#I hope you never feel this way again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saleeba · 6 months

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

970 notes · View notes

thranduel · 8 months

Text

some thoughts about astarion because i'm tired of the internet reducing him to one thing

when bg3 came out in early access, astarion was always seen as the extremely flirty, confident guy who enjoyed sex (or so we thought) and spoke about it like it was his favourite thing. he was also kinda marketed as the “sexy vampire”, so you can understand why many people saw him that way based on the little amount of content we had. even while playing act 1 and act 2, many players still might think of him like that because he does have a very charismatic personality and he asks to sleep with you very early on, so it just automatically makes you think he’s genuinely happy doing that and being totally serious.

BUT!!!!!!! we end up finding out later on that’s NOT the case and it was all part of a plan to seduce us in order for him to gain protection. he opens up about his past and his trauma and how he was forced to use his body to lure people back to cazador. he struggles with intimacy and relationships in general because of this. that’s why i really hope that people stop reducing him to “hot sexy vampire that loves flirting and having sex with everyone” when that is not who he is, he’s literally traumatised because of sex due to being forced into it and he’s slowly trying to heal. he’s also so much more than just “the hot vampire”, ya know? if you actually put in the effort to get to know him, you will see who he truly is underneath and he has many loveable traits to appreciate.

you may not see the “soft” side of him very often because he hides it, but it’s there!! one thing i noticed that really stood out to me was that when i gave food to an orphan in act 3 and he approved. back when you first met him, he probably would’ve done the opposite or had no reaction at all. i also saw a clip of someone trying to romance karlach and astarion and he literally told tav to choose karlach over him because he can see that karlach loves her. he said normally an arrangement would work for him but after everything karlach has been through, he doesn’t want to get in the way or see her hurt. letting tav go is also hard for him as well but he still thought about someone else. he could’ve whined or been possessive or jealous but he didn’t do that at all. where are all those people who reduce astarion to “the guy that flirts and sleeps with everyone” now? seriously. that’s not what he does, and when he was forced into it by cazador, he was trying to survive, he didn’t do it for his own pleasure. it’s not a “hot” personality trait of his, it’s literally trauma. and because he did it so much, he got used to it, and that resulted in him disassociating and feeling empty.

apparently if you ask him to join you and sleep with the drows at the brothel (something i will never make him do in my playthroughs), he only says yes because he struggles to say no. but he disassociates. and if you’re in a high approval relationship with him and he loves you, he will feel safe enough to express his feelings and say he’s not comfortable. this happens before you fight cazador. i’m not sure if he gives the same response after, but either way, if he joins in, he will always disassociate and it’s not something he wants to do despite what he may say.

that being said, it’s obviously still okay to appreciate his beauty and attractiveness, because he is very beautiful. he appreciates it and even likes being called beautiful. calling him “hot” and “sexy” isn’t a bad thing either, we know he can be and i'm sure he knows it too! it’s just annoying when people act like that’s ALL he is and they don’t even mention anything else about his character. the love scenes are beautifully done too (i personally prefer the second one after you’ve stopped him from doing the ritual, because that’s the one where he decided he truly wanted it and felt safe and comfortable because he genuinely loves you), and i actually would’ve been fine if they didn’t have any scenes like that at all because it’s totally understandable and valid if he didn’t feel comfortable, but i just hope that people don’t take things too far and over-sexualise him just because of how he appeared to be in the first half of the game and the way he’s often marketed on social media. and yes i know he’s fictional and nothing on the internet is going to hurt his feelings!!!! it’s more about the fact that he canonically has sexual trauma and many people still say really disturbing stuff even AFTER they find out about that, and it just makes me uncomfortable to think that people are okay with treating someone like a sexual object especially when they've said they're traumatised and it makes them uncomfortable. idk if this makes sense 😭

but yeah he doesn't want to flirt and sleep with everyone as i've seen people claim. and if in an alternate universe he did, and he did it on his OWN terms, and the other people he had relationships with enjoyed it too, then good for them! absolutely nothing wrong with that if there's consent, respect and honesty. however, that's not the case with what happened with astarion, because 1. he was forced into using his body WHEN HE DID NOT WANT TO and 2. he misled people and lured them to a miserable fate. it's so horrible and devastating for everyone involved. sex was never something fun for him, and it certainly isn't a "personality trait" of his. it was a survival tactic. he was forced to. he didn’t want to.

