JUDE BELLINGHAM — NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE.
summary 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶafter everything that happened at the party, you were determined to keep your distance from jude. it was just another impulsive mistake. unfortunately, jude bellingham had other plans.
warnings𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶmore unprotected sex, fem reader, thinly veiled angst, reader tries to stand up for herself, public sex, p in v, more praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, overstimulation, jude is a little less toxic in this one after he gets a taste of his own medicine, thankfully. (8.5k wc)
note𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶTHIS IS A PART TWO and is not intended to be read individually, although you can. you can read PART ONE here, make sure to heed the warnings in that one as well, thank you! also this is not proof read so if there are errors.. oops. if you enjoy my writing and would like more, please stop by in my inbox.
It had been a little over a week since the party. And it had been long enough for the ringing in your ears from the shitty dance music to fade, for the lovebites Jude had left on you to disappear, and for you to convince yourself you'd finally gotten over whatever wicked spell he seemed to cast over you.
Instead, you’d replayed it so many times that certain moments began to blur together. His laugh. The warmth of his hands around your waist. The way he’d looked at you like the room full of people didn't exist.
How had you done this again?
You'd promised yourself. Seriously, you'd promised yourself!
You were supposed to be done chasing the version of Jude you kept convincing yourself still existed.. how many times now? You were supposed to stop mistaking scraps of affection for something genuine. Supposed to walk away before you found yourself in the exact same position, wondering why he always had this effect on you.
And yet, there you were; a week later, still thinking about the way his thumb had absentmindedly traced your thigh. Still remembering how naturally you'd leaned into him, your body forgetting every promise your mind had made. Remembering how you always believed that real love should be messy and hard,
It was embarrassing. Pathetic, really.
Not to mention you'd spent months telling yourself you were getting better, that you were finally learning to keep your distance. Then one night, a few drinks, one stupid dorky grin from Jude, and every ounce of self-restraint you'd built had come crashing down around you.
Life had settled back into its usual rhythm, unfortunately; nothing ever changed when it came to Jude and his promises. You went to work, answered your friends’ texts hours late, and tried to convince yourself that enough time would eventually dull whatever this feeling in your heart was. Now and then, though, Jude would appear somewhere you couldn't avoid. A photo from training, an interview someone reposted, a clip of him laughing from training that you scroll past far too quickly, only to find yourself swiping up to watch it seconds later. It was exhausting.
So when your friend texted asking if you wanted to accompany her to a charity dinner-gala of sorts she'd been invited to, you accepted without much thought. It sounded harmless enough. A quiet evening filled with footballers, sponsors, and people dressed in clothes worth more than your monthly rent. Free food, free drinks, a reason to wear the dress that had been collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe.
You didn't think to ask who else had been invited. Why would you? You already knew. Maybe that was why you'd said yes so quickly. You could blame it on the free food, the open bar, or your friend's persistence, but the truth sat boldly in the back of your mind. Some part of you had wanted to see Jude again. Not enough to swallow your pride and seek him out yourself, of course not. If you happened to run into Jude, well, then so be it. At least that way you could convince yourself it was fate, not another broken promise of his.
White tablecloths stretched across the room beneath towering chandeliers, candles flickering between extravagant floral arrangements. Waiters zoomed through the crowd balancing trays of champagne while photographers called names from the entrance, flashes bouncing off polished marble floors. Conversations in all kinds of different languages echoed around the huge marble space, every corner occupied by familiar faces from clubs across Europe.
You'd barely accepted a glass of champagne before you saw him.
Jude stood near the front of the room, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and club officials, dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him so perfectly it may as well have been stitched onto him. His head tipped back as he laughed at something Vinícius had said, one hand tucked casually into his pocket while the other balanced a champagne flute between his fingers. He looked happy, unbothered. Exactly how you’d imagined he'd been all week, and the thought made your stomach churn. How fucking dare he act like you're invisible again? After everything?
You watched him for a moment longer than you cared to admit before forcing yourself to look away. Right. He was just a man. Jude Bellingham was only a man. You repeated it to yourself once, twice. It didn't help. Ah, well. Jude Bellingham was only a man. And at least one day you would definitely die. Lovely, lovely, warm, sweet death. The thought nearly made you laugh to yourself.
Deciding you'd tested your luck long enough, you turned on your heel before he had the chance to notice you. Or so you thought.
"Aye, there you are."
Your shoulders immediately stiffened. That voice.
You screwed your eyes shut for the briefest second before turning around, finding Jude standing beside you with the same infuriating grin he'd worn the night of the celebration, looking entirely too pleased with himself. You hated this game. You hated that Jude always seemed to have the upper hand in this little game of cat and mouse, even when he was supposed to be the one running. Because he knew. He knew you would always come back. He knew, no matter how many times you promised yourself otherwise, you'd always find yourself chasing after him.
"I was wondering how long it'd take before I found you."
"You weren't supposed to find me."
"No?" Jude challenged, amusement flickering across his face. "I was actually counting on it."
You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip of your champagne to hide the smile threatening to appear. "That's a shame, then."
