page more times than you could dream, especially those rare, mind-blowingly intimate interviews with Superman. Everyone said no one got the Man of Steel like Clark Kent did. You’d imagined him to be sort of… slick. Sharp. Confident.

He was, instead, currently spilling a pencil holder.

“Oh, gosh—I—hold on—sorry, that—hi,” he said, crouching quickly to gather his mess. It was sweet.

You bent down to help him. “You must be Clark. I’m y/n. The new photographer. And apparently your desk neighbor.”

He looked up, glasses slipping slightly, face flushed. “Right! Y/n. Lois mentioned you. Uh, welcome. I mean, welcome to Metropolis. And the Planet.”

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, then stopped, smiled too wide, and nodded once like that would do.

You got settled in while Lois disappeared to hunt down coffee, and Clark stayed mostly quiet, stealing glances every so often like he couldn’t decide whether to start a conversation or continue furiously typing.

After a bit, he cleared his throat. “So, do you like it here so far?”

You looked at him, thankful for the question. “Metropolis? I mean, I’ve been here less than a week, but it’s got charm. In a ‘try not to die crossing the street’ kind of way. I'm waiting for the alien attacks Lois keeps warning me about."

He laughed, almost nervously. "Yeah, it'll grow on you. The city, not the attacks! But some thrill is never bad if you're a journalist."

You talked a bit—light stuff. Cameras, college, whether the coffee machine here had ever worked (it hadn’t since 2017). He seemed more at ease when you weren’t looking directly at him, like he worked better in side glances.

As Clark worked, his dark, unruly curls came down to fall softly onto his face, slightly blocking your view of him. You imagined yourself reaching out over the space of your desks and tucking them back gently into his hair.

Perry eventually barked your name, bringing you back to life from your daydream.

"All the rookies have to earn their keep, the same goes for you. I need you to run to the downtown office and pick up some film and sort through it by tomorrow. Keep whatever's useable and scrap the rest." Perry handed you an address and a 'good luck' before you turned away from him, dreading the journey and leaving your new desk mate. Something about Clark Kent. He was magnetic. Lois would roll her eyes if you ever dared tell her this.

---

Back at your desk, with a box full of photos and some undeveloped film, you spotted Lois and Jimmy standing near the breakroom, laughing about something on Jimmy’s phone. Clark lit up the moment he joined them, suddenly a little louder, joking easily, teasing Jimmy about his tie and nudging Lois like they were siblings. It was like watching someone step out of a shell. You wondered what it would take to get him to laugh that way with you.

You stayed near the vending machine and pretended to decide between chips and gum while secretly admiring him.

It wasn’t just that he was attractive (which, duh—he was). It was the way he carried himself. Quiet, but steady. Kind of like the eye of the storm in a newsroom that never stopped moving. You didn’t see many people like that. Especially not in Metropolis.

You were still smiling to yourself when he wandered back over, holding two mugs of what might pass for coffee.

“I got you one,” he said, offering a cup. “I tried to get the least burnt pot. It might be edible, no promises."

You took it, heart weirdly warm. “Thanks. For the record, this is already the nicest thing anyone’s done for me since I moved here.”

He smiled, almost shy again. “Just wait till someone gives you one of the horrible break room muffins Then you’ll really feel welcomed. Or poisoned.”

You laughed and sipped the coffee. Burnt, yes. But kind.

You were about to ask how long he’d been at the Planet when Lois returned, sliding between the two of you like she was born to do it.

“So?” she said. “How’s the new desk dynamic?”

Clark gave her a smile, then glanced at you. “She hasn’t quit yet. I think that’s a good sign.”

You laughed. “Give me at least two weeks before I start flipping tables.”

Lois looped an arm through yours. “Good, because you’re officially invited to my place tomorrow night. Small thing, don't worry. Wine, snacks, everyone you should know. Clark’ll be there too.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “You party?”

He looked immediately flustered. “I—I mean—I go to things. Sometimes.”

“If I can drag him there. And Clark owes me. Big time.” Lois said, smirking knowingly at him. “And you’ve earned it, rookie. First day, first assignment, and you didn’t accidentally destroy your photos. You’re already ahead of half the interns we’ve had.”

You looked at Clark, then back at Lois. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Clark nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his mouth and dimples forming on his cheeks. “Cool. Cool, yeah. Should be fun.” You could die at the sight of him.

Lois raised her eyebrows at the two of you and muttered, “Lord help me,” before walking away.

And you?

You stayed by Clark’s side a moment longer than necessary, sipping bad coffee and wondering how someone could be both so quiet and so magnetic all at once.

Maybe Metropolis wasn’t so bad after all.

---

Night had fallen and you and Clark were the only two left on the dimly lit floor. Sorting through the last of the photos Perry had assigned to you, a tired sigh left your lips, catching Clark's attention. Over the long hours, his oversized blazer had come off and his sleeves had been rolled up over his larger-than-average forearms. You pretended not to notice.

"I remember 'earning my keep' with Perry. I had to spell check nearly 100 pages of Cat Grant's previous drafts. By hand."

You cringed. "I met her! She was.. sweet. Very chatty." He gave you a knowing smile that made it impossible to look away.

You wondered what could possible be keeping him here at the office so late. Most likely another Pulitzer Prize winning article or front page worthy interview with Superman. The knowledge of his success made you wallow. An office crush was nice, but a crush with some likelihood would be nicer. You were an unknown photographer with a job your best friend got you. He's made headlines in Metropolis. No chance.

Sirens followed by the sound of fires trucks in the distance removed you from your thoughts and Clark tensed up. In one smooth motion, smoother than you had seen him move all day as he stumbled around the office, he put on his coat and stood from his desk.

"Well I hate to leave you as the last one standing on your first day.."

"I get it. And no worries, hopefully this isn't the first late night of many." You tried not to feel sad at his departure.

"Goodnight y/n". You watched him turn away and speed towards the elevators and wondered what waited for him outside the walls of the Daily Planet.

---

The clock hit 11 pm, the last of the photos were neatly organized in collections of different events, and you had missed the last metro home. You normally would advise against walking home late at night in a city you don't know, but after the longest first day known to man, nothing would stop you from getting home. Especially not the impossibility of hailing a cab at this hour.

You walked home, replaying the days events (Clark Kent's dimpled smiles), and evidently missed the two shadowed figures trailing behind you.

A sharp yank on your purse snapped you out of your thoughts. “Hey!” you gasped as the the two men lunged at you. Before you could react, one of the men grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward a narrow alleyway between two buildings.

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

“Be quiet,” the other one hissed, shoving you roughly against the brick wall and trying to pin you against it.

Then, a gust of wind surged through the alley. A sudden blur of red and blue streaked down from above. One man was flung backward by a powerful, unseen force. The other turned, just in time to see a fist grab the front of his jacket and lift him clean off the ground.

