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someonegoood · 22 days

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MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t.

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off.

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips.

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone.

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders.

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you.

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket?

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation?

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

—Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment.

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months.

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen?

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

—Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

—I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

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illusionsdelusions101 · 3 months

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Long Distance ~Pablo Gavi

Type~ Fluff Word count~ 488 Note~ Shorter one! Should I start making oneshots of Gavi?

You run your hand through your hair one last time and see that the ringing noise has stopped and Gavi appears on your phone. "Hey bebe." He smiles. He's walking to somewhere and you hear a door close. He props the phone against a pillow, and he lies in bed, you, seeing your adorable boyfriend wrapping up in blankets. "Hey amor." You respond, smiling. "How's it over there?" You giggle as he still shivers with the ungodly number of blankets around him. "Cold." He sighs, pouting slightly. Gavi was all the way over in Germany for a game, which left you back in your apartment in Barcelona. "How was your day?" He asks. "It was good! I got a lot of work done for college; you know that dreadful essay? I finished it!" You smile brightly, that essay dragged you through hell and back, so you were glad you actually finished it. "Seriously! I'm so proud of you bebe!" He grins.

You hear a door open on Gavi's end. "HERMANO ITS SO FUCKING COLD DO YOU HAVE BLANKETS!?" You hear Pedri shout. He comes into the camera view with sweatpants and a huge hoodie. "Yeah, in the closet." He nods his head. "Thanks. Oh, hey Y/N!" Pedri waves from the back and goes out of view. "Hi Pedri!!" You exclaim. After a few minutes, you see Pedri wobble with around 5 blankets in his arms. "So does that mean I'm not allowed in here until the call is done?" Pedri speaks up. "Yeah hermano, go chill out at Hector's room." Gavi says. You hear a sigh and a door opening and closing. "So where were we hermosa?" Gavi smiles at you. You giggle at his sudden flirtatiousness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So anyway,-" You get cut off by the doorbell. "Who the hell would be here at 5pm..." You shrug and get up. "I don't know princesa, why don't you go check?" He smirks. You look into the camera with an eyebrow raised "I somehow think you have something to do with this." You say sceptically. He laughs and ushers you to open the door. You run across your apartment and unlock your door. (lock doors always people!!) You see a man there with a huge bouquet of white tulips, your favourite. "Delivery for Y/N?" He says. "Yes, that's me." You say exasperated. "Here you go." He hands it to you with a smile and you return it. You close the door and lock it again, quickly running back to yours and Pablo's bedroom. "PABLOOOOOO!!" You squeal in delight. You hear him chuckle. You run and jump on the bed. "You got me these carñio?" You smile widely. "Yes, I did princesa." He smirks. You grab the card on the flowers and open it.

"To my bonita, I'll be home soon. xx ~Your Pablo"

You might not enjoy while he's away, but this is the reason he makes long distance better.

#oneshot #fluff #football #soccer #gavi x reader #fc barcelona #barca #pablo gavi #x reader #drabble #la liga #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you

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elsweetheart · 11 months

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thinking about being on the phone to soccer!ellie at night when she’s away for the weekend at a game, rambling about being stressed and she simply just “think you need to rub one out babe, will make y’feel better.” and when you get kinda flustered and shy she’s all “its just me, you know. look, i’ll stay right here on the phone. s’just me n’you. you always feel better after you cum, right?” sighhhh 💓

#soccer!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #college!ellie #ellie williams drabble

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wecanseethekilos · 10 months

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All I Want Is You — Jude Bellingham

— Parings: Jude Bellingham x Reader

— Summary: Jude takes you to his apartment after a drunken night

— Warnings: None (???)

— Author’s Note: tbh i wrote this quite awhile ago i just rlly wanted to post it 😭

play “all i want is you” by miguel rn!! it fits the vibe 100%

——————————————

It was late at night when you and Jude finally left the party. It was a relatively small gathering of Jude’s teammates attending London’s hottest club.

His hand was wrapped around your waist while opening the door to his apartment. You broke free from his grip and stumbled over to the kitchen island. “Jude! Guess what?” you said in a singsong voice, slumping your head on the counter, “I kissed a boy tonight” He walked over and lifted you from the counter, leading you to his room. “I know. I saw you.” He says. “Were you jealous?” you whispered while raising an eyebrow. “Love, you’re drunk, do you know that? Hm?”

You shook your head yes furiously. “I had two shots, two cocktails, and another shot.” you twirled onto his bed. “I wanted to forget.” His expression suddenly went from concerned to puzzled. “You wanted to forget what?”