"Listen, I’ve got a question for you."
You sighed, holding back an eyeroll. "You usually do, Jude."
Something about his expression shifted. Not enough that anyone else would've noticed, but enough for you to catch it. It was gone so quickly you could've convinced yourself you'd imagined it if you didn't know him as well as you did.
Jude was good at hiding things. Everyone saw the confidence, the effortless charm, the way he carried himself like the entire world was already at his feet. But you had always been better at noticing the moments in between.
"I was supposed to bring someone tonight."
Your brows lifted at his words. What is he getting at?
"But she cancelled."
"And?"
"And now everyone keeps asking where my date is."
A quiet chuckle escaped you. "Hm. Sounds like a you problem."
"It is," Jude admitted with an easy nod. "Which is why I'm asking you to fix it."
You stared at him in disbelief. "No."
"You don't even know what I'm asking."
"I have a feeling I do."
Jude’s grin only grew. "Be my date."
Silence settled between the two of you as the sounds of clinking glasses and distant conversation faded into the background. Your first instinct was to laugh in his face. Your second was to remind him that the entire reason you'd spent the last week avoiding him was because this, whatever this was, always ended the same way. Somehow, you always found yourself back here, standing too close, letting him make you forget every reason you had for staying away.
Instead, you simply looked at him blankly. He returned your gaze without a shred of hesitation, as though asking you to spend the evening on his arm was the most natural request in the world. Then, as if he already knew your answer before you'd even given one, Jude stuck his arm slightly between the two of you, offering it out with an almost amused tilt of his head.
"Y’know," he murmured, rubbing his arm before looking back at you, chuckling boyishly, "most people would be honoured."
You scoffed softly. "You're fucking impossible."
"Maybe." His smile widened as he licked his lips. "But you're considering it."
You hated that he was right. You hated that after all the promises, all the distance, all the convincing yourself that you were finally done falling into his orbit, your hand still moved before your brain could stop it.
Your fingers curled around his arm.
Immediately, his expression shifted just enough that you noticed the satisfaction he tried to hide, the small smile tugging at his lips as he had just won something far more important than a football match. And maybe, in a way, he had.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," you muttered while scrunching your nose up.
"Oi, I didn't say anything!"
"You didn't have to."
Jude’s laugh was quiet, almost smug, as he guided you back toward the crowd. You hated how easy it was. How naturally you fell into step beside Jude, how your body seemed to remember him before your mind could remind you that you were supposed to be careful with the man. How you should be careful with your precious, fragile heart that had been broken so many times into two.
That was always the problem with Jude. Nothing with him ever felt like a decision. It just happened.
One moment you were keeping your distance, reminding yourself that this was exactly what you had promised not to do again. The next, you were standing beside him as though you belonged there at his side, listening to him make effortless conversation with people who wanted his attention while somehow still finding ways to include you.
And maybe that was what made it worse.
If he had ignored you, if he had treated you like everyone else, walking away would've been easier. But Jude never did. Every time you thought you had finally figured out how to let go, he gave you just enough reason to hesitate, enough reason to weasel his way back into the crevices of your deeply complicated heart.
The evening blurred into a series of champagne refills and conversations you only half listened to. Who wants to listen to men talk? You told yourself it was the alcohol making you less guarded, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the music filling the room making everything feel softer than it was.
"You've been quiet."
You glanced over at him. "Have I?"
"Yeah." Jude tilted his head slightly, studying you. "You've usually argued with me by now."
A small smile pulled at your lips. "Maybe I'm tired of arguing with you."
Jude looked unconvinced, narrowing his eyes, amused. "No… you're not. Y’never are."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the laugh that followed.
Hours ago, you'd walked into the room determined to avoid him. Now you were laughing at his jokes, accepting another drink he offered, letting yourself forget why you'd been trying so hard in the first place. Sound familiar?
And when the crowd around you became too much, when the noise and attention started to feel overwhelming, Jude noticed before you even said anything.
"Come on," he murmured.
You looked at him suspiciously. "Where?"
"Somewhere quieter."
You should've said no; you knew that. Every warning bell in your head was going off, reminding you that this was the exact pattern you were trying to break. That this is exactly what happened last time you were together. Friendliness turned flirting, turned into more.
But then Jude smiled, that familiar, impossible smile that always made everything seem less complicated than it was. Thus, somehow, you found yourself following him anyway. Which, really, was the most predictable thing you could've done the whole night.
The hallway was noticeably quieter than the ballroom, the overwhelming noise of conversation and music fading into something softer with every step. For the first time all night, it felt like there wasn't an entire room of people watching. No cameras. No teammates. No strangers trying to figure out why Jude Bellingham had spent the evening keeping you by his side.
Jude leaned back against the wall, looking far too comfortable with the situation. Acting as if he hadn't just dragged you away from a room full of people after you'd spent the past week convincing yourself you were finally done letting him get this close.
"Y’know," he started, peering at you, "you make it very difficult to believe you actually want to stay away from me."
You scoffed, crossing your arms. "That's because I don't make it difficult."
"No?"
