a/n: enjoy lovelies! comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated!
in truth, you loved lamine in all of his forms. you loved when he was the sweet older brother to keyne. he would always try to puff his chest out a bit when keyne asked for a new toy only to buy it for him because the boy had lamine wrapped around his chubby finger. you loved when he would dominate and humiliate his opponents on the field. he would race around them dribbling the ball in a way that no matter how quick they were, they would never have the chance to steal it from him. you would tell him after the game while he showered in your joint hotel room, that it was like watching a bull fighter who was always on the edge of danger but narrowly escapes the bull’s pointy horns every chance. you loved him when he fucked you roughly on the wall of your bedroom after you finished showing him your newest skirt or when he slowly rocked into you on the early mornings before he would fly out for another game. to say it shortly, you loved lamine in every way you could have someone of his stature and greatness. you also knew that he loved you more than anything that he could explain because he allowed you to see him at his weakest moments as well.
sometimes lamine would get so worked up about everything that was happening around him. he would think about the weight that sat on his shoulders from the football world. people wanted him to be the best at such a young age but they also wanted to see him fail. lamine constantly felt as if he sat at the vertex of both, that he had to continue to impress audiences all over the world without allowing a single mistake. while audiences loved to see a prodigy, they also loved nothing more than seeing an already established player knock the star boy down on the field.
you would find him with his phone clutched tigthly in his hands as he scrolled through pages of comments about his skills. people would complain he was too egotistical. someone would respond that they didn’t know how people were so impressed by bare minimum. each comment stung him deep in his soul where that child from rocafonda still resided. a child that would look everywhere for the validation that he deserved to be where he was before he began making space for himself among the greats. when you would find him like this, you would always bring him close to your chest while you gently removed the phone from his hand. those people would never know lamine like you did because lamine would always build up tall walls to fend off those he believed only wanted to steal away at the greatness that surrounded his name and image.
you always knew what to do. you would grab his hand and guide him to his bedroom. you would take your time to kiss him slowly, allowing your tongue to brush over his lips before going to slip into his mouth. you needed to make sure lamine knew you were here with him always and that if the world wasn’t going to take time to understand him, that you would spend the rest of your life understanding even the way his breath sounds on your skin.
when the two of you finally separate, you begin to undress him until he is completely naked. to be naked is to be vulnerable in every way. you loved lamine’s naked body covered with scars and marks from journeys that felt like forever ago. he carried each one with the message of a lamine that was now gone to time. your favorite moments were when you would brush your fingers over his chest and arms while he slept next to you in the warm mornings of spain. your fingertips felt like they weee giving soft kisses to each scar as you admired the man that lamine was.
lamine needed to be grounded when he felt as if the world was slipping away. you pushed him down onto the bed behind him and watched as his body fully relaxed into the bed below him. whenever the world may have thought they were owed a piece of lamine for making him the global superstar that he was, his bedroom became the sanctuary where he rest his head safely. the place where you two could worship each other because you guys deserved the patience that came with it. after you knew lamine was comfortable, you wrapped your freshly manicured hands around lamine’s length. he was a good thick size that always had you gasping into the pillows on any other night, but tonight only made you hum into the silent air. he was darker here, even darker then his sunkissed skin, and you loved the way your dark skin looked next to his.
you knew this routine more than anything else in life. you opened your mouth and allowed a line of drool to drip slowly out of your mouth onto the tip of his cock. lamine groaned loudly at the lewd sight and knocked his head back into the bed as you began to move your hands up and down his now slick cock. lamine loved head but he loved it the most with you because of how entranced you got. you would lick up the sides of his cock and even suck his balls gently into your mouth until all he could think of was you. your hands quickened as the blowjob got even messier than it was before. while you weren’t getting any true pleasure from it, you moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching in your mouth.
he was close.
“please mami, let me come in your mouth,” lamine pleaded at you as he felt his balls draw tightly up. he could feel everything and nothing all together as you drew him all the way into your mouth until he could feel the back of your throat.