“You.” you sighed, “How much I want you. But we both know I can’t have you.” He walked over to the bed and sat beside you, helping you remove your heels, “I’m right here.”

“But your my best friend,” I huffed, “I can’t lose you. Literally no one dates their best friend.” He fiddled with the straps of your heels before placing them on the floor and speaking up. “You won’t lose me,” he brushed your cheek, “It was always you.”

You stared at his lips then into his eyes. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of kissing him. He didn’t know how long you wanted to just kiss him. As if he read your mind, he crashed into your lips. The kiss was slow and passionate. It’s crazy what 4 years of pent up emotions could do to you. His hands rested on your hips. Your hands grasped his white button down shirt.

He pulled away, lips curving into a smile. “I like kissing you.” You giggled, smiling back. “finally.”

Your lips dove back into his. Wrapping your arms around his head, giving a fiery kiss. That familiar feeling of fluttering in your stomach returned. This was all you wanted. You were the first to pull away this time. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I just kissed the Jude Bellingham. Who couldn't help themselves?” He chuckled, “Let’s get you changed.”

He grabbed one of his shirts from his closet and walked back over to me. “Jude?” you called. “Hm?” He replied.

“I need help with my clothes,” you whined and sat up so he could unzip your dress. Jude pushed your hair back and started to unzip my dress. He slid it, down, leaving you exposed with only your undergarments.

You’ve never felt uncomfortable around Jude. You’ve known him for so long you’d trust him with anything. “Lift your arms for me, love.” you obeyed and lifted your arms so he could slide the shirt on.

“Thanks,” you smiled. Jude pulled the covers over you and smiled back. “Goodnight,” you said while slurring your words. He simply planted a kiss on your forehead and turned off the lamp.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #football one shot #soccer imagine #soccer one shot #football imagine #football drabble #football masterlist #soccer masterlist #wecanseethekilos

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baldeslut · 7 months

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im going to be doing little kinktober blurbs because… im horny 🤫🤫

Rewarding

Praise kink + squirt

Alejandros lips left a wet mark on your forehead as he gave you a kiss after his winning game. Both of you got home celebrating as he sat down on the couch wearing those grey sweatpants (such a slutty take ale). You could’ve swore you saw his dick twitch as he sat down. It was now a staring contest between you and his lap taking slight glances trying not to get caught, unfortunately but fortunately he saw you. “Amor..? Well I see, I’ve won the game and i think I’m missing something. What do you think” He took a glance down to where you were looking as a slight smirk grew on his lips.

Your head nearly the height of his hard cock as you started off at the tip, slowly working down and eventually taking it whole. Humming against his cock made him see stars as he clearly struggled to hold back hid groans. He tugged on your hair as he neared his high as the typical sensation hit the roof of you mouth. On the spot his hips started to slowly thrust now mouth fucking you. “B-bebé, you’re mouth is so fucking goodd-” his dick spewed cum as it painted your mouth white. You swallowed every drop being generous with it as you worked your way back to the tip. His fingers intertwined in your hair as he gently pulled his fingers out of it. You whimpered as the slight sting of your hair being pulled itched you, but it turnt Ale on even more. “Get on your back, right now.” Alejandro demanded and you did as what he said.

His hands slowly widened both your legs with slight pressure, looking in your eyes and the wet spot in your panties. Despite him not touching you yet it felt like hell, it felt like being teased as he just switched between staring deep in your eyes and when he’s gonna take your panties off. He fondled with the red laced hem of your panties as he slowly pulled them down, a string of your wetness dripping down too. He groaned at the sight of your throbbing pussy, as it ached to be eaten out. “Fuck bebé..” he groaned under his breath. “Alejandro, jus-” you got cut off as a gasp left your mouth. The boy in between your thighs eating you out, licking a stripe down. Suddenly his tongue started to dip in and out your wet core, nothing but squelching, heavy breathing and moans filled the room. “B-baby, uhh its too good mmh.” That was enough to praise him. Alejandro loved his reward after a game so he went faster lapping on your dripping cunt. As soon as he felt your walls starting to tighten, he wrapped his lips around your clit releasing a filthy moan that left your mouth. The incoming orgasm made a pressure on your lower abdomen that just couldn’t help you from screaming your boyfriend’s name.