obviously when he becomes more comfortable, then it's totally understandable to get excited when he flirts and shows physical affection. he can be so charming, funny, sweet and romantic and i love that. it’s so beautiful to see him heal, genuinely find comfort in someone for the first time and experience intimacy that he feels ready and comfortable for. he deserves to love and be loved on his own terms instead of being forced. but again, he is so much more than the guy we were introduced to at the beginning. the internet just sees one thing and sticks with it but i really hope people start to actually appreciate him for who he is and the complexity of his character.

aaaaand i just had to leave this here <3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #sorry for rambling i’ve just been very emotional about him recently 😭#also i hope people remember that even if he NEVER EVER wanted to have sex again he is 100% valid #he does not have to change or force himself to feel a certain way #especially after everything he’s been through #and if you think he does then you’re gross. he doesn’t owe anyone ANYTHING #anyways #when he kept apologising for not sleeping with tav i wanted to cry #there is literally a scene where if you tell him halsin is interested in you he says it’s ok to go to him #but then he gets concerned and asks if it’s because he hasn’t slept with you for a while #and i wanted to cry #he should NEVER have to feel guilty for that #honestly the only reason why i think he might eventually feel comfortable with sex again is because ->#in act 3 after his genuine love confession after you help him defeat cazador he initiates it himself #and it feels like it’s something he truly wants after developing a strong emotional bond with someone for the first time #and i think that’s really beautiful that he chose to do it on his own terms when he felt ready #but also #for a while i wasn’t sure if he was repulsed and uncomfortable by sex in general and hated it entirely #or if he only feels comfortable after he develops a strong emotional bond #the only reason i think the second one now is because of what happened in act 3 #but regardless whatever it is i just want him to feel safe and comfortable and happy #my posts

509 notes · View notes

octylish · 1 month

Text

An Eye for an Eye (A Table for Two)

#phighting #phighting subspace #phighting medkit #can be seen as ship idrc do what you want #phighting art #phighting fanart #i worked way too hard on the colours never make me do that ever again (it will happen again)#i hope u guys like the 1 million bits of symbolism and detail i dumped into this bc it was A lot #happy easter! scavenger hunt this *tosses symbolic medkit and subspace drawing into the woods*#kinda wish i put smth to fill the empty space in the top left but whatever #if u want the notes and details of the symbolism feel free to go on my twt @octylish

167 notes · View notes

babsaros · 30 days

Text

hey. when cis society is oppressing a trans man, what he is experiencing is. In Fact. misogyny. i'm sorry i know none of us like to be reminded of our agab, and it hurts whenever people perceive you as the wrong gender. but a cis person hate-criming, assaulting, verbally abusing, etc, a trans man is not doing "transandrophobia" because they do not perceive him as a man.

they perceive him as a woman failing at her gender, as a woman who has been seduced and lied to and manipulated because women are so easily led astray, just like it says in the bible. they perceive him as a woman who has been mutilated. they perceive him as a dyke that needs to be fixed. if they are hate-criming him because they *do* perceive him as a man, because he passes well enough they aren't thinking he could be trans, then they're doing so out of homophobia, perceiving him as a gay man, a pervert, a sissy, a danger to children. OR, they are being transphobic but specifically because they think he might be transfeminine instead. when cis society oppresses a trans woman, they are able to do it on multiple levels at once. She's a woman failing at her gender, a dyke that needs to be fixed. Or she's an evil and grotesque crossdressing pervert, a rude caricature, a danger to polite society. she will never be doing enough to escape oppression entirely, no matter if she gets every surgery she can and wears makeup every day and passes perfectly, because she lives under a patriarchy, and she's a woman, so she lives in a panopticon, and HAVING to get surgery and wear make-up to be respected IS oppression, especially if the alternative is being hate-crimed.

trans women (and trans men who pass) are not experiencing "transandrophobia" when a 'queer women and nbs" event turns them away at the door for being too masculine. they are. IN FACT!! experiencing the byproducts of misogyny in a patriarchy!!! where the terfs and coward cis women running those events and occupying those spaces have been taught (sometimes through experience, sometimes by men, sometimes by women) throughout life that men = stronger and more dangerous than women ALWAYS. That they need to protect themselves at all times and always be vigilant. That men and women can't be friends without sexual tension (and so as queer women the mere existence of what they perceive as a "man" is a threat). That women need a separate sports league because they can't possibly compete with someone who has even a little bit "extra" (an unquantifiable amount actually because there isn't a standard range) testosterone. That women should cook and men should fix cars. i promise you, i promise i promise i promise. it's misogyny. like!!! you don't say cis gay men experiences "androphobia", bc that's not a thing!! you sound like fucking mens rights activists guys please! you don't say a black man experiences "misandrynoir"!! because living in a patriarchy fundamentally means men do not experience oppression based on their gender. its not happening. shut the fuck up. stop walking us back to 2014 can we please take a step forward and stop bitching about this. there are genuine issues in the world and i'm frankly sick of people who should be smarter than that needing to be gently hand-held through this fucking explanation for the millionth time and still stomping their feet.