Superman stood there, eyes steely, cape billowing. “Let her go.”

The man dropped your arm instantly. Superman caught you before you stumbled. You looked up at him with a wide gaze. Sharp jawline and kind eyes. So much for a first impression.

He turned to you, expression softening. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, breathless. “No… not anymore."

He must've realized your proximity—you, held tightly in his arms and off the ground, due to the great difference in height—and stammered with a certain familiarity as he placed you gently back on your feet.

"Well.. That's what I'm here for. Could I help you home.. miss?"

You stood frozen.

Your purse hung loosely from your hand, the strap torn. Your wrist ached. Your knees trembled, and the adrenaline that had surged through you like fire was now draining, leaving you cold and dizzy. The edges of your vision shimmered, the night closing in. Your chest tightened, not from pain, but pressure, like you couldn't believe what had just happened.

You couldn’t move.

Then he was in front of you—tall, still, powerful. His red cape fluttered slightly behind him, and his eyes met yours.

Superman.

You exhaled a sharp, stuttering breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and shut your eyes. You don't remember when he reached out his hands to take yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The distant city noise carried on as if nothing had happened, but in this pocket of shadow, the world felt suspended.

“You’re safe,” he said, low and certain, the feeling of his hands grounding you. The words settled over you like a blanket.

You nodded faintly, still staring at the ground. Still in disbelief. He dropped your hands gently but he didn’t rush you. He stood nearby, giving you space but never stepping away. Eventually, when the worst of it passed, you managed to speak.

“I should go home.” You tried to regain composure. "It's not far."

"I'd feel better if I saw you home, Y/n." He offered you an outstretched hand.

"How are you with heights?"

---

a/n: part 1... please let know if you even want a part 2 of this.. or what u want to see! dms are open i need someone to throw ideas at so if you are that person pls hmu!

taglist: @liuralibrar @icybarness @angel-dust-cb @crbpoetry @aim-formyheart @lavendermoons222 @10hrs26mn @linambc

comment if you want to be tagged in future parts !💕

-> part 2

---

#clark kent #clark kent fluff #clark kent imagine

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latenightwithpizza · 24 days ago

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IVVYYY THIS IS UTTERLY CUTEEEE!!! ah you wrote Clark so well, from him “accidentally” eavesdropping, to the cute little story about how they meet in the elevator and him being all shy, to him pranking us a wee bit hehe 🤭 I love seeing Clark when he’s a little jokey HE SO SWEET I NEED HIM AS MY NEIGHBOUR I CAN BAKE COOKIES FOR

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 | 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭

― you panic over a bug and knock on your neighbor’s door for help. good thing your neighbor is clark kent. and he's stupidly hot.

🧷 clark kent x neighbour!reader, reader uses fem pronouns, no use of y/n, fluff, mixed povs, ridiculous levels of embarrassment, clark is dangerously charming, reader is terrified of bugs (valid), neighbors-to-something-more, not proofread, potential ooc clark since i haven't watched the movie (?), word count: 1,579

꒰🧺꒱ — gif by @ayatou | divider by @lavendergalactic

You see it the second you flick on the bathroom light.

There, sitting right on top of the drain like it pays rent, is a bug. Not just any bug — no, that would be too merciful — but one of those vaguely beetle-shaped, awful little stinkbugs. Brown. With... were those eight legs?

You freeze.

It doesn’t move.

You back out of the bathroom slowly, heart racing, because nope. This is not what you trained for. This is not something you can handle tonight. You were planning a hot shower, maybe a facemask, definitely some leftover garlic bread, and instead you are now a prisoner in your own apartment because some little eight-legged demon decided the drain was it's now.

You call the only people you trust with your fear.

“Darling, just kill it,” your dad says, utterly unfazed. “It’s a bug.”

“I can’t kill it! It’s on the drain! I can’t use the sink, I can’t do anything, I’m stuck here, I’m literally trapped.” You’re pacing your tiny hallway now, one socked foot squeaking softly against the tile. “It’s huge, Dad. It’s—it’s precarious. If I miss, it’ll fall in. Then what? I’ll never sleep again.”

In the background, your mum snorts. “Get a boyfriend, darling. This is why.”

You gasp. “That is not helpful.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I can’t use the sink!”

They’re still arguing when you end the call with a defeated sigh and turn toward the hallway. Your options are limited. Your dignity is questionable. You glance at the door across from yours — apartment 3A — and hesitate.

Clark lives there.

You know his name because he once signed for your package. You know his smile because he gave it to you in the elevator that one time, sheepish and warm and caught off-guard like he hadn’t expected you to make him shy. You know his voice because your apartment vents aren’t soundproof and he hums sometimes when he washes dishes, low and unbothered and so gentle it makes your heart ache.

And right now, you’re going to knock on his door because the enemy has claimed your bathroom and all hope is lost.

And so, you knock.

Clark likes the quiet of early evenings.

Not the quiet of silence, exactly, but the soft, apartment-building kind — distant televisions humming through drywall, the low shuffle of footsteps in the hall, the occasional clang of someone’s cooking gone slightly wrong. It’s comforting. It’s normal. It makes him feel human.

He’s reading on the couch when he hears it — a muffled sound across the hall, something between a panicked noise and a choked-off whimper. It’s followed by a faint thud, the scrape of something (a shoe?) against tile, and then — unmistakably — your voice.

“Oh my god, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

Clark sits up.

You live directly across from him, just one floor down. Apartment 3B. He knows this because he gave you a parcel in the elevator once and you shyly thanked him without really meeting his eyes. He also knows because he may or may not pause at your door sometimes, just for a second, just long enough to hear the faint sound of your radio or the low strains of whatever music you’re listening to that week.

And right now, apparently, under siege.

He hears it clearly through the vent now — your phone on speaker, a man’s voice filtering through. Older. Your dad, maybe.

“Just kill it, darling,” the man says, exasperated.

“I can’t kill it!” you reply, scandalized. “It’s on the drain. I can’t use the sink. I can’t do anything. I’m stuck here. Trapped.”

“Wash it down then.”

“I just told you it’s on the drain!”

There’s a laugh in the background — your mum, by the sound of it — and Clark presses the back of his hand to his mouth, fighting a smile. He shouldn’t be listening. He knows that. But you’re so earnest. So genuinely distressed.

He hears your voice again, quieter this time. “I think I’m gonna knock on Clark’s door.”

His heart stutters.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just waits.

And then — three hesitant knocks. Light. Polite. Like you’re scared to wake a dragon.

He opens the door.

You’re standing there in an oversized hoodie, hair tied up messily, phone still clutched in one hand. You look horrified and hopeful and like you might start crying again if he so much as says the word “bug.”

“Hi,” you say, small. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but there’s a… situation.”

Clark blinks, then smiles. “Is this about the bug?”

Your shoulders slump as you give him an exaggerated look. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Details,” he waves off. “Want me to handle it?”

