synopsis: jaafar learns you've never had an orgasm (like whatttttt) :o so he decides to show u
cw: smut, childhood bsf!jaafar, hints of possessive undertones (?), tension, dry humping, praise kink, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), p in v, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, soft!dom jaafar :DD, straight up filth im sorry
can u guys tell i missed jaafar
half-edited
dating is hell. plain and simple.
the whole concept of putting on a nice outfit, spending your precious time getting ready, and driving across town just to sit across from a guy who couldn't care less about anything you have to say is exhausting. you weren’t even big on casual dating to begin with, but your friends had spent three weeks nagging you about this guy you’d met at a party — insisting he was sweet, handsome, and totally your type.
he wasn’t.
the date was a complete disaster from start to finish. you would’ve at least given him a point for driving across town to pick you up at your place, but that didn't even scratch the bare minimum considering what he put you through the rest of the night. he showed up twenty minutes late without so much as a quick text or apology, spent the first half of dinner monologuing about his workout routine, and spent the second half checking his phone under the table. by the time the bill came, he acted like he’d bought you a house instead of two watered down drinks, leaning in at the end of the night with a sleazy, expectant grin like he fully counted on an invitation to your apartment.
you didn't even let him drive you home. the second you excused yourself to the restroom, you pulled out your phone.
can u come get me?
his reply came back almost immediately.
send me the address. i’m on my way.
that was just how it was with him.
it had always been that way. ever since you two were kids running around his house, scraping your knees on the driveway and playing around. jaafar was your safe haven. he knew every single thing about you — every secret, every insecurity, every terrible decision — and you knew him just as deeply. you knew the insane work ethic he hid behind his easygoing nature, and the grounding presence he brought into your life whenever the rest of the world felt overwhelming. when nobody else listened, jaafar did.
a few minutes later, his car pulled up to the curb.
jaafar’s eyes swept over you as you walked to his passenger door. you were wearing a short white sundress — tight at the waist, flowy at the bottom, with a low scoop at the neck. a bit too low, maybe. not that he should be noticing that anyway.
by the time he put the car in park and rolled the windows down — engine idling, radio low — you were right there, resting your arms on the edge of the driver’s side window as you leaned through it. you brought the summer heat in with you, coming so close he could smell your perfume. a new scent, he thought, but the same old proximity. you never had much of a sense of personal space with him. though he never complained.
he didn’t mind when you leaned so far over into the body of his car that the neckline of your pretty dress fell open. but he kept his eyes on yours. somehow, even looking at your face felt indulgent.
you were done up. you took time and care getting ready, and now you were looking down at him through heavy lashes, your lips — shiny with gloss — curving into a smile.
he wondered how someone could’ve fucked up a date with you.
“are you the uber i ordered?” you grinned.
“oh you think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“one of us has to be the funny one.”
he smiled at you as he scanned your expression.
you were also smiling, but then again, you always were. you were good at faking it, but he was attentive enough to tell the difference.
“how’s my comedian doing?” he asked. “you okay?”
you let out a dramatic sigh. “i’m fine. it’s not a big deal.”
“but you made me come pick you up. that sounds like a big deal.”
there was a moment of heavy silence, and then you let your smile relax.
“if i’m being honest, i’m better now that you’re here. so thank you.” you said.
“you don’t have to thank me,” he said, shifting his car into park.
he pushed the door open, and you stepped back to give him room. he stepped into the space, now being the one to look down at you. he was always so much taller than you, even when u were kids.
he opened his arms wide, giving you an unsaid invitation.
a small smile broke across your face as you stepped right into him, melting against his frame. you pressed your cheek firmly into the center of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and wrapped your arms tight around his torso.
he closed his arms around you instantly, pulling you flush against him. one of his large, warm hands settled flat against the small of your back, holding you close, while the other rested gently against the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair. he rested his chin right on top of your head.
it was a short hug but it instantly made you feel better.
when you pulled back, he leaned and rested his side against the car “so what do you want to do?” he asked. “go somewhere? take you home?
you chewed your lip. “sure, you can take me home, if that’s easier.”
maybe if he didn’t know you so well, he wouldn't have noticed the tiny shift in your expression. he knew you didn't mind going back home with him to do nothing in particular, but then he took another look at you — all done up in that dress.
"actually,” he corrected. “why don't we go somewhere?"
"yeah?" you smiled.
he signaled toward the passenger side with a tilt of his head, guiding you over. you expression was brighter as he opened the passenger door for you.
you were already settled intot he passenger seat by the time he realized it was as far back as it is.
jermajesty had been riding shotgun earlier with his legs stretched all the way out, and jaafar had completely forgotten to adjust the seat back to its usual position — or more like your preferred position.
he rested one hand on the roof of the car and ducked his head in, leaning right over your lap to reach down. his knuckles brushed against the side of your thigh as he pressed the little switch on the side of the seat, sending it humming smoothly forward along its track.
“sorry,” he murmured. “i forgot to move it back for you.”
there was a high electronic whir as the seat inched forward, and jaafar meant to look up at you. but as he raised his gaze — from the button on the side of the seat, to where you were sitting, with your leg resting just a few inches from his hand — his eyes caught on your thigh.
before he could think about what he was doing, he let his vision linger. he paused with his eyes right where your dress had ridden up, high, leaving the skin of your upper thigh bare.
god, that dress.
you put this dress on for him? for some random guy who didn't even care to look at you? the thought made his jaw lock so tight his back teeth ached. some idiot who wouldn't spend a dime on you, who wouldn't even think to buy you all the pretty dresses you wanted, got to sit across from you looking like this. got to look at you done up so sweet, when he didn't deserve to even be in the same room as you.
“i could’ve moved the seat myself, jaafar.” you laughed, oblivious ot his glance, and fortunately, to all the thoughts that were running wild in his head. “i know how to press a button.”
he was still reeling from that glance, barely even processing that he’d moved the seat forward more than enough. in fact, you were now face to face, and he was looking you dead in the eyes. his mind was still on that dress. that dress on you, and that smile on your face, and that perfume filling his head, dizzying him.
you cocked your head to the side. “y’know it is kinda nice, though. getting taken care of.”
taken care of.
you really shouldn’t have said that, because something was now flashing through his head that he absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about; laying you down, shoving your dress up, kneeling between your legs, your thighs shaking on his shoulders as his fingers grazed over your skin.
taking care of you.
treating you right, the way you should be.
your fingers tangled and tugging at his hair, his tongue on your—
“jaafar?” your eyes were locked on his. “hello? did you just zone out?”
he pulled back when he broke out of his daze.
“sorry,” he said quickly, “i was just thinking—” about things he shouldn’t have, looking at places he shouldn’t have. “—some things i have to do this week.”
horrible excuse, but it was the best he could do.
he shut the door.
“i think it’s nice that you always open doors for me. there are like… no gentlemen left.”
gentlemen? fuck.
he had to suppress a wince, his hands on the frame.
if he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t have been looking at you like that.
“opening doors is the bare minimum.”
“mm, well at least chivalry isn’t dead for one guy in this city.”
but what about the rest of them? the guys who did next to nothing and called it enough, the ones who didn't even think about doing the bare minimum for you — why waste your energy on men who didn’t even care enough to see what was standing right in front of them?
it wasn't any of his business, though. just like it wasn't any of his business what you looked like under your dress. he crossed a line looking at you the way he did. he shouldn't have been imagining any of that.
just like he shouldn't have been sighing your name right then.
you looked up at him through the open window.
“you look really nice,” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”
you smiled. “you think so?”
“yeah.” of course he did. he’d always thought you were. but he didn't say it out loud, because he knew he shouldn't.
what he needed to do was shake off whatever the hell those fantasies were — where had they even come from? that was never the nature of your relationship, and it never would be.
you dont see him that way.
the worst part about all of it was that he knew exactly how you viewed him. a friend. and even knowing that, he still had that filth running through his mind.
pervert.
“thank you, j.”
“‘course.”
he walked over to the driver's side of the car, fighting the pull in his gut before sliding behind the wheel.
“where are we going?” you asked, fiddling with the ac to how you want it.
"where do you want to go?” he asked softly.
"... can we go to the lake?"
it felt like forever since he was here with you last.
back before work and filming and life got too hectic for the two of you to make the long drive out.
yet here you were again, staring through the glass at the moonlit ripple of the lake. the place hadn't shifted a bit; it remained untouched by time. standing so completely still, it felt like stepping back into an old memory, reliving some long-forgotten summer night without even realizing it.
there was a time when this turn-off belonged only to the two of you. it started years back, on a night you’d called him crying — a rare thing for you, since you weren't the type to shed tears easily. through soft sniffling, you’d told him you just wished you could get out for a bit, and within minutes, his car was idling down the street from your house.
he watched you sneak out the back door, carefully avoiding the creaky steps so you wouldn't wake your parents. any trace of your tears had vanished the second you made it into his passenger seat, giddy from the excitement of sneaking out in the middle of the night. you’d told him to hurry up and drive before anyone noticed, begging him to take you somewhere far away.
and this was where he took you.
after that night, it became your go-to spot. whenever life got too overwhelming, or you just needed to disappear for a while, he’d pull up without a word and take you on the long drive out to the water, sitting there with you for as many hours as you needed.
jaafar missed it.
a cool night breeze swayed the dark trees along the bank, rustling the leaves as the moonlight poured over the dashboard. the rolled down windows let the soft summer breeze in.
"we used to come here a lot," you murmured softly.
jaafar turned his head to look at you. the glow of the moon lit up your profile, softening your features and turning your eyes into dark pools that caught the faint light.
"yeah," he said, his voice quiet. "all the time."
you laughed. "i was always going through some shit back then. and you were always bringing me out here whenever i needed it."
"things were hard back then," he replied, watching you closely. "but they're better now, aren't they?"
you went quiet for a beat, staring out at the water as your smile slowly faded into something softer, a look on your face he couldn't quite read.
"yeah," you whispered. "but it's because of you. you always took care of me."
"i'll always take care of you," he said firmly, not missing a beat.
you looked away for a second, your fingers tangling together in your lap as you took a slow breath. "jaafar—"
before you could finish, a heavy crack of summer thunder rattled the car, followed by the pounding of rain against the windshield.
jaafar rolled the windows back up, the sound of the rain muffling behind it. he turned the ac on high and watched the fog on the windshield spread.
he was about to ask you what you were saying but your phone chimed.
his eyes flickered down to your phone, a sudden urge to ask if it was him.
but it wasn’t any of his business. so he lay his head back on the headrest, fiddling with the material of his sweatpants as you checked your phone.
turns out, he didn’t need to ask.
“what an asshole,” you muttered. “no way he expects a second date after that.”
jaafar let out an exhale. “he texted you?”
“yeah,” you sighed, holding the screen toward him. “he’s asking if i'm down for ‘round two.’ can you believe this guy?”
jaafar didn’t touch the phone, his eyes sweeping over the notification, shaking his head.
your phone chimed again.
you both look down at your phone screen at the same time.
maybe you can come over to my place this time
wyd now? are you in bed already?
jaafar clenched his jaw, prying his eyes away from your phone.
“he’s asking if im in bed?” you mused. “how much do you wanna bet he’s gonna ask for nudes after all that.”
you were laughing, and he had his jaw clenched.
“don’t text him back.” it came out a bit rougher than he would’ve liked.
“you’re giving me orders now?” you snorted. “what are you, my dad?”
jaafar sighed, his eyes closing. “sorry.”
he knew he was being too intense, but he didn’t know what had gotten into him tonight.
“is something bothering you, j?”
he inhales deeply. “i don’t know.” he said. “‘s just…”
he rolled his head on the headrest to meet your eyes. you looked at him, expectantly — almost needy and he felt his throat tighten. he would give you anything in the world, give you whatever you need. care for you, protect you, and keep you—
but you were not his.
so jaafar chose his next words carefully.
“if you’re not getting what you deserve,” he said. “then drop him.”
he didn’t want to sound too harsh. “it’s up to you, but i just don’t like seeing you hurt. that’s all.”
your eyes softened. “i’m not texting him back.” you said. “wasn’t going to. he’s an asshole.”
he couldn’t help but feel relieved.
you watched as his fingers moved over his sweatpants. he had a habit of doing that.
he was gentle in everything he did — always had been, at least with you. he’d only ever treated you gently. but tonight felt different. he felt different.
you don’t know why you couldn’t stop looking at them. you couldn’t stop the feeling building in the pit of your stomach that intensified when you imagined him touching you with the same purpose.
you knew he’d be so good at it. jaafar was eager to please, eager to give — he always knew what to do.
he looked out through the rain-streaked windshield, a sliver of his tongue slipping out to trace his bottom lip before he bit down on it.
you imagined it on you, him running his tongue up your body.
the bite of his words from earlier still echoed in your head — don't text him back. drop him — he’d always been protective of you — that wasn't anything new. but tonight, it felt different.
“what is it?” he asked, meeting your eyes.
you were leaning closer now, resting your arm over the center console, oblivious to the way the thin strap of your dress slipped slightly down your shoulder.
his eyes flickered down for a second, his gaze wandering over your falling neckline, taking in the soft dip of your cleavage and the faint, lacy outline of your bra. before his thoughts could go any further, he dragged his eyes back up to yours, his throat working as he swallowed.
“can i admit something to you, jaafar?”
“anything,” he said smoothly.
“when i was younger, i used to think all guys would be a little like you. caring and… selfless.” you paused, huffing out a laugh. “but i found out most of them are the opposite.”
“what do you mean?”
“some guys are just selfish. and some only want you for one thing.”
he was quiet for a second.
“i shouldn’t have let you set the standard,” you murmured, a faint smile on your face. “you gave them way too much to live up to.”
set the standard?
jaafar glanced at you as thunder rolled above, but you were looking out through the windshield again, your face unreadable.
“there have to be some good guys out there,” he murmured softly. “they can’t all be bad.”
that made you laugh.
“oh, it’s all bad.” you turned back to face him, propping your chin on your hand. “i mean, i’ve told you pretty much everything. but i never told you what a mess these guys are in bed, did i? they take selfish to a whole new level.”
in bed?
jaafar felt his mouth go dry, another image surfacing in his head, but one that put a pit in his stomach — someone else’s hands on you.
his jaw clenched so hard his back teeth ached. “oh. really?”
god, he wasn’t any better than them. here he was, secretly fantasizing about you while you sat right beside him, trusting him with your heart.
“really,” you studied him with a curious look on your face. "you wanna know all the dirty details?”
he was torn — stuck between not wanting to picture another soul touching you and needing to know every single thing that fell short. he needed to know where they failed, everything that wasn't enough, just so he could fix it for you. so he could make it up to you.
but above all else, he pushed those feelings down. when he told you that you could tell him anything, he meant it.
“we can talk it out.” he finally said.
“okay.”
and just like that, you were slouching forward over the console, leaning into his space just like old times — back when you’d bring him all the hot gossip from your friends. you trusted him implicitly, confiding in him the way you always had.
“jaafar…”
you pursed your lips, a subtle, conspiratorial smile playing on your mouth. for a second, the closeness of you was dizzying.
“... none of the guys i’ve been with have ever made me cum.”
fuck.
“not one.”
there was a pressure in his chest, and he didn’t know what it was from. he didn’t even know what was suffocating him more — the sickening thought of another guy trying, the fact that every single one of them had failed and left you unsatisfied, or the realization that he knew he could do better. he’d been dying to see what you looked like when you were undone, dying to be the one to give it to you.
“really?” he breathed out, his voice barely a murmur.
“really,” you said, a faint smile touching your lips. “i always have to take care of myself.”
he had to swallow hard to keep from sputtering out. god.
“maybe it’s because… you don’t really know them?” he muttered, looking away toward the window. a dry, awkward laugh escaped him. he didn’t even know what the fuck he was saying anymore. “like… you just met them?”
“what are you saying, j?” you asked, your tone dipping a bit critical. “i should go for someone i know instead?”
his heart dropped. he didn’t mean it like that. now he’d made it sound like he was putting his own name in the running, and he’d never do that.
“‘m not saying that.” his words were careful. “just… you deserve someone who treats you better well. better than that.”
but this time, you pushed.