“Ah i know it already bebé, squirt for me.” He listened to you moaning his name like a lustful symphony. Your legs wrapped around his back as your juices coated him as he tried to catch it with his mouth. The sheets drenched as his warm lips continued to kiss your clit, like he wanted more of your squirt. Your back arched off the bed as it became uncontrollable, he clearly looked thirsty for more. The juices dripped off his chin as he wiped it away with his wrist. He scooped you onto the couch as he started a bath and renewing the sheets.

This was sure his reward.

A/N: i kinda think it didn’t take the lines of praise kink but im tired, its 1:47 am😭😭 but im horny and wanted to write sooo….

#alejandro balde #alejandro balde imagine #alejandro balde blurb #alejandro balde x reader #alejandro balde x y/n #football boys #drabble #footballer imagine #alejandro balde one shot #alejandro balde x you #footballer x reader #footballer x you #footballer smut #footballer x y/n #soccer #visca barca #visca el barça #fc barcelona #baldeslut

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somebodystoleme · 1 year

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thinking about soccer player!astumu miya...

college!soccer player! atsumu miya

this is just a random splur of thoughts; this is so random and i apologize

actually lovesick

constantly constantly spending nights at the library, catching him up on econ

every time he takes a penalty/ free kick, he points to you

wearing his jersey religiously

sadly, always feeling like the 2nd choice, at the start of y'alls relationship

"did you know the atsumu miya has a girlfriend?"

"seriously? i thought him and claire were hooking up?"

ALL THE TIME

he doesn't try to deny it either, he knows he gets women..

"babe, it's not my fault that isabel keeps on talking to me."

what can he do? he's the most popular boy in the college

carried his high school team to nationals and people still remember him for that

friends with almost all the cheerleaders (not for good reasons tbh)

but once he heard you say that you really really like

don't get me started

changed man

all eyes were on you

EVEN UNADDED THE HOES, sobbin'

"only for you baby."

keeps his trophies in your apartment so each time he wins one more he has an excuse to visit you

pet names: baby, love, babe, beautiful

literally snuck into your professor's room to find your notebook

only talks about you to most of his friends + they are so bored of it

when he goes pro; and all the women are throwing themselves at him, he still posts pics of you

helping him go cleat shopping

going to fancy parties because he's friends with "famous" people

traveling to see soccer games all the over the world, cus he's 'bored'

sweetest boy alive

always confused on why he picked you

but he loves to tell you he wouldn't have picked anyone else

basically an empty ikea restaurant - so much to do

#atsumu miya #atsumu #atsumu x reader #hq #soccer player #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #miya x reader #pls save me #im so bad at fluff #college au

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

Text

Sundress | Aaron Hotchner x You (ft. Jack Hotchner) Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner x You Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x You (ft. Jack Hotchner) Genre: Fluff Warnings: Other men staring at reader; Jack’s friends commenting his Mom is hot; possessive Hotch. Length: Drabble

A/N: I feel like I’m spamming ya’ll with the posts, but I promise to slow down after this.

Where you wear a sundress to Jack’s soccer game for the first and last time.

You could read this in the same universe as these fics: 1 / 2.

“Say hi to Aaron and Jack for me.”

“Will do, thanks for the lift!” You shut the door of the passenger seat, blowing a kiss before waving your friend goodbye as she grins, waggling of her fingers at you in a farewell before driving away.

It was Saturday, and you had managed to squeeze in a brunch with a couple of old friends before Jack’s afternoon soccer game. You had left the house while Aaron was on his habitually long Saturday morning run, and opted to grab a cab to brunch instead, wanting to avoid the situation of you three having to head to Rossi’s for an early dinner soirée he was hosting after Jack’s game in two different cars. Luckily for you, your lack of a car for the day had resulted in one of your friends kindly offering to drop you off at the field for the 15 year old league on her way home.

Sliding your sunglasses off your nose, and anchoring them on the top of your head in a bid to see better, you raise a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, as you begin your walk towards the field, while squinting towards the crowd, your eyes attempting to pick out both your boys.

***

You wander into the crowd, smiling politely at the occasional fellow parent who meets your gaze, as you search for your boys. You feel a hand catch you around your waist, and you can’t help but smile as the breeze blows the familiar scent of soap and mint towards you. You allow yourself to be pulled into his side, to be tucked under his shoulder as you bring your hand around his back, your thumb looping itself onto one of the belt loops of his jeans.

“Hi.” You breathe, looking up to meet a pair of sunglass covered eyes before you tip toe, the straps of the sandals you are wearing straining slightly against your feet, to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Missed you this morning.” He leans down slightly at the same time you reach up, accepting the kiss, before turning his head and brushing his lips across yours, the tip of his noise grazing yours ever so slightly.