“Please. I’ll owe you forever.”

You’re wringing the sleeves of your hoodie now, eyes wide with a kind of panicked gratitude. It’s adorable. Clark’s not sure his heart can take it.

He steps into your apartment and follows your pointed finger to the bathroom.

You hear him flick the bathroom light on. Then silence.

“Clark?” you call. “You okay?”

He reappears in the doorway a second later, looking dead serious.

“You didn’t tell me it was this huge.”

Your eyes widen. “See! I wasn’t being dramatic!”

He gives you the softest, most smug smile and holds up a wad of toilet paper. “Kidding. Got it.”

“WHAT— That was so mean! I believed you! Anyways,” you continue, from behind the doorframe. “It’s gone?”

He nods, holding up the balled tissue like a trophy. “Back to the wild.”

You sag in relief, and something like awe passes over your face. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I’ve fought worse,” he says, lips twitching.

You don’t know how true that is.

Still, you laugh, soft and grateful. “Thank you. Really. I might’ve cried.”

He gestures at your phone. “Your parents sound like they’re on standby.”

“My dad said to kill it, my mum said to get a boyfriend. So.” You pause, suddenly aware of what you’ve said. Your cheeks pink. “Not that—that’s not what I’m doing. I mean. I did ask for help, but not like—”

Clark holds up a hand, still smiling. “I got it.”

You nod. Then, quieter. “Thank you, Clark.”

He glances down at you, heart doing that annoying flutter thing again. “Anytime.”

And he means it.

Even if it’s not a bug next time. Even if it’s just coffee. Or flowers. Or a quiet moment between floors in the elevator.

He’d show up every time.

Just to see you smile like that again.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #Clark Kent fluff #Clark Kent imagine

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latenightwithpizza · 24 days ago

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he saves the world daily, praised by millions around the world - but nothing compares to the warmth in his heart at hearing you, the most incredible woman he’s ever met - are proud of him. not Superman, Clark Kent. he can’t even speak. he thinks he’ll cry.

SWOOON SWOOOOOONING this is so cute 🥺🥹

that’s my boyfriend

summary: short and sweet little piece of reader admiring Clark’s new article and his headshot (pictured)

a/n: sorry this is so short I’ve been travelling but wanted to get SOMETHING out. As soon as I saw that pic of him I immediately pictured fawning over it in front of him about how adorable he is 😫

no warnings, just fluff and not proofread oops..

—————————————————————————

“Claaark,” you taunt, heels clacking on the linoleum floor as you move towards his desk. there’s pep in your step, an excited bounce that makes him nervous. if it weren’t for the smile on your face, he wouldve assumed the worst and the proof of his worry would be spewed across his desk.

“uh oh,” he teases, leaning back in his chair. “whatcha got there, baby?”

“oh nothing, just the very first copy of the paper containing your golden goose of articles,” you smile, holding the paper over your chest. he freezes, searching your face for any indication of opinion on the article.

“did you- did you read it? did you like it?” he stammers, pining for your approval. did you hate it? were you about to laugh in his face and tear the paper in shreds infront of him? of course you wouldn’t - but that’s the thing about anxiety - it’s irrational.

it’s when you smile so big that he feels like he can breathe again. “of course it’s good- it’s amazing. everything you write is amazing. ‘m really proud of you, Clark.”

he can feel how rapidly his face turns the beet red. he saves the world daily, praised by millions around the world - but nothing compares to the warmth in his heart at hearing you, the most incredible woman he’s ever met - are proud of him. not Superman, Clark Kent. he can’t even speak. he thinks he’ll cry.

“ooh! and look at your picture on page two,” you move to stand behind him arms loosely around him as you lower the paper infront of him, distracting him from the tears that threatened to prick at his waterline. it doesn’t take him long to land on the small black and white picture of him in the bottom right corner where the article ends.

“look at you, Clarkie,” you coo into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “my handsome boy.”

as if he wasn’t red enough already, the crimson shade on his cheeks grows with his sheepishness. he’s running his hands up and down your arms that stem from around him, hoping to return at least a fragment of the affection you’ve shown him. it never feels like enough, so he’ll spend the rest of his life trying.

“everybody in the city gets to see this,” you smile against his cheek, admiring the small photo. “but only i get to say you’re mine. ‘m so lucky, clark.”

“you? no, sweetheart, no,” he shakes his head, spinning around in his chair to face you. he cannot possibly let you think you’re luckier than he - you rocked his world. showed him a new love he’d never thought was possible, a feeling he’d never felt. you’re his world. he scoots as close as he possibly can, grabbing your hips to hold you closer. he’s looking up at you with all the love in the world. “im the lucky one. im so frickin’ lucky, to love you. to get to hold your hand in the street. to get to brush my teeth next to you in the morning. you’re everything, baby, love you so much. thank you for making me feel so cared for.”

your hands are on his cheeks now, softly swiping across his cheekbones with your thumbs. “always proud of you, clark, always.”

for the first time, when someone says they’re proud of him, he truly believes it.

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another a/n: I have various Clark smuts coming 🫣🫣

#EEEEH he’s so adorable #the blushing!!!#the stammering!!!!#clark kent #clark kent fluff #clark kent imagine #clark kent x you

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latenightwithpizza · 25 days ago

Text

They jumped between small hotel rooms in the quiet parts of larger cities, places no one would think to look for the son of the Dark Lord and the pretty witch that was never that far from his side. // Lying low like Tom had painstakingly stressed, playing muggle tourists and newlyweds and anything else they can think of and you had never wanted it to end.

(in this case where tom isn't voldermort) I swear you heal a part of me everytime you mention tom and mattheo relationship like my god

"I like hearing you talk about this stuff, keep going." SQUEALLL we love lovestruck matty 😍😍😍

And he thought maybe he would have argued how there was no food in the world that could make you taste as sweet as you did HES SUCH A FUCKING SAPPPP 🤭🤭🤭

It was enough to drive him wild, a little insane, enough for him to nearly make a mess of himself right there in his boxers as his hips rutted into the bed. PURRRRR

And he couldn't resist the smile that stretched his cheeks, rasping a quiet, "What did I tell you?" His voice teasing, eyes hungry yet fond when he drew back an inch to meet your curious gaze before pressing another lingering kiss to your lips. "Always taste so fuckin’ sweet." CHEEKY SHIT HEHEHEHEH i love it and this is more bittersweet now that your not gonna write for Mattheo Maybe again 😭💔

SWEETNESS | Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

warnings: 18+. oral (fem receiving). soft, slightly desperate mattheo

a/n: a little glimpse into life with mattheo when you're not fighting for the order [1.4K]

It was a rare break away from everything, a little slice of calm in between chasing down horcruxes and avoiding the relentless pursuit of Death Eaters. The Order and its persistent drive for sending you out on missions that had you roaming the streets under the cover of dark for countless hours.

