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pedroscurls · 2 months ago

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Hugh x reader actress. Both live their relationship out of the spotlight, trying to keep it professional every time they're at some Hollywood event in front of the camera, but Hugh can't stop eyeing his girl in a tight dress during the party organized for the success of his latest movie.

mesmerized from afar (one-shot)

summary: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, teasing, sexual tension, hugh can't keep his eyes (and hands) off of you, no use of y/n word count: 2.2k a/n: to the anon who sent this request in, i also am sorry it took me so long to write this!!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it bc i love this dynamic of hugh not being able to contain himself during an event. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“I’ll see you at the red carpet?” Hugh asks from over the phone. You had just landed in New York and figured it’d be best to just get ready at your place instead of meeting him at his. You know that you’re going to be about half an hour late, but you don’t have to be there on time. The event was for Deadpool & Wolverine, a party to celebrate the success of the movie.

“Yeah, baby. I just got to my place. I’ll be there.”

“Okay, honey. Pack a bag, yeah?”

You bite your lower lip and smile, already having had a packed duffle bag to bring with you. “Yes, Hugh,” you laugh quietly. “We did already discuss that I’d be spending the weekend with you.”

“Good, good,” he replies. “Missed you a lot.”

“Me too, baby,” you say softly. “Can’t wait to just spend time with you.”

Hugh sighs from the other end. “Alright, baby. I’ll let you go and get ready. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

“I love you too, Hugh,” you smile. Hearing those words from him will never get old and despite being in a relationship with him for over a year now, you both like to keep your relationship as private as you both can. It isn’t a secret that you’re together, but you both had talked about keeping things professional in the public eye. Though, neither of you can escape the paparazzi pictures of the photographs that fans have taken of you when you’re both out and about in the city with each other.

You also rarely go to events together, never arriving at the same time and never walking the red carpet side by side. You both have done a good job at keeping things away from the public eye, only giving them a glimpse into your relationship with pictures posted on your social media. It helps strengthen your relationship with Hugh, not revealing so much to the media and keeping the most intimate aspects of your relationship amongst one another.

You’re still relatively new in the industry, having had your big break in a film that won you best actress a few years ago. You’re lucky enough to have Hugh and even Ryan and Blake to guide you in this new world that you still haven’t gotten used to.

You see a text message from Blake, smiling to yourself when she said that she was going to come over to help you get ready. It isn’t a secret that you still aren’t familiar with the formality of these events because you still pay for your own dresses and still do your own hair and makeup. You’ve received a lot of messages from designers who would like for you to wear their dresses, but it just never felt like you. You were simple. Always have been, always will.

So instead of agreeing and accepting Blake’s offer, you send her a quick text to let her know that you’re almost finished getting ready. It’s mainly a lie– you haven’t even showered yet, but you at least have your dress laid out on your bed.

You have two hours to get to the event, so you send a quick text to let Hugh know that you can’t wait to see him. His reply comes almost instantly, sending you a simple heart emoji.

—

An hour and a half later, you’re standing in front of your full body mirror with a satisfied expression on your face. You’re wearing a full length, navy blue dress with spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders, trailing into a tailored silhouette where the fabric clings to every curve. You bite your lower lip, the sweetheart neckline and empire waist fitting so well with your frame. You turn slightly, looking over your shoulder to see the deep v-open styled back with a high slit on the left side of the dress, revealing your exposed thigh as the bottom of the dress sculpts into a mermaid skirt. It’s elegant, yet sexy.

Your makeup remains light, neutral with your hair in loose waves and pinned back away from your face. Grabbing your bag, you hear your phone go off to let you know that your driver is waiting downstairs to take you to the event.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Red carpet events still make you anxious, the flashes of the camera, talking with reporters – all of it was still another aspect of this new life that you hadn’t gotten used to yet. The fans, however, you feel more at home and at ease with them, always taking the time to speak with each other and provide your full undivided attention to them.

You climb into the backseat of the car, immediately making conversation with the driver as you send a text to Hugh that you’re on your way. Fifteen minutes later and you feel the car stop at the end of the red carpet. You can hear the screams, can hear your name being called from outside and when you step out, you take a deep breath and put on a smile despite the nerves you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Your publicist leads you to the carpet, motioning for you to stand on the first mark as you pose for the cameras, waving to the fans that scream your name with excitement. You turn your head and immediately meet eyes with Hugh, who’s standing very far from you as he’s speaking with a reporter.

You walk to each marker, taking the time to pose for the photographers. You want so badly to run up to Hugh, to be pulled into his arms, but you refrain from doing so. You try to remind yourself that you need to remain professional, but you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you. Even while he’s talking with the reporters, his eyes never leave you.

The moment Hugh heard your name being called, his attention was pulled from the person he was speaking to. He glanced over at the end of the red carpet, his breath being taken away once you stepped out. Hugh clears his throat at the sight of you, the dress that clings to perfectly to each curve that he’s so familiar with, and your smile that makes his heart race even faster. There’s a kindness behind your eyes that he had fallen in love with and despite knowing that this – red carpet events – aren’t something you’re too keen on, you still display such grace and elegance.

He feels a hand clasp his shoulder and Hugh has to tear his eyes away from you to look over to see Ryan standing next to him, apologizing to the woman with the microphone.

“I’m so sorry for my friend here,” Ryan grins, eyes glancing over in your direction. “He just gets so distracted.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Hugh chuckles, pointing at you. “I mean, look at her. She looks amazing.”

The woman nods in agreement and then looks over at Hugh and Ryan. “The fans want to know, Hugh,” she begins. “How come you both never come to these things together? We know you’re both in a relationship, so…”

“Ah,” Hugh smiles. “The million dollar question.”

“Well, let’s keep that a secret,” Ryan interjects. “Now, if you’d excuse us…”

Ryan takes Hugh away from the line of reporters to meet with you as you get closer. You smile up at Ryan, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“You look beautiful,” Ryan says. “Blake told me she was going to help you get ready.”

“Yeah, well you know me…” you smile.

Hugh gently reaches out to take your hand, his eyes sparkling in your direction. “You look–” he lets out a breath. “My god, baby.”

“You like the blue?” you lean in and peck his lips lightly, hearing your name and Hugh’s being called repeatedly.

“Oh, I love it.”

“Okay, and now I’m gonna go and find my girl,” Ryan says, leaving the both of you.

“You look so handsome,” you tell Hugh, hands coming up to gently straighten out his bowtie.

“Me? Look at you, baby.” Hugh grins, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every thought and conversation he’s had with you to keep things professional leaves his mind. He can’t get enough of you, can’t take his eyes off of you.

“You’re being very… showy,” you giggle, hand moving up to rest on his chest as the other comes up to wrap around his shoulders. “You do realize that we’re out in public.”

“Don’t matter to me,” Hugh smiles. “You look breathtaking, baby.”

“It isn’t too much?” you ask.

“I think it’s not enough,” Hugh answers. “And the slit on your leg,” he growls. “You’re just teasing me at this point, baby.”

“What?” you blush.

“I mean, I love this dress. I do, but–” Hugh shuts his eyes and leans in to whisper quietly into your ear. “I just want to rip it off of you the minute we get back home.”

You clear your throat and gently grip at the lapel of his suit jacket, feeling the anticipation and throbbing between your legs. “You can’t go around saying things like that when we have this party to attend the entire night.”