“better? what does that look like to you?”
jaafar let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “what does it matter what it looks like to me?”
“because,” you scoffed. “i trust your judgement on guys. why are you being so shy with your opinion all of a sudden? you’ve never done that before.”
he was taken aback by the tone of your words. he didn’t get why you were digging so hard, why you wanted to know so badly.
what was better anyway? there was better, there was good enough, and then there was what you actually deserved — and in his mind, none of those were the same thing.
“at the bare minimum,” jaafar finally said. “someone who’d appreciate you. someone who appreciates your time, and doesn't pull bullshit like your date did tonight.”
“and what if i haven’t found that?” you murmured. “what if i can’t?”
“you will,” he said softly. “there are a lot of guys who’d jump at the chance to treat you right. because you’re—”
he cut himself off.
you were watching him so intently, clinging on to every word.
“because i’m what?”
there were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t.
he laughed humourlessly. “because you’re you,” —because you’re everything a person could want— “and you deserve someone who…”
he trailed off, trying to place the look on your face.
“go ahead,” you pushed. “you’re the expert right? you get to size up every guy who even looks at me. no one’s ever been good enough for you. aren’t you dying for the chance to tell me exactly who i need?”
he laughed, frustration rolling over him. what even was this? a conversation? an argument? a challenge?
“try me.”
his eyes scanned over your face. “you need a guy who’s good for you.” the words were in his voice, but they felt completely unfamiliar. “he should treat you right. be there when you need him. he should be attentive, show up for you, appreciate you. tell you how pretty you are. he should be taking care of you... meeting all your needs with no questions—or excuses—do you know how tired i am of hearing excuses? you need someone who’ll give you everything, because you deserve—”
"so someone like you?" you were staring at him, head titled. and he knew he fucked it all up. that was way too much; he was going to push you away.
“i’m sorry,” he murmured, running a hand over his mouth. “really, i don’t know what i’m...”
your expression melted. the rain beat on the roof of the car as you shook your head slowly.
“what are you apologizing for? caring?”
“i’m being overbearing,” he said, voice low.
you sighed softly, your eyes flickering all over his face. you leaned in closer.
"what if i did want someone like you?"
he froze in place, his breathing quickening.
“...you said i need someone who's good for me, right?” you said quietly. “someone who treats me right. someone who shows up for me, no excuses.”
you don't even remember how the distance between you guys shrunk, but he was so close now — too close to be respectful. his eyes were low and pretty.
his face was just a few inches from yours. your chest was leaning right over the center console, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you.
your voice was so quiet, your nose brushing over his.
“‘m sorry i didn’t see it before, jaafar. i was looking for that person for so long. in so many places, and you were right in front of me the whole time.”
his head was spinning, skin tingling. was he dreaming?
“did i misread things?” you breathed, your lips almost touching. “do you not feel the same way?”
“please tell me you’re serious.” he sounded borderline desperate. but he didn’t care.
“i’m dead serious,” you whispered.
“i want you,” he started. “so much. in all the ways i shouldn’t, and it’s killing me.”
“you can have me in every way you want.”
he said your name, and it came out helpless.
instead of saying anything else, he pulled you forward, closing the gap.
he finally tasted you, felt you, his skin buzzing at every point where it was touching you. he parted your lips with his, and you opened for him like a flower.
you let him in, let him have you.
you let him devour you and taste all his feelings reciprocated on your tongue.
you let out a little gasp into his mouth, and it made him dizzy.
“i want you. so bad.” your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. your voice was in his ears like a song, every one of your desires a new note as you reached over the console to his thigh.
he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he was so hard already. he’d been hard for you—got hard for you so fast.
he was so sensitive to every movement of your hands on him.
“i need you” you breathed.
he pulled back, breathing hard. “are you sure? right here?”
“yes, ’m sure. i need you right now.”
he’d give you everything you need.
you deserve endless things. so many things that for a second he didn’t know where to start. but then you were moaning softly in his mouth, so responsive to his touch.
and all he could think about was that sweet little secret you told him:
none of the guys i’ve been with have ever made me cum.
and so he ran his fingers up your thigh, long fingers snaking up your skin while his other elbow rested heavy on the console. you’d never seen him so needy — his hands seemed to grasp everywhere at once, his mouth hungry on yours as your tongues moved together. he gave your thigh a soft squeeze, a light touch, his hand lingering just long enough to claim one spot before drifting to the next.
his fingers moved higher and higher until he was playing with the lower hem of your dress.
you knotted your fingers into his hair — it was soft to the touch. your skin grew more sensitive with every moment, his hand stalling on your upper thigh as his thumb rubbed near its apex. he broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down your jaw and down your neck.
oh—
your gasp devolved into a shudder as he licked up your throat, his tongue hot on your skin at the exact same time his hand slipped slowly under your dress.
it left goosebumps all over your neck and thighs, your back arching off the leather seat as your legs spread slightly.
"jaafar—" you gasped.
"yeah, baby?" he slurred against your pulse.
"want to be closer," you breathed, hips twitching instinctively against his touch. "'need you."
"c'mere."
his large hand spanned around your waist, using his strength to pull you straight toward him over the center console.
you straddled his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as his fingers gripped your hips tight. you were so close now — you could feel him pressing firm through the fabric of his sweatpants. the warmth of his lap under your bare thighs sent butterflies wild in your stomach.
he was big. with his height, you probably should’ve guessed.
jaafar’s eyes roamed over you, greedy and heavy-lidded as he took in the sight of you.
"look at you," he said softly.
the look on his face was pure awe and reverence, and it made you bashful under his gaze.
"you can look," you laughed shakily, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to cover your face. "but not for long."
"why not?" he murmured, a faint, lopsided smile touching his lips as he gently caught your wrists, pulling your hands away so he could see you again.
"’cause... it's embarrassing," you whispered, biting your lip.
“i’d look at you all day if you let me. never seen anything better.”
"stop." you tried to look away, but his hand came up, warm fingers gently cupping your jaw, bringing your face back to his.
"you're too sweet to me," you murmured softly.
"you deserve it," he smiled softly, his eyes brimming with so much sincerity it almost made your chest ache. "i hope you know you deserve the world."
"you mean it?" your breath caught when his large hand squeezed your hip softly over the thin fabric of your dress.
"i do," he said. his fingers idled at the middle of your back, slowly tracing up your spine until they wrapped around the nape of your neck, his touch sending a shiver straight down your length. he pulled your face gently down to his, your lips almost touching, his hot breath fanning across your mouth. "y'know what else you deserve?"
"what?" you breathed, your pulse racing in your ears.
"let me show you."
he kissed you deeper, instantly turning hungry. you cradled his face, feeling him squeeze your waist with both hands. he pulled you down against him, once, just so your weight pressed right down on the hard shape of his dick. it made him shudder.
you resisted the urge to grind over him, but you were so wet already, making a mess over the front of his sweatpants.
"you deserve someone who knows just how to touch you, baby," he murmured against your mouth, his lips brushing yours with every word.
"and how's that?" you asked, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"slowly."
his hands ran lazily down your hips, the heat of his palms bleeding through your dress. long, smooth fingers lazed over the skin of your thighs, unhurried and attentive.
"gentle, at first..." his voice was so low and quiet.
you were focused on his hands as they grazed further up your thighs, slipping easily under the hem of your dress to lift the fabric. you grasped at the front of his shirt, gasping at the size of his hands as they gripped your bare skin, his thumb resting at the front of your hip while his palm spanned around to rest just above your ass.
"'til you're ready for more."
he was so hard under your thigh, the thick length of him pulsing with heat — so much pre-cum at the tip that it was already starting to seep through his pants.
"want more," you begged.
"i know, baby," he whispered, trailing a kiss from the corner of your mouth down to the sensitive skin under your jaw. "you know 'm gonna give it to you."
his gaze dropped, eyes fixed on your chest as he lifted your dress up and off. "you deserve someone who'll give you everything you want."
your legs spread around him, straddling his lap in just your bra and panties — a little lacy set you’d put on for someone else. but you wouldn't have anyone else take it off you now.
you didn't have to ask if he liked it; you felt the response in his dick, twitching underneath you. his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "you're so perfect."
your breath caught when his hands cupped your tits lightly. you squirmed on his lap.
"that feel good?" he whispered.
all you could do was nod.
"good," he murmured, brushing his thumb over your nipples through the lace of your bra. "you deserve someone who can make you feel good."
it was better than good. his touch on your skin, his big hands gripping your tits, long fingers tweaking your nipples through the lace.
he had you pleading his name, so needy for him that you couldn't help but lean forward and pull him into a sloppy kiss.
but that wasn't enough either.
even with your tongues tangled together and his dick straining harder up against you, you were dying for more, desperate to be closer.
you ground down on his lap, pressing your weight into the bulge in his pants. he was so hard under your pussy, so big it made you whimper.
"i know," he said between kisses. "i know."
jaafar pressed his fingers lightly into your skin and gripped your hips, helping guide you back and forth over his cock so you could get the friction you needed. slow and easy, he rocked you on his lap until your panties were soaked through.
"i know how bad you want it... an' you deserve it..." he said softly.
his mouth left yours, adjusting as he sank back into the leather to elevate you on his lap. he brought you up as he trailed kisses down your jaw and down your throat. you were higher up, and he was lower down, kissing over your collarbones before pausing.
"you deserve someone who’ll give it to you... at the right time, baby..." he murmured into your skin, his voice low and muffled as he reached the level of your chest, scattering kisses just above the lace of your bra
he licked and sucked your skin, making it tingle. you carded your fingers through his soft hair, chills shooting down your spine. his fingers slid up your thighs slowly.
"...and for exactly how long..."
his fingers moved inward, languid as they reached the apex of your inner thighs and brushed over the hem of your panties.
"...because it would be so mean to make you wait too long, wouldn’t it?"
he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you, resting his hand on your side — his fingers splaying wide over your skin, greedy — while he touched you with the other.
your mind lifted, as if floating into a fog, intoxicated by his touch. they made your eyes heavy, clouding your head so you heard his sweet words as if in a daze.
"you deserve someone who..." his voice dropped, his touch a little heavier as he ran his hand slowly over the lace of your panties.
"...knows how to tease, how to make you wait..."
his fingers brushed over your clit, and you gasped, shuddering.
"...but not for too long..." you heard the strain in his voice as he rubbed over the soaked fabric under your entrance. you felt his dick growing under your ass, getting harder.
"...just long enough to get this little pussy nice and wet, baby."
while he rubbed circles over your clit, the hand on your side moved down until you felt his big grip on your ass. moaning softly, you watched through foggy eyes as he craned his neck to kiss your tits through the lace of your bra — light kisses through the fabric, just one tease after another. but as soon as you started to whine, he gave you his tongue, running it over the fabric, swirling it over your hardening nipples, and flicking it. even through the barrier, it made you shudder as much as the wetness and heat of his mouth.
the heat intensified when he started to suck on your tits through the lace; it got hotter when he grazed his teeth over your nipples, hottest when he bit down gently. he was careful with his teeth, but you were so sensitive that each bite made you squirm. coupled with the desire growing inside you, you were dying to be skin to skin, hating the barrier between you.
"so wet for me," he slurred between soft sucks and bites to your tits. "so good for me, such a good girl. you know what a good girl like you deserves?"
"tell me," you breathed.
"someone who knows how to get you ready."
he pressed his fingers to your swollen clit and gave you enough pressure to build that heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. it sent another rush of arousal between your thighs, making everything puffier and wetter.
you were more than ready; you were desperate.
"you need someone who preps you right—" his fingers skimmed right to the hem of your panties.
"—'cause then..." he slipped his fingers under the hem of your panties, letting them linger there for a second as he looked up at you. his mouth was swollen from sucking at your chest, his cheeks flushed as he licked his lips.
your heart hammered in your chest.
"... when they really touch you..." he hooked his fingers over the damp fabric covering your pussy and pulled your panties to the side.
"...it’s gonna feel so much better for you, baby." his fingers brushed over your slit — finally a real touch.
you shuddered. he was right. it did feel better.
you should’ve known he’d do it better. jaafar had always shown you how things should be done. after all these years, after everything, you should’ve known he’d be the only one to do it right.
he’d prepped you so much, worked your body just right; he had you dripping wet, and he’d barely even touched you. you’d never been this wet. you were worked up, so sensitive that just the feeling of his fingertips brushing over your pussy made you drip.
"jaafar, please—" you couldn’t remember a time you’d ever needed it enough to beg.
he licked his fingers, cleaning your wetness off them, just to get them wetter with a glob of spit. softly, he brought his hand back between your thighs.
"c’mon, baby. you don’t have to beg me for a thing. jus’ tell me what you want, and i’ll give it to you."
"keep going," you gasped.
"what you need..." he hummed, his voice soft. his eyes, half-obscured by heavy eyelids and dark lashes, settled on your face, watching intently as he used his fingers to smear his spit over your pussy. "what you need is someone who knows when you’re ready to take it."
and you were. as soon as he applied a little pressure to his fingers, working at the tight muscles of your entrance, your pussy opened for him, stretching around him for the very first time.
"someone who knows when you’re dying for it..." his voice was hazy and low. your head went foggy, dropping forward as he pushed into you. your noses brushed together, and he pushed deeper, the air muffled with your pleasured gasps. "...so they can give you exactly the relief you need."
"and when they finally sink into your pretty pussy..."
with his mouth against your jaw, he sank one finger all the way into you, slow and easy. then it was all the way inside, and you shuddered, clenching around him.
"...you’re already gonna be so worked up..."
you trembled, pulling at his hair as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper.
"...and you’ll be so wet already, so needy..."
you whimpered his name as he pulled it out, craving the stretch of him like nothing else.
"...that when they give you more..."
he slipped another finger in, stretching you out around two. he gave them to you all the way, letting you take them to the knuckle, letting you feel the warm skin of his hand pressed up against your entrance for a second before he fucked them into you. he curled them forward so your soft moans and all the sticky, wet sounds joined the rain beating outside.
"...you’ll already be so close. won’t you, baby?"
he was right. you were so close, gasping “yes, yes,” dripping down his knuckles while that knot in your lower stomach tightened.
"but the most important thing," he slurred, your thick arousal dripping down his fingers, each movement filling the car with wet noises, "is that they’re willing to learn what spots make you feel best. right here, sweetheart?"
his fingers pressed deeper, curling into a spot that felt good.
you gasped, "y-yeah—"
then he adjusted, saying, "or there?"
he angled his hand, pressing into a spot that felt even better. it felt so good that it drew out a burst of wetness, making your pussy clamp down on him suddenly, and his cock pulsed underneath you in response. he moved his fingers again, curled them a little harder, and fucked more wetness out of you.
"right there makes you squirt? that feel good, baby?" he groaned.
he stuck to that spot, fucking another short burst out of you that made your thighs shake. he coaxed you the whole time, cooing as you told him how close you were to cumming for him, how good he gave it to you.
“yeah? you want more?" he asked sweetly — but he was already giving it to you, working over that little sweet spot deep in your pussy, again and again, watching you try not to fall apart. you were so close, and he pressed his thumb to your aching clit, rubbing it as he fingerfucked you.
"do you get it yet?"
you couldn’t manage an answer, just a few jumbled words cut off by heightening moans.
"you need somebody who knows how to make this pussy cum."
your thighs trembled around his, your toes curling — you grabbed at his hair, pulled him into a kiss, and into your mouth
"you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?" he asked lazily.
"yeah, yes, yes," you gasped.
"i know you need to cum badly, i can feel it. let it go, baby."
one simple instruction. just like that, you spilled over, doing exactly as he said. this was how he rewarded you — encouraging you as the tension snapped, letting you cum for the first time on fingers that weren’t your own. they were longer, better, drenched and fucking you through your orgasm as pleasure rolled through you in waves.
you slumped forward with the last wave, catching your breath against his chest, feeling its slow and steady rise and fall. in the hollow of his chest, you heard the low hum of his voice, reassurances murmured to ease you down as you closed your eyes. you felt his arms wrapped tight around you, his large hands on your skin — squeezing your neck gently, rubbing your back, keeping you safe.
