what i think making out with juhoon would be like.
wc: short warnings: making out, kissing, tongue on tongue action
• i feel like making out with jju would be a rare occurrence, i feel like he'd be more into sweet kisses and more quality time
• but i feel like he would have those rare moments after a huge event they just played, or if you catch him at an odd time where he would be all for it, maybe even initiating it
• during those times i feel like it goes one of two ways, one, its after a major event they just played, or after an award show and he's running on this huge adrenaline rush, or two, when he hasn't seen you in a while and you catch him at the dorm with his guard down
• for example one im gonna say ur traveling with them for lolla and as soon as the day is over, after they performed and watched some of their favorite artists as well you're back in the hotel room and he walks in and at first he hugs you, then soft sweet kisses, but the adrenaline kicks in and he's suddenly on the bed, you on his lap, making out. His tongue in your mouth, hands on your waist, your hands around his neck
• for example two he's at the dorm for the first time in a decently long time, and he's in his and James shared room alone. soft music playing, maybe the Smiths or the Beatles, just something he can unwind to, and you walk in, and he just caves, he's all over you in a second. you're in his arms, then on his bed, then under him as he kisses all over your face before the makeout starts, one of his hands keeps your wrist down, the other keeps him balanced, one of your hands in his hair making sure the angle is the best it can be and the other grabbing his shirt
• making out with him wouldn't be messy, there wouldn't be teeth clashing or anything rough like that, i feel like he's more focused on making it feel good for you, making it slow, sensual and just pouring all his love that he can into it
• he doesnt really touch all that much during making out either, his hands will find a place that feels natural and just stay there, maybe he'll play with your hair at most
• loves cupping your face first before anything starts because he just wants to admire you and see how your eyes scan him as well
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who figured out that you had a thing for his thighs early in your relationship (not that you ever tried to hide it but let’s say that looking at them while biting your lip wasn’t very subtle)
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who was the one begging so you would ride his thighs
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who helps you climb on his thigh, spreading his and your legs so your sitting completely on it, his hands moving to your hips so he helps you find a rhythm that you like and smiles when you let out the first moan of the night
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who loves to know he’s making you feel good “tell me how’s that, baby,” his hands slowing you down so you’d grind harder on him “god, yes, like that, feels so good,” you whine gripping his shoulders
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who teases you when he feels you wetting his sweats “you’re making a mess on me, baby, you enjoy riding my thigh that much, huh?” and looks at you with a grin
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who starts undressing you so you can feel better, leaving you completely bare and him completely dressed
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who doesn’t miss the chance of eyeing your naked body as he licks his lips and starts feeling his cock getting hard
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who leads his thumb into your mouth so you can suck on it because he finds your muffled whines hot and sweet
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who rubs your clit with the same thumb that was on your mouth and coos you to let go and soak his clothes
ᥫ᭡ boyfriend jude who rubs your back after pulling you closer to him, with your face on his neck and keeps guiding you from your hips to grind on him just to hear your cries from overstimulation
+ + content warnings ; absolute filth i’m sorry // mention of established relationship, sub!jude, jude has a big dick, oral (jude receiving)
jude can barely even look at you while you have his dick in your mouth. the warm heat and wet pressure of your lips and tongue wrapping around his girth almost feels too good to combine with the sight. and don’t get him wrong, he’s had his dick in your mouth plenty of times before, but for fuck’s sake, if he looked down for just a moment to see the way your head bobs up and down his length, the way your cheeks hollow, looking so fucking pretty on your knees while you suck the life out of him, he swears he’s gonna burst into your mouth in an instant. too fast, he says. and he simply doesn’t want to cum too fast.
jude blames you constantly for making him so hard. it’s all your fucking fault. and he whines nonstop about how you’re responsible, how he needs you so so bad, how you need to take care of it… only to have him almost on the verge of literal tears with the way you take him deep in your throat. his hips would stutter, his whimpers would get louder and his hands would tremble around that makeshift ponytail he made at the back of your head every time you’d sink further down his dick. you can feel his cock throb against your tongue with the way it slides back into your throat feeling hot, heavy and thick.
he’s always so whiny when you take him like this. every drag of your lips makes him bite his lip hard to muffle another embarrassing sound— but then you’d tease him, swirl your tongue just right around his tip and— fuck—
“p-please, please—just like that… oh— fuck’s sake, love, don’t stop, i—” he begs and whimpers, his accent thicker than usual, with a big hand over his eyes, mouth gaping as he pants and moans, squirming and thrusting his hips up slightly. his other hand presses your head further down his length and holding you there, your nose pressing against the small hairs around the base of his cock, gagging slightly as he pumps his load down your throat, filling your mouth with so much of his cum that you can barely hold it in, letting it dribble past your lips and onto the floor you’re currently kneeling on.
I dont know anyone if anyone said it but can you do something with jobe hes such a fine guy
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ jobe bellingham making love to you after a win
♡ (nsfw, jobe loves you dearly, slight sub!jobe)
the sharp scent of sweat and damp grass still clings to jobe’s skin as he leans against the lockers, chest heaving. the distant echo of the crowd is a faint hum through the walls, but his gaze locks on you, intense and needing. you can see the shake in his hands from the adrenaline, and the way his knuckles are scraped raw from a late-game slide. he doesn’t need to say it, you remember the harshness of winter air at early practices, your voice hoarse from shouting encouragement over the wind while he ran drills until he weakened.
“you saw it?” his voice is still rough from ninety minutes of shouting across the field. “every second,” you tell him.
then he crosses the room and puts both arms around you, still damp, still warm, pressing his face into the side of your neck. you feel his heartbeat against your skin, still going hard. feeling the coolness of the air, his broad frame towers over you, the post match fire turning into something hotter and more possessive.
“every practice,” he says, his voice is muffled. “every single one.”
he grabs your face in both hands, his palms still hot, tipping your head back to look at you, with his chest still heaving.
“you were there,” he says, quieter now, like he’s just remembering it. “i kept looking up and you were just—” he shakes his head. his thumbs move along your jaw.
he kisses you slowly at first, almost careful, his fingers sliding back into your hair. then he makes a low sound against your mouth and pulls you in harder, and you feel the full weight of him, the heat still radiating off his skin, the locker door cold at your back.
“fuck, baby, you don’t know what it did to me seeing you out there clapping like that,” he growls, his voice low and rough. his hands are already under your shirt, palms hot and damp from the ball, sliding up to cup your tits. “all that training, all those late nights, i did it for this. just for you.” he yanks your shirt off, mouth crashing onto yours, tongue demanding and wet. you taste the salt of his sweat, feeling the hardness of his cock straining against his shorts as he grinds into your hip.
he drops to his knees without warning, dominance taking over, tugging your pants and panties down in one impatient pull. the cool air hits your bare skin, but his breath is warming. “spread for me. let me taste how proud you are of me.” his tongue drags through your folds, slow and filthy, lapping at your clit like he’s starving. you moan, fingers twisting in his curly hair, the wet sounds of his mouth filling the empty room. he groans against your pussy, the vibration shooting straight through you. “so fucking sweet. been thinking about this the whole match— how i’d get you dripping on my tongue.”
“yes,” you gasp out, your hips bucking against his hand. “don’t stop, jobe. please.”
your thighs shake around jode’s head, the heat of his tongue dragging merciless circles over your swollen clit while two thick fingers plunge deep, curling to reach that throbbing spot inside you. the wet sounds of his mouth fill the locker room, mixing with his scent. your own arousal coats his chin, dripping down to soak the bench beneath you as your hips jerk forward, chasing every filthy lap.
“fuck, jobe, baby p-please don’t stop,” you gasp, voice cracking as your fingers twist into his damp hair, yanking him closer. he growls against your cunt, the vibration shooting straight through your core, and sucks your clit harder, teeth grazing just enough to make your vision blur.
his dark eyes flick up, hungry and feral. “this pretty pussy’s squeezing my fingers like it’s asking for my cock,” he rasps, voice muffled against your folds. “soaking my face, begging to be filled.”
your walls flutter and clench, the pressure building until your back arches hard against the cold metal. he doesn’t ease up, his fingers pumping faster, and his tongue flicking in tight strokes, until the orgasm rips through you in pulsing waves. your thighs clamp around his ears, a cry tearing from your throat as fresh slick gushes over his tongue. he drinks it down with greedy laps, fingers slowing but never stopping their deep, curling thrusts, egding every last shiver from your trembling body.
jobe rises, wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand, a wicked smirk curling his lips. he fists the back of your neck and drags you into a bruising kiss, tongues tangling so you taste your own tangy sweetness mixed with his. the flavor floods your senses, heat starting fresh between your legs.
he stands and spins you, the roughness of the bench scraping your palms as he bends you over it. his shorts rasp down your ass cheeks, fabric whispering against sweat-slick skin before his cock springs free, thick and veined, with his swollen head slick with precum that smears hot across your thigh. he slaps it against your dripping slit, once, then twice, the wet smack echoing off the locker room tiles, the sharp sting of contact making your clit throb. “so wet, baby. so perfect for me.”
jobe pushes in slow, the blunt head stretching your entrance wide, the burn blooming deep as inch after inch fills you, your walls fluttering and gripping every ridge. the fullness punches the air from your lungs, your vision sparking white at the edges while the musky smell of his sweat and your arousal floods your nose. “god, this pussy’s gripping me like she missed me. you’re mine, please say it.” his hips snap forward, deep and steady, one hand clamping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other sliding around to circle your swollen clit with rough fingers.