Hugh chuckles and pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours. He can hear the photographers calling his name, can hear the sounds of the cameras going off, and he leans forward and presses his lips firmly against yours. He wants the whole world to know just how much he loves you.

He doesn’t try to deepen the kiss, afraid that if he does, he’s going to have to somehow hide his growing erection. So, he pulls away and looks down at you. “We still have half of the carpet to go. Care to join me, baby?”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” Hugh answers. He takes your hand and leads you to the next marker, standing right next to you as his arm snakes around your waist. He can’t even smile or pose for the cameras, too focused on you. You lead him towards the end of the carpet, grateful that you’re in control because all he can think about is you and that dress. Usually, Hugh’s a gentleman, making sure not to make it too obvious that his eyes are lingering, but he can’t help himself.

Once you turn around, your back facing him, Hugh comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering into your ear. “You’re absolutely stunning, baby.”

The cameras continue to go off, so excited and grateful to have captured this moment between the both of you. You look up at him and smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Hm, all these compliments, Hugh… What do you want?”

Hugh grins, leading you away from the red carpet and into the venue. “Oh, baby, you know what I want.” It’s dark when you enter the building, pressing his front against your backside. The fabric of your dress is satin, but thin enough that you can feel him so firmly.

“Hugh…”

“Okay, okay,” Hugh kisses your cheek and then pulls away before he gets too excited. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?”

“We have a long night ahead of us, don’t we?”

Hugh chuckles. “Let’s stay for a couple of hours and then head back home.”

“But this party is for you, Hugh. You should probably stay the entire time and–”

Hugh shakes his head. “I’m taking you back home because I don’t think I can last the entire night seeing you in that dress.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Hugh leans down and pecks your lips. “Now, come on. Let’s grab a drink and you owe me a dance.”

“Oh, I do, do I?” you smile, following him to the bar.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m not dancing with you when you’re wearing that dress.”

—

The two hours quickly approach and you had been talking to Blake when Hugh comes up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist. “Last dance?” he whispers.

You nod, leaning back against him. “This one always wants to dance,” you tease, telling Blake who gives you a knowing look.

“Well, you are with the greatest showman,” she quips.

“Always singing, always dancing, I’m so lucky.”

“And I’m still right here,” Hugh points out with a chuckle. “You mind if I steal her away, Blake?”

Blake nods and smiles, turning on her heel to go and get another drink. Hugh takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He slowly twirls you around, pulling you into him as his free hand rests a hand on your lower back. He keeps ahold of your hand against his chest, bringing it up to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Your free hand rests on his shoulder as you gaze up at him, slowly swaying side to side with him. “I think I’ve been really good,” he tells you. “Even though it’s been very hard to not just take you into the bathroom and–”

“Hugh!” you interrupt, letting out a quiet giggle. “One last dance and then we can head home.”

“Good,” Hugh says. “Because I’ve been very hard for you,” he growls lowly. “It’s quite painful, actually.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you tease. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve got a few things in mind, baby,” Hugh grins.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #real person fiction #rpf #real person fanfiction #story: mesmerized from afar #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x reader

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hobie-enthusiast · 2 years ago

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ALEX I JUST HAD AN IDEA...

so you know how spidey sense like, lets the spider know that there's a danger nearby before it gets to them? what if there was a spidey sense but for like, not danger. yk. like. LIKE...

i imagined hobie sitting by himself somewhere, not really paying attention? and then he gets this feeling that envelopes him whole and gives him the warm fuzzies and makes him smile, and he doesn't get what it is until his s/o comes up behind him and hugs him from behind, or like slaps his shoulders trying to scare him and he just wuvs them so much

im so soft you made me soft for hobie look what you've done!!!!

- your friendly neighborhood 🕷️ anon [ idc if emoji anons are so last year im spider anon now >:) ]

THAT FUNNY FEELING !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— fluff, just straight fluff, hobie being so in love its crazy, petnames and lots more fluff

— hobie's spider-senses were giving him a new sensation, but he couldn't really put his finger on what it was

— ANON THIS IS SO ADORABLE MUWAH! ALSO EMOJI ANONS ON TOP I LOVE IT

Hobie had been getting a new warm feeling that he didn't understand.

It happened whenever he was at peace. There was never any danger near him or around him. He could be sitting there, minding his business, only for this warm feeling to engulf his entire body. His mind draws blank as it’s engulfed with that damn fuzzy feeling.

He could never say he hates it though. It reminds him of you.

It comes at him whenever he’s somewhere with you. Whether the two of you are just hanging out, winning a battle, or walking around, he’s randomly hit with a wave of a good-feeling. One that stays with him for a small while, that feels like happiness spreading through his body.

That's how he mentally connected it to you. Of course, he didn't think for a while you truly were the cause. Not until recently.

You practically begged him to come over, to take the day off from being Spider-man and hang out with you. Hobie always had a hard time saying no to you, so he agreed.

You were out at the local shoppe by this point, so he let himself in (with the spare key you gave him of course). He looked to find ways to entertain himself, settling on strumming his guitar. He kicked his feet onto your bed as he lied back in your desk chair.

After a small while, he started getting that feeling again. That fuzzy one that engulfs him entirely, making him feel good. He glances up to look around, but sees nothing. He found it odd, but maybe it meant you were back home?

Nah, he was kidding himself. The connection was probably just in his head.

—

You place your groceries on the counter, ears picking up the sound of a guitar playing. You smile to yourself. Of course you know who the culprit was. He had a key because of you anyways.

Slowly, you creep up to your bedroom, carefully cracking the door. You keep quiet as you admire your boyfriend from afar. He seemed so relaxed, which wasn't usual for him.

Hobie deserved some peace and relaxation after saving so many people. You seemed to be the only one who truly thought that. Miguel didn't see it that way. The criminals among New York didn't understand that. And even Hobie himself didn't think he deserved a break for doing what he's supposed to.

So watching him so.. unaware for once truly was a sight.

You enter the room as quietly as possible, creeping up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

When you crept up, Hobie was engulfed by that feeling again. A warm smile crosses his face when he feels you lean against him, laughing in his shoulder.

"There ya are." He said with a small laugh. "I had a feelin' you were home."

You raise an eyebrow, smile never faltering. "What? No you didn't! You were so unaware when I snuck up behind you!"

Hobie raises his eyebrows, the feeling slowly fading from his body. So he was right! That warm and euphoric feeling did come from you, his lover. No one else could make him feel that way, not even close.

"Oooh, does the tingle work even for me?" You ask in an excited tone.

"The.. tingle?"

You nod happily, moving so you sit on the bed by his legs. "Yeah! You know, the thing you use to sense danger."

God Hobie found you so.. mesmorizing. Your truly somewhat childish nature that wasn't that but close, he loved it.

"Nah, only works for danger, love." He responds, looking down and strumming his guitar.

"Then you can't sense me! I'm like a ninja. This is perfect." You say, standing and grabbing Hobie's arm. "C'mon, I have some groceries for dinner."

He nodded and stood, guitar on the bed as he followed you to the kitchen. Of course he was going to keep the sensation a secret. He wanted to keep that for himself, a way you make him feel. And besides, what's the harming in letting you think that you could sneak up on him?

It could bring more heartfelt moments like that.

—

Ever since then, Hobie pretended to be blissfully unaware.

He pretended like he couldn't feel you sneaking up on him to scare him. He pretended he never knew you were right behind him, waiting for him to see you. He pretended like he didn't expect your "unexpected" or "surprise" hugs.