“was that okay?” he asked softly.
"that was perfect." you shifted on his lap, grinding your hips forward right into the hard length of his dick.
jaafar let out a low groan, his head rolling back against the leather headrest. "fuck..." he murmured your name, his voice desperate.
you knew how badly he wanted it. it was obvious, especially when you dropped your eyes down to his crotch, watching the outline of his dick tenting the fabric of his sweatpants.
but when he brought his head back down to look at you, there was a hesitance in his eyes, bordering on guilt.
“i don’t have a condom on me,” he said softly, his thumbs stroking your hips carefully. “i’m sorry, baby, i didn’t expect—”
you shook your head before he could finish. “’s okay. i would’ve told you not to wear one anyway.”
he murmured your name again, his brow furrowing like he was trying to talk you out of it, trying to be the responsible one. but you already knew he was going to fuck you. he’d do anything for you, give you whatever you asked for.
“when you put it in,” you whispered, holding his gaze, “i want to feel all of you.”
jaafar cursed under his breath.
“are you sure?” he asked, searching your face, but you could already feel his dick twitching and swelling beneath you at the thought of taking you raw. his body was giving him away.
“i’m sure.” you said as you tugged his shirt up.
jaafar reached up to help you, lifting his arms so you could pull the fabric over his head and toss it onto the back seat.
as your eyes adjusted to him, your breath caught in your throat. he’d been working out consistently for his role — putting in endless hours to get into shape and build stamina — and it was showing in every line of his body. his shoulders were broad, his torso cut and defined, with lean, smooth muscle stretching tight over his ribs and chest.
you reached out, pressing your hands to the center of his stomach and slowly rubbing up his torso, feeling the heat of his skin.
you traced up over his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms, before letting your fingers drag back down.
"you got so strong," you murmured, staring at him in awe.
jaafar stayed still under your touch, eyes heavy and fixed on your face as you admired him.
"you know," you added with a soft laugh, "there was probably a point in our lives where i could've taken you in a fight."
a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "you really think you could take me?"
it didn't sound like he was talking about a fight anymore.
the heat of his quiet voice on your skin, combined with the slight jerk of his dick in his pants — still so hard, pressed tight between his body and yours — sent a wrenching heat straight through your stomach.
"could i take you...?" you breathed.
you reached down between your bodies, grazing your fingers over the bulge against his thigh, tracing all the way down the long, thick length of it through his sweatpants.
probably not.
"i don't know, j." a firm squeeze to his dick through the fabric had his breath catching hard in his throat, his jaw clenching as a needy look filled his eyes. "but i'm dying to find out."
you felt his dick respond as he leveled himself in front of you.
"are you sure?" he rasped.
“never been more sure. i want this so bad, you don’t even know.”
“okay, sweetface,” he said softly, before placing a light kiss on the tip of your nose.
you pouted, crinkling your nose up at the nickname. “don’t call me that.”
“why not?” he teased, his face breaking into a lazy smile as he moved his body slowly over yours, rubbing his hard dick right against you. “you don’t like it when i call you names?”
“n-not like that,” you laughed shakily, spreading your thighs wider so he could get closer. “not that.”
with the same teasing tone, his thrusts getting a little harder, his dick more persistent against you, he murmured, “what kind of names do you like, then?”
he dropped his head down, breath fanning over your throat with each word, his hair tickling your skin. “baby?”
“y-yeah...”
“yeah?” he slurred, trailing kisses up the column of your neck, over your hammering pulse. he paused right under your ear, his lips lingering on your hot skin. “you like angel?”
your stomach went instantly into knots. “yes, j.”
he placed a soft kiss right below your ear.
“princess?”
“yeah, yes.”
he nipped your earlobe, thrusting his hips again, pressing the thick length of him hard against your body.
“and what about good girl?” he asked softly against your ear.
you gasped and pulled on his hair, overwhelmed by it all — the feeling of his weight on you, the way he was grinding his cock against you, his low, breathy voice, and those words dripping from his lips.
“that’s what you like,” he said, and it wasn't a question. “you wanna be a good girl for me, i know you do.”
he trailed light kisses over your skin — up from your jaw, to your cheek, to your lips.
then he looked down at you, his eyes low when he said, “that’s why you keep cumming so easily for me, isn’t it?”
you bit your lip, unable to find your voice, but still gave him one small nod.
“now if you want to be even better for me, baby,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips tight as he lined himself up, “you’re gonna cum all over my dick.”
you could barely get an affirmation out before you couldn’t take the waiting anymore. you knotted your hands up in his hair and pulled him into a sloppy, desperate kiss.
this time you could feel the firmness of his body on yours, the heat of his skin, his burning hot fingers on your bra clasp. a quick movement that made your bra pop free.
you pulled it off as soon as it was undone, dropping it off the seat while his tongue was still in your mouth.
you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. a groan slipped out of his mouth, caught up in yours as his weight pressed you down into the leather — his chest on your tits, his dick hard against your pussy, separated from you by just the soaked fabric of his sweatpants and your thong.
“fuck, baby,” he sighed, rocking his hips, dragging his clothed bulge back and forth over your clit so slowly while you murmured his name, telling him how good he made you feel, how wet he got you. you let him tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, whining for more.
“tell me what you want,” he coaxed sweetly between thrusts. “want me to stretch this pretty pussy out?”
"fuck me… i wanna feel you so deep in me—" it all spilled out of your mouth in a stupor.
“y’know i’m gonna give you anything you want, don’t you?”
“you’re gonna take care of me?” you shuddered.
his reply was a low murmur against your neck. “don’t i always?”
his big hands travelled over your skin, his long fingers hooking over the sides of your panties, easing them slowly downward. he slipped them off you and looked down cloudily, his eyes grazing over every inch of bare skin.
“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this,” he said softly.
you breathed his name, tracing your hands down his abdomen, over the light sheen of sweat on his skin. you reached down to palm the hard outline of his dick through his pants, hearing him breathe shakily as you pulled his zipper down.
you pulled his sweatpants and boxers down together, and he let you. he watched, inhaling through bared teeth, as you pulled his dick out and wrapped your fingers around it.
“you’re so big,” you murmured, met with a soft groan.
he was so hot, so hard, throbbing in your hand. he was already slick with precum, the slit of his dick oozing, smearing more onto your palm. but you were a bigger mess — your pussy dripping onto the seat beneath you as you spread your thighs wider around his hips, dying to take him.
“baby, baby,” he moaned softly, shuddering as you tightened your grip on his dick. gliding your palm back and forth, dragging his precum all the way down to the base and back up, you could feel the blood pulsing in his veins, getting him even stiffer.
eyelashes fluttering against his feverish face, his eyes tracked your hand as you stroked him. “look what you’re doing to me. feel how bad i want you?”
“are you gonna give it to me, jaafar?” you whined.
“so eager,” he hummed, fixing his eyes between your thighs as he lowered his body over yours. “i wanna take my time with you.”
he shifted beneath you, reaching past your hips to release the lever on the side of the seat. with a click, he leaned the seat back, moving you so that you were on the seat. he was hovering over you now, his heavy frame pressed between your thighs as he lowered his body over yours.
you hung onto his biceps, digging your nails into his skin as he wrapped a hand around his dick, supporting the heavy weight of it in his palm as he positioned himself above you. with the tip over your pussy, he gave the shaft one slow stroke up from the base and watched his precum dribble onto your clit.
“i need you inside,” you gasped.
“can you even take the whole thing?” he asked so sweetly.
you didn’t know if you could, not with the size of him, but you wanted it so bad that you nodded anyway.
you saw him smile a little in the low light before he craned his neck down. “we’ll see.”
he pressed his dick to your pussy and slid all that wetness — his precum, your arousal — over it. he stimulated you over and over, until his breaths were coming fast and heavy, and you were whimpering about how good it felt.
“jaafar, please,” you begged. “i want more.”
“you’re so sweet for me; ‘course i’m gonna give you as much as you can take.” he tapped the head of his dick against your clit. not hard, but enough of a pleasurable jolt that you bucked your hips up, chasing the touch. “but first i want you to see how deep i can get.”
he laid the hot length of his dick on your pussy, letting the wetness on his shaft meet your skin. you were soaked with slick, glistening all over your thighs
jaafar got it messier, sliding his dick over your cunt — back, then forward — stimulating your clit with the head each time he moved through your folds.
he stopped with his dick laid out on your stomach, heavy and throbbing.
“you’re gonna feel me in your stomach, baby.” he slurred.
“i want it,” you shuddered, pulling him into another kiss as he rubbed himself over you.
“i know you do, i know.”
he pulled back then, dropping his body down a little to position the tip of his dick against your fluttering entrance. you craved the stretch, gasping at the tail end of a kiss.
he lingered there — breath shaky and catching in his throat.
“okay, baby, okay,” he whispered as he pushed inside, just barely stretching your entrance around the tip.
you both moaned at the same time.
a little further in, the heat of him filled you, his dick stretching your walls open.
“oh, you’re so wet,” he groaned.
he was shuddering, and you were gasping, “you feel so good.”
he was so hard for you, so snug against your walls that you could feel his dick pulse as he pushed in deeper, his lazy voice dripping with euphoria, “so good for me, baby... feel good when i fuck you raw? are you getting what you wanted?”
“yes, yes... more.”
“so tight,” he murmured, and you clamped down around him, hearing him suck in a breath through his teeth. “y’have be careful squeezing me like that… might cum inside you. you know i shouldn’t do that.”
“but i want it.”
“yeah? you want me to fill you up. make me yours?” his breath caught as he pushed the throbbing length of his dick further in, filling you up deeper and deeper with what you’d been wanting so desperately. “you want me to fill you up, baby? wanna be my girl?”
“yes, j,” you gasped, fingers knotting tight in his soft hair, pulling his mouth inches from yours. “i wanna be yours.”
each word was breathy, said with so much pleasure that it made your insides expand to accommodate more of him. one glance between your spread thighs — where he was lowering his lean weight as he sank his dick into your puffy, wet pussy — was enough to make your toes curl on the leather seats. watching him sink deeper was too much; you were unable to hold your soft moans in.
“you like watching me stretch it out, don’t you?”
you nodded with your lip caught between your teeth, unable to manage an answer, just a whine.
“jaafar,” you gasped, fingers knotting in his soft hair as you looked up into his dark eyes. “i want all of you.”
jaafar’s gaze softened, a heavy, tender warmth breaking through the haze of pleasure on his face. he leaned down, hovering just an inch over your lips, his hot breath fanning across your mouth as his hips kept a slow, agonizing grind against yours.
“you have me, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick and rough with emotion. “all of me. i’m all yours.”
“yeah?” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“yeah,” he murmured, placing a lingering, desperate kiss on the corner of your mouth before sinking his dick just a fraction deeper. “always been yours.”
you forced your eyes open, watching him sink in a little more. he stopped short, not pushing all the way in yet; you were already so full, and the bottom of his thick shaft was still visible. he fucked you like this — giving you as much as you could take, making sure you adjusted to him.
“feels so good in you, baby.”
you were so tight, so sensitive that you could feel him throbbing in you. when he pulled his dick almost all the way out, you could see it twitch before he stroked your wetness down the shaft, telling you to look how wet you were getting him. he was all lubed up from your pussy, practically dripping, and when he pushed back inside to fuck you, he was even harder.
you could barely keep your eyes open to watch, your eyelashes fluttering as you whined for his dick. “so fucking good... i’m so close—”
“you wanna cum again?” he asked, fucking you a little faster, a little deeper. “keep your eyes open, be good and watch yourself make a mess on my dick.”
your body treated his words like a command. that craving for his control physical; your body so desperate for his guidance that as soon as he gave it, the knot in your stomach released with a rush of pleasure.
your mouth dropped open; you were cumming, digging your fingernails into his biceps and whimpering, trying to keep your heavy eyelids open so you could watch him fuck you, seeing your pussy drenching his shaft.
“that’s right, baby, there you go... see how good this pussy is for me, how wet it gets for me?” his strokes started to slow as your orgasm died down, but he was still fucking you through every contraction; filthy words on his tongue said so sweetly, “see how fast it cums for me? how many orgasms are you gonna let me fuck out of you, princess?”
“more,” you gasped. “more—”
“you’re gonna let me fuck more out of you, huh? you’re gonna let me give you everything you need?”
“yes, jaafar, yes.”
your pussy was so sensitive from cumming that the stimulation felt insane. you’d barely come down from your last orgasm, and somehow you were building up again. even though he was slowing down, you couldn’t stop that cresting feeling.
“cumming so much for me... i know you needed this so bad, baby.”
“i need it so much, j,” you whined. “i need you to keep going, please... i need you to fuck me harder. i think... i think i’m gonna—”
“already?” he groaned, fucking you harder, faster, slurring, “oh, fuck, i can feel it... gimme another, lemme feel you cum again.”
it was so good, each stroke getting you closer, but you were craving more, something deeper. “gimme the whole thing, jaafar, please.”
he swore under his breath, shaking his head, so much pleasure on his face. “i don't wanna overwhelm you.”
“please, j.”
“god,” he shuddered, slipping in a little deeper.
you watched him sink his dick in, your wetness coating the shaft further down. as he pushed all the way in, the head of his dick kissed right against your cervix — a deep, intense stretch that made you gasp, your toes curling around his waist.
he groaned, raw satisfaction making his voice hoarse, and pulled back slightly, breathing hard. “you okay, baby?”
“yes, yes, yes— it feels so good.”
“tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation as he pushed inside, going deep. “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
you nodded, so much tension stored up in your quivering walls as he coaxed them open. you whined for more, wanting him deeper.
“you want me to give you the whole thing? yeah? you wanna take my dick deep?” he put a big hand on your stomach, pressing down on it as he pushed forward, coaxing, “oh, fuck, baby, you’re taking so much... doing so well for me... that’s a good girl, take it all the way.”
you took it all the way — right up against that sweet pressure, taking every single inch of him. you locked your legs around his waist, telling him with tears beading in your lashes, “you’re so big, ‘’m so close.”
he was getting so much gratification at the end of each stroke. he felt it in his catching breath, in his long fingers as they pressed into your lower stomach, feeling himself fucking you, feeling himself buried deep inside.
he pulled back for another stroke, thrusting back in, and you watched his face change as he got all the way in — his eyes flitting down to your pussy, his mouth dropping open slightly when he saw you taking him balls deep. eyebrows knit, he watched himself move in and out, his entire length coated in you.
“takin’ it so deep,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “no one’s ever...” he was overwhelmed, unable to finish his sentence, gritting his teeth as he pushed back in.
you were begging for it harder, getting fucked with his big hand on your stomach and that full feeling making your walls clench around his dick with every thrust.
his mouth met your skin, kissing your jaw and cheek as he fucked you, his mouth kissing at your neck before he murmured, “feels so good, doesn’t it?”
“yeah— f-feels so good.”
“you want me to mark you up, baby? you want me to fuck you so deep, you feel it in the morning?”
you whined for it. “yes, yes, yes.”
it was building; all of it was getting sloppier, more needy — his thrusts, his words slurred against your throat, his breaths catching as you tangled your fingers into his hair and tightened your legs around his waist. his voice was so breathy with pleasure, so desperate for release, making your pussy clench up around him each time he murmured to you.
“i’ve been so close for so long, baby... you don’t even know how close i was earlier when i felt you cumming on me. almost had to pull out, i wanted to fill you up so bad.”
“i want you to fill me up,” you gasped.
“i can’t do that, baby,” he panted against your throat, fucking you hard enough to make the car rock with each thrust. desperation was in each breath; it was building up, and you were right on the edge too, your walls slick and quivering around his dick. “god, i need to... but you know i shouldn’t.”
“please, please...” there was a tremor in your voice, another wave threatening to wash over. “you said you’d give me anything i wanted.”
“fuck,” he murmured. “how am i supposed to say no to you?”
there was tension in the hot air, the windows fogged up with the warmth of your rocking bodies and desperate breaths. you were both so close, so sloppy — spit on your lips, sweat on your skin, your moans heightening with each stroke.
“you really want my cum?” he asked, his voice raw.