#cw transmisogyny #cw discourse #cw transphobia #longterm tme mutual pissed me the fuck off bye #everybody else gets to read this now #if you still don't get it idk maybe go stick your head down a toilet and flush #that might help #its so fucking simple stop drinking terf koolaid #if u are transmasc and have experienced transphobia i'm really sorry that happened to you.#and if calling it 'transandrophobia' makes u feel less dysphoric then whatever fine #but its not like. a systemic issue.#pls understand that #transmisogyny is a systemic issue we should be talking about. because misogyny is a systemic problem we have not yet solved.#i hope i never have to talk about this again #lmk if i should tag it as anything else #or if i've worded anything in a way that should be corrected

137 notes · View notes

thepoisonroom · 18 days

Text

'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.

I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.

About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'

-Casey Plett, Consciousness

#this quote always moves me almost to tears when i remember it #i'm not a trans woman and i don't share the author's specific experiences with transition #but it really moves me that she frame transition as joyfully giving yourself permission to approach your body #not as something that has to be disciplined and deprived and made small in all these various ways #but as a means for experiencing pleasure and joy and delight and for insisting that our feelings and desires are worth #valuing and exploring and treasuring #i always used to think of prioritizing those things for myself as selfish and irresponsible #but who does it harm to want to experience pleasure in your own body?#it's such a beautifully simple and powerful switch to have flip in your head #and equally why are we forced to deny our own pleasure in transition and anything else related to our bodies in the name of moral rectitude #this is why i get so confused and pissed off when other trans people are fatphobic for example #like why are you so invested in politics of shame and disgust that never had any purpose other than #violently disciplining people as if they've violated moral codes by existing in a body #to say nothing of white people being racist in gay and trans communities #like again this system of violence is foundational to homophobia and transphobia #so why are you acting like it has nothing to do with you #even if you are unmoved by the urgency of other people's suffering which btw you should be moved by #what do you hope to gain by acting a collaborator and handmaiden to those systems #Casey Plett #she really is one of my favorite authors i wish more non-canadians read her #this quote is from a series of columns she did ont transition and every single one is a banger #i love when she talks about the people-pleasing elements of dysphoria and transition denial #she's so sharp about noting how many of us deny our own dysphoria on the grounds that others like and validate our bodies #that's how i always felt during my cis conventionally feminine era #it pleased other people so much and also that reception felt so hollow and joyless to me because i hated it #i get less of that positive feedback but that feels so unimportant next to the joy and pleasure i get to experience #said with the understanding that i'm very privileged in being able to prioritize those things without fear. but it was a switch flip #personal nonsense

103 notes · View notes

volitioncheck · 2 months

Text

i think i wouldn’t hate disco elysium’s collage mode nearly as much if it weren’t for 1) the way that it was marketed in such a tasteless, soulless manner, let alone the fact that it was a last ditch distraction from a dead on its feet studio piloted by dumbass thieving execs and released on the day of the court declaration, and 2) those dumbass fucking stickers

like if it had been included with the base game from the start and had been titled something a bit more tasteful and in-line with how i would have liked the feature to be marketed as— something like “exploration mode”, something that perhaps could only be unlocked after completing the game for the first time, AND didn’t have those stupid as hell visually and tonally incongruent with the artstyle stickers, i would have applauded it as a nice little bonus for being able to study and appreciate the 3d models and environments for reference.