"No."
His eyebrows lifted, clearly unconvinced. You hated that he knew you well enough to do that.
"You're very fucking annoying, you know that?"
"I've heard."
"Probably because it's true."
Jude laughed, and for a moment you forgot you were supposed to be guarded. Forgot that you had walked into this evening with rules and boundaries and a very clear idea of how it was supposed to go. Jude had always been good at making you forget.
"You disappeared the other day," he reminded you eventually, his voice sighed.
You looked down at your heels, pursing your lip. "I was busy."
"Busy avoiding me, eh?"
You didn't answer, which was an answer in itself. His eyebrows turned upwards, and he almost pouted; in any other context you would have teased him for looking so exasperated.
"I was worried you were actually done with me this time."
Your eyes moved back to his dark gaze. The honesty surprised you because Jude was always confident and certain. But standing there, away from everyone else, he looked almost unsure. Which made that somehow worse; it would've been easier if he didn't care. It would've been easier if he was just the person you'd convinced yourself he was. Instead, he stood there looking at you like maybe he had been thinking about you too.
And you weren't sure what to do with that, all things considered; this was Jude. The same Jude who could look at you like you were the only person in the room, then remind you that he wasn't looking for anything serious. The same Jude who pulled you closer, who made you feel wanted, who sought you out in crowded rooms, only to leave you questioning what any of it actually meant, if it had meant anything at all.
He was the one who had drawn the line. He was the one who had told you he couldn't give you more, that he wasn't ready for something that required more than late nights, secret moments, and whatever existed between the two of you–or rather–the less romantic way–friends with benefits.
Yet here he was, looking at you like he was the one afraid of losing something. That was the part you couldn't understand. How were you supposed to believe this meant anything when he was the one who had made it clear it couldn't?
Therefore, for once, you didn't rush to fill the silence or reassure Jude. You didn't make some sarcastic comment to hide the fact that his words had affected you. You didn't give him the easy reaction he'd gotten so used to.
Your gaze moved toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room, trying to focus on anything other than the man across from you. You wiped at the slight smudges of mascara beneath your eyes, thankfully nothing noticeable enough to ruin your appearance. Next was the corner of your lips, checking that your lip gloss hadn't wandered anywhere it shouldn't have.
A pointless thing to worry about, but anything was better than looking at Jude and admitting that, despite everything, a small part of you still wanted to hear him admit he was wrong.
Jude watched you quietly with furrowed brows. Through the mirror, you could see the gears in his head turn. Eventually, he cleared his throat and walked towards you, planting his feet right in front of yours, leaning down to your eye level.
“Didn’t you tell me that the next time we won a match I could do whatever I want with you?” Jude was gaining your attention again, reaching his slender finger under your chin and directing your gaze back to him by turning your head slowly.
You giggled, eyebrows raising; not needing much reminder of the words you definitely muttered. Or maybe messaged; maybe both.
“That was because I wasn’t there,” you hummed, head tilting aside. “You don’t invite me to your games, remember?” you sassed, watching as his face faltered. Then, his eyes narrowed into a playful glare; one you returned with a teasing smile, as if to say you weren’t being serious.
You two moved past your comment; you made sure of it, although it would linger on Jude’s mind.
“C’mon, you have people waiting, I’m sure,” your hand pressed against his toned chest, gently patting him as you ushered him backwards toward the noise of the ballroom.
It was almost laughable. You were actually doing it! For once, you were the one walking away.
You were trying to have the upper hand this time, trying to make Jude wonder where you went instead of always being the one left wondering where you stood. Maybe if you pulled back first, he'd finally understand what it felt like. Maybe he'd finally wake up from this comfortable little daze he'd been in, where he could have your attention whenever he wanted without ever having to give you anything in return.
Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could. That you weren't as predictable as he thought.
Jude stared at you for a moment, almost like he wasn't used to being dismissed. Like he was waiting for you to change your mind, to laugh it off, to fall back into the familiar rhythm the two of you always found yourselves in.
You didn't. You simply smiled, taking a small step away. You didn't give him the chance to say anything else. Spinning on your heel, you slipped back into the crowd as discreetly as possible, weaving between conversations and groups of people before he could stop you.
The moment you rejoined the crowd, the atmosphere morphed to invite him back in. Jude had barely stepped back into the main room before people noticed him. Cheers erupted almost immediately, voices calling his name as he was pulled into conversations, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and guests who all wanted a piece of his attention.
Just like that, he was swallowed by the crowd. The sight should've made you feel relieved.
Instead, you found yourself searching for him anyway. A terrible habit though a familiar one. You had just turned away, reaching for another drink, when Jude’s voice caught you before you could get too far.
"Hey, don't you dare go anywhere!" Jude managed to yell out to you before he was dragged off again, leaving you to laugh and only hum.
It was only your friend who met you with suspicious eyes; you found it comical she was the first person you came across, sheepishly smiling.
“Oh, you’re so full of shit!” your friend yelled, your cheeks heating as you shook your head; even pouting as you realised you had no defence. Or shame or regret. yet, at least.