“i need it,” you whined.
then he was groaning softly, your moans getting louder as he panted, “cum on me, baby... cum on me and i’ll fill this pretty pussy up, i’ll get you nice and full just like you want.”
that was all it took — just the promise of being full of his load, and you crashed over, gasping, “i’m— oh fuck—” the curve of his dick hit just right, splitting your convulsing walls open as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside.
“good girl, my good fucking girl,” he slurred as your walls gushed all over his dick, digging his fingers into your ass. “you deserve so much cum, baby—”
his lashes fluttered, his face dropping forward, and then he was half-panting, half-moaning against your jaw, his thrusts sloppy, his hips catching as his dick twitched inside you. you could feel every inch of him, every throb as your sensitive walls pulsed around him.
the warmth came in spurts, a growing fullness as he shot his warm load deep into you. it was pulled further inside with each contraction of your walls, but there was so much of it that as his strokes went lazy, it gushed out around his dick and dribbled down your skin.
he stayed deep until you were both done, and when he pulled out — looking down, breathing hard — his dick was glistening, a mess of your cum and his, a little white surge leaking from the tip and dripping onto your stomach.
he swore under his breath, his face hazy.
“look at you,” he murmured, eyes still on your pussy. “you’re so pretty, baby.”
his lips were on yours again. he placed a light kiss on the left corner of your mouth.
you looked over at him in the soft glow of the dashboard — the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his mouth.
“i meant what i said, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “about being yours. it’s not just because of tonight. i’ve cared about you for way too long to ever let this be just a one-time thing.”
"yeah?" you squeezed his hand in yours, your thumb tracing the familiar lines of his knuckles.
"yeah."
you leaned up, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to his lips, feeling him immediately melt into it. when you pulled back, a teasing smile broke across your face as you looked at him.
“you know... i really didn't expect you to be such a dirty talker.”
a sheepish grin broke across his face. his chest rose and fell in a breathy laugh as a flush crept up his neck. "i don't know... you brought it out of me."
for years, you’d convinced yourself that love was supposed to be something you had to chase, something complicated that always left you feeling like you were settling for less than you deserved. you’d let other men touch you without ever really seeing you, leaving you wondering why it never felt the way it was supposed to.
but the truth was undeniable. it had always been him. the boy who knew every version of you, the friend who’d spent years quietly holding your world together, was the only one who could ever really have all of you.
jaafar brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing a tender kiss over your knuckles.
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
once again, i got carried away </3
also ik i had more things listed in the cw in the ss i posted the other day but it was getting a bit too long.. don't be mad at me
Pairings: MatureEra!Michael x Younger!Reader Headcanons
Genre: Pure Fluff !
Warnings:: Age gap(?) Reader is 30, Michael is in his 60s. Reader's referred to as 'mom' like once. Perhaps Michael in a bonnet. aside from that, None :)
Summary: Michael gets a new phone, how bad could it be?
W.C: 829
Author’s Note: I love love LOVE this one! Let me know what you think in the comments, reblog if you love it. As always, happy Reading!
-Love, B. 🤍 ↪ The Archive.
OlderHusband!Michael who decided it was time for a new phone after eighteen years of loyalty to his little IPhone 3G. He chose (was forced) to upgrade to a 15pro Max because he found the newest models “too intimidating”
OlderHusband!Michael who regrets his decision immediately. He mourns the loss of his home button, doesn’t quite understand the mechanics of FaceID, and absolutely hates the little woman that starts talking whenever he holds the power button. You promise he’ll figure it out, but in his head Michael seriously considers bringing back telegrams
OlderHusband!Michael who asks how to put your number on speed dial. When you tell him that feature is long gone, he nearly returns the phone all together.
“What good is this thing if I can’t call anyone quickly?”
You do your best to explain that the phone is designed to be fast, and that he won't have to worry about it, but the look he gives you makes it hard to keep a straight face.
OlderHusband!Michael who and all but begs you to teach him how to use social media properly. You started small, with Instagram, showing him all the steps to make a post and how to caption it. Michael decides his first post should be a Christmas photo from about two years ago of you, him, and the kids in matching pajamas. He captioned it “Fanily :)”, since he couldn’t really see the keyboard, which you thought was the cutest thing.
OlderHusband!Michael who tried, keyword: tried, to get on tiktok. He wasn’t really a fan of the short-form style, and the content geared to a new user put him off.
“I don’t like this application, honey. I really don’t see how you spend so much time on here.”
OlderHusband!Michael who, despite his distaste, still tries to learn how to use the app just so he can share something with you. There was a video of some bendy doll with his face on it. Michael thought it was cute, and tried to send it to you. Instead, he bought fifty of those little dolls and laughed himself sick when they arrived. You suspect that it wasn’t an accident, but ultimately decided to just let him have his fun
OlderHusband!Michael who is tucked in next to you, bonnet on, winding down. He’s quickly found himself addicted to the little videos and shows you every single one. Some make you laugh, others make you tell yourself to watch your husband carefully.
“Angel, look, this dog is dancing on two feet!”
“...Mikey, honey…that’s A.I”
OlderHusband!Michael whose frustration grows larger by the millisecond. All he wants to do is text his children goodnight, but the keyboard is too blurry. He’s also dreading having to do it three times over. This is when you step in and introduce him to the beauty of group chats. He physically relaxes when he realizes he can send a mass message, but tenses again when it comes time to type it out.
You’d offer to do it for him, but you know he’ll want to figure it out on his own. So, you propose an alternative: voice messaging. When you explain the concept, he raises a brow
“Baby, that’s just a one-sided phone call.”
“Michael, do you want to send the message or not?”
OlderHusband!Michael who struggles more with sending a vm than he did with texting. He kept having to rerecord because he was accidentally deleting his messages. Eventually he gave up and decided that his kids would know he loved them, even with a few typos.
As soon as he sends the message, Paris calls your phone to ask if he’s had a stroke. You explain that he’s fine, and just wanted to text them before you went to bed. She then tells you to get him a stronger prescription next time he visits the optometrist.
OlderHusband!Michael who, a few days later, sends you a text while you're working. When the notification pops up on your screen, a smile forms on your face. You really can’t wait to decipher what your man is trying to say to you this time.
You open the app and let out a surprised laugh, it’s a voice message! To you, this is a milestone. Michael did something on his phone without you there to coach him through it. You open the chat thread and press play.
“...Baby… It’s me, Michael! I think I figured this out! I just want you to know I love you, and I hope you have a good day. Okay, bye now.”
Your heart melts as you think about your husband with his little glasses probably fighting for his life just to send this to you. There are a few more seconds on the message which you assume are just silence, but then,
“ — Okay prince, how do I send this to your mom?...No, I want her to think I did it myself.”
fontes: minha cabeça & as asks que vocês me enviaram. isso aqui tá bem biased. meu deus, eu tô muito solteira.
namorado!jobe que é tímido. ele se esforça muito para não deixar visível, mas toda vez que você olha ele por tempo demais ou o elogia, as bochechas dele vão ficar vermelhas e ele vai abaixar a cabeça, sorrindo.
namorado!jobe que gosta de um chamego. não são muito de mostrar afeto em público, mas quando estão sozinhos, não saem do pescoço um do outro. cafuné, conchinha, cheiros no cangote, pernas entrelaçadas… tanto faz. o que importa é estarem pertinho.
namorado!jobe que é super travado e envergonhado com cantadas, mas no privado ele é a pessoa mais paqueradora do mundo.
namorado!jobe que nunca larga a sua mão. se estão passeando, mãos dadas. se você vai descer ou subir em algum lugar, ele está lá, com a mãozona na tua direção, oferecendo ajuda. se não estão com os dedos firmes e unidos, a mão dele está na sua cintura, ou no bolso de trás do seu short/calça/saia.
namorado!jobe que prefere mil vezes passar o dia fazendo algo atencioso — tipo um encontro calmo no parque — do que ir para algum lugar barulhento.
namorado!jobe que é quieto. você logo se acostumou com esse fato, até porque o silêncio dele não significa falta de amor.
namorado!jobe que custa a se expressar com palavras, então demonstra o que sente através do contato físico.
namorado!jobe que sempre levou o relacionamento super a sério. sem jogos, sem enrolação e nada de casual.
namorado!jobe que tem a fala mansa. você jura que nunca o escutou gritar.
namorado!jobe que te conhece. não, sério, ele te conhece de verdade. sabe os teus gostos, os teus sonhos, as tuas comidas preferidas, a nota favorita da perfumaria, se você prefere ouro ou prata… bellingham lembra dos menores detalhes, até daqueles que você nem sabia que tinha compartilhado.
namorado!jobe que é totalmente o tipo ouvinte. ele ama sentar na sua cama e ficar te ouvindo falar sobre o seu dia, sobre a série que você está assistindo ou sobre as fofocas que você descobriu recentemente (plus: é fofoqueiro! mas nunca investiga melhor quando descobre algo. “fulano me disse que terminou com a fulana.” “mentira! e ele disse o motivo?” “não, eu não perguntei”). jobe é ótimo para dar opiniões quando necessário, mas na maior parte do tempo, ele só ama te ver falar, observando a sua expressão e o movimento das suas mãos enquanto você gesticula para enfatizar as palavras.
namorado!jobe que sempre carrega as tuas coisas, seja bolsa, sacolas quando estão no shopping ou simplesmente o seu celular.
namorado!jobe que gosta de te dar flores, mas nunca faz um espetáculo por causa disso. só aparece com um buquê na mão, te entrega com a cara toda vermelha e murmura que as viu por aí e lembrou de ti.
namorado!jobe que usa uma foto sua distraída como plano de fundo. você odeia a foto. é a favorita dele.
namorado!jobe que é fechado demais. luta muito para se abrir com qualquer pessoa, mas quando você passa os dedos pelo cabelo dele e o trata como se ele fosse uma coisa preciosa, ele se vê capaz de te contar coisas que achou que teria que guardar enterradas dentro de si para sempre.
namorado!jobe que é tão alto que sempre abaixa a cabeça na altura da sua boca para poder te escutar direito, levando uma mão até à tua lombar no processo.
namorado!jobe que te presenteia com camisas do borussia dortmund.
namorado!jobe que, falando em camisas, adora te ver usando as dele para dormir.
namorado!jobe que, quando enciumado, coloca uma carranca de poucos amigos, um bico enorme nos beiços e não diz uma palavra.
namorado!jobe que não aguenta uma brincadeirinha. ele pode fazer as provocações dele o quanto quiser, mas ai de você revidar! pega ar ligeiro.
namorado!jobe que é muito mais feliz porque você se dá bem com a família bem. os pais dele te adoram.
namorado!jobe que sorri com qualquer coisinha. basta acontecer e ele já está lá, os cantos da boca indo para os lados, os olhinhos fechando e as covinhas aparecendo.
namorado!jobe que tem os melhores abraços.
namorado!jobe que é cavalheiro. abre a porta do carro para você sair/entrar e puxa a sua cadeira antes de você se sentar (me deixa sonhar, ok?).
namorado!jobe que se pega fugindo de brigas contigo. às vezes, ele guarda o que o incomoda apenas para manter a paz superficial. e isso causa ressentimentos acumulados e comportamentos passivo-agressivos. mas vocês não ficam muito tempo brigados mesmo. é engraçado toda vez: vocês brigam, aí, cinco minutos depois, começam a se encarar até um rir primeiro. nem lembram o motivo do desentendimento no fim do dia.
namorado!jobe que gosta de agradar e se importa genuinamente com o seu bem-estar. então, sempre pensa muito quando planeja algo, seja um encontro romântico, seja uma declaração amorosa.
namorado!jobe que te faz ter devaneios apaixonados ao som de faixas de jangle pop e pop rock.
extras :
namorado!jobe que abre as pernas de propósito só para você sentar no colo dele. para falar a verdade, você nem lembra a última vez que sentou numa cadeira de verdade quando ele está por perto. ele simplesmente ama sentir o seu corpo por cima do dele. não é nada pesada pra ele. e precisamos combinar que é um charme: ele até tenta parecer mais convidativo ajeitando o quadril discretamente toda vez que percebe que você está olhando.
namorado!jobe que é meio voyeur. uma coisa que enlouquece ele é te ver se tocando. seja te mandando fazer isso ou te pegando no flagra fazendo, é o suficiente pra deixá-lo doido.
namorado!jobe que gosta das vezes em que ele está tão fundo dentro de você que consegue ver a protuberância do próprio pau na sua barriga. “tá me sentindo aqui?”, ele pergunta, levando a sua mão até o local.
namorado!jobe que gosta de foder quando está frustrado com alguma coisa. começam daquele jeitinho doce, mas chega a um ponto em que ele fica egoísta, ganancioso, irritado. querendo provar algo. e quando ele já te fez gozar pela terceira vez só no dedo, com os olhos cansados e os lábios inchados pelas mordidas, jobe começa a delirar, falando o quanto você é uma vadia safada do caralho, deixando a cama toda gozada por causa dele desse jeito. ♡
❝ this is exactly how it should feel when it’s meant to be. ❞
— UNTHINKABLE, Alicia Keys.
𝜗𝜚 — A SOCIAL MEDIA AU, MATURE, EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, CONTAINS MEMES, USE OF INSTAGRAM/TWITTER, CRACK!FIC, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, JUDE IS A SWEETHEART & A YEARNER, READER IS CONTROVERSIAL & AVOIDANT, DISCUSSES RACIAL STEREOTYPES & OTHER TOPICS
STARRING… #JUDEBELLINGHAM & POC-AMERICAN!READER
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AUTHOR’S MESSAGE… hello everyone! new crackfic to have something to update to when i’m losing it. this will be full of stuff that’s funny to me bc I might be self inserting. NO FACE CASTS, THE PICTURES ARE JUST MEANT FOR POSE & OUTFIT INSPIRATION. it’s okay if every picture is of a different person lol use ur imagination that’s why we’re here!
PLEASE BE AWARE this fic will touch base on a lot of drama — i.e., the stereotype of footballers only dating white women, racial stereotypes other countries have for americans/poc/black women & men, and many more. reader smokes weed & reader drinks, if any of this makes you uncomfortable please don’t read cause I don’t care. i also don’t care if something i say doesn’t seem realistic THIS IS JUST FANFICTION. some names were changed around (djed’s sister & a few more) just to keep the point of imagination up.
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𝜗𝜚 — you just turned 25. young, freshly graduated from your dream school of NYU, and ready for the world. during your freshman year, you meet a new face that becomes close enough to a second half for you- your roommate brianna spence. together, you two spend the rest of your college years joined at the hip and traveling the world. it helps when her brother plays for england’s national football team.
you’re a woman of many words. very strong-minded, strong-willed, and strong-hearted. you came from a single mother home, with only one sister and the incessant need to provide for them whenever’s possible. you scored an editorial position at the Vogue office in the financial district and just moved into your one bedroom apartment in the heart of the city (with an amazing view). sure you smoke and drink, and curse and cry, but the world is at your fingertips and you’re enjoying what it’s got to offer. everything in your life was going perfect.
until he finds you on instagram one night— and then everything changes forever.
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ONE. ★ TWO. ★ THREE. ★ FOUR. ★
FIVE. ★ SIX. ★ SEVEN. ★ EIGHT. ★
NINE. ★ TEN.
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WELCOME TO YOUR ACCOUNT!
SEE SUGGESTED..
& MORE..
EXTRAS ! trent TRENT ALEXANDER ARNOLD , erling ERLING BRAUT HAALAND & more to be announced…
TAGLIST ! [empty :( be the first :) x]
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if you made it this far, i will give you a kiss muah thank u for taking a chance on a random crackfic that has no expectations and maybe even some mischaracterization for the plot i love u and i hope u enjoy
Tutoring Jobe Bellingham
Jobe Bellingham x tutor!student (27.3k)
ᯓ★ SUMMARY Jobe Bellingham is your classmate but you guys don't talk to each other until one day, they call you into head's office, only to find out that his parents are offering you to tutor him. It goes has planned or does it?