#it is just so bleak man.#i have no words left to say for the latest development at zaum studios so instead i will just remember how fucked up this was lol #those stickers are the same energy as that dumbass fucking christmas card they put on steam.#cutesy fanart is awesome and all but don’t muddy the tone of the actual source with it. why is that necessary.#for gods sake what happened to boundaries #again i probably would take a different tone to even the stickers if #it had been done under the original creators (which i don’t think it would have‚ which is my point‚ but say hypothetically it happened)#but with the circumstances the way they are it is impossible to not view it all as tainted with a veneer of absolute tastelessness #and a disrespect to the source material and a sorry attempt to appeal to the shallowest parts of ‘fandom’#like you can add cartoony emoji faces and a sticker with harry and kim as cats. or their hands with the caption ‘best friends!!!’ (wtf lol)#and a frame with a bunch of pride flags being waved around (hard to articulate why i feel doubly annoyed of this one.#your corporate pride parade aesthetic is showing again. also it feels… lazy)#but you can never‚ ever erase the fact that you are parading around a stolen IP that you are entirely out of touch with #and one that you clearly have *no idea what to do with*#(something that we’ve all known for months with these hints but today has finally been basically confirmed as the sequel seems to be #officially cancelled with the last of the original writers’ crew being laid off)#how could you have known what to do with Elysium? how could you ever have?#hope you have fun with your stickers. rot #disco elysium #me talking

97 notes · View notes

deer-with-a-stick · 8 months

Text

I love how all of the companions' stories revolve around autonomy and I love how some of the romances show the whole "I love you for who you are"

Don't love how so many people are misinterpreting them though

#i think the romances thing really applies to wyll astarion and gale #wyll romance means you see beyond mizora and the half devil thing later #astarion romance means you see beyond the sexy facade and you prove to him that he doesnt need to perform for you to love him #gale romance is him getting over and understanding that mystra was never going to care about him like that #and that he doesnt need divinity to be loved #he's lovable as he is #anyway i feel my 'fuck mystra' feelings coming up again #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate three #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate three spoilers #bg3 spoilers #i dont know if lae'zels romance works for this but i know that she figures out kindness along the way #i really hope they fix karlach's quest we're allowed to save everyone else #i saw someone compare her and gale and yeah sure it works #i tend to compare her and astarion more though #and its a little upsetting that karlach doesn't get the freedom she wants so hopefully larian patches that #astarion might not get the freedom to walk in the sun on the 'good ending' but he's free of cazador and he can finally choose for himself #and seeing as he's not dead and how he's been a vampire for around 196 years (not over 200 yet) there are still ways to help him #harder for karlach because either she dies and ashes are all thats left she goes back to avernus or shes a mind flayer #also its arguable easier to live in the shadows/underdark than it is in literal Hell #easier to reach him too

152 notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 3 months

Note

ik that you just did something about what dates Valeria and Laswell who take you on butttt can you still do how’d they like to celebrate valentine’s day! Hope you have an awesome valentines 🩷

Hey! Sorry for not posting on Valentine's Day or yesterday, I was extremely busy with work and had some very long days ^^; But I'll post twice to make up for it today! Sorry this was a bit late as well ^^;

Valentine’s Day with Valeria and Laswell

Valeria: We’re just going to assume that she has time to spend with you this Valentine’s day and took a day off or something. Valeria doesn’t think too much about it, it’s just another day where people are taking the money straight from your wallet, either because there’s someone you love or because you’re single and need to eat your frustrations away. She doesn’t care at all about that day, and whether she does something for it or not entirely depends on whether or not you complain about wanting to go on a date with her that day. If you don’t then there will be no date. Because it’s only a cash grab sort of day, Valeria wouldn’t particularly buy you chocolates either. She really doesn’t like Valentine’s day. Complain enough and she’ll get you some chocolate straight from the chocoria, no matter how expensive. A few flowers maybe as well, but that would be it out of her own initiative. She’d much prefer to stay at home and watch some movie with you. One that isn’t about romance, just a normal action movie or comedy or something. Complain enough and she’ll sigh, grabbing her coat and ushering you outside. It’s not often that she does something like this, but you’ll be walking around Las Almas together, chatting a bit, getting some of the yummy street food out there. You’ll do something akin to sightseeing where she shows you all the places there are in the city and around it, except they’re all the places she found when she was still young and reckless. From the berry bush in the park no one knows about, to the abandoned mill by the countryside she used to hide from her parents in. Valeria is normally a classy woman who could buy the world if she wanted to, but her real signs of love would be when she isn’t spending money on you for once. It shows that you’re more to her than just another cost, another person who’s just out for her money. Or, at the very least, she trusts you to not be. While there still won’t be too much sentiment from her side, you’ll also go stargazing together if the sky is clear. She can’t tell you too much about the constellations, but you’ll just stand there and look at the stars. Valeria hasn’t had the time to do that in forever, so she’ll likely take a while.