They jumped between small hotel rooms in the quiet parts of larger cities, places no one would think to look for the son of the Dark Lord and the pretty witch that was never that far from his side.

Lying low like Tom had painstakingly stressed, playing muggle tourists and newlyweds and anything else they can think of and you had never wanted it to end.

Neither did Mattheo but he held that little piece of information closer to his chest than you, like it was some kind of secret, like he didn't want to give away just how much he craved this very exact thing but for real someday with you.

You both did.

The museum dates where you all but dragged a stumbling Mattheo along whilst he fought to keep up with you, flush with life and excitement, never seeming to take a breath as you reeled off facts with a delighted grin on your lips about art and ancient civilizations like you'd lived and breathed their history, their creation.

Eyes going soft on his face, a little lovesick, when you tried to apologise for rambling and he stopped you with gentle fingers pressed to your mouth, a doting smile as he told you, "I like hearing you talk about this stuff, keep going."

There were the long drives together that had no real destination. Leaving behind busy streets with their aging buildings for sprawling hills, forests that seemed to go on for miles, all painted in the colours of spring, and lakes that shone crystal blue under the gaze of the sun.

He'd tug you into him after he'd parked up and you'd both climbed out, seat you between his legs as he leaned back on the hood of some borrowed car, back pressed flush to his chest as the world seemed to slow and your heart melted in your chest at the way he finally let himself relax, lips pushing against your head with a lazy, unguarded affection.

And then there was nights like this.

Nights where the wind howled and fat droplets of rain pelted against the windows and you convinced him with little effort that there was nowhere better to be than in the mess of sheets and too many pillows that was your bed.

Mattheo’s mouth was warm on yours as some horror played in the background. The sounds of screams and flashes of red all drowned out to nothing as he gripped your jaw a little tighter, body sinking a little heavier into your own, and the taste of caramel and chocolate on his tongue as he licked into you.

You'd laughed when he'd kissed the sugar from your lips, when he chased the sound with softer pecks and an adoring grin as he murmured. "You always taste good– just so fuckin’ sweet aren't you, baby." Shaking his head at the soft snort you made as you rolled your eyes.

'Pretty sure that's all the snacks we just ate, Matty.'

He fleetingly thought that this side of you was his favourite, how playful you could be when it was just you and him. The way you smiled, sleepy and unguarded, whilst you were spread out on the pillows as he hovered above you.

The way you were looking so cozy in one of his shirts, the hem rucked up to reveal soft, warm thighs that he couldn't resist smoothing a palm over as your legs tangled with his to bring him close.

It had brought a sigh from his lips when you stretched beneath him, arms looping around his neck to tangle your fingers in his curl, movements a little lazy with all the sugar setting in from all the cookies and chocolate he'd fed to you when you'd lounged against his chest earlier.

And he thought maybe he would have argued how there was no food in the world that could make you taste as sweet as you did.

But then you'd brought his mouth back to yours for a kiss that was all slow, aching heat, teasing little nips of your teeth on the plush of his lower lip and instead he had melted, brain short circuiting with the moan that slipped from your lips to his.

You shuddered when he drew back and dipped his head to latch at your neck the way he knew you liked. Lips sucking a bruise under your jaw that made you arch like a bow beneath him, a needy whine bubbling from your throat and thighs trembling whilst his fingers brushed the soft cotton edge of your underwear, just barely slipping under.

He wanted more of it.

Craved more of the way you flung your head back, neck bared further for his teeth to graze over, tongue chasing the light sting as a deep rumble of thunder crashed outside.

More of the way he could see the gentle heave of your chest with every flash of lightning that illuminated the room, your lip tugged between your teeth whilst he wandered lower and greedy hands pushed your shirt up higher.

It made him feel a little desperate. A little eager to please in the way Mattheo often couldn't help himself from being around you. He groaned as your fingers tightened in his hair, the soft praise that rushed past your lips as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to your belly, making his eyes flutter shut, his cock throbbing in his boxers.

His fingers curled into the waistband of your underwear, peeling them down your legs before he threw him to the end of the bed, not paying attention to where they fell as his eyes roamed greedily over the place between your legs that gleamed wet for him.

He felt drunk with the way you stared down at him, eyes glassy on his, lips parted and kiss-bruised, as he sank between your thighs. Nudging your legs further apart with broad shoulders and warm hands that pinned you to him, gripping a little harder than he meant to when your hips jerked at the heat of his breath fanning over you.

"Fuck, baby, look at you." He murmured, voice shot, a little ruined in a way that made you moan his name, all pretty and breathless, half begging before you choked at the first drag of his tongue through your cunt.

You jolted like a live-wire, like the lightning that crackled through the air outside had found a new home beneath your skin, pulses of it racing through you every time his tongue dipped inside you, everytime he slid it greedily through the mess of your slick until his mouth sealed over your swollen clit and sucked.

"Oh, fuck - Mattheo." You cried out, fingers knotting in his curls, sharp little tugs as you rocked desperate against his mouth.

It was enough to drive him wild, a little insane, enough for him to nearly make a mess of himself right there in his boxers as his hips rutted into the bed. Gaze dark and wrecked, transfixed as his eyes flicked up to watch the way your jaw went slack when his fingers slid inside you, curling and stroking until your thighs quivered around his shoulders.

He wasn't prepared for the violence with which you suddenly fell apart. The hot pulse of your cunt around his fingers, the way your eyes squeezed closed, breath stuttering as your orgasm flooded sweet in his mouth and he groaned, utterly ruined, in response.

His name fell like a chant from your lips, sounding like salvation and damnation entwined, and with every call of it he felt himself edge closer to unravelling completely. Satisfaction and arousal burning through him when you finally pressed a foot to his shoulder to push him away.

It was rare for Mattheo to feel proud but he felt it right then when he looked at you. Any hint of your sugar coma had long fled, the laziness you had been wrapped up in replaced by a bone-deep pleasure that truly left you liquid and sunk into the bed, limbs heavy with it, smile soft and sleepy as you reached for him.

It took his breath from him when you dragged him down to you and kissed him, all lazy-heat and messy, a shy, pleased hum slipping past your lips that drove him a little mad all over again when you tasted yourself on his tongue.