“Didn’t want to wait for you to get back from your run.” You explain, as he raises a brow. “Otherwise you would have insisted on dropping me off.”

He squeezes your side gently in protest, but doesn’t comment on it because he knows you are right - he would have insisted on dropping you off.

“Well, if you would have waited, I wouldn’t have had to wait till now to see how good you look.” He mutters into your ear, thumb circling against your side, brushing across the fabric of the white strappy sundress that skimmed right above your knees. You feel yourself blush in response. Despite having been together for a good number of years and counting, you can’t help but feel like a goddamn schoolgirl with him. He notices the tinge of pink that colours your cheeks and chuckles, a smile turning the corners of his lips upwards.

“You look delicious.” He says, lips moving against the side of your head as he plants a kiss into your hair. “And by the looks of it, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

He drops his voice and you hear disapproval in his last sentence (but not at you), as he turns his head, profiler instincts kicking in as he takes in the lingering glances which some of the fathers, uncles, and even teenage brothers that are present, have trained on you, your almost bare shoulders, your legs, the curve in your waist. (It is, he concurs, the damn sundress.) It causes him to pull you closer into his side, his hand dipping slightly lower on your waist, muscles in his arm flexing ever so slightly, signalling clearly to the onlookers that you were his. It causes some of them, those that know he is Jack Hotchner’s father and works somewhere in the FBI, to look away.

“You don’t like the sundress?” You tease, looking up at him through your lashes, as you place your free hand on the front of his stomach, feeling his abdominals tense momentarily as a response to the sudden contact.

“I like it too much.” He doesn’t look at you, his gaze trained forward, shielded by his glasses, as he makes to seek Jack out on the field, but the gruffness behind his response tells you more than you need to know.

You can’t help but laugh, stepping out of his grip, but entwining his hand in yours in a quick follow up, as you pull him closer towards the front of the crowd, closer to the field, attempting to seek out a better view of Jack.

***

Jack Hotchner takes a swig of his water, gaze darting through the crowd of onlookers. He lowers his bottle as he spots you dragging his father out towards the front. Raising a hand to wave as he catches your eye, he smiles as you and his father wave back (you with a smile, and his father with a more neutral, schooled expression), giving him a thumbs up.

“Dude, your mom is hot.”

“She is like hot hot.”

“Hey guys, Jack’s mom is hot.”

The chorus of voices that erupt from behind him causes him to frown deeply, his nose wrinkling in annoyance and obvious displeasure as he pushes the spout of his bottle back in with a bit more force than necessary.

“Shut up.” He glowers, turning to glare at the boys that had gathered behind him (the spitting image of his father in that moment), looking up across the field as you.

Luckily for him, or them, he is saved by the sounding of a whistle which causes the group of boys to drop their belongings and fall in around their coach.

***

The game, is uneventful, with Jack’s team winning easily as anticipated, much to both yours and Aaron’s delight (he had gotten so excited the day Jack’s soccer team graduated from peewee soccer to keeping score).

He trudges over to you both, after the cheer erupting from his team across the field signals the end of the debrief, and drops his duffle in front of you, before yanking his sweaty jersey over his head and pulling the fresh t-shirt he had pulled out from his bag over his head.

“Mom, please don’t wear the dress for the next game.” You hear his voice, slightly muffled by the t-shirt he is pulling over his head, and it makes you glance towards Aaron, brow raised.

“Bud?” Aaron speaks first, questioning, asking on behalf of the both of you as the blonde head of the younger Hotchner emerges from the collar of his t-shirt, his gaze meeting yours at eye-level. He is as tall as you now, and soon you are sure he will be taller than you are.

“My friends won’t stop going on about how ‘My Mom is so hot’.” He grumbles, fingers making air quotes during his reenactment, his eyes rolling, lips pressing themselves into a line as he stuffs his arms into the armholes of his t-shirt before pulling it down and smoothing it across his body.

“I don’t want to hear it, its weird.” He pleads, as he bends to cram his used jersey into the mesh pocket on the outside of his duffle, before slinging the bag across his shoulder. It was weird, because you were his Mom, and because he didn’t want his friends thinking of you like that. “Please just wear jeans the next time.”

You hear a rich baritone of laughter spill from your husband’s lips at Jack’s exasperated tone, and you glower at the older Hotchner, your elbow digging gently into his side (which frankly does nothing).