“yours— m’ yours.” whimpers came from your throat, as the slap of skin on skin rings out, wet and filthy, your moans tangling with his grunts as the bench creaks beneath you.
sweat drips from his chest onto your back, hot trails sliding down your spine, the sharp salt taste of it hitting your tongue when you lick your lips. he picks up speed, pounding harder, the wet squelch of his cock driving into your soaked cunt filling the air with every thrust. “fuck, you feel incredible. all that cheering, you always show up for me.” his fingers work faster, pinching your clit just shy of pain, the pressure building tight and hot in your core while his cock drags relentless against that spot inside you.
jobe’s voice cracks, the dominant edge fading into desperate need. “please, baby— cum on my cock. i need it. need to feel you squeeze me. ah— g-god, i love you.” he leans over you, teeth grazing your ear, breath hot and ragged, his free hand fisting your hair to yank your head back. the sound of his cock squelching into you grows frantic, the scent of sex thick and overwhelming, your inner walls clenching tighter around him with every thrust.
your body shakes, thighs trembling around his hips as your orgasm crashes through you in relentless pulses. your cunt clenches tight, gripping his thick shaft like a fist, milking every inch while hot slick floods out and coats his balls. the wet slap of skin echoes off the concrete walls, mixing with the sweetness of love that hangs heavy in the air. your nipples scrape against the rough material of the bench, sending shivers straight to your core.
he growls low, hips jerking in broken thrusts. “fuck— yes, just like that. squeeze that pretty pussy around me. please— milk every drop.” his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, yanking you back onto him as he slams quicker. the bench creaks under the force, your knees scraping the edge while his cock pulses deep inside. thick ropes of cum surge into you, hot and heavy, overflowing in sticky ropes that trickle down your inner thighs and drip onto the floor below.
his mouth finds your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark, tongue quieting the sting as his hands roam frantically over your damp skin. he can’t stop touching, can’t stop grinding, pushing his release deeper while the distant roar of the stadium crowd fades beneath the wet sounds of your joined bodies and the frantic beat of your hearts. the taste of him lingers on your tongue from earlier kisses, sweet and addictive, as the last vibration rips through you both.
the bench beneath you both creaks, it scrapes against your bare skin, a big contrast to the slick heat of his body against yours. squeaking and groaning under the pressure of your movements, the rhythm that mixes the pounding of your hearts. the world outside the small room fades into insignificance, the stadium long forgotten.
his love coats your skin, evidence of the passion that has just unfolded between you. it’s the way his fingers draw lazy patterns on your sweat coated back, the way his breath goes hot and ragged against your neck, and the way his lips press soft kisses to your shoulder. it’s the way he murmurs your name, like whispers that send shivers down your spine.
the taste of him dances on your tongue, a mix of salt and desire that you can’t help but want to savor. his scent fills you, musky and overpowering, paired with the sweetness of sweat and sex. his body is a furnace against yours, radiating heat that seeps into your body. his heart pounding against your back, a steady rhythm that matches the pulsing ache between your thighs. his arms wrap around you, holding you close as if he fears you might slip away.
the room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the occasional creak of the bench beneath you, and the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusts his hold on you.
jobe has won matches before, but he has never looked at a trophy the way he looks at you.
i'm still pretty new to jobe but i wanted to write a little something sweet for him! he seems to be a little lonely in germany, so i wanted to write it as though you're always there for him. i hope you guys enjoy! as always, any feedback is accepted! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
jobe takes care of you. in every way, at every moment, no matter how good he just made you feel, no matter how tired he is afterward—his first instinct is always you.
"you okay baby?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, but his hands are still moving, still brushing over your bare skin, still soothing. he's barely caught his breath, still stretched out on top of you, body warm and heavy, but he's already pressing slow, lazy kisses along your shoulder, reaching for your waist, shifting his weight like he's ready to move.
"stay," you whisper, arms tightening around him. you like the weight of him, the warmth, the solid press of his body on yours.
"i gotta clean you up," he argues, voice all husky and sweet, lips still trailing over your skin.
"not yet," you say, and he listens. of course he does.
b is for body worship
he swears he could spend the rest of his life just touching you. just admiring you.
it’s not just about the way you look—it’s deeper than that. he loves your body because it’s yours. because you exist in it. because it’s the only place he ever wants to be.
"look at you," he mutters, voice laced with something dark, something thick. his hands are all over you, sliding slow and warm over the curve of your hips, up your waist, down your thighs. he kisses your stomach, your ribcage, your shoulders—everywhere.
"jobe," you whisper, but he’s lost in you, too caught up in how soft you are, how perfect you feel under his hands, how he could spend forever like this and never get tired of it.
"so fuckin' beautiful," he breathes against your skin, and it’s not just words. you feel it in the way he touches you, in the way he holds you, in the way he won’t stop looking at you like you’re something precious.
he takes his time. kisses every inch of you. makes sure you know exactly how much he loves your body—every dip, every curve, every soft, sensitive part of you.
"could do this all night," he mutters, dragging his lips over your stomach, nipping at your skin just enough to make you gasp.
you believe him.
c is for control
jobe likes to be in control. not because he has to be, but because he wants to. because he likes knowing he’s the one making you feel this way, the one pulling those sweet little sounds from your lips, the one pushing you to the edge over and over again.
but it’s not just about control—it’s about taking care of you. making sure you feel good. making sure you know you’re safe, that you can trust him, that you can give in completely and he’ll catch you every time.
"easy, baby," he murmurs when you start squirming, when your body gets too restless under his hands. his grip tightens, just enough to keep you still. "i got you."
and he does. he always does.
d is for dirty talk
jobe talks you through it. always.
"feels good, don’t it?" he mutters, voice all rough and thick. his lips are right by your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "you like that, yeah?"
you nod, breathless, and his grip tightens just enough to make you whimper.
"nah," he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw. "use your words."
"yes," you gasp. "fuck—yes, jobe."
he hums, satisfied. "that’s my girl."
e is for edging
he likes to tease. likes to take you right to the edge, to watch the way your body trembles, to hear the way your voice gets all high and desperate.
likes to make you wait for it.
"not yet," he mutters when you start to beg, when your fingers clutch at his shoulders, when your breath stutters and your thighs shake around him.
"please," you whisper, but he just smirks, drags his lips over your throat, keeps you right there, teetering.
"i’ll let you cum when i’m ready, baby." his voice is soft, almost sweet, but the look in his eyes is anything but.
you whimper, hips twitching against his hold. he just chuckles.
"gonna be good for me?" he asks, slow and teasing, fingers trailing over your skin like he’s in no rush at all.
you nod, glaze-eyed, desperate.
"that’s my girl."
f is for foreplay
jobe takes his time. always.
he doesn’t just rush into it—he builds it up. makes you feel every touch, every kiss, every slow drag of his lips over your skin.
he’s patient. so patient it drives you crazy.
"jobe," you whine, shifting under him, but he just smirks, shakes his head.
"shh," he murmurs, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns over your thighs. "lemme take my time with you, baby."
you want to protest, but then his mouth is on you again, and suddenly, you don’t care how long he takes.
as long as he never stops.
g is for grip
jobe’s hands are big. strong. warm. and he knows exactly how to use them.
they’re always on you—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, wrapping around your wrists, pinning you down just enough to make your breath hitch.
he holds you like he owns you. like you belong to him.
and honestly? you do.
h is for hair-pulling
jobe loves your hair. loves the way it frames your face, the way it feels between his fingers, the way it moves when you ride him, the way you grip it when you’re about to fall apart.
but most of all, he loves pulling it.
"fuck," he mutters under his breath, fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your lips stretched around him, your eyes all dark and teary. his head falls back for a second, his free hand flexing against the bedsheets, but he’s still watching you, still looking down at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.
"look so pretty like this, baby," he breathes, tugging just a little—enough to make your scalp tingle, enough to make you whimper around him.
his jaw clenches. his hips twitch. his breath shudders out of him like he’s trying to hold himself back, like he’s trying not to fuck your mouth the way he really wants to.
but then you moan around him, and he loses it.
his grip tightens, his other hand cupping your jaw, his hips pushing just a little deeper.
"that’s it," he groans, his voice all thick and breathless. "such a good girl for me."
and when you look up at him, eyes glossy, lips wet and swollen—he swears he could cum just from that.
i is for intimacy
it’s not just about sex with jobe. it never is.
he touches you like he’s memorising you. looks at you like you’re something holy. kisses you like he means it, every single time.
even when it’s messy, even when it’s rough, even when he’s got you spread out underneath him, begging—there’s always something deeper in the way he moves, in the way he breathes your name, in the way he presses his forehead against yours when he’s close.
"love you," he whispers, voice all thick and quiet, and you feel it everywhere.
j is for jealousy
jobe doesn’t like to share. at all.
he’s not crazy about it—he trusts you, he knows you love him, knows you’re his. but that doesn’t mean he likes it when other guys look at you for too long, when someone gets too close, when he sees you laughing a little too hard at someone else’s joke.
"who was that?" he asks later, voice all low and tight as he backs you up against the nearest wall.
"just some guy," you tease, tilting your head at him, pushing at his chest just to rile him up.
he exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching.
"you think that’s funny?" he mutters, his hands gripping your hips, pressing into your skin.
you do. until he’s got you on your knees, showing you exactly who you belong to.
k is for kissing
jobe kisses like he needs it to breathe.
sometimes it’s soft, lazy—like when he’s half asleep, lips barely brushing over yours, warm and slow and sweet. sometimes it’s teasing—smirking against your mouth, tilting his head just enough to keep you chasing after him.
but sometimes—sometimes it’s something else.
sometimes he kisses you like he’s trying to ruin you. like he’s trying to make you feel him everywhere. like he wants to pull you apart with just his mouth.
"come here," he mutters, voice rough, fingers gripping your chin as he crashes his lips against yours.
and you do. always.
l is for lingerie
jobe loves you in anything. loves you in his shirts, loves you in sweats, loves you when you’re fresh out the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around you.
but he really loves you in lace.
"fuckin’ hell," he mutters when you walk into the room, his eyes dragging over you, his fingers twitching at his sides.
you smirk, turning just enough to give him a better view. "like it?"
"come here," he breathes, and that’s all it takes.
m is for marking
jobe likes leaving reminders.
likes the little bruises on your thighs, the faint bite marks on your shoulders, the fingerprints he leaves on your hips.
"mine," he murmurs, his mouth dragging over your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin just enough to make you gasp.
like you’d ever forget.
n is for needy
jobe acts all tough, but he’s needy as fuck.
always pulling you closer, always touching you, always needing to feel your skin against his.
he’s impatient, too.
"babe," he groans, burying his face in your neck, shifting restlessly against you.
you hum, dragging your fingers through his hair. "what?"