“Stop,” you whined as you hit her lightly, huffing as you grabbed her drink off her–downing it quickly as she giggled. “We didn’t do anything.”
“No judgement; after you told me, I knew you wouldn’t stay away. I can’t say I blame you,” she mused, and your eyes were rolling once more that night, shaking your head as if you had no idea what she was talking about. As if you too shared the same thought process, as much as you’d deny it.
You moved the focus of the pair of you on quickly, returning to dancing and socialising–people coming and going as the hours ticked by into the late evening, crowd thinning but not by much.
Jude’s words were ringing in your head; don’t go anywhere. But when it was almost two you were thinking of leaving, doubting Jude would be making your company once more this night.
Why did you want to keep him company? You wish you knew. If you could figure out why you were unable to avoid the man, your life would be a lot easier. But maybe tonight was different; maybe it was a comfort.
A comfort to know he would spend a memorable night of his life with you. A night he’d never forget; you’d be right there in his mind, when he’s old and grey. It would be nice to know you weren’t the only one clinging onto the idea of the pair of you; that he too would reminisce and think about it.
Your doubt continued to grow, though, alongside the temptation of your comfortable bed.
You were stupid to doubt Jude, however. You spotted him easily, considering the crowd that seemed to follow him everywhere tonight.
You watched as Jude’s big eyes darted around the room, almost urgently, searching out something or someone; searching out you.
When his eyes met yours, you watched as he grinned widely, shoulders relaxing as he suddenly moved with intent; weaving past the people surrounding him towards you. You watched in amusement, almost shock; surprised he’d meant it. Confused if you thought too hard.
“You’re still here,” Jude was grinning ear to ear, hand finding your waist almost immediately when he was in reach.
You mumbled something playfully about how it wasn’t by choice, earning a laugh.
“We’re moving up to a booth, c’mon,” his statement was an invitation, and suddenly plans of going back home were long forgotten.
All it took was a nod before his hand took yours, fingers intertwined, leading the way to a booth that was decorated in more bottles of champagne and a ‘Hala Madrid’ sign; lucky partygoers and friends filling the seats, you shuffling in next to the footballer.
Jude’s iron grip didn’t leave you. Whether it was on your thigh, your hand, your waist, your shoulder; he was always touching you as the conversations flowed.
You failed to notice the little things at first. The way he would subtly pull you closer whenever you laughed a little too hard at one of his friend's jokes, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. The way his attention always seemed to drift back to you whenever the conversation around him became too loud or too crowded.
But you did know what it looked like, though. The two of you.
You knew your friend would have laughed the second she saw it, probably asking what the fuck you thought you were doing after everything you had promised yourself. Because from the outside, the pair of you looked effortless. Like there wasn't a history of hesitation and almosts and conversations that never quite reached a conclusion and left more questions than answers.
But as the night went on, as the crowd slowly began to thin and the chatter around you faded, you found yourself caring less. The booth had emptied at some point. You weren't sure when. You hadn't noticed the way he had quietly encouraged the last few people lingering nearby to move elsewhere, leaving the two of you with a rare moment where you weren't competing with everyone else for his attention.
Maybe that should've been your hundredth warning. But you stayed.
“Have I told you how good you look tonight?” Jude’s question was accompanied by his hand returning to your thigh, resting higher than it had earlier on–head tilting towards you.
You giggled, leaning back into your seat and shifting to face him, side pressed against the back of the booth as opposed to your back now.
“No,” you told him, eyes flickering over his face, your gaze catching on his eyelashes, the small details you’d noticed too many times whenever you woke up first after a night together. His features always seemed so much harder to ignore up close.
“Look beautiful,” he hummed, and though he sounded incredibly sincere, you couldn’t help but laugh.
“What? You do, you are,” Jude huffed, not amused with your laughter–although the sound of your laugh had his lips naturally curving upwards despite his dismay, hand squeezing the soft plush of your thigh gently. “You always are.”
Your cheeks heated despite you shaking your head, hands moving up in innocence.
“I didn’t say anything,” you defended, not elaborating on what appeared to be doubt. Not at your own expense, rather more his intentions. You didn’t want to hear his compliments that had your heart fluttering. or notice the way he was looking at you with such admiration. You couldn’t afford to let your mind pick at and analyse every word and action with a hope that maybe he too felt the same as you.
Jude hummed aimlessly at your defence, hand dangerously high now on your thigh–but it felt right, as if it belonged there. Regardless, the feeling of it creeping upwards had your senses suddenly on high alert.
“Mmm… I’ve missed you,” Jude’s words left his lips before he could stop them, but he didn’t show any regret or panic, eyes pouring into yours. It’s the second time he’d said such a thing tonight, and you still didn’t want to hear it. Even in your tipsy state, it sent an alarm through your nerves. Don’t believe him, don’t get your hopes up again.
Your eyes were quick to leave his, hand reaching for your champagne glass in front of you; humming to try dismiss his words, missing the way his eyes squinted as he watched on.
“You don’t believe me,” Jude chuckled lowly as you sipped your drink, frame tensing as you prolonged shifting towards him again.