Laswell: Again, we’re going to assume that she has the time to spend with you and isn’t out and about abroad, risking her life. Laswell has a much greater tolerance of Valentine’s day than Valeria does. She used to love that day much more when she was a teenager and was with her first girlfriend, but stopped caring as much about it as the years went by. While she doesn’t like how romance is being forced down everyone’s throat that day, she’ll tolerate it since she can’t change it anyway. However, Laswell is much more likely to do something with and for you on that day, she doesn’t complain either. Starts the day off with a kiss to your temple in order to wake you up, makes you breakfast, heart shaped pancakes with vanilla ice cream, before she gives you the chocolates and flowers she got for you. The flowers are fairly fancy, roses, dahlias, lisianthus. Anything that looks nice and could show you just how much she loves you is a-okay. After breakfast you’ll lounge around your home for a bit, doing chores together and stuff, until it’s time to leave that is. You’ll be going to a fancy restaurant together, eating at an all you can eat buffet until your hearts and stomachs are content. Of course, all of it goes on Laswell’s bill. Afterwards it’ll be something relaxing for the time being, digesting the food as you take a stroll through the park, for example. Whatever suggestions you may have, you may voice them now before the two of you will go to a jewelry store where you can pick out something gorgeous that fits you, your outfit, your eyes and whatever else there may be. After your stroll is over, you’ll likely go home together, cuddle on the couch and watch TV. It’s not the most exciting day there is, but Laswell is just glad she has a sweetheart she can spend the day with. You’ll end up watching some awful rom-coms together, complain about them and how bad they are, only to be watching the next one right afterwards. You will be eating popcorn together, salted, with caramel and maybe steal a few kisses from each other here and there while there’s nothing interesting going on at the moment. Again, it’s not much but Laswell is usually out and about just about anytime and wants to relax for a bit for once. Even better if she gets to do it with you.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #I had to help out at work. I had to help out at home. Yesterday I had a workshop at work as well...#again I'm really sorry for posting this a bit later but I hope it's not too bad #in all honesty I don't care for Valentine's Day I agree with Valeria on that one ^^;#I'm kind of glad I'm single right now because that way I don't have to go out of my way to do something special for anyone #I once gave two friends of mine some chocolate on that day though. they were very surprised but also very happy #it was very sweet to see their happy surprised faces #but I think that's the most exciting thing that's ever happened on V-Day for me #I've only received something once from my co worker and never before #I don't mind that but I wish they wouldn't shove romance down everyone's throat that day. it's really annoying #like what if I don't want a partner? are you going to make me feel bad because I don't? it's happened to me before #I'm glad it's over. I'm really not one for all those fancy days. I prefer regular days where there's nothing going on at all

56 notes · View notes

sairee · 3 days

Text

Try again

What if Ghost and Soap didn't work out? What if they loved each other more than anything and really tried to make it work but eventually, Ghost's own self-doubt and trauma built a rift between them that was impossible to overcome. And one day, they cracked.

Being reunited 15 years later, maybe the universe had finally given them the second chance Ghost so desperately craved. And with Soap's affectionate eyes crinkling warmly in Ghost's direction, he was damn sure going to seize it.

link on ao3 (with full tags) ~3000 words

************************************************************************

When Ghost and Soap got together for the first time, Ghost felt as though he had finally found the missing piece that his life had been so empty without. They loved each other, they really did, but it wasn’t perfect.

Between their jobs, the constant stress, the long hours, and their own personal issues, something eventually began to break. They both had their own traumas but Ghost’s was especially destructive. It slowly ate away at him, consuming him, controlling him, no matter how hard he fought back against it.

They tried, god knows how hard they tried. They wanted nothing more than to make it work. They thought they could fix it.

But one day, it broke.

Sometimes bridges collapse. Sometimes roads crack. Sometimes houses crumble.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

Ghost struggled a lot. Not with loving Johnny – that was easy – but with being someone that Johnny could love. The gnarled and intrusive whispers in the back of his head taunted him with how little he deserved happiness. He grew paranoid, distant, and cold. As time went on, Ghost started to push Soap away, scared of inevitably losing him like he’d lost everyone else in his life.

Near the end they fought. A lot.

Ghost wanted to stop, he did, but fear had clutched its sharp claws around his heart, stealing it away from the only man he had ever wanted to give it to.

When it all became too much for them – when the scales shattered and the rope splintered – Ghost didn’t blame Soap for leaving, not for one second. He only wished with Ghost no longer being a burden in his life that Soap would find a better happiness somewhere else.