"need you," he mumbles, voice all low and thick and desperate.
and when he’s like this, when he’s all whiny and warm and pressed up against you—how could you ever say no?
o is for oral
jobe eats you out like it’s his last meal.
like he lives for it. like he needs it.
"fuck," he mutters against your skin, fingers gripping your thighs, keeping you open for him. "taste so fuckin’ good, baby."
you whimper, back arching, fingers tugging at his hair, but he doesn’t stop.
he never does. not until you’re fully satisfied.
p is for praise
jobe loves hyping you up. loves telling you how good you are, how perfect, how pretty you look when you’re falling apart for him.
"that’s it, baby," he murmurs, voice all thick and sweet. "such a good girl for me."
you whimper, shivering at his words, and he just smiles, dragging his lips over your jaw.
"love you like this," he mutters. "love you always."
q is for quickies
jobe’s impatient. and sometimes, he just can’t wait.
"jobe," you hiss, glancing toward the door, but he doesn’t care.
"be quiet," he murmurs as he presses you up against the nearest surface, fingers slipping under your clothes, already making you gasp.
and yeah, maybe you should stop him because this shit is fucking risky. but when he’s looking at you like that—when he’s already got you shaking for him—how could you?
r is for rough
jobe isn’t always soft.
sometimes he’s all teeth and hands and heavy breathing, all bruising kisses and desperate touches and low, filthy words against your skin.
sometimes he needs you. hard and fast and now.
and you? you absolutely love it.
s is for stamina
jobe could go for hours. and he has.
it’s like he never gets tired. doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, doesn’t matter how weak your legs are, doesn’t matter how breathless and spent you are beneath him—he still wants more. still needs more.
"one more," he mutters against your skin, pressing messy kisses down your throat.
"jobe, i can’t," you whimper, body trembling.
he hums, dragging his hand between your legs, touching you so slow, so easy.
"want me to stop?" he murmurs.
and you vehemently shake your head. because absolutely not.
t is for teasing
jobe loves to drag things out. loves to take his time, loves to make you wait, loves to see how long it takes before you break.
"what’s wrong, baby?" he murmurs, his fingers barely grazing over where you need him most.
"jobe, please," you whisper, already shaking.
he just smiles, kisses the corner of your mouth, his hands gripping your thighs.
"not yet."
u is for unexpected
sometimes, jobe surprises you.
like when he wakes you up with his mouth between your thighs.
"jobe," you gasp, your body arching as he hums against your skin.
he looks up at you, his lips already glistening, his eyes dark.
"morning, baby."
v is for vulnerability
jobe isn’t soft with many people. but with you? he lets his guard down.
"stay with me," he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid to let go.
"always," you breathe, and he kisses you like he believes you.
w is for worship
jobe treats you like you’re the best thing in his life. because you are.
"so pretty," he murmurs, his hands tracing over every inch of you.
"so perfect," he breathes, kissing down your stomach.
"so… mine," he mutters against your skin, and you know there’s nothing in the world he means more.
x is for x-rated
jobe loves making videos.
"for me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into the camera.
"show me, baby."
and you do. because you’d give him anything.
y is for yearning
even when he’s not with you, jobe’s thinking about you.
"miss you," he texts, even though he just saw you.
"need you," he calls, his voice all low and rough through the phone.
warnings ,, none! heavily based on the tiktok trend; the one in particular from kayla.moody482 on tiktok!! ૮ • ﻌ - ა
mina talks ,, a short drabble to fuel my jude encompassed heart once again ( 2024 football tumblr, we mourn you everyday💔💔) still, i hope you all enjoy this regardless angels & as always, requests are open!! ♡ jude fanart crds to harbingger on x!
“guys, look what my man got meeeee!!” you exclaimed out happily, holding up the large bouquet of pink & white flowers to the camera, along with the huge melody plushie whilst jude continued to stare at you adoringly from the background across your shared bed.
“surprised me with an entire day out at the sanrio store!!” you emphasised, biting the inside of your cheek as you gestured to the other gifts sitting across the bed as well. “i swear, it’s like he’s in my head 24/7 and just knows what i need to make my day better.”
“still waiting for my promised payment by the way,” jude interjects then, walking into the frame of the camera as your head snaps in his direction and found him pouting out his lips subtly, earning a snort and subtle eyeroll from you.
“fine — c’mere,” you reciprocate, cupping against his face and closing the distance between you two, landing your lips on his for a chaste kiss.
a wide grin overtook jude’s face then, pride coursing through his veins at your happy face — only for that to abruptly fade when you wiped at your lips subtly, his lips pursing together whilst his brows furrowed together.
“what the fuck.” the curse leaves his throat before he can even stop himself, your head snapping back in his direction as you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from bursting into laughter. “what’s wrong, babe?”
“wHaT’s WrOnG bAbE?!” he mocks, your brows furrowing together whilst your lips twitched from resisting the urge. “why’d you do that?”
“do what?” “wipe away my kiss!!”
“babe, are you okay?” you voice in feigned concern, resting your hand across his shoulder in part of the role you’ve immersed yourself into for the video. “because i seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“hm.” jude hums then before cupping at your face and landing another kiss to your lips — his jaw immediately dropping this time when you wiped it away almost instinctively after.
“baby!” he expresses, this time warranting a laugh from you as he just started at you, dumbfounded. “stop doing that!”
“i’m not doing anything!!” “yes you are!”
“i don’t have to kiss you every 5 seconds, you know.” you shrug, sitting back in your seat to continue with your vlog, ignoring jude’s burning gaze piercing the side of your neck as you showcased at your gifts once more.
you felt bad for him, obviously. but at the same time, this was way too good for you to stop now.
“and he also got some kuromi balloons and this cinnammaroll phone case too!”
“oh and these flowers are of my—!” your sentence was cut off again by jude’s lips landing on yours again, not even caring that the camera was still recording you both.
“jude!” you gasp out a laugh as he pulls away from you with a furrowed expression before wrapping his hands around your wrists, stopping them from reaching for your lips again.
“judeeee...” “kiss me back.” was all he said before pressing his lips against your cheek and lips again, making you laugh harder as you pushed him away and broke your arms free from his hold to wipe your sleeve over your lips again, his jaw unhinging from his mouth again.
“3 times now babe?!” he sputters out, his hands flaying up as you stared at him with a smile. “what the hell — does my breath smell bad or somethin’??”
“babe, i already told you!!” you speak through your laughter as he takes a quick breath check for himself. “okay, my breath doesn’t smell. so what then?”
“can we just finish the video please?” “not until you tell why you keep wiping my kisses off!”
“jude, it’s not that deep..” “oh okay — so you hate me and want me to die, is what you’re saying then.”
“i just said i don’t have to be kissing you all the time,” you stuck to your grounds, jude just staring at you like you’d just gone and offended his entire bloodline. “oh my god, you really do want me to die — that’s what it is, isn’t it?!”
“babe!” you exclaim out then, holding at your stern voice as you turned back to conclude with the vlog before jude suddenly reached for your phone, switching off the recording and placing it face down across the vanity table.
“jude—!” you immediately went on the protest on him for ruining your video before letting out a squeal as he threw you over his shoulder, eliciting a high pitched scream from you as you thrashed your hands all over his back.
“jude victor william bellingham — you put me down right this second!” you scream out, only for your words to grow caught the moment he threw you over the bed, hovering right over you whilst looking into your eyes with a certain glint.
“you think that was funny?” he murmurs, the immediate scent of his typical cologne mingling under your nose hazing at your mind, pleasure bursting from within you as you smiled up at him as an indirect reply. “i mean, not my fault you can’t take a joke.”
“that was not a joke.” he frowns. “that was emotional torture.”
“never do that to me again,” jude groans out in acknowledgment, burying his face into your neck, to which you could only just giggle out softly at him before it transcended into a burst of laughter once you felt him plant open mouthed kisses across your cheek and collarbone as the night went on.
Jobe Bellingham as your cutie patootie bf! ⋆.˚ 18+ | part two
bf jobe! who stares at your photos he took of you when he’s away for training. he’s desperate to not be apart from you for a second but he’s patient (he swears he is) but he always ends up calling you just to hear your voice
bf jobe! who loooves to cuddle you literally everywhere. he’s a real hugger. Hugs you first before you can even initiate it. His strong and solid arms wrap themselves around your waist automatically and he treats your body like his second skin. He smothers you in kisses when you both hug and he’s not afraid of any pda. Though sometimes he has to limit touching you in public spaces due to the media and cameras :(
bf jobe! who picks you up slightly by your hips or under your pits to piss you off but you just giggle and that itself makes him smile. he sits you nicely on his lap and likes when you face him entirely so he can see your pretty face. he makes out with you in seconds. Does that thing where his warm hand cups your cheek and presses his lips on yours softly while holding you close.
bf jobe! who puts your needs before his ALWAYS. it’s nature to him and so naturally he gives first before receiving. especially when it comes to sex. he prepares you oh so sweetly with his skillful tongue and long fingers pumping into you before ever sticking his cock into you (unless you beg for it)
bf jobe! who engulfs you in his sweater when it’s freezing out. even though you wear layers of clothing he insists by wrapping you flush against his hard chest. he’s taller than you by a lot so he’s literally your personal human heater.
bf jobe! who tilts your face towards him so he can see you feel pleasure, cry or just in general. he loves your face so much and when you’re upset he’s immediately upset, “hey, hey.. c’mon pretty girl, look at me.” a thumb brushing away on your cheek as he kisses your forehead. he’ll comfort you for hours if you’re ever sad, he cannot stand seeing his girl cry.
bf jobe! who gets hard thinking about you. he really can’t keep it in his pants when all he can think about is your cute cunt wrapped snug around his dick. the way your face looks when he makes you cum and your small shy sounds when you try to tell him to speed up. he has all of those living rent free in his head and on his phone
bf jobe! when he senses you’re uncomfortable outside he does this thing where he hides your face into his chest when you’re overstimulated and rubs your back soothingly. whispering sweet words of encouragement as well as his daily kisses all over your face
bf jobe! gets all giddy when people online asks him about you. after he’s posted a picture subtly without your face showing they flood his comment section with “who’s that?? 👀” “jobe gf reveal” and he just posts another one with his lips on yours but his cap is covering your face.