CAMEOS: India Amarteifio, McKenna Grace, Karina Yu, Louis Patridge and Owen Cooper
ᯓ★ WARNING 18+ MDNI, she/her pronouns for reader, all characters here are 18+ except few, shy and awkward!Jobe, soft interactions, curse words; smut; blowjob, fingering, first time together (virgins), use of cock names, p in v (protected); rough (idk) at some point, not so quiet sex, slight overstimulation, breasts sucking (A LOT) and idk the rest.
A/N first time posting smut so be nice and they might be some mistakes tho, this took me time to finish because I'm so lazy (ARGHH), so I decided today FINALLY that I'll do it soooo hope you enjoy!!
You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, the maroon blazer of your uniform feeling a little warm as you walked beside Jobe toward the back corner where the library was. He was quiet like always, hands in the pockets of his grey trousers, the school crest on his blazer catching the light.
Neither of you said much. That was how it had been for the past couple of weeks.
The sound of students moving in clusters. It was closing time. Lockers banged, laughter echoed down the corridor. You walked quietly, heading towards the library like you had for the past couple of weeks. You glanced sideways at him.
He walked a step ahead, the sleeves of his blazer pushed back slightly, his tie hanging a little looser than it had that morning. He hadn't said a word since leaving class.
Strange.
A month ago, the two of you were strangers.
If someone had told you then that you'd be walking beside Jobe Bellingham every afternoon...
You would've laughed.
You rested against the cold, hard locker, arms folded, and head nodding to your friends squabbling.
"I literally told you lot," India said, shaking her head. "Maria and Jon definitely had something going on."
Karina snorted. "To be fair, it wasn't exactly subtle—"
"Subtle?" India cut in. "It wasn't subtle to me. I caught him staring at her the entire Maths lesson. I could see it in his eyes. They're definitely fucking."
“You should have seen them in chemistry.” McKenna glanced into the mirror fixed to the inside of her locker, carefully brushing another coat of mascara.
As you were about to reply, the tannoy crackled to life.
“.....Could the student whose name has just been called should report to the head of the sixth form’s office immediately. Thank you.”
The four of you fell silent.
“I said it. I told you guys that one day our chat is going to get leaked and here we are.” India
Karina looked at her, completely unimpressed. "Oh, please.”
"What do they want you for?" McKenna asked.
You shook your head. "No clue."
“Afternoon ladies.” A voice but through the conversation. Heads turned to the direction of the voice.
Owen Cooper astrolled over with Louis Partridge not far behind him, both making their way down the corridor with their bags slung over one shoulder.
“Ugh.” India rolled her eyes, feeling not impressed.
“What do you want Owen? India sighed.
“What?” He grinned. “Can't a boy say hello to beautiful ladies?”
McKenna snorted. “If this is how you want to get the ladies, it's not gonna work.”
Louis ignored the exchange entirely.
His eyes met Karina's. "Hey."
A small smile found its way onto her face.
"Hey.”
Owen looked between them and smiled to himself. “Anyway—”
“Fuck off Owen.” India said flatly.
“What do you want Owen? More money? Or what?” You said, rolling your eyes at the 11th grader. “Your presence annoys me.”
“I didn't even do nothing!? That's a bit rude, if you ask me.”
“Very.”
Owen frowned. “Why'd they call you?” Uh?” He looked at you, a smirk on his face.
You sighed, the annoyance building up. “I'm called because apparently, I strangled you.” You answered.
India snorted. McKenna tried (and failed) to hide a laugh behind her hand. Owen’s smirk faltered for half a second before he forced it back on.
“That’s not funny,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” you said, turning slightly so your back was more toward him. “Go find someone else to bother.”
Around you, the corridor had begun to thin as teachers stepped out of classrooms. "Come on, Year Thirteens, let's get moving!"
"No hanging around the lockers, please."
"Off to lessons."
Students groaned but slowly started picking up their bags, conversations trailing off as they made their way down the corridor. A few students walking past glanced in your direction before carrying on towards their classrooms. Before Owen could respond:
"India Amarteifio."
The sharp voice made all four of you turn.
"Karina Yu. McKenna Grace, Owen Cooper, Louis Patridge…” The teacher's eyes landed on you. "...and you. Lesson time."
"Sorry, Miss," India replied quickly.
"Thank you."
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder. "I'll let you know what happens."
"You'd better," Karina said as she peeled off towards her classroom.
You took one last glance at your friends before turning in the opposite direction, heading towards the Head of Sixth Form's office with no idea why you'd been called.
You stopped outside the Head of Sixth Form's office, smoothing the front of your maroon blazer before knocking twice.
"Come in."
You pushed the door open.
The first thing you noticed wasn't the Head of Sixth Form.
It was him.
Jobe Bellingham.
He sat beside his parents on one of the chairs opposite the desk, his blazer neatly buttoned, tie slightly loosened after a full morning of lessons. His gaze lifted briefly when you walked in before dropping back to his hands, which were loosely clasped in his lap.
You recognised him immediately.
Everyone did.
Not because he was loud or particularly popular—if anything, Jobe kept to himself—but because the Bellingham name wasn't exactly unfamiliar around school. His older brother had attended the sixth form a few years before, leaving behind a reputation that teachers still mentioned whenever football came up.
You'd seen Jobe around the corridors plenty of times.
Passing between lessons.
On the football pitch after school.
In assemblies.
But none of you had ever spoken.
"Ah," the Head of Sixth Form said warmly, gesturing for you to come further inside. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Please, do have a seat.”
You nodded, dragging the chair outwards before sitting on the soft, leather chair. Your hands fiddled with each other, nervous about what's going to happen next.
“You must be wondering why I called.” The head spoke, lowering his glasses to the bridge of his nose.
You nodded.
He flipped through the pages of a document on the leather table, his eyes attentive and serious. “You're not in trouble.” He glanced up. You nodded again.
"The reason I've asked you to come in today is because of Jobe." His gaze shifted towards the quiet boy seated beside his parents before returning to you.
"Mr and Mrs Bellingham came in this afternoon to discuss a concern they have regarding his studies.”
“...Oh.” You nodded again, glancing at the family. You bowed your head slightly as a greeting.
"We hope you don't mind us coming into school like this." Jobe’s mother, Denise, spoke.
You shook your head.
"No, not at all."
"We've been a little concerned about Jobe," she continued. "He's a bright student, but over the last term his grades have slipped. Nothing alarming, but enough for us to notice."
His father nodded in agreement. "We've tried getting him extra support before, but we thought it might help if he worked with someone closer to his own age."
The Head of Sixth Form folded his hands on the desk. "Your teachers speak very highly of you. You're consistently performing well, you're patient, and you're someone other students seem comfortable working with."
Heat crept to your cheeks. "Oh..."
"So," he continued, "I wondered whether you'd be willing to tutor Jobe a few afternoons each week. The sessions would take place here at school, most likely in the library after lessons."
You instinctively looked towards Jobe.
For the first time since you'd walked in, he met your eyes properly.
"If you're alright with it," he said quietly. His voice was calm, almost hesitant.
"No pressure." His mother said.
The room waited for your answer.
This was something. Something different and new. You never thought to see yourself with a male—Jobe Bellingham for that matter. You knew you were academically sound—Teachers praised you, your classmates adored you.
Still…
Tutoring Jobe Bellingham?
That hadn't exactly been on your Year Thirteen bingo card. You looked between Jobe, his parents and the Head of Sixth Form. And with a sigh, "I... don't mind."
A relieved smile spread across his mum's face.
"Thank you. Thank you so much darling. And of course, we'd be more than happy to pay you for your time."
Your eyes widened slightly. "Oh... you don't have to—"
"We'd like to," she interrupted gently. "You're giving up your own time to help our son. It's only fair."
Jobe finally spoke. "Mum..."
There was a faint hint of embarrassment in his voice.
His mother smiled apologetically. "I know, darling."
She turned back to you. "He'll pretend he doesn't need the help, but he does. And I think he'd rather hear it from someone his own age than from us.”
"You'd be doing us a huge favour," his dad added. "We really appreciate it."
You gave a small nod, unsure what else to say.
The Head of Sixth Form reached for a folder on his desk. "Excellent. I was thinking two afternoons a week to begin with. Tuesdays and Thursdays, after your last lesson."
He glanced at Jobe. "Would that work with football training?"
Jobe nodded. "I can make it work."
"Good." The Head flipped open the folder.
"I've spoken to both your subject teachers. The areas we'd like you to focus on are Mathematics and Chemistry. They're the subjects he's finding the most difficult at the moment. The library should be free after school most days. If not, I'll arrange another room."
You nodded. "That's fine."
"Brilliant." He closed the folder. "You can start tomorrow, if that's alright with both of you."
You looked at Jobe. "Yeah."
"Yeah," he replied.
His mum stood, smoothing the sleeves of her coat. "Thank you again. It's reassuring knowing he'll have someone we can trust."
You smiled warmly. "I'm happy to help."
As everyone began standing, Jobe picked up his rucksack from beside his chair.
When you reached the door, he spoke to you for the first time you remembered. "...Thanks."
You turned and nodded once with a smile.
Jobe exhaled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I never said I didn't need help."
"No," his father replied with a smile, "you just make it very difficult to tell.”
The tutoring sessions became the highlight of your week.
First session: purely professional. You explained concepts patiently while Jobe listened quietly, occasionally nodding with that small shy smile.
Second session: He started relaxing more. You caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
Third session: He leaned back in his chair during a break, legs spread, grey trousers pulling tight. The clear outline of his bulge made your mouth go dry. You quickly looked away, cheeks burning, but the image stayed in your head for days.
The tutoring sessions continued. A few days passed, You were packing up after the session. Jobe was still sitting, slowly closing his Chemistry folder, when a Year Twelve boy from the football team walked past the table and called out, “Oi, Bellingham — when you gonna stop being the spare and actually start like your brother?” He said it like a joke. Light. Easy. The kind of thing people threw around without thinking.
Jobe’s hand stilled on the folder. He didn’t look up. Just gave a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his heart, “Yeah, yeah,” under his breath. The boy laughed and kept walking.
You watched Jobe’s jaw work for a second. Then he stood, shoved the folder into his bag a little too hard, and said, “We done?”
You nodded, but you didn’t move yet.“You don’t have to laugh at the joke,” you said quietly.
He glanced at you. “What?”
“The spare thing. You don’t have to just… take it in.”
Jobe’s ears went a bit pink. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the table. “It’s nothing. People have been saying stuff like that since I got here. Easier to let it go.”
You studied him for a moment. The way he still wouldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Doesn’t mean it’s nothing,” you said. “You’re not a spare. You’re just not Jude. That’s allowed.”
He was quiet for a long second. Then he let out a short, silent breath and finally looked at you properly. “Most people don’t say that.”
“Most people are just dumb,” you replied, shouldering your bag. “Come on. We'll miss the bus.”
He fell into step beside you. After a few metres he spoke again. “It’s not that I hate him or anything. Jude’s… Jude. He’s good. It’s just—” He cut himself off, then spoke again. “Sometimes it feels like I only exist in the spaces he left behind. Even the teachers do it. ‘Another Bellingham, eh? Hope you’ve got the same left foot. It's annoying sometimes and…it makes me feel like I'm not enough.” He sighed.
Your eyes softened. You felt bad for him. “You stop trying to fill his spaces. Make your own space, let them know you're not Jude but Jobe.”
Jobe glanced at you sideways. He hadn’t expected you to answer. “…Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Maybe.” He didn’t say anything else the rest of the walk. And when you reached the gates, he bumped his arm lightly against yours. You stood there a second longer than necessary, watching him go.
After that day, Friday comes by and you're in your friend's house and they've decided to have a small hangout at India’s house after school. A casual hang out—snacks, music, movies. Somehow Jobe got invited too (probably through one of the football lads who knew India’s group).
It started innocently.
Everyone was there: you, Jobe, India, Karina, McKenna, and a couple of others. Uniforms were swapped for comfy clothes. You were sitting on the big sofa, Jobe next to you because there wasn’t much space. Your thigh pressed against his the whole time.
After a while, someone suggested Truth or Dare.
The game started with silly stupid questions, funny dares. India was being dramatic as usual, Karina was teasing everyone, McKenna was laughing the loudest.
Then it was Jobe’s turn.
“Truth or Dare?” India asked with a mischievous grin.
He chose Truth.
India leaned forward. “Have you ever liked someone in our year but never told them?”
The room went quiet. Jobe rubbed the back of his neck, shy as always, but his eyes flicked to you for a split second. “…Yeah,” he said quietly.
You smiled warmly.
A few rounds later, it was your turn. “Dare,” you said, trying to sound casual.
Karina smirked. “I dare you to kiss Jobe.”
The room exploded with “Oohs” and laughter. India was grinning like she’d won the lottery. McKenna was already pulling out her phone to record, Karina grinned.
“This is so going to my phone.” Owen snickered, his phone out to record.
Jobe looked at you, surprised but not pulling away. His cheeks were a little flushed. You met his eyes. You leaned in first.
The kiss started soft. Shy. Just a gentle press of lips in front of everyone. But when you didn’t pull away immediately, Jobe kissed you back a little deeper, one hand lightly touching your waist. The room cheered and whistled, but it all faded into background noise.
When you pulled apart, both of you were smiling shyly. Jobe’s ears were red.
India screamed, “I knew it!”
The game continued, but the energy between you and Jobe had completely changed.
Weeks passed and you continued tutoring Jobe before the A levels came up. You sat across from him at the same library table. But every time your hands brushed when you passed him a pen, or when he leaned in a little too close to look at your notes.
Neither of you mentioned the kiss. It sat between you anyway. On Thursday the session went wrong. He was tired from training. You could see it in the way he kept rubbing the back of his neck, in how his answers got shorter. When he got the third stoichiometry question wrong in a row, he pushed the paper away roughly.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered.
“Okay,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Let’s go back to the mole bit—”
“I know the mole bit.” His voice stayed quiet. “I just… I can’t think straight today.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. Instead you just sat back. “Then we stop,” you said.
He looked up, surprised.
“We can do it tomorrow. Or Monday. You’re allowed to have an off day, Jobe.” He stared at the table for a moment, then gave a small, tired nod.
“Yeah. Okay.”
You packed up in silence. When you stood, he stood too. For a second it looked like he might say something else, but he just rubbed the back of his neck again and mumbled, “Thanks. For not… pushing.”
You shrugged, even though your chest felt weirdly tight. “It’s fine.”
You walked out separately.
The memory faded as the library doors came into view.
You reached for the handle, only to pause.
The usually quiet room was far from empty. Every table was occupied. Year Twelves and Thirteens sat scattered throughout the library, revision guides spread across desks, laptops open, voices kept to hushed whispers beneath the watchful eye of the librarian.
You frowned. "That's... new."
The librarian glanced over before offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, you two. We've got the Year Thirteen in here revising for their mocks today. Every study table's been booked."
You nodded in understanding. "No worries."
Jobe stood beside you, looking around the room for a moment before quietly speaking. "There isn't really anywhere else, is there?"
"I don't think so."
A brief silence settled between you.
Then he cleared his throat. "My house is empty."
You turned to look at him.
"Mum and Dad won't be back until this evening," he explained. "Jude's out as well."
He rubbed the back of his neck, almost as though he was second-guessing himself. "We could study there... if you're alright with it."
You studied him for a moment. "Yeah," you replied with a small smile. "That works."
He nodded once. "Alright."
Together, you turned away from the library and headed towards the school gates, neither of you noticing the curious glance India and the rest sent your way from one of the occupied tables.
“They're gonna fuck.”
“India! That is absurd.” Karina whispered-yelled, trying to keep her voice down.
“What?” She shrugged. “It's so painfully obvious.”
McKenna face-palmed. “How are you so sure?”
India smirked. “Let's bet. 20 bucks.”
The two other girls looked at each other. “Alright.”
The walk to the school gates was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence you’d both gotten used to during the past few weeks. The afternoon sun was still warm, casting long shadows across the pavement as students streamed out around you. Jobe walked beside you, hands back in his pockets, blazer slung over one arm.
When you reached the gates, he paused. “My house isn’t far, but…” He glanced at you, a little shy. “We can get a taxi if you want. It’ll be quicker.”
You nodded. “Taxi sounds good.”