You weren’t given much choice, though; his hand–the one not planted on your thigh–was grasping your chin between his thumb and finger, bringing your attention back to him as you placed your drink back down. His eyebrows raised expectantly, silently telling you to speak, to confirm his suspicions. His thumb absentmindedly wiped a drop of champagne from the corner of your mouth as he waited.
“Jude, you don’t know what you’re saying,” you spoke softly, masking the weight of your words with a soft smile and watched as his face flickered in thought.
“You don’t know that.” Jude was quick, unlike you, tone one of certainty you almost envied; his grasp still set on your chin as if he was scared you’d try to escape his gaze once more. A reasonable fear.
“Yeah… okay,” you admitted defeat, in no way wanting to discuss this right now. Not while you were so close to him, so keen to get under him once more. You couldn’t think straight about him when he was invading your senses.
Jude wasn’t convinced that you suddenly believed him, but he wouldn’t push further; not when you were still in his grasp and glowing in satisfaction.
The footballer went to speak again; but for once you got on the front foot. there wasn’t much distance between the pair of you, so kissing him before he could get any words out was easy.
Perhaps Jude should’ve held his ground, stayed true to his intentions, and reassured you like a proper gentleman. Maybe he should’ve remembered the boundaries he’d set, the words he’d said before, the reasons he’d given you for keeping things the way they were.
But he didn’t; because with you, Jude had always been far better at feeling than thinking. Thus, naturally, Jude began to kiss you back. The light grasp on your chin turned to a firm hold of the side of your head, beckoning you closer as your hand planted on his chest.
You pulled away momentarily, barely; just so your lips left his, feeling his breath fan your face. You felt as if you’d overstepped, knowing he had reservations about PDA in public. You knew people spoke, and you weren’t his—realistically, the outrage would be immense.
Jude’s fingers brushed your hair delicately, as if he knew what thoughts were going through your head; and he didn’t hesitate to guide you back towards him, lips meeting once more. It was more heated this time; nowhere near as messy as the one in the bathroom a week ago, though.
Jude needed you closer, shifting his grip to your hips to pivot you up and onto his lap, your body sliding perfectly between his and the table behind you, straddling his lap with no complaints. It was out of character, knowing someone could walk up into the secluded section and see the pair of you, but if he didn’t care, neither did you.
Your dress rode up your legs from your new position, not enough to expose you, thankfully, but the rough fabric of his pants against your clothed clit had you whimpering against his lips.
The sound rang straight to his cock, which was already straining against his pants. He’d been fighting a semi since you slipped into the booth next to him earlier. Jude had always gotten so desperate and needy and the way you were slowly and not-so subtly grinding your hips against him made it a lot harder to ignore. It also had an idea forming in the wicked mind of his.
You were left to catch your breath as he pulled away this time, hands lifting you momentarily and easily handling you to straddle just one of his thighs now, your cheeks heating as you immediately caught on. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in this position with him, except last time it was in the privacy of his apartment while he was on a work call.
“Anything… I want, right?” Jude breathed slowly out, intense was his stare as his hands spread across your sides, smoothing your dress down despite wanting to rip it off of you.
It was like a trance when he got like this, eyes darker–the way his jaw was clenched shut, his gaze alone having you feel the need to squirm and stutter.
Your head looked over your shoulder, just once, needing the confirmation you were as alone as you could be; music still playing faintly at the gala, voices still heard from the floor down below—but you were alone up here. That’s all you needed to know.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, hands grasping at his suit where they were previously planted on his chest–left to watch as his lips curved upwards into that damn smirk.
“Go on then,” he hummed, adjusting slightly in his seat, getting comfortable as his head tilted back ever so slightly. “Use me to get off,” he sounded so casual, your cheeks roaring in heating as you suddenly wished you’d accepted that last round of shots half an hour ago.
But you didn’t need any more motivation when his hands tightened on your waist and dragged your hips for you—your jaw going slack from the sudden pressure.
His lips twitched upwards cockily once more, watching as it sprung you into action; your hips following his movements and rutting against his thigh, chasing the feeling you knew only he could give you.
The footballer’s hands folded behind his head now, watching intently as your bottom lip ran between your teeth, eyes flickering up and down your frame.
“Atta girl,” Jude praised through a soft hum, and you had to bite down harshly on the inside of your cheek to refrain from moaning.
He looked fucking incredible; and you were missing the feeling of his hands on you. Your hips worked faster as if it’d motivate him to touch you again. Jude had you read; he always did. He knew what you wanted and could tell by the way your eyes were pleading with him. How you were fighting back a pout and whine. Your grip on his button down had tightened, practically tugging at the material.
Jude could be cruel, but he was in no mood to deny himself tonight—considering the last time he got off was the quckie last week—he’d give you something; hand moving to cup your jaw, thumb pressing against your soft lips.
You didn’t miss a beat, allowing the digit to enter your mouth without any hesitation; Jude watching the way your eyes almost glistened in submission as he pressed down on your tongue.