bf jobe! has the prettiest fucking hands ever. a little calloused but they’re long and elegant. he loves caressing your cheeks with them and holds your hair up for you when you’re doing something like baking or doing skincare in the bathroom. either way, his hands are all yours as well— just like the rest of his body.
bf jobe! follows you around like a puppy. he doesn’t like being apart from you at all. so later he tells you that him clinging on you is the right way to make it up to him. don’t forget to give him a billion kisses too.
bf jobe! is the type to drape his body over yours when it’s bed time or when he’s bored. he nuzzles his face into your chest while telling you about his day. bonus points if you lightly massage his shoulders or back so he can practically melt onto you.
content warning: dry humping, p in v, established relationship, jude's a lil ass in this but hes sexy so it cancels out #pemdas, sir kink debut, creampie, big dick!jude, tit slapping, mdom/fsub, and cockwarminggggg.
author's note: i may not know a lot about futbol BUT!!! i do know about beyonce and the painful urge of wanting to ride a handsome man. so heres this! also, my asks are open so if you have any requests or words to share please feel free to do so :). as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy.
thinking about sensual morning sex with jude. him catching you stare at the side of his face one warm summer morning. an airy huff leaves his mouth, “i can feel you staring a hole into my face.” he complains with a slight crack in his voice before he opens one eye to peek at you, then burying his face into the pillow. for a man so sweet and gentle during the day, he can be a bit of an asshole for the first 10 minutes of waking up. but fortunately, that just turns you on even more. a smile creeps onto your face as slick warmth pools in between your thighs, lifting a finger and tracing over the muscle of his bicep. "but you're so cute, jude."
“let me sleep.” he grumbles through the pillow, his coily dark brown hair slightly smushed from his slumber.
"i am!” you whisper with a whine, toying with his hair gently, brushing your hand up and down his back with a soft scratch of your nails. "...then can i ride you when you wake up?"
jude's breathing pauses for a second before he hums with approval, rolling onto his back with his eyes still closed. he pats his thighs signaling you to get on. you smile to yourself and proceed to throw a leg over his thighs, pressing your heated core onto his half hard dick. your hips roll lazy circles on his lap almost instantly; a soft moan leaves your lips and onto the skin of his naked shoulder. you bury your face into his neck and leave kisses, nose poking at his jawline and taking a deep inhale of his scent.
his large hands grab at your ass, eyes shutting tighter as he takes control and guides your hips up and down, side to side, and mimicking the small circles you did before. both of your breathing starts to pick up, the peaks of your nipples hardening through the soft fabric of jude's t-shirt, you finally lift your body up from his and run your fingers down his chest. your eyes travel from his happy trail and up to his face, already looking up at you, his expression warm and dreamy. bottom lip tucked under his perfect top row of teeth as he devours you with his gaze.
"mmm fuck-" you gasp, looking down to your bodies clashing; a patch of arousal starts seeping through your panties and onto his growing bulge.
"yeahhh get her nice and wet f'me." he snickers confidently, hands pushing your shirt up to your chest and exposing your tits. "making a mess and we've barely started."
a breathy moan falls from your mouth in response to his praise; shaking your head in disagreement as you lift the shirt and throw it over your head in a swift move. "been this wet since i woke up.... last night really."
he groans as you grind on his dick greedily, "fuck- why didn't you tell me."
"i thought you were sleepy." you pout with a fake sincere voice, digging your nails into his abs and pressing your hips down with force.
"not anymore." jude licks his bottom lip, hands leaving your hips and resting behind his head. "pull it out. take what you've been needing."
you nod and begin to pull off your ruined panties.
"ah-" he calls for your attention. you look up at him once more. "where's your manners?"
"sorry-... thank you, sir."
"there's my girl." he finally flashes a smile at you; it reaches his eyes, mahogany brown irises admiring you as his fingertips fluffs his hair. waiting for you to continue what you started.
you smile back at him. body heated with desire. rolling off of him and slipping your panties off slowly; a cloudy string of arousal connects from your clit to the cotton fabric. you look back to see if he's watching. which he is, of course.
a desperate groan leaves his mouth from watching you. his breathing slows as you turn back to him and pull the comforter off to the foot of the bed, his dick bulging through his navy-blue briefs with growing a patch of precum.
you toy with his waistband for a moment before sliding them down, eyes flicking back and forth from his beautiful face to his perfect dick slapping on his thigh; you continue to drag his briefs down his legs and throw them alongside the rest of your discarded clothing on the floor.
crawling back up to him your noses bump together as one of your hands slip in between the two of you, slowly pushing his tip into your dripping entrance.
"slow... you know i'm big." he hisses at the stretch even though he's halfway in. a hand moves from the back of his head and to your cheek, caressing your skin gently as you push down to the hilt, the dark trimmed hair at his base digging into your clit.
"i know-" you moan with a reassuring tone the sound of your body slapping onto his with every bounce.
"i" plap. "know" plap. "oh shit" plap.
you let out a sharp gasp when his tip presses directly onto your cervix. his eyebrows furrow, groaning lightly whilst his hands grab at your body; your thighs, your back, your ass, drawing hearts on your skin as you fuck yourself onto him.
you lift back up with your hands on his chest, knees digging into the mattress, pushing his body into it. rolling your hips in large circles, making his tip brush into that sensitive spongy spot inside you.
he nods mindlessly, watching your facial expressions fall into a range of desperation to sensitivity. studying how your head falls forward, pretty eyes flutter shut, how you bite your lip in pleasure.
“juuuuuude.” you moan, ass smacking onto his thighs. “hahhh, i love your dick so much.”
“yeah? were you dreaming about it last night?” a cocky grin grows on his face, large hands moving up to cup your tits and playing with your sensitive nipples; twisting and pulling them with grip.
"yes, baby! i dream about it every fuckin' night.." your brain turns into mush, voice breaking as you grind your clit onto his pelvis once more. the feeling of your nipples being teased sends sparks through your body. “oh fuck- ah i can feel it in my stomach." the words slurring and combining together towards the end.
"then show me." he grunts, slapping at your tits firmly with one hand, the other gripping at your hip.
"huh?" you ask while grinding onto him chasing your orgasm.
"show me what you were dreaming about." he cups your face to make you look at him, his thumb traces over your bottom lip.
you nod. "okay..-"
he raises a brow, waiting for the sentence to end properly.
"sir." you clarify, rolling your eyes in embarrassment as you swing your feet from under you and place them on the bed. you lift and shift your hips on top of him to get comfortable, scratching at his pecs to brace yourself.
"that's it darling, plant your feet on the bed." his voice eager and dominate, encouraging you with both hands pawing at your ass and spreading you apart. “fuck me like you mean it. c’mon.”
you slowly lift up to the tip and drop down. whimpering as you feel him hit spots you didn't even know existed. "oh my god." falls from your mouth repeatedly, taking your time to find a pace that works.
"just like that. always looking so pretty when you ride this dick." jude pants, fighting between watching how your pussy swallows him with zero struggle or focusing on your tits bouncing in his face. the shine of your arousal covering his length every time you lift and drop yourself on him.
"fuckfuckfuck." you whine, a hand lifting to grab onto the headboard to keep it from slamming against the wall.
jude eyes widen in shock, surrendering himself so you could use him to get off. the coil in his stomach tightens, groans turning to open mouthed "ah's" correspondent to your thrusts, hands tugging you down onto his dick like you were going to disappear right from above him. "take it. take this cock like you fucking own it. baby, holy shit.”
"i own it, sir." you moan, one hand pressed on his abs for leverage as you bounce harder, the other piercing your nails into the headboard. "it's mine." eyes staring into his. "nobody else's."
"it’s mine." you repeat, panting like you ran a marathon as you slam down to the hilt with a full body quiver; your slick walls clenching around his length with no remorse, orgasm hitting you with a broken whine. practically falling apart in his hands.
"give it to me gorgeous, cum for me." his thumb teases your clit with fast flicks, sending you over the edge. your legs shake atop of him, mouth agape as he rubs you into overstimulation.
“sir- i c-can’t.” you plea in a desperate tone, hand grabbing at his wrist in an attempt to pull him away. “too much!”
“almost there sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me.” he groans, thrusting his hips into you to get as deep as possible. you roll your hips to help him get close, he looks up at you with need as he cums, thighs shaking, head falling back into the pillow in bliss. exhaling your name with a shaky moan like he breathed for the first time.
your head lays back into the crook of his neck, chests smushed together with silence filling the room besides the sounds of your heavy breathing.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (MINORS DNI) thinking ‘bout STEVE ROGERS who, despite seeming like an innocent man who doesn’t have a lot of sex, is really really good at sex.
he uses his strength to always hold your legs on his shoulders or hoist you up against the wall. he makes sureeee you keep eye contact on him whenever he’s deep in your walls.
“keep your eyes on me darling.” he’d say in that soft voice as his balls are slapping against your clit with each rough thrust.
he’s so gentle with his dominance too :( he pulls your hair but doesn’t yank, he picks up your head but doesn’t force it up, he prods his fingers into your mouth but doesn’t shove. he’s never mean, even in his most stressful moments, the most he’ll call you is “a brat” and “cock slut” and even that is pushing it.
call him captain and he’ll be bending you over the counter, fucking your hole until the only thing you can say is captain. when he doesn’t shave and he lets his beard grow— oh he eats your ass alright, making sure you get that sensation of his beard all up your cheeks and thighs, spitting in your hole and toying with it with his fingers.
“gotta stretch this pretty girl out.” he says as his tongue swirls your tight hole. “shhhh, I know baby doll, just lemme do it and I’ll be in you in no time.”
he knows exactly how to make you cum each and every time. and he gets real frustrated if he can’t make you cum… he just wants his pretty girl to be okay, that’s all!
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
You’re bouncing on his cock, hips slamming down hard enough that the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the bedroom, when Satoru lets out a muffled sound.
“Mmmfgh-!”