****

#late so late to this :(#impossibly adorable and sexy at the same time #mattheo riddle ᯓ★#I LOVE IT AND I LOVE YOU

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latenightwithpizza · 25 days ago

Text

first off that synopsis draggggged me by the throat in, little did i know what was coming

it danced towards enzo first, blessing his shirtless, boxer-clad form with a cool gust of air LICKING UP THIS VISUAL 👅👅👅

enzo calling us babe as a friend term of endearment has me giggling, its such a british term “what?” he grinned, boyish and infuriatingly calm, as if he hadn’t just offered to donate his cock for the cause. “he values dicks so much, i’ll give him one. free of charge. beautifully lit. no filters. let him compare.” GIGGLING he SO would do this lorenzo had no ulterior motives with such a suggestion, so why was your mind fostering unholy thoughts all of a sudden? PLEASE when does enzo never not have ulterior motives

TALK TO ME HONEYYYYYY IM SCREAMING eiofheuohee this is so fucking hot i cant -

the way you write enzo as like a desperate sub lowkey but he's still dominant with the way he talks it's perfect. this was pure filth even if slightly toned down (i didnt notice) KISSING YOUR BRAIN FILLED WITH YOUR SEXY IDEAS

raw proof

synopsis. best friends don’t fuck — unless your name is lorenzo berkshire and your girl asks for a creampie on camera.

pairing. childhood best friend! lorenzo berkshire x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, cheeky!enzo, flirty!enzo, protective!enzo, kind of sub!enzo, allusions to mutual pinning, handjob, voice kink, riding, consensual filming/sex tape, unsolicited dicc pic (NOT from enzo), teasing, dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, pet name (babe, my girl), p in v, raw sex, creampie

word count. 4k

a/n. this is so tame compared to the other stuff i posted recently! also, first enzo fic!! sorry for the wait, my sweet @belovedenzo! fyi, the creep is named after a weirdo that bothered me in real life, so yeah! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

“hmmm, hm, hmmm.”

the soft hum of enzo’s deep voice nicely matched the tame whirling of the electric fan, growing louder when the head was pointing at him, and going quieter when the spinning blades turned towards you.

it was summer. and as much as you wanted to catch up and play around with your childhood best friend enzo, the heat discouraged the two of you from staying close to one another. so there you were now, spread on the l-shaped couch in your living room, on the two extremities, with a god-sent fan in the middle.

it danced towards enzo first, blessing his shirtless, boxer-clad form with a cool gust of air, then it panned over to you, drenched in sweat in your sports bra and panties.

thank god you were living alone, otherwise you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your mother about how it is not proper to stay like that with a man around bla bla bla.

it was enzo. the guy you knew since you were in diapers. the guy with whom you shared countless of baths when you two were kids. the guy who was there through every embarrassing stage of your puberty.

staying in your underwear around one another was nothing.

“it’s the highest setting, right?” you mumbled after locking your phone and dropping it to the side, displeased by the little breeze of the electric fan.

“yeah…” he muttered back, slight disappointment latched onto the brief confirmation. he didn’t even bother to raise from his horizontal position, already recalling the desperation he had while smashing the plus button on the fan.

“ugh, i wanna peel my skin off my face.”

it was evening already, yet the heat was as persistent as ever. maybe you should get some ice from the freezer and just… dump it on you? yeah, maybe even sneak some pieces in your bra to cool off bett–

bing.

…

“oh, fuck off.”

checking your phone after the notification pierced the peaceful ambiance of the room, you immediately lock it back, infuriated by what you saw.

“again?”

enzo had a hunch about the source of your sudden rage, and by his short question and your audible huffs of annoyance, he knew he was right.

“is that michael guy still pestering you? didn’t you block him?”

“it looks like he made another account. ugh, why doesn’t he take the hint?”

you raised your upper half off the couch, leaning on the pads of your palms just for a few seconds, before diving head first between the scattered pillows next to you.

you groaned into them, and enzo could hear your agony even through the plush material.

“you told him you have a boyfr–?”

“multiple times. i even sent a picture of you to convince him.”

you did not have a boyfriend. you have been single for months now, but michael doesn’t need to know that. your sweet best friend enzo offered to play boyfriend to scare off the creep, but it seems like even that wasn’t enough.

“aaaand?”

“he knew we’re not together.”

you should’ve expected the number one stalker to recognize lorenzo from the pictures you have on your account.

“damn. i am sorry, babe.”

“ahh, it’s fine. i will just block him aga–”

bing.

“is that him again?”

enzo reacted more energic this time, jumping from his seat, abandoning his own phone, all to crawl towards your part of the couch. to see for himself what that weirdo does in your dms.

“wait, let me chec– oh my god, ewwwwwwwwwwww.”

if last time you dropped your phone on the couch, now you straight up threw it away from you. you shriek into a ball, clutching one of the pillows close to your chest and hiding in it. the heat no longer mattered as you were now dominated by disgust, captured by the need to be hidden.

“what? what?”

lorenzo panicked, eyes almost flaring out of his sockets at your unusual reaction. you were so affected by whatever you saw on your phone, you were almost shaking.

“that bastard sent me a dick pic. it looked like a bald rat, i feel like puking.”

enzo stilled for a second.

then he blinked.

“a bald rat?”

“yes.” you wailed, face still buried in the pillow. “a naked mole rat. pink and sickly and shiny. i’m traumatized.”

he snorted at your description. then choked on it trying to suppress his laugh, realizing it is not an appropriate reaction. “i’m sorry, i’m not laughing at you, babe, it’s just– god, that’s disgusting.” he reached for your shoulder carefully, hand warm and grounding as he gave you a gentle stroke.

“you okay?”

“no.” you mumbled pathetically, burying your face deeper into the softness. “i was just trying to exist. and now i’ve seen that. i need to bleach my brain. i need to send something back to scar him for life.”

enzo hummed, rubbing lazy circles into your shoulder. “like a revenge dick pic?”

“yeah. but…” you peeked at him from your pillow, lips pouting. “i don’t have a dick.”

he blinked again. and then his lips curled. slowly.

“so use mine.”

you raised your head so fast you nearly knocked foreheads with lorenzo. in that moment you realized just how close he was to you.

how close and naked he was.

“enzo–”

“what?” he grinned, boyish and infuriatingly calm, as if he hadn’t just offered to donate his cock for the cause. “he values dicks so much, i’ll give him one. free of charge. beautifully lit. no filters. let him compare.”

you gaped at him, blood boiling beneath your skin with every word of his, flushing your face with embarrassment.

he was just messing with you, right?

“you’re not serious.”

enzo moved his body closer, until your bare knees touched, and his palms spread over your naked thighs, keeping you still on the couch. with such proposals on his lips, enzo had a feeling you’d run away from him.

so he didn’t give you the opportunity at all.

“i’m dead serious. let me help you. he sends you a shitty unsolicited dick? you send back mine. i guarantee he’ll never message you again.”

you choked on a nervous laugh, trying to calm down your nerves and not read too much into it. lorenzo had no ulterior motives with such a suggestion, so why was your mind fostering unholy thoughts all of a sudden?

the nakedness of your two bodies didn’t help, especially now with his skin touching yours. his hands were firmly planted on your thighs, resting mainly on the top — only his fingers, fidgety and restless, tapped against your inner section.

making your head spin and forcing your legs to close up.