While he understood why Soap did it, it almost destroyed Ghost when he left. He struggled to see the value in trying to live anymore. But imagining Soap’s face when someone told him the news always stopped him from succumbing to these thoughts. He couldn’t hurt Soap even more than he already had.

So he continued to live.

And the sun continued to rise.

And the days continued to pass.

And before he knew it, Ghost found himself 15 years older.

Then, by happenstance, they were reunited. Enough time had passed that they were both leading their own teams. Unbeknownst to them, one of their higher ups put their two teams together to work on a complicated infiltration mission. The docket had been classified, so Ghost would only know who he was working with once he saw them face to face.

But Ghost heard his voice before seeing his face, a throb in his chest spreading quickly as his heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since he heard that voice – deep, gravelly, and sharp, but also filled with unreserved warmth and care. Could it really be him?

As Ghost rounded the corner, before him stood several men around a large wooden table, their gazes pointed downwards as they focused on the unfurled map that spread across it. Ghost’s eyes immediately locked onto the man standing in the middle, gesturing to a location with a deep furrow on his brow.

It was Soap.

He had changed – they both had. His hair was a bit longer but still sported that familiar mohawk. He’d aged beautifully, slight wrinkles around his eyes and grey hairs that peppered his sides. His lips were still full and his chin still strong and his nose still slightly askew.

He glanced up as Ghost walked in.

Those eyes. Those eyes hadn’t changed at all. They were still as stunningly deep and blue as the ocean, powerful currents that always sucked Ghost in.

Soap froze. His breath hitched. His mouth fell open. His eyes widened.

And Soap, who also hadn’t seen those eyes in years would recognize them in a heartbeat. He’d never forgotten the beauty of Ghost’s eyes, the colour of deep, rich earth that nurtured the vibrant colours of the world to flourish.

As they looked at one another there was a long, excruciatingly long, second of shocked silence.

Then, to Ghost’s immediate relief, a tender smile spread across Soap’s face, the coldness of his life immediately melting away as he was bathed in such breathtaking warmth yet again. It was a privilege he never thought he would get to experience again.

With a quiet mutter to excuse himself, Soap briefly patted the shoulder of the man to his right and started to make his way over to Ghost. Each step closer, one after another after another, the whole time a playful smirk pulling at Soap’s lips.

He relished in the way that Soap’s eyes looked him up and down. He stopped in front of Ghost, just a couple feet away which still felt like too much space.

“L.t…” Soap breathed out. It was like a song made just for his ears.

“I haven’t heard that in years…” Ghost said quietly, somehow stringing a coherent sentence together. He smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Johnny…”

Soap’s eyes crinkled, resembling sunshine, and his head briefly dropped as he let out a breathy chuckle. After a second, he looked up again, staring into Ghost’s eyes unwaveringly.

“And I only liked hearing that name from you. The only one who called me that.”

“Can I?” he said, his hesitant words heavy with implication. Could he still call Soap Johnny? Was he still Johnny? Was he still his Johnny.

“Aye…” he said sweetly. “Only you…”

They stared into each other’s eyes, forever and endless, and gleefully let the memories come rushing back like an old friend.

All of a sudden, Soap peeled his eyes away, shaking his head as if to snap out of it. He took a quick inhale and pointed a thumb over to the rest of the group.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

As they walked back to the group, Ghost couldn’t help but steal glances down at Soap’s hand to try and catch if there was a ring. It was selfish the way his heart fluttered with happiness when he didn’t see one.

And just like that, as if opposite sides of a magnet, the two of them were uncontrollably drawn to one another again, like no time had passed at all. Neither of them could help it. They were planets caught in the other’s orbit. They were the drugs that they were happily addicted to. They were the air of life in the other’s lungs.

As the days passed, their curious eyes wandered beyond, sneaking glances at lips, arms, legs, and any flash of skin. Their smiles were gifted fully in all manners of ways – teasingly, proudly, sentimentally. Their bodies always found one another with small and subtle brush ups along their shoulders, knees, and fingers.

Each touch was just as invigorating as the last.

They continued to grow closer, ignoring a strange look or two from the other members of their teams as frivolous nothings that existed beyond the gaze of each other’s eyes.

For Soap, the smallest of voices at the back of his mind told him to slow down, take it easy, think twice.

But he didn’t want to. It was all so thrilling and comfortable again.