His head is thrown back against the pillow, snowy hair sticking to his damp forehead, eyes rolled halfway up in pure bliss. Your worn black panties are stuffed between his lips, the crotch pressed right against his tongue so your scent and taste flood his senses with every desperate inhale. He’s lost every ounce of composure, he's a whimpering, trembling mess beneath you.
It had started barely twenty minutes ago in the laundry room.
You’d walked in absentmindedly, only to freeze at the sight of Satoru hunched over the hamper, face buried in the same pair of your dirty panties he’s gagging on now. His blindfold was pushed up, cheeks tinted prettily, cock rock-hard and twitching visibly in his sweatpants as he inhaled you like he’d die without it. He’d startled when he saw you, pulling the fabric away with a quick, surprised blink of those striking eyes.
“Well… fuck,” he’d said, a low chuckle slipping out even as his cheeks stayed faintly warm.
“Didn’t expect you to be back so soon...”
You’d felt your own face burn, surprised and a little embarrassed by the scene before you. Instead of scolding him, you’d stepped closer, plucked the panties from his fingers and dragged him to your shared bedroom.
Now he’s paying for it in the best way. You brace both hands on his broad chest, nails digging into pale skin and ride him harder, lifting until just the fat head of his cock stretches your pussy, then slamming back down, again and again.
His muffled moans vibrate against the fabric in his mouth, drool slipping from the corner of his lips. His hands clutch the headboard above him exactly like you ordered, knuckles white, veins standing out on his forearms as he fights the urge to grab your hips and fuck up into you.
“Such a needy boy, sniffing my dirty panties like a pervert.”
He whines loudly around the gag, hips jerking helplessly beneath you. His cock throbs violently inside your clenching heat. You don’t let up, grinding in tight, nasty circles that rub your clit perfectly against his base while your walls squeeze him tightly.
His whole body suddenly goes rigid. A desperate cry tears from his throat, muffled by your panties, as he starts to squirt, hot clear fluid floods deep into your pussy. It’s filthy, warm and slippery, leaking out around his shaft with every frantic twitch of his hips. He shakes hard through every spurt, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, moaning as he’s completely lost in the pleasure.
You keep grinding on his cock, hips rolling desperately as the warm, messy load he squirted inside you pushes you right over the edge. Your pussy clenches hard around him, thighs shaking as you cum with a soft moan, slick gushing out to mix with his own fluids and dripping down his balls on the sheets.
Panting, you slow down and gently pull the soaked panties from his mouth. He gasps for air, chest heaving, lips swollen and shiny. You brush his white hair from his forehead, still seated on his cock.
“You knew I was coming,” you murmur, watching his face. “You let me catch you on purpose.”
Satoru meets your gaze, still flushed and breathing hard. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his swollen lips.
“Yeah… I knew,” he admits, voice rough and smug.
“Wanted you to walk in on me like that. Wanted you to take over and fuck me stupid.” He lets out a breathless chuckle.
Smiling, you lean down and kiss him.
“You're so dirty...” you whisper. He shivers under you, that smirk still on his lips as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.
summary: the avenger's preference when it comes to the bedroom and very specific kinks i believe they have
a/n: thank you to the doomsday trailer for reawakening the marvel obsession, and sparking this convo between my best friend and i. @goldenbrowns love you babe, most of my fics wouldn't be possible without our daily discussions. as always MDNI! and enjoy<3
bucky barnes! after figuring out the ways of the modern world, he would be interested in trying some bdsm, before realizing how rough in can be which completely turned him off. he's definitely on board with light choking, but when you suggested trying knife play and gun play, he was unsure. it took him a while to understand that you trusted him, out of all people, enough to use weapons he took so many lives with, now creating new memories and a deeper bond between the both of you. apart from that, nothing gives him more of a thrill than when you're at a bar, a few drinks in and he's taking you to the bathroom and making you choke on his cock.
steve rogers! he's a very simple man, not very willing to try new things. he knows what he likes and what works for him, even if it may be considered vanilla, but that's okay! because when he's sitting you on top of him, holding you up by your hips and fucking up into you with a fast and steady pace, you don't care who can hear you or how sore you'll be from yelling the next day. he always makes sure he didn't go to far, even if you assure him that he could be rougher, kissing the top of your head and holding you until you fall asleep in his arms.
tony stark! a pervert, obviously. he'll take you anywhere and anyway he can. he loves trying new things and taking his time exploring your body, figuring out what makes you squirm and moan. loves taking you in the backseat of the car on a way to a meeting; not caring that happy knows exactly what you two are doing back there. he surprises you every month with rigs and gadgets that he made specifically to use you as his test subject. he'd record his findings, of course, propping up a camera in your direction so he can rewatch and figure out how to make his invention better; no other reason...
bruce banner! secretly but unsurprisingly, he's also a pervert. daily pussy inspections, which he claims are for your health, you know better but don't complain. much like his playboy friend, he likes to experiment on you, sometimes they do it together without you knowing. bruce comes to tony with what he suspects is sex pollen and wants to put it to the test. you're unknowingly going about your day, having lunch with wanda and nat when it hits you, excusing yourself after half and hour of unbearable heat pooling between your legs, oblivious to the men turning off the meta glasses they had to log their results.
sam wilson! an ass man through and through. position where he can see your ass he's doing that. he also loves watching your reflection, pressing you against any bathroom counter and seeing your eyes roll to the back of your head as your ass bounces back on him. he even went to the lengths of installing a mirror above his bed so he could see you in every possible angle.
loki laufeyson! let's be so honest this man is into anything and everything, but i firmly believe that he loves making you wear his helmet and pulling on the horns. especially when he has you on all fours, too tired to hold yourself up, a little spell to make sure the helmet doesn't slip from your head and he's forcing you to arch your back for hours on end. speaking of spells, binding is his favorite go to, contorting you in ways you didn't think possible and keeping you there.
thor odinson! like his brother, he's had many years of experience to try a plethora of positions, toys and locations. he prides himself in his strength so he loves taking you against a wall, or just holding you up as he bounces you up and down his cock. however, he dreams of laying you face down in his silk sheets, spreading your legs and laying mjölnir on your lower back, restricting you of all movement and using you for his own selfish pleasure.
peter parker! he doesn't necessarily have a favorite position, but he does have a preference for cowgirl. entranced by the way your tits bounce in his face, he's willing to do anything and everything you tell him to, still not sure how he managed to date a beautiful woman like you. he would be crushing on you way before you actually got together, almost in a creepy way. even now, he can't help himself from secretly stealing some of your underwear so he can jerk off to it at home. he loves you, and loves pleasuring you, so who is he to be anything but the perfect boy for his favorite girl?
stephen strange! loves edging you for hours, making you beg and squirm around his fingers before he even fucks you properly. he'd tell you he was teaching you patience, and that you were failing miserably. when he finally lets you cum, he's using the time stone to go back a few seconds and make you cum again. on days when he's feeling a bit crueler than usual, he's using the stone to hold you over the edge longer than you could mentally take.
matt murdock! because of his heightened senses, he loves taking his time with you and mapping out your body, no matter how many times he's done this. it could be hours before actually fucks you, taking his time between your legs, marking your thighs and belly with his teeth, wanting to commit your whole body to memory with everyone of his remaining senses. shamelessly sniffs you and your underwear, convincing you he could get high solely from that. he'd never deny you an orgasm, oh no, he'd give in to any request and plead you throw his way, though reluctant to fuck you and have his indulging cut short.
frank castle! not a single gentle moment with this man, at least until it's over and he's making you dinner and bathing you. before that though, he's grabbing both your wrists behind your back and mercilessly pounding into you, holding your head down with his rough palm. not even when he's making you ride his thigh, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other slaps your ass, "come on baby, i know you can do better than that." he's not giving you a break until you make yourself cum, and after that he's cleaning you up with his mouth, not caring how overstimulated you are.
in which, you and your teammate jude share a close friendship that others view more as a relationship, but neither of you let that get into your heads. it's just jokes, right? or are there actually some hidden feelings that both of you are too scared to express verbally?
warnings : cussing, mentions of sex, fingering, jude refers to your pussy as "she", squirting, mentions of drinking and clubbing, making out, hickeys, cum eating
wc : 1.5k
not proofread!
it's a warm saturday in may. your team has just won a match against athletic - with the help of you scoring two goals and jude scoring the third.
you're laying in the bathtub of your 3 bedroom apartment, eyes closed with a small but proud smile on your face.
the match went absolutely fucking great, even though you got a yellow card for talking shit.
a quiet sigh escapes your mouth at the feeling of your muscles relaxing in the warm water.
you chose not to go out and celebrate with the guys, since you're already familiar with how chaotic and loud it can get and you're just too tired for all that.
jude on the other hand is with the guys, drinking in the private club and celebrating, yet his minds occupied. he knows you don't like clubbing, but he was hoping you'd come. especially since you're the reason they won. he debated calling you multiple times, but he's decided against it everytime.
he really doesn't wanna bother you knowing how exhausted you get after matches, even the successful ones.
you get up from the bath, rinsing off the water from your naked body and stepping out to dry yourself off. you put on your pj's, a black tanktop and some random ass sweatpants your brother got you for christmas.
laying down in bed, you open tiktok on your phone and like every post praising you and the team for your guys's performance.
while enjoying your social media scroll, you get a notification from messages. it's jude, checking up on you.
you put your phone down with a quiet laugh, rolling around in bed to get comfy.
you and jude always piss each other off on purpose, finding the most fun in annoying the other.
fans always joke about how protective and gentle he is around you - both on and off the pitch. he hates seeing you get hurt, which is why he usually sacrifices himself and gets hurt instead. like that one time when a player from barca shoved you to the floor so jude body slammed him and got a straight red card. he says it was worth it though.
TIMESKIP - training
"pass it to me!" vini shouts at you from your left, motioning for you to kick the ball his way. you do as you're told, helping him score a goal which makes everyone cheer.
your coach writes down stats, nodding his head in proudness as he looks up at you. "another assist. good job. you're gonna be at top of the assist board if you keep going this direction, y/n."