“Your are too pleased about this.” You threaten, glancing from him to Jack, watching as the younger boy cards a hand through his hair, looking almost pitifully at you, awaiting confirmation.

“Fine.” You sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Thanks Mom.” It earns you a thankful, quick kiss on the cheek from Jack before Aaron’s arms find their way around your shoulder. He drops his arm, hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he pulls you towards him all while placing two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face up gently. He bends, pressing his lips against yours, allowing, in a somewhat uncharacteristic display of affection given the place and crowd around him, his tongue to sweep gently across your bottom lip. It causes you to part your lips, involuntarily as you kiss him back for two seconds longer than appropriate.

He pulls away, earning an exasperated “ugh, c’mon guys, gross.” from Jack, who shakes his head, turns on his heel and walks off towards the carpark, pretending that he doesn’t know the both of you. Unbeknownst to you, but fully to Aaron, it also earns you both envious glances from both the men and women among the dissipating crowd on the field.

“What was that for?” You breathe out, as he drops his hand from your back, reaching out instead to interlace his fingers with yours as you both begin a slower paced walk towards the carpark after Jack.

“Consolation,” he pauses, allowing his gaze to travel across your shoulders and collarbone, “about the sundresses.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were marking your territory.” You respond, with a questioning hum.

It causes him to grin at you boyishly and squeeze your hand tightly. His eyes are hidden by his shades, but you could have sworn you saw him wink.

Current @taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @ssamorganhotchner @katieslotherford

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owl127 · 9 months

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Clexa World Cup one-shot

Read on Ao3

0000

The crowd erupted in uninhibited joy, an energy that gained momentum as it spread like wildfire through tears, hugs, and the raw volume of primal elation.

After 16 years, a new generation brought the national team to a World Cup semi-final.

Lexa’s laughter was loud and unfamiliar, a childish joy taking over her body. Her teammates carried her over their shoulders, an ovation to the hero that found an impossible shot outside the box at 115 minutes. So Lexa smiled, and laughed, and bathed in sticky gatorade until Anya whispered in her ear, “They’re in.”

The speed that Lexa’s expression closed into its usual stoic stare of the “Commander” was so fast that Anya did a double take.

They were in, as expected.

But now Lexa was in, and Anya, and an entire team behind them after a historical comeback against a European powerhouse.

That meant Lexa would play the game of her life against the love of her life.

0000

“Griffin! Griffin!”

Clarke redid her ponytail as she waited for the reporter to catch up with her at the side of the field. The deafening crowd had slowed after their hard won victory and celebrations of once more being classified for the world cup semi-finals. The reporter, a beautiful redhead that didn’t reach Clarke’s shoulders even on heels, spoke hurriedly into the microphone, “Clarke Griffin, congrats on the victory and classification! You had to work hard today to achieve this!”

“Thank you, and as always, it was a team effort.” Clarke rolled her shoulder, a little stiff after the dive at the end of the second half. “We’re all excited that we’re one step closer to our goal.”

“And how are you feeling about facing Lexa next week?”

Clarke blinked hard, focusing on the little dip of the reporter’s lips as she processed the words. “I, I mean I—”

“Their game went to extra time, and Lexa scored in the second half.” The reporter smelled blood in the water and smirked, the camera missing the glint in her eyes as she said, “You’ll be facing your wife in the semifinal. How do you feel about that?”

Clarke’s shoulder ached.

“My goal remains the same,” she said in a neutral tone. “We always knew that was a possibility, and I will give 100% to my team. Thank you.” She ignored the follow-up questions and headed straight to the tunnel, following the chant of “the champion is back” echoing in their locker room. She distributed high fives with her good arm and looked around until she found dark, worried eyes. Behind the wall of red, white and blue celebration, Clarke whispered to Raven, “Are they in?”

“Yeah,” the physical preparator responded. Raven looked happy, but there was an apprehension in her tone. Her wife had assisted Lexa’s goal, after all. “Lexa. Anya’s assist.” They both chuckled dryly.

“Fuck,” Clarke whispered. “Okay. I got this. We got this. Right?”

Raven touched Clarke’s sensitive shoulder, frowning when the 6’1” keeper hissed. “Yeah, it’s just our marriages on the line. They will get over the defeat, eventually. How’s the shoulder?”

“Coach won’t let us see them until the game, will he?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Clarke.”

Someone jumped on Clarke’s back, their bubble of privacy bursted with a sharp “whoop!” yelled at her year.

“Clarke Griffin, our savior!” Octavia hugged her keeper again before jumping down her back. “I thought we were done with that penalty kick!”