He pulled out his phone and ordered one quickly. A few minutes later, a black cab pulled up. Jobe held the door open for you before sliding in after. The ride was short but felt longer than it should have. You were hyper-aware of how close his leg was to yours in the back seat, the faint scent from his morning training, and the way he kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.
The driver dropped you off outside the big, gated house. Two security guards nodded respectfully as Jobe approached. He greeted them quietly, then led you through the gates and up the driveway. No maids— just the quiet, expensive stillness of a big empty house.
Inside, it was even nicer than you imagined. High ceilings, modern but warm furniture, football memorabilia on some walls mixed with family photos. Jobe kicked off his shoes by the door and you did the same. Jobe dropped his bag on the floor and motioned for you to sit wherever you wanted.
“We can set up in the living room,” he said softly, leading the way.
“It’s more comfortable than the dining table.”
You followed him, heart beating a little faster as the reality of being completely alone with him settled in. You chose the middle of the big sofa, pulling out your notes and textbook.
Jobe had changed into something comfortable, sitting next to you.
The studying began or so?
You tried to start with studying.
For a while, it worked. You went over the Chemistry notes, explaining things softly. Jobe listened, nodding, his arm resting along the back of the sofa behind you. Every now and then his fingers would lightly brush your shoulder — accidental at first, then lingering a little longer.
The conversation slowly drifted.
“You were really good at explaining that,” he said quietly, voice low. His hand had moved from the sofa to rest gently on your knee, thumb stroking small circles through your skirt. It was light, almost hesitant, like he was still testing if it was okay.
He looked at you with. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile, a faint dimple appearing in his left cheek.
You cleared your throat. Cheeks burning. “U-uh, yeah. Thanks.” You returned the smile.
He smiled shyly, eyes dropping to your lips for a moment before looking away. His hand slowly traveled higher, resting on your thigh now, fingers tracing lazy patterns. Your heart raced, but you kept your voice steady as you pointed out the next question in the textbook.
A few minutes later, the notes were mostly forgotten.
Jobe's fingers paused on your thigh. “Can….Can I ask you something?”
You nodded.
You nodded, turning toward him more fully. Your uniform skirt had gone up slightly from sitting, the crisp white shirt still buttoned neatly, tie loosened from the long day.
“That kiss….That kiss from India's house.” He started, his cheeks burning. “I couldn't stop thinkin’ about it. Was it just a game for you? Or…..?”
Your breath hitched. The memories came flooding in—the gathering at India's house, laughter my, the dare landing on the two of you, the clumsy kiss that lingered for a short while. “It wasn't.” You admitted softly. “I've always wanted it…. And I've been wanting more. But I was so scared you'd think I'm weird or something else, since I'm tutoring you and all.”
Jobe expression softened. A wave of relief mixed with his shy smile. “Me too.” He admitted softly, voice trembling a bit. “Ever since you've started tutoring me…I-....I try not to stare at you for too long. You actually listen. You're patient with me. You….You notice me.” His hand squeezed your thigh gently, eyes flicking at your lips and down to your chest where the shirt hugged your breast, then back up quickly embarrassed.
You blushed. “I like being here with you, Jobe. I….I like you.”
His eyes softened at the statement you made. He rubbed at the corner of one eye with his hand before you could pretend not to notice. "I've just..." He paused, searching for the words. "Spent so long feeling like I was always standing behind Jude.” A small, genuine smile found its way onto his face despite the tears trying not to spill. His dimples appeared.
You leaned in first. Your lips met softly. His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of the peppermint gum he'd chewed earlier. One hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroked your skin while the other stayed on your things rubbing gently before inching higher until it slipped under the hem of your skirt. You kissed him back, your hands sliding up his singlet to feel the firm muscles of his chest.
A small moan escaped from him, “Fuck…sorry.” He mumbled against your lips, pulled back just enough to see your flushed face. “I'm shakin’ a bit. Never done this properly before. Not….Not like this.”
“Me neither.” You grinned, your cheeks flushed. “But…I want to. I want to do it with you.”
He hesitated a bit, searching your face for any doubt. “You sure? We can stop anytime.”
“I'm sure.” You smiled.
He leaned in again for another kiss but this time it grew hungrier. Jobe pulled you closer until you were on his lap, your skirt hitched up as you straddled him. His hands roamed. Firstly, over your back, then hesitantly to your front. He cupped one of your breasts through your shirt, his thumb circled your nipple until it was visible on your shirt. You gasped into his mouth.
“Is this okay?” He asked. You nodded, guiding his other hand to your chest. He looked at you with a warm smile. “Wait—bedroom?”
Before you could answer, Jobe stood, scooping you up bridal-style. You yelped, laughing softly as your arms wrapped around his neck. He was strong from training so it wasn't hard for him to pick you up effortlessly. He carried you down the hallway, your uniform skirt hiked up, bare thighs against his arm. He pressed a kiss to your temple, smiling shyly.
His bedroom was neat but lived-in—posters of football stars on the wall, a big bed with dark sheets. He set you down gently on the edge, then stood back for a second, just looking. “Still okay?”
You nodded.
His lips met yours again, he untied your tie and tossed aside, unbuttoned your shirt next, your bra was simple—pink laced bra. The way he looked at you made you feel safe and less insecure—eyes wide, lips parted, and a warm smile.
“God, you're gorgeous,” he murmured, leaning to kiss the swell of your breast, his lips were soft, reluctant at first then bolder as he sucked lightly on one nipple through the lace, his saliva dampening the pink lace. You moaned, your fingers threaded through his curls, pulling him closer.
His joggers began to pent up. He was getting hard, pressed against your thigh. He moaned softly as your thigh rocked against him.
He later helped you out of your bra, his hands trembled slightly as he saw your breast—bared. “So beautiful,” he breathed, cupping them both now, his thumb brushed over the sensitive peaks. He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth properly this time—tongue swirling, sucking with growing confidence as your moans encouraged him. The other breast got equal attention, his free hand kneading gently.
You were getting wet and you needed him sooner or later. You tugged at his grey sweatpants. He got the signal and he kicked them off along with his Calvin Klein briefs. He looked vulnerable and shy. He was hard, long, thick and already a bit at the tip. At some point, you wondered how it was going to fit. “We…We don't have to rush.”
“I know but it's okay.” You spoke, looking at him. “But I really want this. I want to make you feel good too.”
The eye contact made him groan softly. “Fuck…okay…”
A smile appeared on your face. Jobe rolled off to the side. Sitting up, he shifted to the edge of the bed. You slid off the mattress and knelt between his spread thighs, the carpet soft under your knees. Your skirt was gone now, thrown into the corner of the room.
“We… we don’t have to rush,” he said, “If it’s too much or you wanna stop, just tell me, alright?”
You nodded, your heart raced with excitement. You wrapped your hand around his cock, you stroked him slowly a few times, felt him twitch. Leaning in, you licked a long, slow stripe from the base to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head and tasting the salty pre-cum. Jobe let out a deep moan, his head pushed back. “Fuck… that feels so good already,” he panted.
You took the head into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand worked the rest of his cock in strokes. You bobbed deeper slowly, relaxing your jaw to take as much of his thickness as you could. The heat made him moan louder, his fingers in your hair, holding a few strands.
“You’re so good at this,” he softly said. You hummed around him, the vibration drew another moan. You worked him with your mouth and hand—sucking, licking, occasionally pulling off to kiss and lick along the sides or gently suck on his balls before taking him deep again. Saliva coated his cock and dripped down your chin, making everything messy. Your free hand rested on his thigh as you felt the tremble.
Jobe’s breathing grew rough. He was trying hard to stay still, hips occasionally twitching upward when you did something especially good. “I’m gettin’ really close,” he warned breathlessly after a few minutes, his voice cracking. “You don’t have to swallow if you don’t want—”
You answered by taking him deeper, sucking harder. Suddenly, you felt something hot spurting in the corners of your mouth. He came hard and you swallowed as much as you could, some leaked from the corner of your lips as you kept sucking him gently.
You pulled off him, liicking your lips and wiping your chin. You gave him a smile before he reached down, pulling you up gently and kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue without any hesitation.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmured against your mouth, one hand cupping your breast again, as his thumb brushed over your nipple. “That was incredible. I've never felt anythin’ like it. Thank you, darling.”
He pulled you onto the bed with him, laying you on your back once more as he hovered on top. His hands traveled upward on your thighs, going near your inner side. “I want to try something….Can i—” He bit his lip, “Can I eat you out?” he mumbled under his breath, cheeks flushed.
“What? I can't hear you.” But you heard him well and clear.
“Can I eat you out?” He spoke louder this time, cheeks flushed harder than the last time.
“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. “I’d like that.” With you giving him the green light, he began to press kisses on your neck, your breast (lingering to suck on each nipple again), your stomach, then lower.
He settled between your spread thighs, pushing them a bit wider. For a second he just looked, breathing over your wet folds.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, almost in awe. “All because of me?” You nodded, biting your lip. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss right on your clit. You gasped. Encouraged with your voice, he licked a slow, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, then swirled his tongue around it.
He began to devour you with that craving, his tongue lapping at your swollen clitoris. He was taking his time devouring you, his tongue worked with a rhythmic intensity that promised to pull you right back to the edge.
You threaded your fingers through his curls, moaning softly as pleasure built. “Jobe… that feels so good,” you whimpered.
He moaned against you, the vibration sent through your body. Growing bolder, he slipped one finger inside you, then two, curling them slowly while his tongue kept working your clit. The combination had your back arching off the bed, thighs trembling around his head.
He kept checking in with his eyes, making sure you were enjoying it. You felt the orgasm building fast. “I’m close—” He didn’t stop. He sucked a little harder on your clit and curled his fingers just perfectly. You came with a moan of his name, hips rocking against his mouth as he gently licked you through it until you were trembling.
"Please..." You whimpered. "Come back to me."
You pulled him upward with the small strength left in you. His body slid up your thighs, his eyes lifted to meet yours as he rose from her core.
As soon as his face was close enough, you pulled him down into a kiss. You tasted him, the saltiness of his skin, your tongue tangled with his rhythm.
Jobe finally pulled back, lips glistening and his chin a little wet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He proudly smiled but shy, dimple showing.
“Was that okay?” he asked softly, “I really liked doing that for you.”
“It was amazing,” you breathed, giving him a shy smile.
Jobe’s eyes softened at your words. He leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, “I want you,” he whispered against your mouth, a little shaky with that Birmingham accent. “Properly. If you’re ready… I want to feel you around me.”
You nodded, still a bit breathless. “I’m ready. Please, Jobe.”
He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out a condom with trembling fingers. He tore the packet open and rolled it on carefully, glancing at you the whole time. “Is this alright? I just want us to be safe… don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching up to stroke his arm. “It’s good. I want this with you.”
Jobe positioned himself, the thick tip of his cock pressed gently against your entrance. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could see your face clearly, “tell me if it hurts or if you need me to stop, yeah? We go as slow as you need. No rush.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist. “I will. I trust you.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was intense— he was thick and full, a mixture of slight burn and pressure that made both of you gasp. You could feel how he sank deeper. When he finally entered fully, he stayed completely still, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he murmured, “so warm and tight around me. Are you alright, darling?”
“It’s a lot… but it feels good,” you breathed, adjusting to the fullness. After a few moments you rocked your hips carefully. “You can move now.”
Jobe started with slow, small thrusts, watching your expression carefully. Every thrust sent sparks of pleasure through you. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, then moved lower to your breasts again—sucking and licking one nipple while his free hand kneaded the other. The pleasure made you moan louder, fingers digging into his back.
Gradually his pace deepened as you both found what was good for you. He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit in circles. After a while, the slow pace started to feel like it was not enough. You tilted your hips up to meet him and whispered, “Jobe… can you go faster? Please.”
He looked at you, a little surprised, checking once more. “You sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m sure,” you nodded, cheeks flushed. “I want it… faster.”
A soft, almost shy moan slipped. He adjusted his grip, one hand still on your breast, and began thrusting deeper and quicker. The change in pace sent a stronger wave of pleasure through you. The wet sound of him moving inside you grew louder, mixed with both of your heaving breathing.
“Like this?” he panted against your neck. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“N-no, it’s p-perfect,” you gasped, clinging to him. “D-on’t…ugh…stop.” Pleasure built much faster now, You could feel every inch of him—the slight drag of the condom, the way his balls slapped against yours with each deeper thrust, Jobe kept checking in with soft kisses and eye contact even as he moved faster, one hand still caressing your breast.
“So…..” Thrust. “…..Good…” Thrust. “Fucking…tight.” He drove harder again and again, his hips hitting yours. The sound of your body meeting was wet.
“C-close…I–”
“–Not yet.” He cut you off. His voice ragged and rough, thrusting hard into you. “Not yet baby..” He continued to pound into you relentlessly, thrusting firmly in her aching pussy.
“P-please…d-darling..” Your voice croaked. His hands went down touching your throbbing clit using his finger to circle it slowly. “Cum for me, my love.” He grunted, rubbing his thumb against your swollen clit. “Cream all over my cock.”
You came first, the orgasm crashing through you in strong. Your walls tightened around him as you cried out his name, nails scratching down his back. The feeling of you clenching around him pushed Jobe over the edge moments later. He groaned deeply into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, holding you tightly.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment afterward, both of you catching your breath, then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“That was… proper intense,” he whispered against your hair, one hand stroking your back while the other rested on the curve of your breast. “In the best way. You felt perfect, darling… especially when you asked me to go faster. I’ve never felt anything like that.”
You smiled, cuddling closer into his chest. “I loved it. Every second.”
“You okay?” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
“Yeah,” you said softly, smiling. “Really okay.”
He let out a small, shy laugh. “Me too. You’re staying the night, right?” he asked hopefully, voice shy again.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you so much. I really do, you trusted me and chose me for who I am. I love you…” He stated, mentioning your name at the end. He pressed a soft kiss on your head.
India, McKenna and Karina were standing by the lockers, waiting for you. India’s eyes locked onto you the second you came into view. She watched the careful way you moved for a few seconds, then a slow, victorious grin spread across her face.
“I told you she had sex,” India said, holding out her hand and signalling the other two for her money.
McKenna groaned and reached into her pocket. “Ugh, fine. You were right.” Karina sighed and handed over a crumpled twenty as well.
“Ah-ah!” She laughed. “Thank you Jobe and my sweet friend of omega hormones for mating. Like she knows dada” She sighed in relief, turning to the two girls annoyed yet happy for their friend. “Thrifting here I come!”
anakin skywalker fluffy hcs bc i tried putting this into a fic n wasn't liking anything i was drafting so here's this
ANAKIN SKYWALKER who comes back from missions and needs to be in your comfort, in bed with you, around you, wherever it may be, he wants to be with you. you're his grounding source, the reason he can keep his mind at ease in between these trips, giving him something neutral to think about when he gets upset.
if its late when he arrives back, he's quiet coming to you, but he needs to be with you. he sleeps better with you, your warmth comforts him. his body immediately relaxes when you snuggle against him.
"ani, it's late." you murmur softly, your voice thick with sleep.
"i know baby, m'sorry. just needed to see you. you can go back to sleep." he strokes your hair, enjoying the noises of contentment you make before falling asleep once more.
he will spend all morning in bed with you if he can. he never wants to give up the time where you're the most affectionate with him, pulling him back to you each time he does attempt to get up. he'll rub circles on your back or play with your hair until you do fully wake up, smiling at him as he dotes on you.
"don't get up yet." your arm reaches out as anakin is halfway out of the bed, your hand grabbing for him.
"i have to get ready, i have training soon." his face contorts, because maybe just a few more minutes...
you whimper.
he can lose a few minutes, he thinks, and crawls back against you.
at nights, you two will do your separate activities but together. anakin adjusting and fixing some mechanical project, while you lay your head on his thighs and read a book. quiet time but always together, something anakin loved. he liked your prescence around him, even if it was as generic as being invested in a book.
"what's happening in your book now baby?" anakin asks, while adjusting a screw.
"the warlock just told her he loves her." you sigh, with a smile on your face.
"is that an analogy?"
you giggle, making his face light up. "no ani! buuuut..." you look up at him with a grin and he shakes his head at you.