"shit, that's cool." you mutter, biting your lip in consideration as you head over to the bench to grab a water of bottle.
jude walks over to you and sits down next to you, patting your thigh softly as he praises your skills. "good job, twat. you're starting to play better than me."
you laugh, throwing your head back before looking directly at him. "when have i ever played worse than you? you're forgetting i came from psg."
jude rolls his eyes, scoffing at your flexing. "yeah, well, im still better. or whatever. listen- kylians inviting everyone over tonight for some drinks. just at his place."
you raise your eyebrow, surprised. "seriously? his girlfriends finally letting us come over?"
"yeah. i was kinda fucking surprised too but, it's cool. you gonna go? keep me company?" he nudges you, seriously asking but in a playful tone so he doesn't seem too needy.
you hum, pretending to think about it, "hmm.. absolutely fucking not?"
jude scoffs, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "why the hell not? it's gonna be chill. swear."
"you literally know how much i hate gatherings, jude. im not coming."
he sighs, looking more disappointed than angry. "you're taking the piss, right? you can't be this antisocial forever."
"im not antisocial! i just.. protect my peace." you retort back, annoyed he's bringing this up.
"fine. i won't go either then."
"huh?"
"we'll hang, us two. i don't want you to be all alone again, mate."
".. okay. but at my place, yeah?"
he nods, smirking at the change of plans and standing up from the bench - walking over to mbappe to announce the news while you shake your head in disbelief, quietly mumbling "this guy.."
TIMESKIP - your apartment
the two of you are laying on your bed, judes head on your chest as you watch stupid yourube videos on your flat screen tv, enjoying eachothers peaceful company.
he looks up at you, glancing briefly at your lips before focusing on making eye contact.
"what?"
"can't believe it but.. you were actually right. this is far better than drinking with the lads."
"that's why i chose it over a night out everytime."
jude scoffs, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against your boobs which makes you raise your eyebrow.
"you're not slick."
"hm?"
you roll your eyes, smacking his head softly but letting him stay in the inappropriate position regardless.
jude kisses the top of your chest, just above your nipple. he rests his hand on your waist, kissing up to your neck.
"jude?"
you whisper, enjoying the feeling of his lips pressing against your skin. he continues to travel up your neck and chin, till he pauses above your lips.
jude looks up at you with hazy eyes, minty breath hitting your face - inches away.
"...."
suddenly, your phone rings. you exhale a shaky breath, grabbing your phone as jude moves away from your face.
"it's vini."
"fucks sake.."
you pick up, answering with a quiet hello?, vinis voice immediately coming through. jude watches you with a tight jaw, arms crossed over his chest, annoyed at the interruption.
he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, but he knows he was enjoying it - and so were you.
after a couple minutes of convincing a drunk vini to not hit up a second club, you hang up with a sigh.
he shuffles closer to you, kissing your neck again. when you don't protest, he keeps going. hands gripping your shirt as he sucks a dark hickey onto your skin.
"fuck.. keep doing that." you moan softly, leaning your head back so he has more space. judes hands find your face, bringing it close to his so he can kiss you. your lips press against his lovingly, softly kissing him to show how much this (and he) means to you. jude slips his tongue into your mouth, forcing another moan out of your throat as your tongues fight over dominance in your mouths.
you can feel yourself getting wet from the action, thighs pressed tightly against each other. he clearly notices this action, cause one of his hands leaves his face and moves to the waistband of your shorts, lips pulling away from yours to ask for consent. "can i?"
"please." you mumble, kissing him again as his hand slides into your shorts and into your panties. jude groans at how wet you already are, fingers finding your clit almost immediately and rubbing those delicious feeling circles that make any girl fall apart.
his lips move down to your sensitive neck once again, pressing soft kisses as his fingers leave your clit and press inside your pussy instead. "ah- jude-" you whine, throwing your head back into the pillows when his ring finger and middle finger rub against your g spot.
he abuses the spot with efficiency, your legs bucking up and consistent whines leaving your mouth.
"that feel good, yeah? mm, listen to how wet she is. she's loving it." jude refers to your pussy - moaning at the sounds it makes everytime he curls his long fingers.
"feels so fucking good jude, fuckfuckfuck-" you moan, clit pulsing in need.
he moves down your body, spreading your legs apart more so he can rub your clit with his other hands thumb. you let out a loud yelp at the combination of his fingers curling against that spongy spot inside you, and his thumb rubbing your needy clit.
"fuck.. can feel you clenching so much. you're loving this, ay?" jude groans, kissing your inner thigh and sucking another hickey onto the skin.
you nod furiously, hips bucking up into his hand. "please keep going- im gonna cummmm!"
jude doesn't think twice and adds a third finger, slamming all three in and out of your pussy.
a loud moan of his name escapes your mouth, squirting all over his face and hands. he doesn't stop, just slows down so you can feel your orgasm till it ends. once he hears you whine in over stimulation he pulls away, stuffing his fingers into his mouth and lickinf your juices off with a low moan.
you watch him with a pout on your face, legs shivering and pussy pulsing.
"stop pouting, twat.. " he kisses you softly, immediately turning your pout into a smile.
jude lays down next to you, pulling a blanket over the two of you as you cuddle up against his chest.
he kisses the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, dick still hard in his sweatpants but for tonight, he's fine with being blue balled.
masterlist ᯓ★
lo's commentary: hello angels! this is VERY explicit, jude is experiencing many emotions so expect a lot of emotional whiplash. i hope u love it <3
pairing: bf!jude bellingham x reader
summary: after England’s crushing 1-2 semi-final loss to Argentina, a seething and devastated Jude returns to the hotel room filled with raw anger. what begins as furious tears and pacing quickly explodes into desperate, rough, possessive sex as he tries to fuck the frustration out of his system and reclaim control. he only trusts you to see him like this, and remind him exactly who the fuck he is
warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit smut, rough sex, angry sex, spanking, possessive dirty talk, spitting in mouth, emotional hurt/comfort, angry tears, self-blame, brief argument, mood swings, vulnerable jude, very clingy and guilty aftercare, established relationship
wc: 5k!
Jude took the loss incredibly hard. None of you had the right words for him. He was devastated in a way that went far beyond the scoreline. He couldn’t hold back the tears as much as he would have liked, even though he tried. God, he tried.
It’s not that he was ashamed of showing emotion. Jude was a passionate man. About his sport, about his family, about what he believes in, about you. But breaking down on international television in front of millions, was never something someone actively wanted to do.
“Fuck…fuck!”
You heard him shouting from the pitch, emotions raw, just before he covered his face with both hands and started pacing in tight, frustrated circles. The Argentinians were celebrating wildly right in front of him, cheering, bodies jumping. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, eyes squeezed shut like he was physically willing himself to not explode publicly. Then one of the opposing players said something in Spanish – you couldn’t hear or understand what –and Jude lashed out, slapping the back of the player’s head in a flash of blind frustration.
You and Denise both shot to your feet at the same time. His mum muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like “for fuck’s sake, Jude,” her hand flying to her mouth as you all watched the brief altercation unfold. Luckily the England lads were quick, pulling him away, keeping him wrapped up and shielded from the cameras as best they could.
He finished his post-match interviews and finally made his way over to the family section. You could tell from the way he kept hiding his face under the brim of his cap that he was pissed off he couldn’t stop the tears. Pissed off he couldn’t stop those late goals. Pissed off he couldn’t score more, contribute more, do whatever it took to push England over the line. He would have sacrificed almost anything tonight to get them to the final.
He hugged his parents first. Denise held him tight, rubbing his back in slow circles, whispering things only a mother could say. Mark gripped him hard, proud even in defeat, murmuring quiet words of reassurance. But their comfort seemed to ricochet off Jude’s body. He was vibrating with anger, with frustration, with a deep, burning disappointment that lived in his chest after every loss with England.
When he finally sat down next to you, his hand automatically latched onto your thigh, gripping like you were the only steady thing left in his world. You watched as his knee bounced restlessly, as he ran his hand over his face again and tugged his cap even lower, trying to disappear under it.
“Jude, hey… hey… look at me,” you said softly.
He turned his head slowly, propping his chin on his fist. The muscles in his jaw ticked hard. He was devastated, that much was clear in his red-rimmed eyes. But underneath it you could see the anger simmering; at himself, at the way it had slipped away again, at the fact that no matter how hard he ran, how much he gave, it still wasn’t enough to cross that final line for England.
You reached out and gently wiped under his eye with your thumb. He turned his head and pressed a soft, grateful kiss to your palm, lingering there for a second like he needed the contact to soothe his very soul. Then his eyes drifted away again, distant and unfocused, staring down at the now-empty pitch where the Argentina celebrations had finally started to die down.
The silence between you stretched, heavy and painful. His hand stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth absently, like he needed something to anchor him to reality and not let him get lost inside his head.
“Can you come to my room later?” he muttered eventually, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”
You nodded instantly, heart twisting at how small he sounded. “Yes… yeah, of course, baby. Whatever you need. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He let out a shaky breath, shoulders dropping ever so slightly. “Don’t wanna keep crying out here,” he admitted quietly, almost embarrassed. “Not with everyone still watching. Just… need it to be you. Need it to be quiet.”
You squeezed his hand, leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. “I’ve got you. I promise. As soon as you’re back at the hotel, I’ll come straight to you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
Jude turned his head slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head. His voice was barely audible when he spoke again.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you tonight.”
You got to his hotel room just after the sun had set, the sky outside still bleeding orange and pink. He’d texted you very bluntly earlier, the way he got when the pain was still too fresh to soften for anyone, even you.
Consequently, you weren’t expecting him to be in a fantastic mood when you finally knocked on his door. He always came down to the lobby to collect you, no matter how tired he was. Not tonight.
“Who is it?” came his voice, sharp.
You could hear him moving inside, pacing, up and down the room like a caged animal.
“It’s me, bab–”
You hadn’t finished your sentence before the door swung open. He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you before you could even blink. His chest was heaving. The second you were over the threshold he let go of you, stepping back like he needed space but also couldn’t stand being far away from you. There were fresh tear streaks down his face that he was angrily wiping away with the heel of his hand. He was being so hard on himself. It broke your heart all over again.
“Do you think I had a shit game?” he asked bluntly, voice a little cold, eyes burning with more tears.