“oh god, y/n!” he exclaimed and came down your throat in thick white spurts. his hands tore at the sheets near his head as you swallowed each spurt down. lamine could barely catch his breath before you began again. this time you slowed down which seemed to only amplify each pornographic wet sound that the two of you made. he knew it was coming but it didn’t mean he was any more prepared for it when you took him back into your mouth.
orgasming for the second time was easy. the third and fourth time after that—that was when it got difficult. by then, lamine knew he would be panting like it hurt and a part of it did, but another part of him needed it to knock out all of the bad thoughts that continued to swim around in his head. alongside continuing to massage his now weeping cock, you repeated sweet nothings to him until all he could hear was your voice.
you’re doing so good, lamine. i love when you whine like this.
i love you so much baby! can you do it again for me?
you’re twitching so much in my hand, do you like it? tell me how much you like it.
you’re so handsome when you’re about to cum.
i love you lamine, more than anything. now cum baby.
your voice always had the ability to tip him over the edge and tumbling over into the abyss that is pleasure. he loved that feeling that came after he would cum and you would kiss his swollen tip while scratching your long nails up and down his tan thighs. everything felt so amplified whenever he was around you and it felt so easy to be intoxicated on pleasure when you were the one dishing it out.
by the time he had came for the fourth time, his head felt like it weighed a million pounds. he could barely recognize what you were saying or doing as you worked around him. you had left to go to the bathroom to get a towel to wipe up the mess lamine had made on himself and some of the bedding. the two of you would probably have to change the top sheet before bedtime but it could at least be comfortable now for cuddling. you also grabbed his water bottle from off the dresser and got him to drink a little bit before putting it back down.
you climbed onto the bed next to him and said, “come on, i know you want some cuddles now,” because no matter how long the two of you had been seeing each other lamine still sometimes hated to ask for things such as that. lamine never wanted to feel clingy even though it never bothered you. he groggily moved to lay his head on your chest while you ran your fingers through his curly hair. he loved being able to smell the vanilla scented lotion on your skin and pressing soft kisses there as well.
you knew he would be asleep in a few minutes and then after that you could work on making the two of you some food, but for now you would appreciate the comforting weight lamine had on your body. each breath slowing down until lamine was out like a light.
the world could have the pieces of lamine that they wanted but you would be the one that had the masterpiece.
ain't none of your friend's business w/ lamine yamal.
pairing: lamine yamal x black! reader
synopsis: boy best friend! lamine will always be the only man in your life.
content warnings: 18+, explicit, nsfw, cursing, cheating, p in v, car sex, slight breeding kink, gets more explicit towards the end, lamine is lwk toxic (but you love it)
a/n: this is my first fic on tumblr! let me know what you think and feel free to request!
boy best friend! lamine who you met when your face was chubby with youth and you were missing your two front teeth. you loved watching him play with the other kids and his boyish antics always made your stomach hurt. you would cheer him on from the steps as he drove the other players around in circles until they were dizzy. whenever he scored a goal he would look over to you with a wild smile and you would shout his name louder than any other girl there.
boy best friend! lamine who always had your back when the other kids bullied you. they would pull on your hair or comment about how dark you were, and lamine would always be there to defend you. he had come home multiple times covered in bruises and cuts from getting into fights that he didn’t always win but that he always walked away from alive. maybe that’s where it started. this idea that lamine had to be your knight in shining armor because you were too sweet to protect yourself.
boy best friend! lamine who took your first kiss after you were nervous that you would never be kissed. it was the age where everything made you feel self-conscious including the neighborhood boys who would choose every girl over you. when you told him he tried to assure you that the other boys didn’t even know left from right but realized quickly that you wouldn’t be able to move forward without having your first kiss. the two of you found a quiet place far from the football nets and other kids, and lamine asked you to close your eyes. you were fourteen when you felt his lips peck yours quickly, lingering just long enough for it to be considered friendly.
boy best friend! lamine who would criticize all of your boyfriends. “they’re no good,” lamine would say after infuriating your latest boyfriend to their wit’s end. you were fuming and couldn’t understand why lamine felt the need to pick at everything they did. you always wanted the two most important men in your life to get along but lamine never made it easy for anymore. no matter who it was, they never met the standard that lamine had for your potential boyfriend. eventually, you stopped trying to get them along.
boy best friend! lamine who sends you money for whatever you need no matter how much it costs. once he started playing professionally, lamine’s bank account started reflecting his stardom and lamine had more money than he knew what to do with. so if you ever told him that you were getting your nails done or that you were getting fresh braids, lamine would send more than enough money then you needed. at first, you tried to tell him you didn’t need the money but lamine pushed you enough to rely on him, because that’s what friends are for, y/n. now, you like the apple cash payment of $500 in your chat and send a photo of yourself after you’ve gotten the service done. beautiful, lamine would text back.