“Never.” Today was a day to celebrate. She would worry about her marriage and their game tomorrow.

And Lexa would be fine. She could handle Lexa.

“Never,” Clarke repeated and shared one last look with a worried Raven.

0000

The press coverage had doubled over Clarke. Avoiding questions was getting hard, so at the press conference after their last practice, Clarke sat down in front of the flashes and microphones.

“Is the fact that Lexa is your wife going to affect your game?” The first question came from the back of the room. Clarke gritted her jaw.

“No. I’m a professional, and so is Lexa, and we will act like it.”

“You and Lexa play different positions, but these past few days, your stories have been compared. How do you feel about that?”

Clarke took a deep breath before answering. “We have unique backgrounds, as a lot of other players from her country and mine do. I acknowledge our privileges, but I don’t discount my team’s talent. This is the World Cup. Nothing else matters.”

“You play on the same team back home and you haven’t played against Lexa since before you were married.” The journalist who asked was the same redhead from after the game, sitting a couple of rows in front of Clarke. “Do you think this time playing against her will weigh on your performance?”

Clarke saw the opportunity and took it. “Nothing weighs on my performance.” She stood up, a clear signal the interview was over. “You can ask Lexa about that.”

The room broke into laughter, and Clarke walked to the back exit. Her hands prickled with sweat.

0000

“Amanda, what a game! No goals on regular time and a thrilling one-on-one in extra time. Now we’re heading for penalties to decide who will move forward to the final. And do you see that line of players there?”

“Oh, I see it, and everyone should know that this goes beyond a historical comeback for the South American team, but involves some of the player’s personal lives too!”

“Tell the fans!”

“You see, Clarke Griffin, the celebrated newcomer goalkeeper, is actually married to Lexa Woods, who won the Ballon d’Or last year, and we’re seeing Lexa lining up to take the last shot.”

“That means that, if it comes to it, Lexa will decide the classification shooting a penalty against her wife?”

“Yes, Peter, that’s exactly what that means! Seems like someone will sleep on the couch tonight!”

“Any bets on who wins this penalty shoot-out?”

“Ontari is a great goalkeeper, but Griffin has solidified her spot as the starter keeper in the team with the best defense in the championship. So my money is on Griffin.”

“Even against her wife?”

“Griffin is a stable player, and she has played against Lexa in their home league before, so yeah, even then.”

“But everything is different in a world cup. My bet is on the latinas. Lexa and Anya have what it takes to bring this new generation to another final. The referee is calling the teams to the center, so it’s about to start! Good luck to both teams!”

0000

Blood pumped loudly in Clarke’s ears. The fans behind her goal yelled all kinds of profanities and slurs, the side strategically chosen when Anya won the coin flip. She ignored the yelling and name calling, her focus on the game, defending two shots, taking both teams to another round of shoot-outs.

She had to admit that Ontari was having the match of her life, and she could also catch two shots, equalizing their numbers. Clarke bit her lip as Harper missed her shot well above the post. The crowd yelled, that unlawful volume powered by revenge.

Clarke knew they were the team to be beaten, and now it was in her hands to prove that. The referee approached her and said something. She didn’t understand a single word, but assumed it was the usual line warning and nodded, walking to her spot. She opened her arms, glanced forward, saw Octavie cheering her own, the classic “you got this” on her lips.

And then she saw green.

Lexa walked from the middle of the field, looking straight at her, her pace calm and calculated.

The woman walking down the field was not Lexa Woods, her best friend, wife, lover, mother of their girls.

That was The Commander, the ruthless striker that made her name as the best player in the world after a hard childhood in a country that didn’t care about women’s sports. Lexa had carved her name playing barefoot against boys twice her size while Clarke was being driven to practices in a new, clean SUV. The Commander was forged under fire and criticism against the super-performing men’s team, and each defeat meant a torrent of critics that Clarke herself had never faced. But Clarke had taken the opportunities given her. She had made her name and proven herself. She deserved to be here just as much as Lexa did.

She had defended five of Lexa’s shots throughout the game, and now she was ready to defend one more.

Lexa kissed the ball before adjusting it at the penalty mark, an oddity for the striker. The sound behind the goal died as Lexa took one, two, three steps back, grass staining her cheeks, her brightly colored shirt speckled with mud and sweat.

Clarke grit her teeth and saw the minute shift of Lexa’s hips.

Left.

The referee blew the whistle. Lexa ran for the call with a furious, deadly expression. Clarke jumped. Left, left, left.