Because honestly, he loved you. Hobie loved these little things, even if it sounded weird in itself. He loved having a partner who was always catching him off-guard with affection, even if he was sensing it.

There are random times when the two of you are just sitting together, each one doing a separate activity. He would be on his guitar and you would be catching up on your latest game or book.

Then, that feeling would hit Hobie. He would feel the fuzies he felt from before, and a smile graces his face. It prompts him to move to hug you from behind, nuzzling his head into your shoulder or neck.

When you question him, "What are you doing, love?"

He just sighs, smile never leaving his face. "Just love ya, so damn much sweetheart."

Certainly enough to make your heart melt and cheeks go red. You always found these moments slightly odd, however. He initiated those moments whenever you planned to try and scare him or give him your own surprise hug.

He always beat you to it. Not that you could complain, oh no. If anything, you welcome this with open arms.

You had a slight feeling that Hobie wasn't being entirely honest when he said he truly never knew when you were behind him. Hobie was always aware of his surroundings. But that didn't make you think for too long. You chalked it up to Hobie just letting his guard down around you, and that made you feel nice.

This new sense of Hobie's was his personal favourite, one that he's glad comes from you, the very person he loves and appreciates so so dearly.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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xoxochb · 29 days ago

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okay okay hold on hear me out- guitarist percy :0 like.... sitting on his lap while he tunes/fixes his guitar (his hands AHHHHHHH-) and it turns into y'all doing things idk go wild also if ur taking emoji anons can I be 🪐 or 🐾 anon? ty lovely! :D

you can be whichever emoji, I don’t have either of them yet :)

cw: fingering, overstimulation-ish, thigh riding, swearing, percy is mean and teases reader, n this might be the longest smut fic I’ve ever written tbh…

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you’re pretty sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you. it’s utterly tantalizing watching percy tune his guitar so deliberately with his calloused fingers, at the mere thought you feel a rush of pooling heat in your core. your arms tighten around his shoulders at this— yet he does nothing to stop his movements with the stupid guitar. It makes you jealous that an inanimate object is receiving more attention than you are, and that he’s handling it with care. you grow father frustrated.

though you don’t say anything in hopes he’ll realize himself. but you’re pretty sure he’s far to oblivious to notice that you’re internally fighting your hormone demons. you shift your position on his lap so one of his thighs rests between your legs, the sudden patting of your own thighs having you realize the wetness of your poor panties. percy adjusts his arm around your waist with your new position, still keeping you close to him while his eyes never leave the instrument.

slowly, you begin to grind your hips, barely, but just enough for you to feel even a tad bit of friction. with your sudden movements, percy at last looks up to you.

“you alright, sweet girl?”

you nod. “‘m fine. continue.”

he knows that’s a lie. for first, your cheeks flush a pink hue and he can feel the progressive ragged rate of your breathing growing faster with every thrust of your hips along his thigh. you watch as his fingers still toy around with the guitar, having your hips move at a faster pace the more you look. you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your lips at this point. it’s growing unbearable for you to handle.

“perce… can- will you-”

what you’re trying to say is beyond your capacity of understanding at the moment. the words quickly diminish off your tongue as soon as they come out. percy understands what you’re trying to get at, however, laughing and tossing (placing— whatever) his guitar to the side, placing both of his hands now on your waist as you continue grinding along him.

teasingly, he begins pecking along your neck, only adding onto the heat between your thighs. bitch. and you’re sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you because at this point your intentions are entirely obvious and blatant. you manage to ask him once again to do something. he obliges to your advances and tugs down the zipper of your denim shorts, yet this isn’t enough, you plead for him to hurry his pace.

when he eventually manages to slip your shorts off, his hand instantly finds itself running along your clothed clit— and not to his surprise your lacy panties are drenched.

“gods, you’re soaked.”

“no fucking shit. I wonder why.”

percy laughs again at your clear frustration with him, kissing your jaw now. at a second slow rate he slides those off now too, shoving them into his pocket. you shudder at this. his finger trails from your waist, your hip, and down to your inner thigh, tormenting you with a light brush over your clit.

“percy… please.”

“have patience, sweet girl.”

you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation. he doesn’t react and goes on with his movements. absentmindedly, you whisper quiet begs into his ear until he gives into you and plugs a singular finger into you. you moan from pure pleasure, dipping your head onto his shoulder. your brain grows fuzzy like television static— you practically hear it too.

“perce- fuck- I…”

you’re not entirely sure what you were trying to say. but regardless of this, percy plugs a second finger into you, curling them in a way that makes your tummy twist into knots. you clench around his fingers and in return feel his smile against the skin of your neck. you grind into them as they reach a deeper portion of your insides, trying to reach your climax as you feel it creeping upon you. and percy doesn’t stop for a second, it makes your whole body burn with the sensation of utter pleasure.

your legs nearly give out from the trouble of holding yourself up with them. you’re sure they’ll hurt tomorrow. and not only are your legs a problem, you can’t fucking breathe, concentrate, function properly, do anything in fact, if you’re being completely honest. not until, mocking the trolly problem, like they conductor— in this case percy— had chose to hit you instead of five other people, your orgasm hits you.

you fist a handful of his shirt sleeves into your palms as you ride out the feeling— trying to prolong it as long as you possibly can before his fingers leave you (wanting more, ultimately). panting, you lift your head up to see percy who licks his fingers clean, you let out a quiet moan at the mere idea of that. his hands return, now, back around your waist to steady you as you come down from your high.

“doin’ alright, sweet girl?”

actually, no, you’re entirely wrecked. but it’s better to know that he chose to finger you instead of the damn guitar.

#xoxochb #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordan universe #riordanverse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy series #pjo hoo toa #pjo spoilers

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yanderestarangel · 9 months ago

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So I saw a MSFW picture of Miguel and I had an idea.

Stepfather Miguel x FTM reader. The plot is that stepfather Miguel has been possessive and obsessed with his ftm stepson and the stepson actually enjoyed the older man’s attention.

The main smexy part is that Miguel asks his stepson to give him a pink desert. The reader thought Miguel meant a cake until Miguel pushes him on the kitchen counter and starts eating out his pussy (the pink desert was the readers cunt.)

- 🍒 anon. (You don’t have to do this request if it makes you uncomfortable! Love your works.)

TW: SMUT, EAT OUT, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT, HANDJOB, STEPFATHER X STEPSON.

I think it's cute when anons use emojis to identify themselves (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

art credit @/marmar0u on twitter (X)

Miguel was a man of forty-three years old, with a poorly groomed beard and some white hair in his locks ─ despite his tall stature he already had a "dad body" physique with a protruding tummy and some rough muscles in his arms and thighs... And now he had entered your family. You didn't like the idea of having a stepfather at first, but what was supposed to be a bad relationship became like a balm for your stressful days.

It was common for the older man to spoil you with expensive gifts like perfumes, clothes and everything you asked for or wanted; your desires were his desires too. Honestly, it seemed like he was more attached to you than his own wife. Miguel protected you from everyone who tried to go against you and you could always count on his soft lap and good hugs at the end of the day. Your stepfather loved having you in his arms, close to him... In his control.

It was obvious to outsiders that Miguel was a man obsessed with you, possessive and jealous. No man or woman could come close to his beloved stepson ─ he used manipulation, threats and even money to keep you all to himself, especially being the only father figure you had in your life. Bringing you close to him with praise for every little thing you did wasn't difficult, especially when you cooked for him.