You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, grunting slightly at the mere sight of you—your hips still grinding against him desperately as you treated his thumb as if it were his cock.
He was almost in disbelief, how he had you like this for him, where really anyone could see if they were to walk up the stairs. it was ridiculous actually, and stupid; both of you being incredibly idiotic, but too lust driven to care.
he wasn’t oblivious to the fact you made him think irrationally.
“Fucking look at you,” he muttered under his breath, his Birmingham accent deepening while his head tilted in slight awe. There was always a teasing tone underneath when he spoke like this. “So pretty like this, so needy, hm?”
You whimpered, unable to shut yourself up this time, surprised you’d kept quiet so long. Your thighs twitched a few times, still desperately chasing your high like he’d told you to. It was building, your stomach was tightening and you could feel the way your hips were beginning to move erratically. As could he.
“Come on baby,” he encouraged while sliding his thumb out of your mouth, selfishly wanting to hear you despite your best efforts to stay quiet. “Cum for me, yeah? All for me,” Jude edged you on ever so strategically as he tensed his leg and jolted it upwards once, then twice.
It was all you needed, your first orgasm of the night hitting you as you shook in his lap.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough for the music to drown you out. Your body folded over to hide your head in his neck, muffling any other sounds from escaping you.
“There you go,” Jude soothed, hand sliding down your back delicately, his other brushing the hair off your face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Good girl, so fucking good.”
Even in your slightly dazed state, the affection had your chest tightening, still not used to the soft moments he always found time for between orgasms.
You took a few moments to compose yourself, lifting your head sheepishly as your eyes met his once more.
“Your trousers are gonna be ruined,” you mumbled, pouting up at him in slight embarrassment—watching as he chuckled and rolled his eyes.
“Last thing I care about right now,” Jude snickered, gently adjusting the strap of your dress that had fallen down your arm with his eyes lingering on your chest for a brief moment as he did so.
“Should I call the car?” he asked you, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead now, delicate this time, purely because he knew if he got too handsy now he’d not be able to stop himself.
You nodded, not allowing yourself the time to think too deeply about the prospect of leaving with Jude. Maybe that was easier. If you stopped to consider it, to really acknowledge what you were doing, you might remember every reason you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.
But you shouldn’t have been surprised at this point: you couldn’t resist him. It was a fact you hated admitting, but one you could never seem to deny.
The pair of you got outside relatively smoothly; you let Jude drag you to the exit as he simply waved and dismissed anyone who tried to speak to him, his large hand enveloping yours.
The car was waiting, a bouncer opening the door for the pair of you as you slid into the backseat, not phased by the fact the sun was preparing to rise, painting the sky a soft, deep purple.
The dark privacy partition separating the backseat from the front was all Jude needed to see before he was on you again.
Rushed and messy once more, you hadn’t even got your seatbelt on before his hands cupped his cheeks as he leaned over you, closeness a need as your lips moved against his perfectly.
Your chest was practically pressed to his, but still his hand found your back, attempting to pull you closer, earning a muffled giggle as you threw one of your legs over his.
“Need you so bad,” Jude grumbled against your skin as his lips shifted to your jaw, then down your neck, your head falling back invitingly as you grinned.
His lips moved to your cleavage now, kissing at the skin of your breasts. Jude was about to tug your dress down until you sat up straight and pushed him back towards the seat.
Your hands found the zipper of his pants before Jude could get a word out, the Brit relaxing into his seat, in no way going to protest.
Jude watched through hooded eyes as you made quick work of freeing his cock, which was painfully hard at this point. He hissed through his teeth as your hand wrapped around him, jacking him off once, twice, three times—smearing the precum across his tip and down his length.
His head threw back from the initial relief, and he couldn’t stop the noisy moans that escaped him when he felt your soft lips wrap around him. He peeked down at you quickly, watching as you leant over into his lap, head bobbing up and down now as he gathered your hair into his hand and out of your way.
“Fuck—oh, fuck—just like that baby,” Jude grunted as his hips jerked upwards, smacking the back of your throat momentarily, which made you gag. Yet you didn’t miss a beat in your movements.
Your hand gripped his thigh for stability, tongue swirling around him expertly, keen to get him off as his eyes rolled back from a feeling he could only describe as ecstasy.
Jude could’ve cummed there and then, no shame either; but Madrid felt so small and the car came to a halt much sooner than he’d liked. You reluctantly slid off him, wiping your mouth oh-so innocently as you did so, cheeks flushed and eyes watery. Meanwhile, Jude hissed, trying to stuff his burning hard on back in his trousers.
You giggled slightly, climbing out the car with him not too far behind.
Jude was sure to thank the driver, emptying his wallet of its cash to provide a sufficient tip considering Jude was unsure what the man would’ve heard, but frankly he didn’t care. Not when you were in his sights.
The elevator ride up to his apartment mirrored the first moments in the car, your body pressed between his and the wall of the elevator, lips in sync, make out interrupted by the ding of the doors opening.
You were kicking your heels off before he even got the door to his place open, discarding them the moment you stepped inside. Jude used you to shut the door, pushing you roughly against the surface.