IN WHICH, jude cares for your curls with the focus of a man utterly devoted to his woman. 𐙚 wc: 1,349
🐰ྀི pairing jude bellingham x black ! fem reader
꒰warnings꒱ a very clean read outside of — bodily descriptions such as hair and hands, fluff, hurt + comfort ( reader isn’t feeling her best ), a little ooc-ish since i haven’t wrote for jude in a while.
𝒊. dynamics boyfriend!jude, established relationship, giving care, vulnerability, jude being a sweetheart, wanted proximity, & physical touch and words of affirmation as main love languages.
꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ rory’s ramble ! wrote this on a whim, enjoy reading 🤍
ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ summer soft by stevie wonder quietly hums through your relatively small blush-coloured speaker, the words act as a balm to your chest’s achy sensations. somewhere beneath your sternum yet high around the collarbone lies uncomfortably — jude’s been attempting a full fledged combat on the illness. tea, specifically chamomile and peppermint for irritation. rest, lots and lots. & antibiotics, which sit bitter atop your tongue.
starting from the beginning of your ailment, jude could tell where it had all begun. your flawless coils thrown into a messy, questionably-secure puff.
he knew you like the back of hand — never, ever would you not style them. most days you found pleasure in defining each coil’s individually curated pattern, parting them down the middle, framing those precious features perfectly.
on your behalf jude decides his one and only purpose is reviving the joy once found in your hair, regardless of how it’d be preferable for your weary soul to rot in bed, covered in tens of blankets, aimlessly viewing television.
your body is floor level, sat upon a fluffy heart print throw pillow stolen from the main room’s sofa — legs folded similar to of a lotus-style, although you’ve been shifting through several seating positions now. just minutes ago your legs drew up towards your chest.
jude’s contemplating his existence right now, learning his few inches of curls is minuscule in comparison with the lovely ones caught in his grasp.
his palms become stickier every minute, a gooey combination of curling crème, jojoba-castor oil blend, and an aromatic hair butter infused with rosemary.
the wide-toothed comb glides through your ends, creating more allocation and slip.
jude’s careful, almond shaped eyes widen by the simple motion of curls shrinking dramatically after exposure to binding products.
he’s aware of shrinkage, obviously.
yet yours is dramatic.
absolutely.
for a fleeting moment, they’ll hang, absorbing each products as a flower does to misting downpour. your pattern’s weighed down, each strand looking uniform, then — a slick curl upwards happens.
coils once touching the small of your back now demurely lay upon the blades of your shoulders.
“christ,” jude mutters to himself.
you tilt your head to side, not being able to see him — yet the same perplexed look you’ve come to giggle over is obviously on his face. “jude?” a hum escapes past your lips.
“i mean, look,” he stretches a curl downward, past your shoulder, collarbone, until stretched toward your stomach. “you lose at least eight inches, sweetheart. i’d file a restraining order on my hair by now.”
despite the illness fighting to overcome you, you find delight in his words. a charming giggle follows his exclamation as well, “courts don’t work like that here,” you raise a brow, “you sound quite american right now i’d say.”
jude playfully tugs a coil, “you’re a bad influence.”
“trying to be a good boyfriend over here,” he continues on his endeavor of parting hair, sectioning it, twisting it, and pulling it back.
“hush.”
the playlist shifted, no longer playing stevie wonder but a psychedelic-rock ‘the beach boys’ song. the melody is almost always sublime, layering swelling progressions of stringed instrument and vocals.
jude’s under the impression they’re simply an american version of the beatles — can’t quite argue with him on that subject.
he smooths in another dollop of hair butter near the crown of your head. delicate around those strands specifically as-per request.
as the comb rakes through another parted section, it caught along a stubborn knot near the apex.
inducing your posture to stiffen, no longer pressing lax against your boyfriend’s leg. you hadn’t meant to gasp, yet jude catches the detail without hesitation. he lightly touches the tenderness of your scalp, tutting to himself under his breath.
“oh—sorry, sorry.”
he cooes.
the comb departs from his right hand entirely, using his freed thumb to gently massage the area right around your tugged roots. “it’s super tender right there, isn’t it?” he continues in relieving pressure with his index and middle finger now.
“a bit.” you admitted, not enjoying how your cold made your tone raspier than its usual bubbly quality.
“‘s fine, we can pause here.” he declares, adding a winsome kiss atop your head, wordlessly noticing the sweet fragrance that follows. “not gonna let my girl sit here all miserable, otherwise you’d fire me from my duty.”
another giggle comes up and out of you.
he’s ridiculous, but your type of ridiculous might i add.
before argument was even in place, jude stood up, acquired a crème-coloured towel, wiping his hands of any remnant composed from hair products and shed coils. he’d disappeared in the kitchen, leaving you to peer in the mirror.
he’s suprisingly doing a fine job. each part is a little too neat, hence why a fifteen minute detangling session became forty. although you’re unsure about how your boyfriend doesn’t twist completely all the way down, he sort of turns the ends into finger coils.
it’s cute though.
moments later, jude appears not empty handed, his hands are currently occupied with your refilled cup of chamomile and peppermint, steaming up a storm cloud of wispy grey-ish air.
he sets it gently by the same heart print pillow from earlier.
he slid down behind you this time around, abandoning the dining chair he brought along into the bathroom earlier.
wrapping his muscular arms around your midsection — his biceps flexing slightly against the exposed skin uncovered by your cropped shirt. jude tucks his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of what seems to be camellias and patchouli.
he’s intentional. pulling your back flush with his chest, allocating your weight perfectly.
“j—jude, i’m sick,” a protest falling upon deaf ears “you’re going to catch whatever i have.”
the tea’s probably gone lukewarm by now.
“then i’ll catch it,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek anyway. “your germs don’t scare me, love.”
he’s just littering your face and neck in hundreds of bisous now.
mwah. pause. mwah. another one. mwah. again.
“i’ve got strong lungs. besides, who else is gonna do your hair?” he remarks.
“you are insufferable,” you whispered, taking a slow sip of the now cold tea.
the once full cup became empty with nothing but nearly translucent gold smudges of honey which never integrated fully in, jude had noticed this, prompting him to ask if he could continue — detangling your hair.
you nodded against his shoulder, a little hazy now from chamomile’s naturally sleep-inducing effects.
with meticulous care, jude finished the last two two-strand twists, securing them nicely and finger coiling the edges with a finger slicked in jojoba oil.
he gathered the soft, defined twists into a low, loose ponytail as a prevention for strain on your neck while resting.
and swiped a touch of the curling crème on his fingertips, gently brushing out hairs surrounding your hairline & moisturizing them with the lightweight product — before running a few drops of oil across your parted scalp.
“bonnet time, darling,” he instructed, holding open your satin bonnet like a pro — the bonnet is simple, light pink, with an elastic which ties as a bow would. he hadn’t wanted you to have to lift your exhausted arms to tuck everything inside.
after the silk elastic was resting comfortably around your forehead and your head’s circumference, jude didn't even give you time to adjust. he got up off of the floor, moving to face you.
slipping his hands under your thighs, and pulled you up in one fluid motion. “easy,” he caresses the small of your back, pressing a tiny kiss against to his girlfriend’s temple.
instinctively, you found it that your legs wrapped easily around his waist; although technically your height gap made it a bit awkward. he adjusted you a bit more,
“you smell like me.” those whispered words out of you made him smile.
“there we go,” jude says, carrying you out of the bathroom. your nostrils noted the diffuser’s scent slowly became distant with time. “should do this more often, yea?”
Jobe Bellingham as your cutie patootie bf! ⋆.˚ 18+ | part one & two note: last part mwah
bf jobe! who sighs heavily just to get your attention. he looks at you at first, trying to get you to look at him but when you don’t he just sighs quite loudly. And if that doesn’t work? He’ll go for the oldest method in the book, which is crawling into your personal space and kissing the skin on your shoulders while whining a soft “love.. i need you to look at me.”
bf jobe! is good at everything he sets his mind to on god. when you two are out on a little date, he tries to impress you BIG time and it always ends up a success (because you love him so much and he isn't even trying to act adorable– he’s just naturally like that)
bf jobe! steals your food when you aren’t looking. cheeky little brat this one. he has his own meal in front of him but when yours looks a little too good? His sneaky fingers takes a salmon avocado sushi roll from your plate and pops it into his mouth. And when you turn your head and see one is missing you exhale tiredly but he takes no offense and briefly stops chewing to smile sweetly at you. You can’t even be mad because that’s your baby boy.
bf jobe! face time's you like a bazillion times when he knows he won't be seeing you during hardcore training days. when he's halfway across the country, you reassure him that you're fine and doing well and that's what he likes to hear! but honestly.. he’s just so you-pilled that he needs at least your voice to function. if you aren’t there physically then he has to resort looking through photos of you and him on his phone like an ex omg.. (he only ever calls you a lot in a single day when his schedule isn't as packed)
bf jobe! who sticks closer when he sees another guy walk beside you intentionally or looking at you in a way that doesn’t sit right with him. even when you don’t notice it, he always does. just because he's on his phone does not mean he’s distracted– he’s got an eye for these things! his arm is already sliding over your shoulder and he’ll gently nudge you close enough to show you something funny on his phone so the guy can piss off.
bf jobe! who’s just so big everywhere. from his thighs to his ass and his arms… it’s insanity how he walks around sometimes even shirtless just to get your attention. he notices the blush on your cheeks and the way you try to look the other way but hey, remember that he’s a cuddler so he’s gonna be cuddling you fully naked if he has to. one thing he thinks that’s cute is how flustered you get when he’s just in his boxers, your eyes drifting down past his stomach to the bulge behind his underwear and you just get all shy and scrambled because of him. he’ll make a good note of that for later..
bf jobe! sometimes cries into your chest from being overwhelmed by a game or when people put him down for not “leveling” with his brother. his usually large and protective body becomes so small and vulnerable when he’s crying in your arms and your heart begins to ache seeing him this way. he’s honest about his struggles and after he’s done, he’ll hide into your neck until his tears run dry. he trusts and loves you so much, please tell him that he’s the most talented and important person ever :(
bf jobe! who loves praise. praise him during and after a match. praise him for training well during his pre-game routine. praise him for being able to get his shit together despite everyone’s discouraging words of him not "being able" to be on par with jude. His family and you are literally the only reason he’s still on the pitch trying. he’s doing it for you and the team. well, it’s mostly ‘cause his beautiful and cherished girl is watching him play the entire time on the field.
bf jobe! had this memory ingrained in his head when you put on lipstick which was a dark shade of red for fun and you drew him closer by his hoodie strings to kiss his face all over. up his forehead, chin, cheeks, nose and even down to his neck and throat were filled with your lip stained kisses and he found that equally cute and so incredibly sexy.
bf jobe! who wakes you up with little kisses when he has to go for training once more. if he isn’t training that day he stays in bed waiting for you to wake up. he’s an early bird and takes a moment to admire you even in your sleep. it’s a free day so he’ll just curl up to spoon you from behind (his long legs tangled with yours and his torso pressed close to your back) while he buries his face into your hair.
bf jobe! who does this silly little thing where he plays a slow song on his phone and does a side to side dance movement with his shoulders as he approaches you with a big grin on his face. his eyes shining with mischief as he pulls you closer by your hands while gently swaying both your bodies while the song plays out. he twirls and dips you like a romantic before kissing your cheek, whispering a sweet “love you.”
and when you don’t say it back immediately just to tease him, he acts offended, “i said i love you–” but then he notices your playful expression, so he just tickles you for being a brat. two can play at that game!
bf jobe! who fucks you sweet when you're good to him and hard when you're bein difficult. mostly though, he lays you down all nice on the bed and eats you out while fingering your wet pussy over and over until you soak his sheets. you're so plaint underneath him, truly. but he's aching for your touch too, “fuck.. touch me. y-yeah.. right here baby.." he melts when you suck him and take him real deep past your gag reflex and he always comes so well after you're done with him.
bf jobe! stares at you when you aren't looking his way. he admires the way you speak, dress, how you present yourself and how you talk about certain things that interests you. sometimes he even catches himself staring a bit too long that he forces himself to look away.
bf jobe! who literally listens to every single thing you say to him. you tell him to pose for a picture randomly ‘cause he looks cute that day? his hand is already forming a thumbs up at the camera. “jobe, baby– hi. pose for me real quick, okay? you're so cute in that big fluffy jacket.” and he does just that, smiles all cute that his little dimple forms on his left side and he clings to you so you both can stare at all the pictures you've taken of him, you suppose he's your very own adorably stunning super model.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ your best friend, jude bellingham being your first time
♡ (nsfw, jude being a sweetheart, gentle and soft sex, beginner smut author)
the hype never stopped for jude bellingham. press conferences mixed into sponsored posts, people with earpieces tracked his every step, and expectation soared in heights only he could see. but on rare saturday afternoons, like this one, the sun slowly heading down, the city reduced to a distant noise.
you were already in his bed when he came back from the kitchen, phone lifted toward your face, a manchester united highlight reel playing muted on the tv. he dropped down beside you, sinking into the pile of pillows, close enough to feel the warmth of your body. you both started the morning with donuts, walked the park with coffees going cold in your hands, and now letting yourselves be pulled by the laziness of the day with nowhere to be.
he liked you best like this, relaxed and happy, wearing a worn t-shirt you clearly stole from his laundry basket the last time you visited. your eyes carried that sparkle he’d known for years. with you, he could be unfiltered and messy, knowing you’d already seen the worst of him and never had a pinch of judgment.
you scrolled through an account on his phone until you were both breathless with laughter, jude burying his face in a pillow to muffle the sound. when you copied his accent back at him, he threw a sock at your head, which you fought back by driving a cold foot into his ribs.
the conversation between you and jude carried. the topics were as different as the colors of the sunset outside his window, his teammate with an ego larger than the stadium they played in, the latest tiktok trends that had you both attempting ridiculous dances, and the playful jokes about his lack of a driver’s license despite his fame. somewhere in the middle of it, the conversation turned, toward relationships, and eventually, towards sex.
you had always been open about your disasters, like the guy who cried after three minutes or the college guy who wanted to roleplay, which you had no idea what that meant. jude half-listened and half-watched the ceiling fan turn slow, until he asked you about your best experience and your answer came back so unsure that he did a double take.
“what? you’re telling me none of them were even average?”
a flush bloomed on your skin, caught off guard by his curiosity. “didn’t say that. it’s just— not that deep, i guess.”
jude went quiet, small lines decorated between his brows and he rolled onto his side to face you. “ah, seriously. you’ve never even let anyone go down on you?”
you picked at a loose thread on his sheets, your eyes fixed somewhere below. “not really, no. why, you think i’m boring?”
“nah.” he watched you. “i’m just trying to understand.”
you didn’t answer, and the silence stretched, and that’s when he felt it, the genuine embarrassment. the urge to rethink rose in him, but something kept him in place. “so how far have you actually gone?”
your voice dropped to almost nothing, just a whisper. “not far. never actually— y’know done the whole thing.”
he pushed himself up on one elbow. “wait. really?”
you shrugged, eyes lifting to the ceiling. “never found the right person, or the right time.”
something shifted in the air between them, subtle and challenging. heat slowly crawled up the back of jude’s neck, he’d thought about you that way, only a few times, but not completely, until this exact moment when the full weight of what you’d said landed on him.
he bit the inside of his cheek, choosing his words carefully. “that’s mad. you’re amazing, you know that? anyone would be—”
“if you finish that sentence,” you said flatly, “i’m jumping out your window.”
he laughed, but it came out weaker than usual. “right. sorry.” he watched you for a moment longer, the way your lips parted slightly, and the fluttering of your lashes.
his arm shifted, feathering against your waist. he kept his voice casual, or trying to. “you ever wanted to? with someone you actually trust?”
you considered it and then met his eyes, your expression unclear. “maybe. yeah, i guess.”
his mouth went dry at your answer. just the two of you and the slow turn of the ceiling fan and the playlist faintly playing softly from his speaker.
“not to be a donut,” he said, voice dropping low, “but if you ever wanted to try it ... i wouldn’t fuck it up. i’d take care of you.”
you laughed, filled with the humor of his statement. “what, you offering to be my first?”