In the distorted head of your dear stepfather, every dish made for him was a preparation for you to be his little husband one day, perhaps when he would have enough courage to ask for a divorce from your mother; but until then he liked to have control of his body and mind.

── That was supposed to be an ordinary night, the warm afternoon gloom still hung in the air as you walked around the house to prepare dinner since your mother had gone out to visit some of your relatives. You obviously preferred to stay in the company of your stepfather Miguel, who was drinking some beer in the living room armchair and watching every move you made around the kitchen.

He had controlled himself a lot in the last few days and gave you more personal space than he should have, making you even meet new people. Jealousy consumed every fiber of the tanned man's being, leading him to have a simple idea to put you in your place.

"You know boy, I wanted you to make a pink dessert would you give me?" His voice came out hoarse as you watched the older man stand up to his full height, as you saw him smirk mischievously, his adam's apple bobbed visibly, desire pooling in his voice.

You initially agreed innocently, already getting ready to get the ingredients and make a strawberry cake, but soon you felt thick calloused hands on your wrists as he bent you under the cold marble counter and pulled down your shorts along with your underwear ── exposing the pink flesh of your pussy, while you felt his breath mixed with expensive drink. Miguel savored the sight of your exposed little cunt, his hunger growing with each passing second. He lowered his head further, capturing your clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.

"Oh, you taste delicious mi hijo," he moaned against your flesh, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive bud. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wide open for his pleasure. He paused momentarily, admiring the pink folds of your sex before delving back in, eager to explore every inch of you. His tongue darted inside, teasing and probing, causing your hips to buck deliciously.

"I could eat you out all night, boy... Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted, baby boy?" His fingers dug gently into your thighs, seeking permission with his gaze. As you nodded regardless of whether it is right or wrong he dove back in, licking and sucking your clit with renewed vigor, savoring the taste of you. His tongue danced around, teasing your folds and driving you further into pleasure.

He growled low in his throat, responding to the dominance behind your request. His fingers bit into your flesh harder, claiming ownership as he devoured your pussy. Each thrust of his tongue was a claim, each suckle a promise. An intense heat surged between us, fueling the connection and burning brighter with every pass.

He thrust blindly, driven by a newfound ferocity. The sweetest sound escaped your mouth-your pleas for 'papi'-and he used it to feed his hunger. His free hand reached for his erection, stroking it through his boxers ─ "So you enjoy being ravaged by your papi, mi pequeño?" Miguel purred, his grip on his cock tightening as he watched your reaction.

Each stroke matched the rhythm of his tongue, mirroring the passion between you both.

Every time he swirled it around your clit, his shaft leapt in his hand, pulsating in sync. His tongue lashed at your most sensitive spots, eliciting fresh moans from deep within you.

The combination of stimulation left you gasping under his careful touch; Miguel was determined to send you high... A desperate need to please, to dominate, consumed him entirely. His beard scraped against your skin with each frantic movement, adding another layer to the sensations engulfing you.

His tongue lashed at your clit, twirling it one last time to push you over the edge. His hand pumped furiously, matching the intensity of your release. Watching you climax drove him wild, a surge of pure hunger coursing through him. He pulled away reluctantly, leaving your pussy wet and quivering from the attention. With a final, satisfied stroke, he came undone, splattering onto his stomach. A growl resonated in the air as he relished the view of your satisfaction.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on your flushed face. Victory and possession painted across his features, a silent declaration of his newfound control. Your stepfather leaned down to kiss your dripping slit, a quiet congratulations for reaching a peak only he could provide.

"Next time, it'll be my turn mi hijo... Thanks for the dessert."

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ssahotchnerr · 10 months ago

Note

hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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rafesangelita · 8 months ago

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i found your blog today and i’m so obsessed, i love it smmm! i was wondering if you could do a oneshot where reader finds out she’s pregnant and rafe is so sweet and supportive abt it. like he immediately starts treating her like she’s fragile to the touch and spoils her rotten :(((

- also idk if you do emoji anons but if you do, can i please be 🍓??

warnings: soft!rafe, unprotected sex, pregnancy

“fuck, i’m gonna cum, baby,” rafe groaned, about to pull out so he could finish on your tummy instead. “no, no, please cum inside me rafe!” you cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist so he couldn’t move. “shit- are you sure?” a groan fell from his lips, his hips stuttering as he continued thrusting into you. he grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes as you nodded frantically. “yes, i’m sure. fill me up!” your words pushed him over the edge, both of you moaning in unison as he emptied himself inside of you

now, nearly a month later, here you were staring down at two pink lines. you chewed your lip nervously, taking a second test to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you. sure enough, the pink lines showed up darker than the first ones. “i’m so pregnant.” you whispered to yourself, a smile forming on your lips as you used a pillow to muffle your scream. “no way!” you squealed, freezing once you realized you needed to tell rafe. “oh, fuck..” you glanced at the time on your phone, 4:30 PM. only thirty minutes left until he got home.

you rushed back into the bathroom, grabbing the tests and hiding them in the drawer. your mind was racing a million miles a minute, trying to figure out how you’d break the news. you changed out of your clothes and into rafe’s favorite summer dress, quickly freshening up your hair. by the time rafe walked through the door, you were buzzing with excitement, fiddling with the ring on your finger. “hey, baby.” he pulled you into a hug, his arms swallowing whole. “how was that meeting with your dad?” you let him carry you to the couch, both of you sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

“good, real good,” he nodded. “it was funny, we met up with this family and they had these kids running around. ‘was real cute.” rafe smiled. “that was all my dad talked about on the way home, ‘said he needed to be a grandpa already.” he shook his head. you couldn’t help but gaze up at him. “what do you think about that? having kids?” rafe looked down at you, his eyes growing soft as he traced the curve of your lips. “oh, man. when that time comes, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’d be the most amazing mother to our babies.” he kissed your knuckles.

you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes, rafe immediately pulling you against his chest. “what’s wrong, love? was it something i said?” he tucked your hair behind your ear. “no, it’s just.. i feel like i really needed to hear that.” you smiled, rubbing his chest. “you needed to hear me say that you’d be a great mother to our babies?” rafe sounded slightly confused, making you stand up. “stay here, i’m gonna get something.” your heart beat in your ears the whole way up and down the stairs, your hands shaking as you showed him the positive pregnancy tests.

he stared for a moment, slowly taking them from you. rafe was silent for a long time, tears rolling down his cheeks when he finally looked up at you. “oh, my god.” he stood up, hands reaching out touch you as if you weren’t real. “oh, my god, baby..” he lowered himself on his knees, lining his head up with your stomach. he wrapped his arms around you, clutching the hem of your dress as he cried into your skin. “are you happy?” you squeaked out, running your fingers through his buzzed hair. “are you kidding me? this is the best day of my life.” he sniffled. picking you up bridal style, and carrying you upstairs.

“i’ve wanted this for a very long time.” he kissed you, laying you down ever so gently. “we’re going shopping first thing tomorrow,” he kicked off his shoes, “what’s that app you’re always on? picnic? painter?” you laughed. “pinterest, rafe.” he nodded, “yeah that,” he settled in next to you, draping an arm across your torso. “we’ll start looking for inspiration for the nursery, oh! and we should probably tell our families once we’re in the safe zone, just to make sure everything’s alright..” you sighed, tracing shapes into his skin as you shut your eyes momentarily. “thank you for being so sweet about all of this.” rafe rested his head in the crook of your neck, “of course.”