“Nuh uh,” you stopped him as he leant in to kiss you once more; your hands pressing against his chest. “Want to make you feel good,” you spoke softly, hands returning to the zipper of his pants to free his cock once more.
His eyes squinted in thought, keen to be inside of you, keen to be watching you squirm and hear you scream his name was all he could bloody think about.
You recognised that look. “Please,” you added desperately, hands tugging the straps of your dress down, your tits spilling out, which had his eyes shamelessly flickering downwards.
Jude couldn’t say no to you, not when you asked so nicely. He simply stepped back, giving you space to sink to your knees as your hand wrapped around his cock once again.
You licked up the base to the tip, eyes fixated above you, watching him as he did so; noticing the way his adam’s apple bobbed from the single action.
“Tease me baby and I’ll happily play with your pretty pussy til you're crying,” Jude whined out quickly while his hand found its rightful place in your hair, giving it a not-so-delicate tug for good measure.
You moaned at the action, confirming what you both knew was that you got the reaction you wanted; thighs squeezing together at the ‘threat’ but taking him in your mouth fully regardless. quick to mumble a ‘so impatient’ beforehand.
Jude’s actions were identical to before, except his head fell forward this time while his free hand scrambled to grab the door in front of him, your name falling from his lips in a groan like a mantra. It only motivated you, the grunts and small sounds Jude made. You were so eager to draw more out of him. You wanted to hear him praise you like he always does.
His sounds mixed with your own, gagging around his length. No matter how many times you found yourself in this spot he would always be too big, but it didn’t stop or affect your efforts. And it only turned him on more, refraining from squeezing his eyes shut to watch as your eyes watered once more.
“Always—fuck—gagging for it,” Jude spoke cockily, a moan escaping him momentarily before he could continue his taunting. “Bit of a slut for me, no?” he chuckled hazily through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stop the grin for forming as you moaned around him. Jude’s head fell back now, a breath of content falling from his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily. “Too good to me, agh,” he grunted, hips thrusting forward, and you let him. Anything to get him off sooner.
Jude knew he was close, but he couldn’t push the need to be inside of you and while he thought he was out of self restraint for the night, he surprised himself in being able to pull you off of him, using the grip on your hair.
“Gotta get inside you, love,” he explained himself as if it wasn’t obvious, helping you to your feet as you refrained from huffing, wiping your mouth and chin of the saliva that had gathered.
You didn’t need him to lead you to his room, grateful it was the first door on the right otherwise you probably would’ve both ended up on the floor, not that it’d be the first time.
You properly unzipped your dress and stepped out of it, discarding it on his floor before sitting back on his bed. Jude followed suit, shirt discarded before he stepped out of his slacks and boxers.
You crawled back on the bed as he moved to hover over you, pushing you down to lay on your back before his lips were on yours once more.
Kissing Jude Bellingham never got old, your hands tangling in his curls as he used his knee to spread your legs apart. He hooked two fingers around your panties and slid them down your frame, practically ripping them off with aggression.
You had no warning before he slid inside of you, easily doing so due to how wet you were, but the stretch was always a shock. Your jaw agape as you moaned into his mouth while you pull a sharp tug on his coiled hair.
“Fuck, y’always wrap round me so fucking well,” Jude hissed, bottoming out and giving you a moment to adjust to his large length.
“Jude, Jude, please—move,” you whimpered, hands moving to grip at his back, back arching as he began to move; thrusting in and out. He wasn’t slow, but you knew he was holding back.
Your eyes watched his intently, his scanning your features and admiring the way your face contorted in pleasure.
“Jude, please,” you repeated, whimpering as you spread your legs a little more, so frantically desperate to feel all of him.
“What? Need more, huh?” Jude asked, the small gold-chain necklace that decorated his neck dangling from his chest and brushing against your chin with every thrust. “Needy little thing,” he grinned, and you could only whine as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily.
Jude’s hand shifted to your thigh, grabbing one of your legs and moving it upwards, pushing your knee towards your chest. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper, and suddenly his thrusts were harsher and quicker.
Your eyes rolled back instantly, a squeal like moan escaping you before you could even try to suppress it, nails dragging down his back as he pounded into you.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” you practically chanted as he fucked you, hard. Watching your eyes roll back and jaw go slack only had him motivated, enthusiastic to draw out every possible sound from you.
Jude was relentless, you still couldn’t get used to the stamina of a footballer, how there was never a break in the pace or harshness of his thrusts. No moment to breathe or try to compose yourself, choked out moans almost straining your throat from how often he slammed into you.
“Look at me, baby, please,” Jude pleaded with you, wanting your pretty eyes focused on him. He wasn’t surprised you didn’t listen. At this point, you didn’t really make sense of his words. A habit you seemed to have formed. It wasn’t like you could help it, the way your brain seems to shut off the moment Jude hits that special spot inside of you.
His hand around your throat was enough, eyes fluttering open and he squeezed softly, whimpering as you continued to moan and pant, met with his smirk.