“just saying.” he kept his tone plafyul, but his thumb had already started moving, small and slow circles against the fabric of your shirt at your waist. “could do worse.”
it wasn’t a joke and you both knew it wasn’t a joke. the laughter faded and an emotion took its place, dangerous and wanting, pressed against the walls of the room.
you nodded with your cheeks burning. "i mean— alright, sure." the heat starting low in your belly had nothing to do with embarrassment.
jude’s dark eyes moved over your face, warm and focused, the same focus he brought to everything that mattered. he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull back, and pressed his mouth to yours. it was soft at first and then his hand curved around your jaw and he kissed you deeper, his tongue sliding against yours, a low groan shaking in his chest. you tasted mint on his breath and felt the tickle of his stubble drag across your chin, and your fingers curled absentmindedly into the fabric of his shirt.
his hand moved to your breast, palm warm through the thin material, thumb tracing your nipple until it stiffened under his touch. he pulled back just far enough to look at you, his eyes dark and longing. “you’re already so eager,” he murmured, voice rough. “that’s good, that’s exactly what i want to see.”
clothes came off slowly, moving his hands gentle and patient, pausing whenever you tensed, waiting until you exhaled and softened again before moving further. when his fingers finally slipped between your thighs, they came back slick, and the sound you made was helpless, your hips pushing towards him before you’d decided to move.
jude exhaled through his nose, jaw tight with need. he pressed his lips to your inner thigh, then higher, and when his tongue finally found your cunt, he licked a long, slow stroke up through your folds, you gasped and grabbed a fistful of his curls without thinking.
he groaned against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine, and sealed his mouth around your clit. the wet sounds filled the room, and the scent of your juices mixed with the warm musk of his skin as he worked you with focus, noticing every pause of your breath, every clench of your thighs around his head.
he added one finger, then two, curling them forward until your vision blurred and your back arched off the mattress. “breathe,” he said against you, lips brushing you as he spoke. “i’ve got you. just breathe.” your inner walls gripped him, slick and tight. he kept his pace steady, until you shook, your hips bucking, thighs trembling, and a broken sound tearing out of your throat.
he didn’t stop, working you through it, slowing down only when you went weak and oversensitive beneath him, then pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee and moved back up your body.
when he finally lined himself up, his forehead dropped to yours. his breathing came weak now, as if he were second guessing himself. “look at me,” he said quietly. “you tell me if it’s too much. any point, yeah?”
you nodded and he pushed forward, slow, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time. the stretch burned, then bloomed into something fuller and sweeter than you’d expected, your body adjusting around him in real time. he stilled when you tensed, pressed his lips to your temple, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth. “you’re doing so well,” he breathed. “you feel incredible. just stay with me.”
when he began to move, it was with long, pulsing strokes, his weight balanced on one forearm beside your head, his free hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit again. the bed shifted beneath you, his breathing roughened as the room filled with the slick sound of skin against skin, his rough exhales, and the small desperate noises you couldn’t hide.
through a wave of pleasure, you managed to gasp out, “jude, i—”
he cut you off with a soft kiss, his hips rolling smoothly against yours. “shh, just feel it,” he murmured against your lips. “ please let go.”
he angled your thigh higher, opening you further, and drove deeper, and the sound you made then was something you’d never heard yourself make before. he answered it with a low, hoarse groan against your ear. “right there,” he rasped. “that’s it. i feel you clenching. such a sweet girl for me.”
his thumb moved faster as you clenched around him, helpless and desperate, as he swore under his breath, a rough and emotional sound, pressing his chest to yours, sweat coated skin against skin, and his heart hammering against your ribs. “you were made for this,” he breathed, the words soft and honest, removed of any boundaries. “no one else. j-just me.”
“jude,” you managed to gasp out between moans, “please don’t stop.”
he groaned in response, the sound low and real. “never,” he promised, his movements growing more sloppy as you both rushed towards the edge.
loud and desperate grunts pushed through the thick air as jude slammed his hips forward, his thick cock driving deep with every desperate snap. sweat slicked skin slapped against skin, the wet squelch of your mixed cum and slick coating his cock filling the room like a filthy song. “you’re so fucking perfect.” he rasped against your ear, voice left raw.
“i love you, fuck, so much,”
your body shook around him in a rush, your pussy clenching in tight pulses that milked every inch of him, hot waves of slick gushing out to soak his balls and the sheets beneath you. your vision breaking into black darkness behind your eyelids as you cried out. he groaned, low and wrecked, hips stuttering as he fucked you through every twitch, his cock pulsing hot and thick inside you, flooding you deeper with each thrust until you lay trembling and weak, thighs shaking around his waist.
the silence settled heavy and warm, broken only by the soft rush of night breeze through the open window, carrying the faint scent of nature. jude stayed buried deep, his broad chest exhaling against yours, each breath whispering heat across your neck and the damp space between your chest.
your fingers dragged slow lines down the outline muscles of his back, feeling them loosen under your touch, the faint shake in his frame highlighting the shock still pulsing through your core. the air kissed against your flushed, sticky skin, raising goosebumps where his cum leaked out around his softening length, warm liquid leaking down your ass.
his lips brushed your forehead, soft and wanting, the scrape of his stubble sending a new shiver straight to your overwhelmed clit. your heartbeats moved in sync, his against your ribs, yours pounding back through the afterglow.
jude eased up just enough to catch your gaze in the low light against the bed, his eyes dark and hooded, pupils blown wide with the same longing feeling still mixing between you. “you okay?” he murmured, voice rough, and one thumb stroking the sweat wetness of your cheek.
you nodded, shyly, with a smile tugging at your lips as you met his stare, your inner walls giving one last lazy flutter around him. “yeah,” you breathed, the words thick with satisfaction, your body still buzzing from the stretch and the mess he’d left inside you.
"hey jude?"
"yeah?"
“i love you too.”
i've been thinking about this specific fic soooooo much throughout this weekend but i had to work so much, ugh! i've been so appreciative of the love and support you guys have shown me, i'm so honored! i hope you all had a good weekend! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
tags: jude bellingham x reader, fluff, suggestive but not smut, alcohol consumption, jude being a needy boyfriend, english is not my first language, google translator is being used so i'm sorry for any grammar mistake, if i missed anything lmk. <3
now playing: drop dead by olivia rodrigo.
notes: i'm so in love with both bellingham's that i might stop breathing, if you have any requests my dm's and request box are totally open.
Your relationship with Jude so far is like a dream come true.
He was so sweet, chivalrous, and his smile—God, that gorgeous smile could disarm you without even trying.
You met him at a gathering with mutual friends. From the moment he saw you and you had a chance to talk, he didn't stop flirting with you, and of course, you with him.
The hours flew by like minutes, and you wished the night would never end, but of course, the bar had to close so early at 11.
"Can I walk you home?"
God, yes, please.
Your mind had already made up its mind before you could, and you nodded with a smile, the alcohol coursing through your veins, making you feel lighter and bolder.
"Yeah, I'd love to."
You told your friends you were leaving, and you both said goodbye to your respective friends before leaving the bar together. The cool city air greeted you, contrasting with your skin, warmed by the alcohol, and the smiles Jude had managed to elicit from you that night.
Since you didn't live far away, you decided to walk.
Better that way, you could spend more time with him.
During your walk, you confirmed that his accent was one of the many things about him that made him attractive.
Once you arrived at your house, you opened the door and, before entering, turned to look at him with a glint in your eyes that betrayed both desire and curiosity.
"Do you want to come in?"
A sly smile played on his lips, and he nodded.
"Of course."
You stepped aside to let him in, and once again, you caught a whiff of his cologne.
The moment you closed the door and turned around, his large hand rested on the back of your neck, and almost instantly his lips found yours, kissing you like someone who had waited all night to do so.
"Your room?"
His accent deepened as he lowered his voice. You pointed to your bedroom, and he led you there, never breaking the kiss, leaving a trail of your clothes on the floor.
That had been months ago; now you were officially dating.
But that night you were back at that bar, only this time the casual kisses amidst playful teasing were frequent, and the way he looked at you was similar but not the same. Now he looked at you with such love that you felt you could rip your heart out and offer it to him on a silver platter. Okay, maybe not quite that dramatic, but what Jude made you feel was indescribable.
"You're lost."
He said, leaning in to kiss the corner of your lips, then your lips themselves, making you smile, and you returned the kiss. It might sound crazy, but ever since you met him, you'd imagined something like this with him.
Definitely feminine intuition.
"That's not true."
"Yes, it is."
You didn't answer, but you let him continue kissing your lips briefly, just like you knew he did when he wanted to make out with you.
"What do you think about going to the bathroom?"
"Isn't that illegal?"
"A man loving his wife? I don't think so."
Your heart skipped a beat at the word "wife", but you didn't stop smiling.
"I'm not your wife."
"But you will be."
Now your heart was pounding as he pulled back slightly and watched your reaction. You leaned in and murmured,
"We'll see. Let's go to the bathroom."
"You will be."
Then he stood up first and took your hand, walking toward the bathroom… which had a huge line.
You looked at him and he made a face with a smile on his face. There were so many people, everyone had to push and shove to get through.
"Well, I think we'd better go."
You laughed and he led you toward the exit. You had your bag with you and it was just the two of you, so you had no trouble getting out.
On the way to your house, you both passed through a small park with warm lights that accentuated Jude's features, making him look even more handsome than he already was.
Almost like one of the angels on the walls of Versailles.
And while you were lost in your daydream, out of nowhere, it started to rain, forcing you and Jude to practically run for cover from the downpour.
You laughed along with him at the state you both were in, and yet Jude still cupped your cheeks and kissed you. You could both feel each other's smiles during the kiss.
You could have sworn you'd drop dead if he kissed you, his lips felt so good and right against yours.
The sound of leaves crunching underfoot filled the air, and a flash of light made you break apart.
"Hey! Don't do that."
You looked at each other and then ran away.
The most alive you've ever felt is definitely with him.
౨ৎ .. SYNOPSIS — thinking about what would it be like for Jude to have a popstar as a girlfriend.
౨ৎ PAIRING — Jude Bellingham x popstar!Reader headcannons
⌗ ( sfw / nsfw ) ! wc: 1200+
bf!Jude . . who met you at an Adidas campaign. As much as he tried to hide it, his eyes were basically following you for the whole night. Though once your gaze finally landed on him, giving him a small smile, he swore he could feel himself fold then and there.
bf!Jude . . who used to get so speechless around you, which was ironic because he always has something to say. The poor boy had to ask one of the staff for your number, and once he finally got it, it took him about 3 days to make a move.
bf!Jude . . who doesn’t mind that you have the limelight most of the time. He knows what it’s like to have cameras pointed at you every second. If anything, he thinks you look most beautiful when you’re doing what you have to do.
bf!Jude . . who carried your pair of heels for you after your first date, though deep down he knew he could’ve just carried you.
bf!Jude . . who sends you flowers for every show you do, often accompanied with a handwritten note.
“Kill it out there, like you always do. Save me a dance when you get home. - J”
“Just for motivation. I love you. - J”
bf!Jude . . who has a habit of watching you get ready. Sometimes he’ll even help you reach stuff, knowing well you can do it on your own. You can be talking his ear off while drying your hair, and he’d listen patiently, completely lost in the way you look.
bf!Jude . . who never fails to surprise you despite the distance. It’s a shocker to know just how frequent it is for you to come home to your apartment in Barcelona, just to find him already there.
“You sly little shit.” you’d scoff, shutting the door behind you.
He’d give you that boyish grin, watching you walk up to him before placing a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you towards him. “Hello to you, too.”
Your fingers finding its way to the back of his neck, inhaling his scent as you fiddle with the thin silver chain he had on. “I missed you.” you’d mumble.
“Yeah?” he whispers back, running his hands down your hips. “I should do this again, then.”
That earns him a small shove from you. “Absolutely not.”
bf!Jude . . who always shoots a wink at you every chance he gets whenever you’re watching him play. He has to let you know that he sees you, and that’s also his way of assuring himself that you see him, too.
bf!Jude . . who actually gives cooking a try just to satisfy you. You’d be surprised to know how much time this guy spends just learning how to make the stuff you like.
bf!Jude . . who likes messing with you just to get a reaction out of it, AND because he gets to kiss away the pout on your lips after. You can be in the middle of getting dressed, and he’ll simply stand in front of the mirror just as you’re trying to check your outfit
“Jude..” you’d frown.
He raises a brow, feigning obliviousness. “What?”
“Move.” you say, slightly annoyed as you subtly motion your fingers to swat him. He’ll simply laugh, shaking his head as he leans over to kiss the corners of your mouth over and over.
bf!Jude . . who helps you strip out your clothes after a long day. He’d start with unclasping your heels, placing a kiss on both your ankles, lips trailing higher to your thighs, stomach, and shoulders.
bf!Jude . . who loves to be dominated by you. It’s not all the time that you take charge, so whenever you ask to ride him—he wastes no time. One of his favorite sights to see is you on top of him, bouncing on his cock with a dazed look on your face, breath panting. He swears he could cum instantly just by looking at you as you sink down on him, and at some point, he has.
bf!Jude . . who eats you out whenever he visits your studio. It's like a tradition for him to do so, knowing how stressful it gets when recording new music. Something about the way his head getting squished in between your thighs, his tongue flicking through your folds, while two of his fingers rub your clit—just does it for you (and for him). So in other words, he never leaves without making you cum in his mouth.
bf!Jude . . who always finds a way to tease you even from afar. During one of your stage rehearsals, he sent two videos of him jacking off in his hotel room, making your eyes shoot up as you immediately lowered the brightness of your phone, concerned that someone around might see the image of his own fingers wrapped around his cock. But that didn’t stop you from playing it, placing the speaker on your left ear, instantly regretting it as Jude’s sultry voice filled your senses.
“Fuck, baby, wish you were here..”
“I miss you.. miss fucking you..”
Well, you had to excuse yourself for 15 minutes after that.
bf!Jude . . who thinks that aftercare is considered an essential, which is a no brainer. He always makes sure that you’re comfortable and cleaned up first, muttering praises and giving chaste kisses as he wipes your inner thighs.
bf!Jude . . who subtly mentions you during interviews. Ask him about discipline, pressure, or balancing life with sport, and somehow.. you’ll end up in the conversation.
“My girlfriend always says…”
“She actually said something similar the other day…”
“We were talking about this over dinner…”
bf!Jude . . who enjoys it whenever you give him a small haul of all the outfits or stuff you’ve bought, insisting you wear it for him for a much “better experience.” which he ends up just taking off of you in like 5 minutes.
bf!Jude . . who, more often than not, ends up arriving at training with your signature lipstick somewhere on him—sometimes it’s a faint mark on his jaw, other times it’s sitting proudly on the collar of his shirt.
“Is there something on me?” he once asked Trent who kept giving him knowing looks all morning.
Trent shakes his head at this, chuckling, pointing at his teammate’s jaw. “Oh, that’s definitely something.”
bf!Jude . . who uses his height to his advantage. If you’re walking through a crowd together, he’ll quietly guide you through with a hand on your back, making sure you don’t get swallowed by the people around you. This also comes in handy during nights where you’re too exhausted to stand. He can just pick you up with ease and wrap your legs around his waist as he pounds into you.
bf!Jude . . who doesn’t realize how good he actually looks. Okay, let’s be real, he’s fully aware of how he looks—he just doesn’t seem to know how much that affects you. There are times where you don’t really have a choice but to just stare and sigh.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” you say quietly, cheek resting on your palm.
He just smiles, kisses your forehead softly, and says, “I could say the same about you, love.”
bf!Jude . . who appreciates it everytime you go up to him for feedback about whatever song you’re writing. He can sit through demos for as long as it takes, even if the only difference between two versions is only minimal, sometimes unnoticeable.
“Be honest, what do you think?” you’d ask, pausing the track and looking at him seriously.
And honestly, most times he’ll never know what to say. Because somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, he was busy keeping his eyes on you.
-end-
[ RADIO. sighh, this is me coming back from the dead after consuming too much football. also, NOT PROOFREAD! ]
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