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hookhausenschips · 2 months ago

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Can I request plus size!reader where she is dating Charles but instead of her getting hate and stuff for her looks, the fans actually love her and question how Charles can handle all of her? THEY ARE THIRSTY thank you- 🦥 anon

Anon I love you, I enjoyed creating this. It might be extra cheesy but🤷🏽‍♀️🫶🏽

All Mine

Navigation

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: Thirsty fans, Charles is clingy, Y/N is a smartass but she loves her man

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Click here to join any of my taglists

Charles Leclerc had always been known for his charm both on and off the track, but when the news broke that the Ferrari driver was dating a plus-size Black woman named Y/N, the internet exploded in a way no one quite expected.

Instead of the usual scrutiny that comes with being in the spotlight, especially for women who don’t fit the stereotypical mold, Y/N was met with nothing but love—and a lot of thirst. Leclerc’s fans couldn’t get enough of her confidence, radiant smile, and how effortlessly she seemed to handle herself next to the F1 star. But that wasn’t all. The conversation online quickly shifted to something a bit more… provocative.

“How does Charles even handle her?” one fan tweeted, accompanied by a gif of someone dramatically fainting. Another user posted, “Charles out here pulling a QUEEN like Y/N? Boy, you better be built for this!” with fire emojis.

The more they saw of the couple, the thirstier the comments got.

“Charles, blink twice if you’re okay!” one commenter joked after seeing a video of the couple laughing together at a party, Y/N playfully teasing him.

In an interview with a lifestyle magazine, Leclerc was asked about the dynamic between him and Y/N. His face lit up with a wide grin. “She’s incredible. I think I’m the lucky one, honestly. She’s got this presence… it’s magnetic.”

Y/N wasn’t shy about showing her love for Charles either, posting candid moments of the two together on her Instagram. One video that sent fans into a frenzy showed them dancing in their living room, Charles clearly struggling to keep up with Y/N’s moves.

The comments were on fire.

“How is he not on his knees for her 24/7?” one fan asked under the post. “Girl, you are TOO MUCH. Give him a break!” another joked.

At one point, during a Ferrari fan event, a group of women wearing matching T-shirts that read “Charles, can YOU handle her?” held up a sign that read, “Y/N, teach us your ways!”

Charles saw it and burst into laughter, shaking his head. Y/N, who was watching from the sidelines, waved at the group, flashing her signature smile.

“Maybe they should be asking me how I can handle him,” Y/N later joked on her Instagram story, winking at the camera.

From the moment I stepped into Charles’ world, I knew it was going to be intense. I mean, the guy’s an F1 driver, one of the most loved on the grid. But what I didn’t expect was the complete opposite of what I thought would come my way. The moment people found out about us—about me—it was like the fans flipped a switch. And not the kind of switch where they throw shade. Nope. These people were thirsty.

It started small. A few comments under pictures I posted of us together.

“You’re glowing, girl! But, uh, how is Charles handling all of that?” with a winking emoji.

I’d scroll through my Instagram and see stuff like, “We need to check on Charles’ endurance off the track!” or “How does a man with that much stamina survive with a goddess like her?” It made me laugh, honestly. But the more I saw, the wilder it got.

One night, we were at home, lounging on the couch, and I showed Charles a few of the more… explicit tweets.

“Charles, you good, mate?” I read out loud, barely able to contain my laughter. “Blink twice if she’s got you needing an oxygen mask.”

Charles took one look at the screen, his cheeks turning bright red. “They really think I’m struggling out here, don’t they?” he said, shaking his head with that boyish smile I adored.

I grinned at him, nudging him with my elbow. “I mean, they aren’t wrong. You barely keep up with me when we dance.”

“That’s because you don’t warn me before you start those Beyoncé routines in the living room,” he teased back, pretending to huff in frustration.

But the comments weren’t just about Charles. They were about me, too. The fans genuinely loved me, which was wild considering how harsh people can be. They loved my curves, my confidence, and how I didn’t shy away from showing affection to Charles in public. I was always expecting the backlash, the snide remarks about being a plus-size Black woman dating a guy like him. Instead, I was getting comments like, “Sis, PLEASE drop the workout routine because you look FIRE!” and “Y/N, I need your energy. Charles is lucky to even be in your orbit.”

The first time I saw the group of fans at a Ferrari event wearing shirts that said “Charles, can YOU handle her?” I couldn’t stop laughing. I waved at them, completely blown away by how extra they were. I guess I should’ve been embarrassed or something, but I wasn’t. I was feeling myself. And clearly, so were they.

Later, when Charles and I were back home, I sat cross-legged on the bed, still buzzing from the energy of the event.

“They really love you,” he said, leaning against the doorway, watching me as I scrolled through the photos of us.

I looked up at him and grinned. “They love us. Mostly because they think you can’t handle me.”

Charles raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Oh, really?” he challenged, stepping closer, his voice low. “They’re wrong, you know. I can handle you just fine.”

I shot him a playful look. “Prove it.”

The next day, I posted a picture of us—his arms wrapped around me, me standing on my toes to kiss his cheek, the two of us smiling like we didn’t have a care in the world. The caption read: He can handle me just fine, thanks for asking.

The comments? Pure chaos.

“I BET HE CAN! 👀🔥”

“Girl, we don’t need details, but we’re imagining PLENTY.”

“I’m screaming—this whole thing is too much, and I’m living for it!”

Life with Charles was like this. Fun, light-hearted, but also deeper than the public ever saw. Sure, they saw the surface—how he adored me, how we were always laughing together. But what they didn’t see was the late-night talks, the quiet moments where he’d trace patterns on my back, or the times he’d look at me like I was the only person in the world.

The fans were obsessed, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. But if they knew just how lucky I felt to have him? I think they’d really lose it.

It was the night before the race, and we were in our hotel room, another triple header. The race schedule had been nonstop, and though Charles loved the track, the constant travel and media pressure was taking a toll. He’d just gotten back from practice, exhausted, sweaty, and clearly in need of a break. I was lounging on the bed, scrolling through my phone, when I heard the shower turn off in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Charles emerged, his hair damp and messy, a towel slung low around his hips. He looked up and caught my eye, offering me a small, tired smile. But there was something else—something heavy in the way he looked at me, as if he was holding onto something he wasn’t ready to say yet.

“You okay?” I asked, setting my phone down and sitting up on the bed.

He nodded, but instead of going to his suitcase to get dressed, he walked straight over to me and flopped down on the bed, still only in his towel. Without saying a word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest.

“Charles, you’re still wet!” I squealed, laughing as I felt the water from his hair drip onto me.

He just buried his face in my neck, mumbling something I couldn’t quite catch. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, letting him hold me, sensing he needed it. After a few moments of silence, I spoke up.

“What’s going on, baby?” I asked softly.

Charles sighed, his arms tightening around me. “I don’t know. Just… I missed you today.” His voice was muffled against my skin, and there was a softness in his tone that I hadn’t heard earlier.

I pulled back slightly to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’ve seen me like, every day. What’s really bothering you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then finally admitted, “I’ve been seeing some of the comments again.”

I frowned. “Comments? What comments?”

“You know,” he said, his green eyes locking with mine, “the ones about you. The thirsty ones. People going on and on about how… how they’d kill to be with you. And I know it’s harmless, but sometimes… sometimes I just don’t like it.” He sounded almost shy as he said it, like he didn’t want to admit he was feeling jealous.