“What? No, I—”
“Good. Because what more could I have fucking done?” He started pacing again, hands tugging at his hair. “I ran until my legs felt like they were going to snap. I covered every blade of grass. I created chances. I defended when I had to. And it still wasn’t enough.”
You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him, heart aching as the words poured out of him.
“Jude… you gave everything out there. Everyone saw that. I saw that.”
“Yeah?” He stopped pacing for a second, eyes flashing. “Well it wasn’t enough, was it? The second goal was right in the middle of the fucking goal. Right there. We had six defenders on the fucking pitch. Six! I’m not a defender! How did we let that happen? How did I not see it coming? I should’ve been there. Should’ve been closer to the ball. I should’ve done more.”
You tried to keep your voice steady. “You can’t carry the whole team on your back every single—”
“I wasn’t trying to carry the whole team,” he cut in, voice rising. “I was trying to win! And we were winning. We were in control. And then it just… slipped. Again. Like it always fucking does–”
He cut himself off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. His eyes were glassy again, angry tears threatening to spill over. He wiped them away roughly, like they personally offended him.
“Baby, you’re being too hard on yourself—”
“Don’t,” he snapped, but there was no real anger directed at you, just frustration spilling out of him any way it could. “Don’t tell me I’m being too hard on myself. I know what I saw out there. I know what I felt. We were better than that. I was better than that. I always think I can do more and then it’s the same story. We get so fucking close and then—”
You stood up slowly, reaching for him. “Jude, hey… look at me.”
He shook his head, running a hand over his face, body shaking with the tears he was trying to hold back.
“I’m so fucking tired of this. Tired of getting to the last stages and watching it slip away. Tired of the ‘nearly men’ narrative. Tired of people saying we don’t have the mentality when we just went toe-to-toe with the world champions for ninety minutes. What more do they want from us? From me?”
His voice cracked on the last word. He stopped pacing for a second, chest rising and falling fast, fists clenched at his sides. The room felt too small for all the fury and grief rolling off him.
You reached for him again, and he let you pull him in, but his body stayed rigid, vibrating.
“What can I do to make it better then?” you asked softly, stroking his back. “If you don’t want me to criticise the self-blame, then how can I help?”
“I don’t know!” His voice cracked, frustration and pain mixing together. “You can’t. I’m just– I’m so fucking angry and–and–”
He cut himself off, breathing hard. For a second it looked like he might pull away. His face crumpled, eyebrows knitting together as a choked off sob escaped him.
“Baby…baby it’s okay–”
“It’s not okay. Nothing feels okay,” he sniffled, tucking his head into your neck. You stroked his back, not sure what to do next. He was so fragile but so angry. You’d never seen him like this before.
“I know and I’m so sorry, Jude,” you whispered, kissing the top of his cheek as you held him close. “Tell me how to help you. I’ll do anything to make you feel a little bit better. Just tell me what you need.”
He lifted his head for a second, wet eyes meeting yours. He looked over your face slowly, like he was searching for something, before his gaze lingered on your lips. You wanted to say something else, anything to help pull him out of the spiral, but he was so focused on your mouth that the self-deprecating words had finally stopped pouring out of him.
“Baby?” you breathed softly.
His grip on your waist tightened almost painfully within seconds. He pulled you flush against him, mouth crashing down on yours in a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. It was desperate, angry, hungry, like he wanted to drown how he was feeling out with how good your lips felt against his.
You gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, walking you backwards until your back hit the wall. One hand slid into your hair, tugging hard enough to tilt your head back as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with desperate need.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough with emotion, almost apologetic even as his body pressed harder against you. “I’m not trying to take it out on you. I just…”
He broke off, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were still glassy with frustration and leftover tears, but there was something else burning in them now – a desperate, almost feral hunger he only had for you.
“I need you,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I need you to remind me who the fuck I am. Need you to make me feel like me again. Strong. In control. Not this… this version that keeps fucking up.”
His hand slid down to grip your thigh, lifting it around his hip as he ground his hardening bulge against you.
“Want to fuck you so deep you forget every other name but mine,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice dropping into the filthy, dominant tone he only used when he was desperate. “Want you screaming for me. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock so I can remember who I am. The one who takes what he wants. The one who always wins with you.”
He kissed you again, harder this time, biting your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.
“Tell me you want this,” he breathed, eyes dark and wild, hips rolling against you in a slow, filthy grind. “Tell me it’s okay to be rough tonight. Tell me you can take it. Because I need to feel like me again, baby. Need to feel like I own something. Like I own you.”
His fingers dug into your thigh, possessive and trembling with the emotions still raging inside him.
“Please,” he whispered, forehead still pressed to yours. “Let me have you like this.”
You hesitated for a second, searching his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure this was the healthiest way for him to process everything he was feeling…the anger, the grief, the powerlessness from the pitch. But this was Jude, and you didn’t think you could ever say no to him when he looked at you like that, desperate and aching and needing to feel something real.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear, and nodded.
“I can take it,” you whispered. “I’ll take anything you give me. You know I will.”
Relief and hunger flashed across his face at the same time. He squeezed your thigh again, leaning down to kiss you slightly softer at first, but quickly turning deeper, tongue sliding against yours with need and dominance.
“That’s because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his accent thicker with emotion. “My beautiful baby. Always know what I need. Always let me have you exactly how I want.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your eyes were already glazing over, the soft, submissive look he loved so much taking over. It didn’t take much when he spoke to you like that.
“Yeah?” he asked, almost teasing even through the emotions still raging in his chest. “You gonna let me fuck all this frustration out on you, baby? Let me remind myself who the fuck I am?”
You nodded, already a little breathless. “Yes, Jude.”
That was all he needed. In one smooth, powerful movement he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. Your cheek met the cool surface as he yanked your jeans and panties down your legs in one rough tug, barely giving you time to step out of them. His big hands immediately palmed your ass, squeezing, spreading, smoothing over your hips like he was reclaiming every bit of skin for himself.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, pressing his still-clothed erection against your bare ass from behind, grinding slow and hard. “Perfect arse. So fucking pretty for me. Bet you’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you.”
You whimpered as his lips attacked your neck, sucking and biting while his hands slid under your t-shirt, pushing it up so he could feel your skin. One hand stayed on your hip, holding you in place, the other moved up to cup your breast.
“Tell me you’re my beautiful girl,” he growled against your ear, voice thick. “Tell me this pussy belongs to me. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I-I’m your beautiful girl, Jude,” you moaned, pushing back against him. “Belong to you… only you.”
He let out a low, satisfied sound and bit down on your shoulder, grinding his cock against you harder.
“Good girl,” he praised, his voice dropping even lower. “Gonna fuck you right here first. Gonna make you take it so deep. I’m the only one, aren’t I? The only one who makes you scream.”
He shoved his own joggers down just enough to free himself, thick and hot, pulsing with the need to be inside of you. You felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, teasing your entrance.
“Tell me again,” he demanded, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you against this wall.”
“I’m yours, Jude,” you gasped, pushing back against him. “Only yours.”
He wanted to tease you for longer, but how could he when you were so good and obedient for him? He thrust into you in one smooth, powerful stroke, burying himself deep. His hands stayed on your hips as he watched himself disappear inside you and groaned. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, and you cried out, hands bracing against the wall. Jude moaned as you clenched around him, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stayed still for a second, letting you adjust.
“Fuck… always feel so tight,” he moaned lowly. “My pretty girl.”
Then he started moving with deep, rough strokes that pressed you harder into the wall with every thrust. One hand stayed on your hip, gripping tight enough to leave behind red marks, the other slid up to wrap around your throat, a possessive hold that had your eyes rolling back already.
“Say it again,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping forward. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”
“Yours,” you moaned, voice breaking on every deep thrust. “It’s yours, Jude. All yours.”
He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he fucked you harder, deeper, the obscene slap of skin on skin filling the room. His pace was relentless but never cruel. Every thrust was purposeful, like he was trying to fuck the frustration and self doubt out of his system and into you.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised, lips brushing your neck between strokes, his voice loving despite his actions being quite the opposite. “Taking my cock so well. Letting me use you like this. Fuck, I needed this. Needed to feel like I can still make you feel good. Still make you mine.”
You whimpered, pushing back to meet his thrusts, and he rewarded you with a particularly deep, grinding stroke that made your knees buckle.
“Tell me you love it,” he breathed hot against your ear. “Tell me you love when I fuck you like this. When I take what’s mine.”
“I love it,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the cool wall. “Love when you fuck me like this, Jude. Love being yours.”
He let out a long moan and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you back against him so he could thrust even deeper. His free hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, gentle circles.
The difference between his relentless thrusts, but slow and gentle hands made your vision start to cloud white with stars already. “J-Jude I’m gonna come–”
“No you’re not, baby,” he rasped, slowing his hips enough to tease you. “Not until I tell you to. Hold it for me. Good girl… fuck, you squeeze me so tight when you get close. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
“Please–” you whimpered, thighs trembling.
“Nuh-uh. Not allowed until I get to come with you,” he murmured, sucking on your neck. “You’re gonna hold it for me, aren’t you, angel?”
You nodded frantically, trying desperately to hold off your climax by squeezing your eyes shut. He gave you a small mercy, pulling his fingers away from between your legs and bringing them up to your lips instead.
“Open, baby. Taste yourself for me.”
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips and sucking his fingers into your mouth, moaning around them as his hips sped back up to the punishing pace. The taste of yourself on his skin only made everything feel more intense.
“Fuckin’ hell… just like that, baby,” he moaned, tilting his head to watch your pretty lips envelope his fingers. “Look at you. Sucking my fingers while I fuck you against the wall. My perfect girl.”
The sounds he was making, the low and desperate groans and breathy curses, were not making it any easier to hold back. You whimpered, opening your eyes to give him a pleading look. He exhaled through his nose as he bit his lip, eyes rolling back slightly, the look on your face nearly sending him hurtling towards his own orgasm. He suddenly pulled out, spinning you around to face him. Before you could protest, he kissed you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he lifted you up, pressing your back to the wall again.
“My beautiful girl is gonna make me come too quick,” he murmured against your lips, a dark chuckle vibrating through him. “Especially if you keep looking at me like that. We’re gonna change position so I can hold it a little longer. Yeah, angel?”