Air left Clarke’s lungs as she fell on the grass, the heavy scent of earth filling her nose as she skidded to a stop.

For one moment, there was silence.

Then the crowd behind her exploded, the vibrations of the entire stadium shaking her to her core.

She looked up and looked back.

When she turned her face to the field, Lexa was already back with her teammates, being received with open arms and tears.

Her own teammates had tears in their eyes, too.

She looked back at the ball, now innocently immobile, nested securely inside the net.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her gloved hands clawing the grass, leaving blunt marks.

“Hey.” Octavia had jogged her way to her. “You okay?”

No. She wasn’t okay. Her shoulder burned, her career would be in check as “the woman who crumbled in front of her wife”, her eyes stung, and fuck, she needed a hug from the one person she couldn’t have one right now.

“Yeah.” She lied, stood up. “Sorry.”

“Fuck that. You did great. Next time.”

“Next time.”

0000

The clicking sound of cleats against the hard floor echoed in the hallway.

A security guard made his way to Lexa, but seeing who she was, he let her go through the back door.

Lexa sighed in relief at the sight of the bus still parked, running and ready to go, but women clad in white suits still boarding it. It was hard to miss Clarke, the tall, strong woman like a pristine marble statue, as she waited at the end of the boarding line.

Lexa, in her muddy uniform, stopped as every single player looked at her. The personal security from the national team made his way to her, but the coach waved him off. No other player made a comment as Clarke stepped away from the line and met Lexa, who remained on the other side of the separating ropes. The media was not there yet; no cameras, no prying eyes besides Clarke’s team.

“Hi,” Lexa said, and she really wanted to wipe away the smile from her face, but it was impossible. They had been celebrating their spot at the final with the crowd, and by the time she could slip away, Clarke was ready to go back to her hotel.

“Hi.” There was a small smile on Clarke’s lips, a little sad and defeated, and Lexa wanted to kiss it away.

“I—”

“Congratulations,” Clarke forced out, shrugging her shoulders. “That was a great shot.”

“Babe, I—”

“I love you,” Clarke cut her. “But… just give me tonight, okay? Tomorrow morning is my last day with the team and I’ll join my mom and the kids at their hotel.”

Lexa swallowed and nodded. There was so much joy within her, but that broken expression in Clarke’s eyes was making it hard to remember why she should be happy at all.

“I love you too.” Lexa extended her hand, a peace offering. Clarke took it, and Lexa pulled her a little closer, kissed her fingers. They were red, taped, and the pinkie was swollen. A goalkeeper’s hand. “Please don’t be mad.”

Clarke barked a laugh and pulled her wife into a hug. Lexa breathed, relieved, burying her face in her wife’s chest. “I’m not mad at you,” Clarke said, but her voice shook. “But I’m a sore loser, you know that.”

Lexa took a deep breath of Clarke’s perfume and grimaced at seeing the mess she made in her wife’s immaculate white suit. “You were always my greatest challenge.”

“We’ll talk again in four years.”

“Griff.” A voice called from behind them, and they turned to see Octavia calling her teammate from the bus, and every single player in the bus watching them from the windows. While Raven waved at Lexa, Octavia flipped her off with a smile. “We gotta go. And you better crush those stupid Germans in the final, Lexa.”

“You bet,” Lexa said and stopped back on her side of the rope. “Family brunch tomorrow? With the girls?”

Clarke nodded, picked up the duffel bag she had left at her feet and leaned to whisper next to Lexa’s ear, “I won’t be gentle next time.”

Lexa’s cheek warmed with a blush, because she knew exactly what those dark eyes were promising, and it had nothing to do with soccer. Lexa blinked as Clarke pecked her lips and walked back to the bus. It was driving off when she heard cleats behind her. She turned to find Anya cursing at seeing the bus drive away.

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes,” Lexa answered her captain. “We’re good.”

“So get your head together. We have a title to win.”

“Aren’t you mad you missed Raven?”

Anya shook her head. “Not really. She sent me nudes after the game.”

Laxe chucked, walking back to their locker room. “I can’t believe you too.”

“I bet Griffin already made this whole thing sexual between you two.”

Lexa’s ear burned with heat.

“Called it!” Anya placed her arm around Lexa’s shoulder. “C’mon, Commander. After conquering the world, you can fuck your wife as much as you want.”

There was no ending to Lexa’s blazing cheeks.

“Oh.” Anya’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I see. The fearless commander is secretly a bottom.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Is that what she tells you?”