Their evening planning sessions turned to late night joking conversations, a bottle of Scotch being passed between the two of them freely. These conversations quickly turned into flirting. Under the soft glow of the desk light, they would inch closer and closer to each other, their hearts skipping excitedly with each touch or look.

Ghost hadn’t felt so light and carefree in such a long time.

He wanted.

Soap wanted.

And one day, after weeks of this, the two of them turned that want into action.

After a final late night planning session where they spent at least most of the time doing their actual jobs, the two of them walked back to Soap’s room. As they lingered outside his door, the space between them felt thick with was unspoken need.

Soap turned around, his face pinched up in slight hesitation.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he stated, trying to make conversation, “for the raid…”

“Yeah…” Ghost said, not wanting to think beyond this moment.

Soap clasped his hands together. “And when it’s done… I’m… we’re… shipped off again. You’ve any idea where?”

Ghost shook his head. “I go where I’m needed.”

Something shifted behind Soap’s eyes, disappointment mixed with sorrow. “Right…right…”

A spark.

Ghost raised his arm to scratch at the back of his neck, feeling a sudden need to do something with his useless hands, when a familiar stabbing pain shot through his shoulder. He sucked in a breath and grimaced, lowering his arm to make the pain stop.

“Still that shoulder?” Soap asked, jokingly but still with sincere concern.

With pinched lips, Ghost smiled and rolled out his shoulder. “Same shoulder for 20 years. Only gotten worse with age. Even lifting my arm hurts it sometimes. It feels like I'm too old nowadays for most things I used to do.”

“Well…” Soap said teasingly, his eyes shifting with need. “Hopefully not everything…”

A flicker.

“Yeah?” Ghost replied, keeping his voice low. “What did you have in mind?”

Soap discreetly raised his hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around Ghost’s belt and pulling him closer. The air crackled with electricity between them.

“Are you sure…?” Ghost asked softly, tilting his head closer to Soap who lifted his chin up expectedly.

“Simon…” Soap whispered, his mouth so close he could feel its heat through his mask. “Don’t make me beg…”

A burning flame.

And that was it.

They tumbled into the room, grasping onto every inch of each other. There was nothing but lips and hands, limbs tangling and taking with need. Their bodies were infinite and Soap’s eyes, giving him nothing but trust and pleasure, were endless.

In an instant, everything came back to Ghost as he relived exactly where to touch and caress Soap’s body that would coax out all of his pretty little moans. Hands traced over old and new scars on each other’s bodies. Soap placed kisses down Ghost’s tattoos which had sprawled up his bicep and crept onto his chest over the years. There was nothing but them.

There was nothing but Johnny.

When they were done, twice surprisingly, they lay in bed together, Soap curled up against his side and Ghost’s arm wrapped around him like they always used to do. With quiet puffs that blew out across his chest, Ghost counted each of Soap’s breaths, wondering if this was going to be the last time he’d ever get to see Soap like this again before they parted tomorrow.

Ghost leisurely trailed his fingers up and down Soap’s spine, expertly noting all of the new marks and scars he knew had never been there before. The metal of Ghost’s dog tag quietly jingled as Soap absentmindedly twisted the chain around his finger.

“Not too old for that,” Soap joked quietly, the smile evident in his voice. “Thank god.”

“No,” Ghost mumbled warmly, “I suppose not. Helps that it was you.”

Soap then lifted his head off of Ghost’s chest and stared at him in wonder, awestruck as if seeing him for the first time. He unwrapped the dog tags from his hand and gently traced the line of grey hairs that had sprouted along Ghost’s temple.

“Counting my greys, are you?” he said jokingly, not-so-secretly loving all of the attention that Soap was giving him.

Soap smiled sentimentally, memories flashing behind his eyes in an instant. “I’m glad to see you like this,” he replied. “You often spoke about how you didn’t think you would make it this far. It’s proof that you did. And I think it’s beautiful.”

With a quick peck to Ghost’s cheek, Soap rested his head back against Ghost’s chest.

Ghost didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t. Come morning, he didn’t think he had the strength to say goodbye to Soap yet again. He clenched his jaw and blinked away the tears that threatened to come out.

“Is…” Ghost started, scared to ask the question. “Is there anyone else…?”

He probably should have asked that before their night together, but he wasn’t exactly thinking with the right head. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He didn’t know what would hurt more – Soap walking away alone or towards someone else.

Soap gently shook his head. “There were a few people over the years but…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“But what?” Ghost said, tenderly urging him to speak more.