He spoke to you slowly like you were stupid, and you were, you suppose considering he’d just fucked you dumb against the wall. Normally you’d fight back, push against the power play because he loved when you were bratty, but that wasn’t what he needed tonight. He wanted complete submission, and you’d give him anything he wanted.
“P-please,” you whined, chasing his mouth when he pulled back slightly, hands clutching at his biceps. “Need you back inside me, Jude…”
“Oh, my needy little baby,” he smirked wickedly, nuzzling his nose against yours, eyes still burning with a mix of frustration and hunger. His hand smoothed up your arm, and wrapped loosely around your throat.
“Open your mouth for me,” he whispered. You parted your lips straight away at his command, tongue out, eyes locked on his. His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide as he looked at you, waiting for him. He leaned in closer, hovering above you, and let a slow, thick string of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. You moaned softly as it landed and swallowed it down without hesitation, eyes never leaving his.
Jude groaned deeply as his thumb stroked up and down your throat, feeling you swallow.
“Fuck… that’s my good girl,” he praised, voice hoarse. “Swallowing for me so pretty. You’d take anything I give you, wouldn’t you?”
You nodded, lips still parted, breathing a little faster.
“I want all your clothes off. Get on all fours on the bed. Now.”
You nodded again, still too drunk on submission to speak, stripping off your T-shirt and bra as fast as you could. Jude kicked his joggers and boxers off, throwing his own T-shirt across the room. He was leaking as he stroked himself slowly, watching you climb onto the bed.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer than it was before. “Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes. Look at you… arching that pretty back for me already.”
The second you were on all fours, you automatically arched deeper for him, presenting yourself. Jude climbed onto the bed behind you, leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your spine. His big hands settled on your hips, squeezing gently as he lined himself up. You were trembling with need now, feeling cold and empty without him inside you.
“Such a good girl,” he praised, dragging the thick head of his cock through your soaked, oversensitive heat again. “You love when I use you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you whimpered, pushing back against him desperately.
He didn’t make you wait this time. In one powerful thrust he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open again so suddenly you cried out louder than before. Jude moaned loudly, the sound almost animalistic as he bottomed out.
“Fuck– so tight. So fucking good,” he growled, pulling back almost all the way before slamming back in. His pace was brutal from the start – deep, hard thrusts that rocked your entire body forward with every snap of his hips. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall echoed through the room.
He reached forward, fisting your hair and pulling your head back to arch your back more.
“Scream my name, baby,” he demanded. “Want to hear you. Want the whole fucking hotel to know who’s fucking you this good.”
“Jude– oh my god, Jude!” you cried out as he hit the specific spot inside you over and over. He knew your body better than you did. You could’ve sworn you could feel him in your stomach.
“That’s it. Louder. Let me hear how much you love my cock,” he groaned, one hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting made you clench around him, and he moaned loudly. “Fuck yes. Again.”
He spanked you again, harder this time, the sound echoing as he kept pounding into you relentlessly.
“You’re mine,” he growled, voice breaking with pleasure. “Say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to again while I fuck you stupid.”
“It’s yours!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure spilling down your cheeks. “It’s yours, Jude– only yours– fuck!”
He let out a wrecked moan and leaned over you, chest pressed to your back as he fucked you even deeper, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place while his other hand reached down to rub your clit again in tight, fast circles.
“Come for me,” he ordered, rough and desperate. “Come on my cock like the good little slut you are for me. Let me feel you. Scream my fucking name when you do.”
You shattered hard, screaming his name as your orgasm crashed through you, walls clenching violently around him. Jude fucked you through it, hips never stopping, groaning loudly as your climax milked him.
“Fuck– that’s my girl. So good. So fucking good for me,” he panted, voice breaking with pleasure. “Gonna fill you up. Gonna come so deep inside you. You’re gonna take every drop, yeah?”
“Yes– please, Jude– please come inside me,” you begged weakly, still shaking from your orgasm.
With a final, deep thrust and a loud, broken moan of your name, Jude came hard, burying himself as deep as possible as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering with the force of it. He kept grinding through it, like he couldn’t bear to stop, whispering filthy praise against your ear the whole time.
When he finally stilled, he stayed buried deep inside you, chest heaving against your back, arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed soft, reverent kisses along your shoulder.
“God… I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice shaky.
“I love you too baby,” you manage to get out, body feeling limp and hazy with the come down.
The switch happened so quickly you could barely keep up. The anger drained out of him at once, probably with his orgasm, you’d tease him later when you spoke about it. All Jude felt when he heard your soft voice was exhaustion and a sudden wave of nauseating worry. He carefully pulled out, a soft hiss escaping both of you, and immediately turned you around in his arms so you were facing him. His hands were gentle now, too gentle, as he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice cracking. His eyes were wide, searching your face desperately. He was so expressive with his face, eyebrows furrowing in the sweetest way. “Baby, tell me the truth. Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to– fuck, I was so angry and I just… I needed you so bad.”
You shook your head, still catching your breath, but he was already looking you over, hands sliding down your body with careful tenderness. He turned you slightly, eyes scanning your hips, your ass, the places he’d gripped hard.
“Shit… there’s marks,” he whispered, sounding devastated as his fingers traced the faint red imprints of his hands on your hips and the light handprint on your ass. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be that rough. This time it wasn’t just…it wasn’t just dominance or playing. I was actually angry and I took it out on you and I–”
“Jude,” you said softly, cupping his face to stop his spiral. He looked up and met your eyes, bottom lip between his teeth with worry. “I’m okay. I wanted it. I wanted you. You didn’t hurt me. You’ve been more rough before, you’ve left marks on me before. Don’t worry. You’re okay…I'm okay..”
He still looked torn, eyes glassy again but this time with guilt instead of rage. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it was almost crushing, burying his face in your neck like he could hide from what he’d just done.
“I know I’ve been rough with you before,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice shaking. “But that’s always been… playing. Power play and acting and shit. This time it was real. I was actually angry and frustrated and I took it out on your body and I– fuck, I’m scared I hurt you because I couldn’t control it. I never want you to feel like you have to take my bad days. I’d never hurt you just because I’m upset or angry. You’re the one person who makes everything better and I just used you like that and I feel sick about it.”
You stroked his back slowly, pressing soft kisses to his temple and the side of his head.
“Jude, listen to me,” you whispered. “I wanted it. I wanted all of you – the anger, the need, everything. You didn’t use me. You let me be there for you in any way I could. And I’m okay. I promise. You know I like it when you act like that.”
He made a small, upset sound and held you even tighter, legs tangling with yours as he pulled you fully on top of him. His hands roamed gently over your body now, soothingly checking every place he’d been rough, pressing soft kisses wherever his fingers found faint marks.
“I’m sorry,” he kept whispering between kisses. “I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”
You kept holding him, fingers running through his hair, letting him cling to you until the guilt slowly started to ease and he could finally breathe again. He eventually settled with his face buried back in your neck, breathing you in like you were oxygen, one hand still gently rubbing your hip where he’d gripped you earlier.
“Stay like this,” he murmured. “Don’t let go. Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, you’re okay Jude.”
He let out a long, shaky breath, finally relaxing completely in your arms. "I love you more," he whispered, voice slurring with sleep. "M'sorry baby..."
He was still feeling bad about how rough he was. In reality, you think it could've been the best sex you'd ever had. You were going to tell him that, but the change in his breathing told you he'd already fallen asleep. You press one last gentle kiss to his forehead, "there's nothing to be sorry for, my love."
tags: @chabelitalace @thesizzler @hvnsinureyes @harryskissies (let me know if u want to be added/removed from the taglist)
guys this was filthy af i'm sorry HAHAHAHA apparently he makes me feral idk
content tags: mdlb, hinted overstimulation, this is explicit, read at your own risk!!!
“Mo— mommy…”
A dark grin curls your lip. You ignore his dumb little whimpers and speed up the pace of your hips, which only makes him cry out even louder. The sound of skin slapping wetly against skin rings loud and clear across the room. Past the haze of pleasure at his cock slamming into your sweet spot with every bounce, you mentally thank your lucky stars that no one else is home.
He is pretty loud.
“O-oh, fuck— mommy…” he chokes out as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You feel ropes of warm cum paint your insides, making you tut at him in faux disapproval and stop moving. His hands, nimble and shaking, are gripping your plush thighs so hard you’re fairly sure some bruises will form.
“Aw, baby, we’ve been at this for hours,” you scoff, that condescending lilt in your tone sending tears springing to the corners of his eyes. “I thought you were a quick learner, but apparently not. Who would’ve thought such a smart boy was secretly so stupid?”
“I’m trying, mommy, I’m trying,” he sobs as he tries to hide his eyes from your scrutinising gaze by bringing his arms to drape across his face. Despite his adorable attempt at trying to get away from you, you can feel the way his cock twitches pathetically inside your drooling pussy.
“Ah-ah,” you tut, and swipe his arms away from his face. “You know mommy doesn’t like it when you hide, baby. You wanted this, remember? You wanted mommy to make you cum.”
“Too muuuch, mommy,” he slurs. Despite his vision blurring from tears streaking down his face, he manages to make and keep eye contact with you, the way he knows you like it. His cheeks burn bright red from sheer embarrassment. Such a little cutie.
“Oh, it’s too much, is it?” You echo his words in a honeyed coo as you reach down to brush baby blue strands of hair from his face, slick with sweat. “You want a break? You really can’t give me one more?”
“No—” His voice comes out high pitched and whiny, crimson eyes squeezing shut. “S’too much, mommy, please.”
“Oh, baby.” Your hand comes to wrap loosely around his throat, just a little reminder of who was in charge. “You really can’t? Not even for mommy? Just one more, you can do it, you’re my good boy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Haah— mmh, yes, mommy, I can do it,” he moans, grasping your wrist helplessly with trembling fingers.
He looks gorgeous like this, mouth slightly open and drooling onto the sheets. “I’m mommy’s good boy, I’ll do whatever you want…”
His shrill little moans fill the room again.
word count: 452
this is my first time writing something explicit, pls lmk how i did💗 love y’all