“you’re insane.” you whispered back at him, averting your gaze from his piercing ones and opting to stare at your abandoned phone.

he squeezed your thighs, fingers digging in the fat of your legs — bringing your eyes back on his.

“and you’re suffering. babe, come on. you know i’d do anything for you.”

your mouth went dry, spit refusing to further pool in. yet something else pooled... in your underwear.

his voice dropped just a little lower, his face dragging just a tad closer to your ear.

“i don’t want anyone making you feel unsafe. or disgusted. especially not some pathetic little creep who thinks his dick deserves attention.”

you swallowed, keeping focus on his gorgeous face; that mischievous glint in his eyes, the devious curl on his wet lips. he was still smiling, but there was something else in his expression now — sharp. protective. hungry.

and when you didn’t answer, enzo gently tugged you closer by your thighs, tilting his head.

“unless you’re too shy to see it?”

your lips parted, words rushing to get out in a short protest. “i’m not.”

“you sure?” he whispered, thumbs rubbing up your inner thigh now, almost brushing the edge of your panties. “because you can. if you want. i’ll even let you take the picture. show him what a real one looks like.”

your thighs squeezed together, trapping his digits briefly in between. your skin was warm, warmer than before, and where his hands stood — the patches burnt with unspoken desire. the heat licked up your spine too, spreading arousal all over your body like a raging fire.

you stared at him.

you’d known lorenzo your whole life.

and yet… right now, you couldn’t stop picturing what he would look like bare.

hard.

just for you.

your voice came out small, just a flimsy string of sanity keeping you away from his plan. “he won’t believe it’s real.”

enzo shrugged, eyes dark, whispering yet another possibility. “then we’ll take another. with your hand on it this time.”

“enzo!” you gasped, outraged by his proposition, going as far as pushing the pillow into his face.

but he only grinned wider, accepting your attacks with open arms and letting the pillow crash into his face. he immediately removed it, throwing it out of the way, and took back his position next to your blushing face.

“say the word, babe. i’ll even get it hard for you.”

you swallowed again.

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your stomach, in the places where his thumbs were still drawing lazy little circles against your inner thighs.

the summer heat had nothing on the burn spreading beneath your skin now. and the look on his face — steady, teasing, inviting — wasn't helping.

“okay.” you murmured, almost like you were afraid to break the moment, finally giving in. “okay… let's do it.”

“yeah?” enzo’s brows lifted just a bit — surprised… or thrilled.

you nodded, lips parted, your tongue already poking out and wetting your lips.

“but… only if you get hard first. i’m not sending him a softie.”

enzo barked out a laugh, loud and wicked. “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

his hands slid from your thighs to his lap, lazily adjusting himself in his boxers. he was already half-hard, just from the idea of you seeing him. he didn’t even try to hide the way his cock twitched when you looked down, just once, then looked away quickly like you hadn’t meant to.

“c’mere.” he said, voice a little rougher now. “closer. talk to me.”

“talk to you?”

he hummed, stroking himself through the thin cotton, tentatively gripping his cock with his long fingers. he didn’t take it out yet — afraid to scare you — but you could still see the shape of him swelling beneath the fabric, thick and eager.

“yeah. want you to talk me through it.”

“enzo…” his name bloomed on your tongue with a whiny tinge, barely escaping from between your lips.

but he heard it clearly. he let out a low, throaty groan as a result, his head slightly lolling back on the couch.

“fuck. say it again.”

“what?”

“my name. with that voice…” he breathed, slowly dragging his palm up and down the length of his cock, the fabric now visibly wet at the tip, clinging to his mushroomy tip.

“goddamn, babe. didn’t know you could sound like that when you say it.”

you swallowed hard, thighs pressing together, your own panties now marked by dripping need. he looked beautiful like this — messy hair damp from sweat, chest rising and falling with each breath, mouth parted as he stared at you like he could eat you alive.

“enzo.” you whispered, unsure if you were trying to calm him down or make it worse. “you’re… getting really hard.”

“because of you.” he groaned again, accentuating it with a harsher tug on his cock. “your voice. your fucking voice, babe — talk to me.”

your cheeks flamed, but something in you cracked open; some hungry, curious part of you that liked the way his hips bucked into his hand at the mere sounds of your voice. liked the way his lashes fluttered, how his eyes rolled back.

liked how needy he looked.

“you’re doing so good.” you whispered seductively, barely able to believe the words were coming from your own mouth. “look at you…”

enzo whined, pressing harder against his boxers. fuck, this was really happening!

“look at how hard you are.” you said, braver now, watching his cock twitch under his touch. “shit… all for me?”

“yes, yes, fuck, yes–” he was panting now, jerking himself faster, his head tipped back completely, throat taut. “keep going, please– your voice, i– fuck, i’ve never gotten this hard this fast–”

“you’re gonna make a mess in your boxers…” you tutted, more to yourself, pressing your thighs together — now shamelessly.

“you want me to help? want me to pull them down and stroke you for real?”

enzo whimpered, and this time he shuddered — hips lifting, breath stuttering, a thick wet patch forming all over his cock.

“babe–” he gasped, looking at you like you’d just offered him the most amazing offer in the world. “please. please touch me.”

your palm was hot against his abs before he even finished the sentence.

and when your fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers — slow, sweet, teasing — lorenzo’s breath caught in his throat like you’d just sucked the life out of him.

his cock sprang free, flushed and twitching, curved thick and dripping precum towards his belly.

and fuck, he really was big. more than you imagined. heavy and sticky in your hand when you finally curled your fingers around him.

“fuck, enzo.” you whispered.

he groaned, head tilting to the side to see your hand work around him.

“say that again.” he rasped, eyes glued to your fingers wrapping around his shaft, getting all wet and nasty with his arousal. “say my name. say anything. just… don’t stop.”

you leaned in closer, breath feathering over his cock as you began to stroke him close to your face — slow, gentle pulls from base to tip, gathering the leaking precum with your thumb and swirling it over the flushed tip. he jerked at the touch, hips bucking, one hand gripping the couch for dear life.

“you’re so sensitive…” you murmured, tilting your head, studying him. “does it feel good, enzo?”

“yes– fuck, yes. your hands– god, your hands are so soft!”

you smiled, slow and sly. your other hand joined in, cupping his balls, stroking in rhythm with the other, until he was panting again, hips faltering, lashes fluttering with every twist of your wrist.

“you’re so pretty like this.” you breathed, voice all syrup and sugar, so close to his cock, yet so far away. “flushed and messy. moaning just from my hands.”

enzo bit his lip, the sound that escaped him something halfway between a sob and a growl.

“fuck, keep going– don’t stop– say more–”

you leaned in, lips brushing the muscles of his abdomen, voice like velvet.

“you gonna cum for me, babe? just from my voice and my hands? poor thing, you’re so pent up…”

“holy shit–”

his stomach jumped, his thighs trembled, and his hand suddenly darted for your phone, unlocking it with shaking fingers.