After a few long seconds, Soap spoke up again.

“I never loved anyone in the same way that I loved you.” Soap’s fingers were gracing the top of Ghost’s chest, turning those meaningless shapes into artwork against his skin. “And you?” It was also hesitant but hopeful, trying not to give too much away.

Ghost placed his fingers underneath Soap’s chin and gently pushed it up so they were looking into each other’s eyes again.

“I never loved anyone after you…”

Soap took a shuddering inhale upon hearing those words. Ghost couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to know. He needed to ask. He needed to scream it out into the world.

His heart started thumping nervously in his chest. He was sure that Soap could feel it. He gathered every bit of courage he had inside, beating down years of shame and regret.

“I…I…” he stuttered, the words tumbling out without any grace. “I’ve missed you so much, more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry for how I treated you. There’s someone I’ve been talking to for a long time now and they’ve been helping me. I’m not perfect, god knows I don’t think I’ll ever be. But I’m better. I really am.

“The whole time all I wanted was for you to see how I was changing. I wanted to be someone that could make you proud. I hope I am…

“I know what I’m about to ask is a lot, and I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… anything else… but… I’d never be able to forgive myself if I-”

Ghost let out an anxious sigh, letting his thumb that softly caressed Soap’s cheek calm him down.

“I want… I want…” Ghost took one final breath. “Can we try again?” He didn’t care how pathetic he sounded. He didn’t care that he was practically begging. “I’ve never stopped loving you all this time and… and seeing you again just brought back all these emotions again… and… You were the only good thing I’m my life after so many years. You made me so happy. I selfishly want that feeling again. I want you.

“So… what do you think? You and me again? I don’t know what might happen, I guess neither of us do, but I promise I won’t give up. I never want to give up on you again. I promise to make you happy, in whatever way that means now. I’m scared of you walking out of my life tomorrow. But even then, you’re still the love of my life and always will be whether or not we’re together…”

As Ghost spoke, he watched Soap’s eyes soften. He leaned into Ghost’s touch, blinking away the mistiness that had clouded his eyes. He carefully dragged his eyes up and down Ghost’s face, flickering memories dancing behind them of the life they used to share.

Ghost didn’t know if the years had been kind or cruel to him. He so desperately wanted to fight for Soap. He wanted to give him a life he deserved.

Soap let out a shuddering exhale, leaning forward to bury his face into Ghost’s neck.

“Aye…” he whispered with desperate relief against Ghost’s skin. “I do… I want that more than anything…”

Had Soap not been there in his arms grounding him, Ghost would have crumpled into ash. Dizzying, dizzying happiness swirled around his mind. He tightened his grip around Soap, holding him until they were one. His heart was soaring, grateful at the chance to love once again.

All of Ghost’s nervousness turned into giddiness, a happy chuckle bubbling up and singing a beautiful symphony for the whole world to hear.

“I can put in a transfer request…” Ghost murmured, “but… I’m not sure…”

He could feel the way Soap’s smile widened across his skin.

“Murray is leaving in a few weeks,” he stated, his controlled excitement still peeking out. “His wife is having a baby. There will be an empty spot on my team. And I have complete authority over who joins…”

“You sure the rest of the Scots won’t have an issue with me invading?” he joked. It felt so good to joke. It felt so good to hold Soap in his arms.

“They best not. Then they’ll also be having a problem with me.”

Soap lifted up his head again, gifting Ghost with such tenderness and softness. There was nothing on earth like those eyes.

He leaned forward and blissfully pressed their lips together. No longer was Ghost adrift. No longer was Ghost alone. They’d missed so much time together that Ghost wanted to make up for.

When Ghost used to think about their future, he was frozen with fear, scared that he wasn’t worth it, scared that they would never last. But now, Soap’s firm but soft body wrapped in his arms and addicting lips pressed against his, Ghost was no longer afraid.

He was excited for whatever the future may hold, hand in hand, side by side.

************************************************************************

link on ao3

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #my writing #ghoap writing #oneshot #try again #getting a second chance at love is such a trope that's near and dear to my heart #middle aged gays reuniting with their first love is so sweet #i need to write them falling in love in every universe #and even if it doesn't work out the first time #there was something so special about their love that they never forgot each other #and ghost never stopped loving #i adore the idea of soap loving other people but just not in the same way he ever loved ghost #and ghost never loving anyone else besides soap #feels true to their personalities #hope you liked it 🤗🤗

38 notes · View notes