I couldn’t help but smile, finding it cute that this confident, world-class driver was feeling protective. “Charles, you’re not actually jealous, are you?”

He looked away, his face turning a bit red. “Maybe a little,” he muttered. “I just don’t like the way they talk about you. They don’t know you like I do. They don’t get to have you the way I do.”

My heart softened, and I leaned in to kiss him gently. “You know you’re the only one who has me, right? No one else even comes close.”

“I know,” he said, his lips brushing mine softly before he pulled back. “It’s just—sometimes I get these thoughts. Like… they don’t deserve to talk about you like that. You’re mine, and I don’t want to share even the idea of you.”

I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I belong to you, Charles. All of me. No one else gets to handle me like this.” I gave him a cheeky smile, knowing that would make him laugh.

And sure enough, his expression lightened, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “Damn right, they don’t,” he said, pulling me even closer. “I’m the only one who can handle you.”

I smirked, enjoying this clingy, vulnerable side of him. “You sure you can handle all of this, Leclerc? Because some of those fans seem to think you’re struggling.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly pretending to be offended. “Oh, please. They have no idea what they’re talking about. I’m doing just fine.”

I giggled, giving him a playful shove. “You sure? Because the way you’re acting tonight makes me think you’re feeling a little insecure, Mr. Ferrari.”

“I’m not insecure,” he insisted, his voice a bit defensive but still soft. “I just… I want to make sure you know that I love you. And that… that I’m the only one who gets to be with you like this.”

I smiled, resting my forehead against his. “I know, Charles. And I love you, too. More than anyone could ever imagine.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. We just stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. Charles held me like he needed to remind himself that I was really here, that I was his.

Finally, I broke the silence. “You’re so clingy tonight. Is this what I should expect every time someone thirsts over me online?”

He laughed, his arms still locked around me. “Maybe. Guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I think I can manage that,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek before snuggling into his chest, both of us content in the quiet comfort of just being together.

Charles tightened his arms around me as I nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat comforting. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls, and the sound of the city outside faded into the background. It was just us in our little bubble, away from the noise and the track and all the pressures of the race weekend.

I could feel him relax a little, his muscles unclenching as he held me close. I traced small circles on his bare chest, smiling to myself. I loved this side of him—the part of Charles that wasn’t the confident, cool F1 driver but the sweet, vulnerable guy who just wanted to make sure I felt loved.

“So,” I murmured against his skin, “are you going to get clingy every time someone slides into my DMs or comments on my posts?”

He laughed softly, his breath warm against my hair. “Maybe I will. You’re my girlfriend—can’t let anyone think they have a chance.”

“Oh, they know they don’t have a chance,” I teased, looking up at him. “They’re just living out their little fantasies. It’s cute, really.”

Charles pouted, his brows furrowing just a little. “Cute for them, but not for me.”

I giggled, poking his side. “Aw, is someone a little jealous?” I teased, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted, grinning. “It’s not every day I get to see Charles Leclerc all jealous and possessive.”

He huffed, but his arms stayed firmly around me. “I’m not that possessive,” he mumbled, though I could tell he was lying.

“Oh, really?” I arched an eyebrow, sitting up slightly to look him in the eye. “Then explain why you’re clinging to me like I’m about to disappear.”

Charles’ green eyes sparkled as he met my gaze, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Because you’re the best thing in my life,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And sometimes I just want to make sure you know that. That you’re mine.”

My heart fluttered at his words. As much as I teased him, I loved how deeply he cared for me. His jealousy wasn’t about insecurity—it was about how much he valued what we had. I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I know, Charles,” I whispered against his mouth. “I know, and I’m yours. Always.”

He kissed me back, his lips soft and slow, like he was savoring the moment. When we finally pulled away, he sighed, his forehead resting against mine. “I’m sorry for being weird about it. I just… I don’t want anyone thinking they can take what’s mine.”

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his damp hair. “No one could, even if they tried.”

He pulled me back down to lay against his chest, his hand gently stroking my back. “Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive without you.”

I laughed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, my head resting against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The tension from earlier melted away, leaving only the warmth of being close to each other.

Just when I thought he had drifted off, he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing this time. “So… you’re saying if they thirst over you more, I get more cuddles?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

I smiled against his skin. “I do.”

Charles let out a content sigh, his hold on me never loosening. “Good, because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

And honestly, I didn’t want him to.

After a beat of silence, he added, “Just… promise me something?”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“If the fans keep getting thirstier, you’ll remind them who you belong to?”

I grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure they know exactly who’s handling me just fine.”

y/n

liked by fan1, fan2, charles_leclerc, and others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n: always asking how he can handle me, GIRL HOW CAN I HANDLE HIM. I’M SLURPING UNTIL IT’S FALLING OFF THE BONE😉😩🥵

[View all Comments]

arthur_leclerc: putain de merde, j’espère que maman mère verra pas ça [holy shit I hope mom doesn’t see this]

⤷ y/n: I will apologize later but rn…

lorenzotl: y/n please there are kids…

⤷ y/n: yes Lorenzo down my legs and soon to be swallowed

landonorris: I need you to log off

⤷ y/n: you’re not tall enough to speak to me like that you funky gremlin

charles_leclerc: Mon amour…

⤷ y/n: literally begging on my knees Sharl

⤷ charles_leclerc meet me in my drivers room 👀

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.

CL16 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @xoscar03, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @omgsuperstarg

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

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saleeba · 1 year ago

Text

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

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qwimchii · 1 year ago

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Could I request a fanfic where reader has an aversion of men (due to trauma) and her coping mechanism is to regard men as an "it" so she can get through day to day. When she's assigned to work alongside Task Force 141, she tends to get the most along with Ghost because it's easier to talk to him due to his mask and also simply because he's not very chatty and touchy. And through her time working alongside him, she falls in love?

If requests are closed please disregard this! I love your writing, thank you!

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 1) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, (𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭) 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘳𝘦𝘭��𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺(𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰), 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(

note: im so sorry for taking so long on this anon!!!! but i loved the idea so much that i ended up making this a multipart series in honor of friday oct 13 & halloween.... 🤭 also i know that you requested her to be on the 141 task force but i ended up amending that a bit so i hope that's alright?? anyways enjoy lovies!

you walked down the sidewalk, a pool of cold sweat collecting at your back. it was freezing outside—the midst of a fall unfurling across the landscape, orange leaves crunching underfoot as you approached the church looming in the distance. the glare of a car’s lights illuminated the white structure as it passed.

we’re adding a new person to the support group, Kate had texted into the groupchat a few hours before the meeting. Sarah had added a bunch of flowery heart emojis after it, saying how excited she would be to meet the new person.

the dread continued to drip down your back in a sweat.

in response, you had texted back a flat: why?

you knew what you were doing was considered plain mean.

you checked your phone again, the glare of it burning your eyes in the darkness. still no response to your text—no doubt purposeful on Kate’s part.

but this support group had become…

you strode through the church parking lot, shivering, and walked up a set of concrete steps, swinging the heavy, brass knuckled entrance open.