“what are you doing?” you asked, still stroking him, but slower now, more curious than anything.

“picture.” he panted. “fuck– we need to send that creep a real dick pic. one he’ll never forget.”

oh, that’s right. you were supposed to get him hard for a picture…

“you’re gonna send him this?” you laughed, light and breathless, watching as he snapped a photo of your delicate hand wrapped around his flushed cock. “you’re actually so cruel.”

that michael guy will fucking die.

“you’re the one stroking me like this.” he said with a grin, snapping another picture from a lower angle, your other hand on his balls now visible. “and your voice– fuck, your voice is even hotter than your hand.”

you squeezed him, just to make him shut up and focus on you.

he gasped at your ministration, nearly dropping the phone on you.

“enzo.” you whispered against his ear, your thumb brushing under the head. “focus on me, babe. cum for me.”

he did.

with a strangled moan and a whimper of your name, he spilled all over your hand and his stomach, cock twitching in your grip. he finally released the phone somewhere beside him, both hands flying to your hand as he rode it out, chanting your name like a prayer.

“fuck. fuck, babe–” he panted, pulling you in closer, resting his head on your shoulder, still shaking a little. “you’re unreal.”

before either of you could say a word, the notification pinged.

michael had already replied.

lol that’s a stock image :)

enzo stared at the message. blinked. stared again.

and then, very softly, almost in disbelief. “stock image?”

you snorted, and then started to laugh — loud and breathless, your forehead falling against his shoulder as your dirty fingers absently toyed with his still-softening cock, now wet and twitching in your palm.

“enzo.” you gasped between laughs. “he thinks… he thinks that is a stock image?”

“my dick is not a stock image.” he mumbled, borderline offended, his voice cracking with the way you were still feather-dancing across him. “what stock photo site has your hand in it?”

you grinned, turning your head just enough to catch the pink flush blooming on his cheeks.

“you want to prove it to him?” you asked, wickedly sweet, now concocting a plan of your own.

“…how?” enzo glanced at you, heart in his throat, his whole body buzzing with expectation.

you leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. “fuck me. right now. raw. and take a video.”

he froze.

and then–

“w–what?”

“you heard me.” you whispered. “he doesn’t think you’re real? let’s give him something real.”

enzo’s cock twitched again in your hand — just barely — but enough to signal he was hardening again.

“please.” you breathed, nosing at his neck, voice breaking into something soft and whiny. exactly how he likes it. “fuck me, enzo. i need it. want you so bad–”

your voice cracked with desperation, half faux, half real.

“need you inside me. need you to fill me up. make me yours.”

enzo whimpered, eyes rolling back once more, the mere image of you impaled on his cock making his pulse spike. he was still sensitive, still dazed, but you begging like that?

he grabbed your waist, almost clumsily, and guided you into his lap — your soaked panties rubbing against his cock, already stiff beneath you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for.” he whispered, trembling. “i won’t be able to stop.”

you cupped his face, squishing his cheeks together and making his lips into a pout. barely touching them, you whispered one final request.

“good. i don’t want you to.”

he didn’t waste another second.

his hands gripped your hips like he owned them — like he always had — and with one swift motion, he pulled your soaked panties aside, guiding his thick cock to your dripping slit. the blunt head bumped your folds, sticky and aching, and your body clenched before he even pushed in.

“hold the phone.” you whispered, breathless, reaching for it where he’d dropped it on the cushion. you tilted it up just as you sank onto him, but he couldn’t comply.

lorenzo groaned, deep and broken. his head slammed back against the couch and his hands tightened, digging into your waist as you slid down his cock — inch by thick inch — stretching, aching.

taking him raw.

“fuck. babe.” his voice cracked. “you feel insane. so fucking wet. you’re dripping down my balls– fuck–”

you whimpered, clutching his shoulders for balance, camera still rolling in your other hand. the way he filled you up was nothing short of divine — so thick and deep. he curved just right, making your pussy clench around him like it was made for him.

you bounced once.

enzo yelled.

hand flew to your ass, spreading you wider, keeping you flush against him as you began to ride — sloppy, wet, desperate. his cock dragged along your walls perfectly, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the space between you, your breaths quick and needy.

the slight flash of the phone still capturing everything.

“y–you’re gonna–” he whined, eyes fluttering as he stared between your bodies. “god, i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

you laughed softly against his neck, still bouncing, nails digging into his shoulders as you went deeper and deeper with every move. “yeah? you’ve been imagining this?”

“every night.” he admitted, voice breaking. “every fucking night, since we were teenagers.”

you moaned his name, pleased with his answer, rocking your hips faster. and enzo shuddered, grabbing the base of his cock as you rode him, watching it disappear again and again into your soaked cunt.

“you want proof?” you panted, angling the camera down even more, catching the perfect image of your pussy fluttering around enzo’s cock. for the creep in your dms. “tell him, babe. tell him this is real.”

lorenzo looked at the phone — flushed, panting, eyes nearly wild, watching himself disappear in your greedy tight hole on film.

it was so hot, shit–

“this is my girl. my fucking pussy. you wish you had her voice in your ear while you came. but guess what?”

he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you down until your forehead flushed against his, hips snapping up hard–

“she’s riding me.”

you moaned when he thrust up again — rough, relentless, so deep you could barely catch your breath. the head of his cock dragged right over that spot that made your thighs shake, your body clenching around him in helpless pulses.

enzo grunted, hips stuttering, the wet slap of your bodies echoing through the apartment.

“you hear that?” he breathed, voice hoarse with awe, sweat beading along his temple as he watched you bounce. “fuck, it’s so loud — that’s your pussy, babe. sucking me in.”

“enzo…” you whimpered, nails clawing at his shoulder. “you’re so deep– too good–”

he angled his hips just right, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, and your body jerked. your walls clamping down so tight that his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped back again.

“you’re close, huh?” he rasped. “feels like you’re about to fucking milk me.”

you nodded, frantic, desperate.

“tell me what you want.” he panted, breath shallow, also close to climax. “tell me how you want it.”

your voice broke. you were already trembling.

“inside.” you gasped, not even ashamed now. “please, enzo– want you to cum in me. fill me up. make it messy.”

he growled like an animal, finally catching his prey.

“fuck– fuck, babe” he slammed up into you so hard you saw stars, one hand clutching at your ass, the other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise. “say that again. say it.”

you pulled the phone back up, aiming the camera down at where you were connected once more — where his cock was glistening, coated in you, buried all the way to the hilt.

“i want your cum.” you whispered close to your phone, with eyes locked on his own blown-out orbs. “deep inside me. i want you to ruin me, enzo.”

his hips jerked. a broken moan punched out of him.