“Anya, I swear to god.”

“I promise not to tell your fans.”

#clexa #clexa fanfiction #soccer #world cup #hug the gays #some drama #you know the countries if you're into it and if you're not that's ok too #lexa took it all after this hmmmm....#fanfiction #sport fanfiction #I just love this game #who else has their sleep schedule ruined by this world cup #drabble

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hiddenlife-manager · 2 months

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Jude Bellingham x FemReader

cw... oral fixation, male recieving, cumming, cumshot, detail ish, fuck buddy, quicky, slight dom reader, gagging, rushing, and etc..

notepad... hehe i love him so much it isn't a joke anymore. That being said here it is your fanfiction of the month, I tend to disapear and not come back for another month and I am so sorry ya'll. Just dealing with classes and learning french.

You began to remove his white button as you kissed his neck. He chuckled with his head up, your lips on his neck, and your head in the crook. You lowered yourself down to him. God, he loved how you were taking control, and of course he wouldn’t let you take control the entire night. Jude had his button still on, but his front was showing his perfectly sculpted abs. His suit jacket was all the way on the floor of his hotel room.

Jude, let you kiss down his body. Eventually you reached his v line, and he chuckled, looking down at you. Your hands grabbed at the waistband and began to lower his pants. His boxers were Calvin Klein and perfect on his body. You looked at him; he was slowly growing inside his boxers, but he needed more motivation. You were about to grab his boxer's, but he chuckled and laid his hand on your head.

“We don’t have much time before I have to head out.” He spoke, and you nodded as you looked at him, your big eyes looking at him with desire. He let you be while you lowered yourself down and reached for his cock. Your hands are wrapped around the base of his cock. Your hands pumping him up and down, your thumb glazed over his leaking slit, and you giggled.

Your lips were so close to the tip as you began to lick it. You could slowly see him getting harder, and you knew you only had time to suck him off. Parting your lips, you placed his tip in your mouth, sucking a bit, making sure you were able to not have your teeth touch his pretty cock. Were you in control right now? A little bit, you knew Jude, if you took your sweet time, he would shove your head down his cock to suck him off the tempo he wanted.

“Such a pretty fucking bitch sucking me off.” He mumbled as he moaned deeply. He enjoyed how you did it; you weren’t his girlfriend, but you were his consistent booty call. You giggled as the vibration went through his cock. You slowly entered his full cock into your mouth, your saliva covering his cock, and a bit of liploss smeared onto his girthy cock.

Your hands were at the base, yet at this point you knew you no longer needed to hold it; he was hard and desired to cum down your throat. Your mouth continued to go up and down his cock, sucking him off perfectly. Jude moaned in the dimly lit hotel room, his head thrown back as he could feel his orgasm slowly building each time you took him into your mouth fully.

“You need to hurry up, or I am going to grab your head and fuck your face myself.” He moaned out as he looked at his Rolex and chuckled as you stopped and looked up at him. Your hands began to hold his balls as you rolled them around them. You began to take him in your mouth fully at a quicker pace. You could feel yourself drooling down your chin as you continued to take him. Your body desired him to touch you, but you knew you couldn’t until after his event.

You kept it at a quick tempo but were perfect each time you went down on him. Your throat got used to his cock no longer gagging when you sucked him. But Jude knew he was running out of time; his thighs were tightening and he was close, and in a snap of his finger, he grabbed your head and pushed you down onto his cock harshly and suddenly. You gagged as your drool slipped down, hitting the floor. Your nose was close to his v-line, and he groaned in pleasure.

His hands held you still as he began to thrust into your mouth, and the sound of gagging was music to his ears. His grunts began to get louder as his breathing got heavier. He was getting closer as he felt his legs becoming weak from the pleasure of your mouth. He looked down and saw you drooling over his cock and tearing up. He ruined your make-up and couldn’t care less.

“Close!” He groaned as he pulled out of your mouth after fucking your mouth. You coughed as you bent over coughing. You were covered in your own drool, and Jude grabbed your head and pulled you up. He tapped his tip onto your lips, and you opened up, tears running down your cheek. He pumped himself in front of you, and with one last pump, his cum covered your face as some got in your mouth. Your pretty face was covered, and all he cared about was not getting his cum on his suit pants. He bent down a bit, grabbing your chin as he looked at you, smiling.

“I’ll be back; don't leave.” Your big eyes looked up at him, admiring him as you did. He turned around to clean himself off. “Swallow it.” He waved off as he got his pants back on.

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