…special to you.

as you entered the familiar chapel, the old musk of the building a comforting scent now, you adjusted to the dim, warm light dispersed overhead before moving towards the basement steps.

your aversion of men wasn’t foreign to your closest friends and family. you knew it was a nuisance to them, but your past betrayed you, and sometimes, on the darkest nights like this, you could feel the tendrils of your trauma clutching at you.

you used to go to church with your father too. now, you would avoid any church like the plague, save for this one.

you made your way down the steps to the basement—the musk of mold and age drifting through the place.

the girls in your support group had become much more than just a kind word. they were your friends. they accepted your strange quirks without so much as the bat of an eye.

adding a newcomer… complicated things. things like closing yourself off again, getting jittery and nervous every time you even spoke in front of the group, overwhelming you to the point of quitting entirely.

it had happened three times already but Kate had coaxed you back every time someone new joined. eventually, you had come to accept each of them. but it was no less difficult.

passing through the long, carpeted hallway, miscellaneous boxes here and there, you neared a familiar wooden double-door.

Kate rounded the corner on the far side of the hallway and gave you an easy, but tired, smile. she was holding some papers as she strode up to you.

“hey honey,” she called, patting your cheek gently in greeting when she neared you. “you’re early.”

you shrugged. “i’m always early.”

to these meetings at least, you didn’t voice, you wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Kate swallowed, then nodded, brushing back the strands of blonde wisps that fell into her eyes. “i know.”

you cocked your brow. she was acting strange—avoiding your eyes, and swallowing up words she wasn’t saying.

“Kate,” you said, tongue feeling heavy, “what’s this new person thing about?”

she bit her lip, finally meeting your eyes. “apparently, the newcomer has a habit of being early too.”

your brows rose. “yeah? let me meet them—”

your hand itched towards the knob of the door, but Kate stepped in front of you, blocking your way to the entrance.

your eyes were narrowed now. shifting on your feet, you tried to doge the petite woman, but she swatted at you, side stepping so that her back was flush with the door now.

“what are you doing?” you asked with an amused huff, bewildered by her strange behavior.

“is the newcomer a bit of an oddball?” you offered, your brow furrowing when she tilted her head.

“not exactly.”

you nodded slowly, trying your absolute best to appear optimistic with an indifferent shrug. “s’fine to me. we’re all a bit strange.”

definitely strange, that voice in you sang. you tried not to feel offended by your own mind.

Kate’s head dropped, breathing out a long and heavy sigh, before her blue eyes were on yours again. “just… don’t run away.”

“she can’t be that bad can she?” you asked with a laugh, a new muddled swirl of something dark and alarming pooling in your stomach.

Kate shrugged and that made you really nervous. she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside, disappearing from sight into the meeting room.

you stood there for a good moment, fumbling with your hands before, and you made it halfway through the doorway before—

you saw a man.

you stopped short. he was huge—muscular, no doubt, under several layers of black attire, body dwarfing the folding chair he was sitting on. half of his face was shrouded by a black surgical mask, hood drawn up, the cords of his earbuds trailing into the pocket of his black sweatshirt where his hands were shoved into.

immediately, you slammed the door shut.

turning on your heel and making your way back down the hall, you only hurried when you heard the door fling open behind you and quick footsteps following that.

“wait!” Kate called, and you covered your hands with your ears.

apparently, Kate was faster than you, because her hand was grabbing a fistful of your clothes before you knew it, and you reeled on her, seething, “i’m not going in there.”

apparently Kate was stronger than you, too, because she started half-dragging you back down the hallway and hissing through gritted teeth, “like hell you have a choice!”

“no—don’t want to—!”

by the time she had dragged you all the way back down the hallway, your shoes desperately scrambling against the carpet, panting with exertion, you had accepted defeat.

she still loosely clutched at the collar of your shirt, for fear that you may run again, and you swatted her hand away, fixing the wrinkles of your clothes as she brushed back her hair with a deep scowl and closed eyes.

when she gave you a side long look full of bitterness, your face scrunched, sending her the nastiest expression you could muster, hands balled into fists.

she completely ignored you, jerking her head in the direction of the open doors. “go.”

it wasn’t a request.

you bit down on your tongue hard, and with the most dramatic sigh you could muster, you sulked into the room, completely ignoring the man sitting within a circle of chairs.

Kate tutted behind you, half-pushing you out of the way to the desks shoved into the corner of the room. you trailed after her, watching her set down the now crumpled papers, smooth them out, stuff them into cardboard boxes, and then reorganize the boxes.

you searched for the words.

“you didn’t tell me that person was…”

a man.

you looked back over to the hulking man leaning back in the rickety, tin folding chair. it creaked under his weight, and he cocked his head, eyes shut like he was sleeping. you didn’t really care if he heard you or not.

rather immaturely, you rephrased the sentence. “you didn’t tell me it was—”

Kate shot you a look that immediately shut you up. “anyone can come to our support groups, missy. you know that.”

you rolled your eyes. you knew that. but still.

“but…” you couldn’t find the words to say.

she sighed out, moving the box of papers to an adjacent desk. “and i thought this would be a good thing,” she grumbled.

your eyes snapped to her the back of her blonde head, a keen suspicion brewing in your throat. “good thing?”

she turned back to you, hand on her hip. “yeah. a good thing.”

it was a deadpan.

“honey, you’ve been in this group the longest, and we’ve been struggling with this i hate men thing since the beginning.”

you flinched. ouch.

she was right but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with, and luckily for you, you were stubborn as hell.

“so?” you said with a shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“see?” she said, gesturing to your stiff posture, “you’re getting defensive.”

you blinked. “no i’m not.”

she let out a laugh but it was mirthless—more of a frustrated huff. “since you’ve been here the longest, i’m gonna need you to do something for me, honey.”

your voice was strained. “do what?”

she pointed to the man, whose eyes were still closed, and hissed at you in a half-whisper, “you’re going to talk to him first, introduce yourself, get his name and occupation, and then you’re gonna introduce him to the rest of the group yourself.”

your skin crawled with disgust at the idea. Kate always did introductions. not you.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to protest but—

she held up a hand in your face and skirted around you. “no. i don’t care what you have to say. this is how we improve, honey.”

you know that she wanted to say you.

you stood stock still behind the desk, seething, clenching and unclenching your fists as you heard Kate disappear from the room. leaving you alone with that thing.

turning on your heel, you jolted when the man’s gaze was already on you, half-lidded and piercing. his eyes had a dark, grayish film to them—brown with a murky depth.

it took everything in you not to snap at him to look away.

sighing out with exasperation, you rolled your shoulders and neck, and took stiff strides towards him. you hesitated mid-stride when he lazily looked away, seeming like he was just going to try and ignore you. that irked you even more.

you stood right in front of him so he couldn’t look anywhere else. you saw the furrow of his brow, the snap of his eyes up to yours in a hard glare, and felt a pleasant curl of satisfaction soothe you.

“hi,” you said, voice rough, as you shoved your hands back into your pockets.

he shifted in his chair, tilting his head back at you, taking you in fully. you wanted to slap that look off his face.

arrogant asshole.

his accent was thick and grating. “hi.”

after a long moment of tense silence, his eyes narrowed. “you got a name?”

you gave him a sweet smile. “nope. yours?”

his brows rose slightly, something playful flashing in his dark eyes.

you cringed. was he smiling?

that was not your intent.