“Fucked dumb already,” Jude boasted while he kept his hand around your throat; not applying much pressure but the feeling of it there alone had your hips spasming momentarily. “So easy for me, baby. Could have you like this all the time.”
You moaned at his words, hearing him loud and clear this time, nodding pathetically; you’d agree with anything he says right now. Anything.
“My pretty girl,” Jude was always quick with the praise after his harsh words, the contrast always welcome as your hands shifted from his back to his biceps. “All mine,” he reiterated.
The possessive tone he found would have you falling into wishful thinking if you possessed the ability to think straight, but thankfully you couldn’t; not when your vision was starting to be replaced with stars as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.
His lips caught yours in another kiss, tongues clashing as you moaned into each other's mouths—his turn to falter as your walls clenched around him, a string of curses being grunted against your lips.
You didn’t need to tell him you were close, no, he knew your body too well; he pushed your leg further back, as if it was possible, you in no place to recognise any slight discomfort when all you could feel was him inside of you, stretching you inside out.
You felt the difference in angle again, nonetheless. Your eyes lolled back once more as you came hard and fast, his name falling from your lips as you did so.
“Good girl baby, cum for me,” Jude encouraged, continuing to thrust into you as you rode out your high, back arching and pushing into him.
Your walls clenched around him once more, and he came almost immediately, releasing inside of you with a loud moan, your sounds intertwining and melting into one another.
Your nails were sure to have left marks along his back, body going limp beneath him as his head dropped to your chest briefly, catching his breath as he too came down from his high.
He wasn’t done though, despite it almost being six in the morning. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, the alcohol in his veins or you; but sleep was the last thing on his mind and his best guess was because of the latter.
He was moving again before you could fully recover, the sensitivity causing you to whimper immediately, his thrusts only slow now as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“I know you’ve got one more in you,” Jude mumbled, and you wouldn’t ever dare disagree; nodding quickly as he gradually picked up the pace.
Before he got into a rhythm, however, he slid out, sitting back on his knees. You simply looked at him, awaiting his next move.
Jude then manhandled you onto your stomach easily like you were nothing. He tugged your hips up and you followed naturally, back arching as your ass propped in the air, his calloused hands grasping and squeezing the soft flesh before sliding back inside of you.
The way he contorted you into another position had you moaning out loudly, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as Jude found the pace he’d previously possessed.
Your whole body jolted with every thrust, face gradually pushing into the covers, moans muffled as your back arched further.
He didn’t like not hearing you though, obsessed with the way you’d moan and borderline scream his name. He flew into action by grabbing your hair and pulling so your head was lifted, which caused a loud whine to escape you on cue.
“So fucking good, y’take me so well,” Jude grunted his praise. With his hips slamming into yours, you couldn’t form words, only replying in little whines and whimpers, choked out moans as your body became overstimulated.
Jude knew your limits though, and knew how far he could push you. his hand snaking around your waist to find your clit, and rubbing circles on your sensitive bud had your body shaking immediately.
“Fuck! Jude, oh my God,” you practically cried out, unable to do anything but take all he was giving you, hand tangled in your hair still keeping you in place as he pounded in you.
“Take it love, know you can,” he grunted; fingers speeding up. He was obsessed with the way your thighs spasmed, your walls clenched around him and your hand reached back to try to grip his wrist.
You came again, unable to give warning as your eyes watered and vision spotted white from the mere overstimulation.
“Ah, there you go, good girl, so so good, could watch you come undone my cock every day,” Jude talked you through it, hips still moving relentlessly as he let go of your hair, your front half falling back into the mattress. Both of his hands gripped your hips now as he chased his own high.
You whimpered as he fucked you through your high, and when he came inside you again you swear it all became a blur, trying to recover from your back-to-back orgasms.
Jude slid out of you and rolled off of you after he caught his breath, much quicker than you. His hand delicately pushing some of your hair back had your head tilting to face him, a lazy smile grazing your features.
“You're incredible,” Jude mumbled, admiring you quietly; and if you weren’t exhausted you would’ve laughed at him.
“Shut the hell up.” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut, legs still shaking as Jude rolled his eyes. There was a stupid smile that graced his delicate features still.
“No running out of me again, yeah?” Jude hummed and slithered an arm to wrap around your frame, easily pulling you into his chest. You should’ve been alarmed, gone into self-preservation mode and pushed away. But couldn’t, preferring to simply accept his embrace that you’d always crave, head finding a spot on his toned chest.
“Don’t think I could if I tried,” you chuckled, not sure your legs would hold your weight if you tried to stand, let alone walk.
“Yeah good. That was the whole point,” Jude scoffed playfully, fingers dancing up and down the side of your arm, gaze fixated on you below him. You laughed softly, knowing this conversation needed to be addressed properly. That would wait until the morning, or well, maybe early afternoon in this case—when you wake up, you’ll be met with that sinking feeling again. The one where you’ll feel the need to flee, to escape him and the domesticated side you so badly wanted to yourself.
But you’d settle for this for now, just like Jude would settle for you believing this was the most he could offer. Considering you can never really say goodbye to Jude, huh?
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