“you’re so– fuck, you’re gonna make me–”

“do it.” you moaned, hand scratching down his chest and leaving marks all over his skin. “fill me up, babe. i want it all.”

he came with a cry — full-body shudder, cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself in thick, hot spurts. you felt the heat of it coat your insides, your cunt fluttering around him in aftershock. he clung to you like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, hips still rutting weakly, desperate to stay inside you, to push it all in deeper.

you collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, his cock still sheathed inside you — warm and twitching and still dripping cum.

the camera caught it all.

his fingers found the curve of your thighs, spreading you slightly, just enough to let the phone capture your folds stretched wide around him, cum already beginning to leak.

“damn right.” he muttered, flushed and breathless, voice hoarse with pride. “real enough for you now, michael?”

michael wasn’t gonna sleep tonight.

tags: @theodoresvalentine, @cafechichay, @lov3notts, @nottslove, @minidemont, @yuunarii-arii

#enzo berkshireᯓ★#enzo berkshire smut #Lorenzo berkshire imagine

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latenightwithpizza · 25 days ago

Text

Overstimulation

sub!Lorenzo Berkshire x fem!reader

Warnings: smut- oral (m!receiving), mommy kink, dacryphilia, cnc (safe word in place)

18+! MINORS DNI. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

"Lay flat on your back" you demand simply, not being harsh but letting Lorenzo know he has to obey.

The second you demand that he lay flat on his back, his tone of voice becomes very submissive, doing exactly what he was told without question and laying down flat upon your command. "Yes, Mommy." He says softly, keeping his gaze up at you.

You grin. "Stay still" you say before walking away from the bed. Lorenzo can't really look to see what you're doing since he has to keep his back flat against the bed, but he's excited.

He hears some rummaging noises before you come back to the bed a few minutes later. Instead of being completely naked, you're now wearing your bondage lingerie that covers absolutely nothing except for your nipples and your cunt. In your hands, you have some of Enzo's school ties.

His eyes widen somewhat and he takes a second to admire how good you look in your bondage lingerie that covers absolutely nothing but the parts that need to be covered for it to be considered lingerie. "You look amazing, Mommy." he whispers softly, still laying down on the bed.

You smirk. "Thank you baby" you coo.

Then you get on the bed and gently grab Lorenzo's wrist. He realizes that you're tying him to the posts of his bed and he becomes even more excited. You wrap the green and silver ties around both of his wrists before stepping back and just admiring him being tied up at your mercy.

He blushes brightly, his mind was full of excitement at just the thought of you punishing him and having him in this vulnerable position. He couldn't believe this was happening, it was like something that only happened in his wildest fantasies, and it was all becoming real. His breathing quickened at the mere thought of his lovely girlfriend punishing him.

"Apple?" you say softly, reminding Lorenzo of the safe word before you start.

He looks up and takes a moment after hearing the reminder of the safe word. He looks over at you and nods, smiling softly. "Apple." he whispers in a soft, playful voice.

You nod back and smile. Then without another word, you climb onto the bed in between Lorenzo's legs and wrap your lips around his pink tip, making him gasp before moaning.

"Oh..." He moaned softly, the sound of his own voice making him blush. This really was turning into one of his wildest fantasies...

It doesn't take long for Lorenzo to reach his climax, releasing spurts of cum straight into your mouth. He moans loudly as you swallow it all and lick him up.

"You taste so good sweetie" you purr after pulling away.

He lays there, his chest rising and falling quickly with his breath, as he looks back at you, his cheeks were burning bright red from the pure pleasure and excitement he was still feeling. "Oh God... Oh my God..." His tone was soft, almost breathless as he took in the sight of you. He was more than grateful for the treat he'd been given by you.

You grin and then lean your head back down, once again reattaching your mouth to Lorenzo's shaft. He gasps sharply, his body trying to jolt but barely able to due to the restraints on his hands.

Now he realizes the punishment: overstimulation.

It was definitely a different type of punishment. one he was more than happy to experience. He was in utter ecstasy as he tried his best to keep still but his body reacted on its own. He gasped and groaned softly as the stimulation was much more intense than he could've ever expected. He continued looking over at you in awe, his mind consumed with pleasure.

Lorenzo cums once again, straight down your throat and you swallow everything just like before. You pull back again and look up at Lorenzo's exhausted but ecstatic face.

He breathes heavily, panting softly but still having a large smile. He looks back at you as you look at him, his expression still full of pure bliss and contentment.

You don't waste another second to lean back down and suckle his length again. He whines, now feeling the sensitivity from his previous two orgasms.

He gasps sharply as you continue, his expression still a mix of shock and pleasure. His heart was beating rapidly as he continued to try to stay still. The more he tried, the more difficult it became.

Lorenzo's third climax approaches and this time, you don't even pause and pull back. You just swallow before continuing to lick and suck, really making him feel the overstimulation.

"O-Oh God, Mommy!" His tone is soft, his entire body shaking from being restrained. he couldn't move at all, he was just forced to lay there and take in everything you had to offer.

"Hnn... P-Please I-I can't take anymore..."

You ignore Lorenzo's pleads and continue sucking and playing with him. After swallowing his cum for the fourth time, you remove your mouth, making your boyfriend gasp in relief.

"I thought you wanted Mommy to punish you though? Make you act like the good boy you truly are" you tease.

"This is too much of a punishment, mommy.." He whispers softly, his voice still a bit shaky. "I've learned my lesson, okay?" He closed his eyes, clearly feeling exhausted as he took in deep breaths.

You tut. "Oh no no no baby, your punishment is far from over." You bring your mouth back onto him, making him yelp from sensitivity

"Mm... Mommy..." He gasps, his eyes opening wide as soon as your mouth was back on him. "Please stop it... please, it hurts..." He couldn't take the overstimulation anymore. it was just too much for him to handle.

You pull back for a moment to speak, keeping your hands on Lorenzo's cock so he doesn't feel relief from you removing your mouth. "You're the one who acted out, wanting me to punish you and do whatever I want. So you have to take it like a good boy now" you respond smugly before continuing to give him head.

"Please... No more." He begged softly. "I-I'm really sorry, Mommy... I was being a bad boy, thinking I could get away with everything..." He smiled softly. "Please, I'll do anything you say... if you promise to stop the overstimulation... please, Mommy..."

"I'm not stopping unless I hear a safe word baby" you coo. Lorenzo feels so sensitive, but he knows he can handle more. He continues taking in deep breaths, clearly close to his breaking point. He was a good little boy, and he could take it until you said you were done with him.

His fifth orgasm hits and you swallow just like every other time before continuing to lick and play with your boytoy. He's sobbing from the overstimulation right now. It feels so good but too much at the same time. This is gonna be a long punishment.

@mattheoriddles-slutt @enzosstargirl @pizzaapeteer @violetsghosts @lacucarachapisser @oceanblvd111 @divinerulersslut @lemoniiiiiii @marchsfreakshow

#enzo berkshireᯓ★#Enzo berkshire smut

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