“Simon Riley,” he said curt, “but i prefer Ghost.”

you ignored him, scratching at your neck, ready to get this over with. “right, Simon, welcome to the support group. i guess.”

he stared at you. “thanks.”

suddenly, his gaze felt too heavy and awkward on you. something dark and miry drenched your heart, tugging it down with a weight. it felt unfamiliar and strange. something bordering on regret or guilt.

fumbling with your hands, you stepped back and found a chair on the very opposite side of the circle. the very opposite side.

his eyes were still locked onto you, and you crossed your arms, looking anywhere but him, the carpeted floor, the peeling posters plastered with religious slogans on the wall, Kate’s desk, the entrance of the room where Sarah and Maya stepped in.

seeing them was like a release, and that ugly thing weighing down your heart was lifted. Sarah gave you a beaming smile, waving enthusiastically with a loud greeting. Maya trailed behind, giving you a soft, shy smile.

both of them edged around Simon and flanked your sides in the seats.

you watched her glance to Simon, eyes wide, then looking back at you. there was something like apprehension in her face.

she mouthed, is this the new person?

you glanced to him. he was barely registering the other two girls in the room, eyes untrained and looking somewhere else, black boots crossing over each other.

with a bitter feeling, you nodded at Sarah and she clutched at her mouth, sharing a look with Maya who was perfectly undisturbed by the newcomer’s presence.

Sarah, being Sarah, sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, waving a hand to get Simon’s attention.

“hi,” she called with a soft voice, smiling big. “i’m Sarah.”

Simon dipped his head politely. “nice to meet you.”

you scowled. where were his manners before?

though, you thought meekly, you hadn’t really showed your best manners either.

sighing out, you watched Sarah and Maya launch into a conversation with him that you refused to join, withering into your chair. all his responses were polite, curt, and bordering on uninterested.

“what are you listening to?” Maya asked in that soft angelic tone of hers, and Simon took out his earbuds.

“smashing pumpkins.”

Sarah gasped, gesturing to your face with a wild hand that almost knocked against your chin. “that’s her favorite band!”

Simon’s gaze snapped to you, and you felt like puking.

fumbling for words, you protested in a tone too strong. “no it’s not.”

Sarah gave you a confused look. “but we went to their concert last summer remember? in las vegas?”

oh you remembered. you specifically remembered because their band was getting old and their farewell tour felt like a looming threat in the near future. you remembered because you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

but you couldn’t say that so instead you said, “no, my favorite band is… is…”

you glanced at Maya’s curious expression.

“taylor swift,” you shot out.

you grimaced. that’s not even a band.

Maya cocked her head. “no, taylor swift is my favorite singer.” she gave you a knowing look. “and you love the smashing pumpkins.”

she turned to Simon. “she even has posters in her room.”

you groaned out, slumping further down into your chair and wanting to disintegrate on the spot as Maya continued to talk about your avid love for smashing pumpkins. but Simon’s gaze was pinned on you. it didn’t even look like he was listening.

you pretended you were invisible for the rest of the conversation until the rest of the girls had trickled into the room, watching with a curling disgust at the sight of them fawning over Simon and his alluring presence. he seemed indifferent enough to their attention.

not like you cared.

the circle slowly filled till Kate took the last spot.

she had a stack of papers on her lap, smoothing over them with that tight-lipped smile of hers as she started the meeting.

her words were flying through your ears. words you didn’t really want to hear as you tugged on the hem of your hoodie, slumped over in your chair.

you didn’t hear her calling your name either.

Sarah knocked her foot against yours and you shot up in your seat, flushing when you noticed everyone’s attention on you.

your eyes darted around the room, feeling hyper aware of Simon’s blank, bored stare sweeping down your body.

“hi,” Kate said in a sweet tone, leaned forward in her seat, though her face was laced through and through with that burning exasperation that you were too familiar with.

“since you were the first to acquaint yourself with our guest,” she said, gesturing with a polite hand to that big masked thing on a chair, “we would love for you to introduce the new member to us.”

shifting to sit further up in your chair, you swallowed, voice falling flat and dead. “sure. this is Simon. he’s uhh…”

you took him in and all his hulking demeanor. “an accountant.”

his eyes flashed with that same look as before—something playful that really pissed you off.

Sarah snorted and Kate just smiled, though it was wholly devoid of warmth, and you resisted shivering. “right. i’ll do it then.”

she looked around the circle slowly. “this is Simon Riley. he’s in the military. i met him a couple years back.”

your eyes snapped to Kate’s, a whole new sense of betrayal swelling in your chest. she had already known him and wanted you to introduce him anyway?

“traitor,” you grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

the girls, in a chorus, sang out a hi Simon, a couple of them giggling, poking at each other. you noticed Maya blushing beside you and rolled your eyes.

was he really that attractive?

he just nodded, with a very low, “hello,” and sat up properly, drawing back his hood.

there was a light tussle of blonde hair on his head, shaved down at the sides and hanging down his forehead.

you bit your tongue, looking away. maybe he was.

“welcome Simon,” Kate said with a gentle smile, “i’m glad you decided to come.”

there was something knowing in her gaze when Simon’s eyes darted to hers that had a new curiosity perk up in you.

you watched the whole interaction with narrowed eyes.

just how well did they know each other?

as Kate dished out the upcoming schedule for the group, your gaze burned into his face. his eyes, trained on Kate, made you jolt when they flicked to you.

he slowly tilted his head, eyes narrowing a smidge. you frowned deeply, and in a stubborn haze, met his piercing gaze with one of equal stature. after a long moment, he huffed, a weird breathy sound, eyes flashing again, and looked away, and the moment you shared was gone.

you shifted in your seat, blinking, feeling strange and light.

what the hell was that?

you looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed. when you were sure no one had, you scolded yourself.

no fraternizing with the enemy, you chided, shifting your attention back to Kate who was listing off the predetermined pairs for the fall session. Kate always claimed that she pulled the pair choices out of a hat. the fact that you had never been paired with Maya or Sarah for a single season left you questioning that.

besides that, many of the sessions required getting one-on-one quality time with other group members through predetermined partners and different activities, even outside of group meetings. the fall session was always the busiest, preparing for upcoming events with weekly meetings.

it was something unique to your group which you wholly appreciated.

your gaze flitted to Simon.

except for when there’s newcomers.

“finally, you,” Kate nodded her head to you with a bitter tone, which made you wince, although you knew guessed you deserved it, “and Simon.”

what?

“what?” you croaked, and you visibly saw the girls in the room shift with discomfort, gazes avoiding you.

they had seen your immature outbursts before about newcomers. you were not afraid to show them again.

Kate gave you a very nasty sidelong look. “don’t start.”

you bit your tongue so hard you think it almost bled.

Maya’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, looking a bit crestfallen at the conclusion designated pairs, and in the sweetest tone you could muster, you offered, “what about Maya?”

her head whipped to you, jaw dropping open and a flush on her cheeks. you sent her a weak, apologetic look, sneaking a hand over to hers but she just smacked it away.

Simon only laxed back into his chair, blinking slowly like he was about to fall asleep, gaze flitting lazily between you and the bashful girl beside you. when his eyes lingered on her, you truely, utterly, wished with every fiber of your being that Simon had been paired with Maya instead.

Kate just ignored you, sorting through papers to find the next one that she read aloud. more on the upcoming fall activities that you would be helping the church with.

usually you’d be ecstatic.

but when your gaze fell on Simon, lazy, hulking, and donned in black, he cocked his head at you, eyes swirling. then, he put his earbuds back in, eyes sliding shut.

you jerked your hood up over your head and sulked.

this was going to be the worst few weeks yet.

okayyyy soooo i wanted to make these chapters shorter and ive already prepared quite a few so i'll be posting every 1-2 days for this series leading up to halloween!!!! im so excited 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first silly part <3 more silly parts to come!

taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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