boy best friend! lamine who began making even bigger purchases for you. for one birthday he got you a car and then after you got into your dream college he offered to pay for the first three months rent for a high end apartment. of course you objected again but you had to admit it would be helpful if you didn’t have to worry about money while settling into college. once the three months were over, however, he continued to pay for your rent and even began to slowly add more furniture and amenities until he bought nearly everything in your flat. he even included stuff he would need for when he stayed over.
boy best friend! lamine who started off sleeping on the couch and then the guest bedroom before squeezing into sharing a bed with you every time he came over to visit. he told you that it would be just like old times when you would stay over at his home and the two of you would huddle under the same blanket in his bed and read stories to one another. now, you wake up with his hard-on pressing into your clothed pussy since lamine was adamant on sleeping in only his boxers.
boy best friend! lamine who comments heart eyes and other cheeky messages under your instagram posts even when the two of you are dating other people. the first time you try to say something about it, he reassures you that he would text that under any of his friend’s posts but he doesn’t. he leaves those kinds of comments only for you. he barely does it for his girlfriends. when your boyfriend asks if you can get lamine to stop doing it, repeating to you that friends don’t comment under posts like they’re ‘trying to fuck them’, you tell your boyfriend that lamine has always been like that. you attempt to reassure them, telling them that you’re only friends.
boy best friend! lamine who convinces you to ignore your close girl friends' advice. they tell you that he is obviously overstepping clear boundaries and that he’s acting more like a boyfriend than a friend. you bring this up to him and he shoots every comment down like light work. they don’t understand you like i do. i need to make sure that you’re okay and taken care of. now, why don’t you share your location for next time you go out.
once you give your location to him, he’ll even pull up to where you are with your other friends, under the guise of coincidence, whenever you take too long to answer his messages or pick up his calls.
boy best friend! lamine who has been one of your best fuck buddies ever since he invited you over to his place with a simple photo of him fresh out of the shower, his v-line freshly on display. some text under it that says, ‘you free?’ he sends you money over for an uber, because he’s a gentleman like that. when the car stops in front of his place he is there to greet you. that should’ve been the first and last time you ever did that after he bent you over his kitchen counter to devour you whole. your legs felt as if they were nearly going to give out but he was always there to catch you. he had fucked you so rough that night that you woke up with bruises all over your legs and waist. he had tugged on your fresh hair with the reassurance that he would pay for your next appointment, as if he didn’t always do that. you came with a wail and you even allowed him to cum inside you with the promise that you’d get a plan b pill in the morning.
boy best friend! lamine who even fucks you when you’re in a relationship. you can’t hide it anymore. you know your boyfriend can tell with how lamine looks at you whenever he comes over. lamine doesn’t hide it either. he constantly has his hands around your waist. he constantly smacks and grabs at your ass while you finish cooking in the kitchen. he mocks your boyfriend in your own home and all you can do is smile weakly at your partner knowing that it was no use telling off lamine anymore.
boy best friend! lamine who asks if you’ll help him find his wallet that he lost in his car which always leads to you folded in the backseat of his newest luxury car. your panties only on one leg while he pounds into you consistently. you don’t know how long you’ve been in the car now. you wonder if you boyfriend knows what the two of you are doing. it’s hot and you can feel not only your sweat on your skin but the sweat steadily dripping off of lamine onto you. lamine always gets like this when he has to hang around your boyfriend because even though he wasn’t ready to commit, he hated seeing another man in his home. does he fuck you like this? he growls into your neck. the idea of you even letting the other man into your pussy like he was, more than offended him. i’ll kill him. i’ll kill him if you let him cum in you like i do. you just cried in response. how did you end up like this. how did that cute little boy from rocafonda turn into the star football player that needed to have all of you, all of the time.
his hips continued to slam into you before your thighs spasmed. you could feel everything crashing around you and gripped lamine’s clothed back harder. lamine felt like he was reaching further into you then he had ever been before and before you knew it you were squirting around his cock. please lamine, you have to pull out. you always asked him to pull out to wear a condom at least, but lamine could never listen. you were his. this was his way of claiming you so that no matter who you were with you would always be his. lamine only shook his head before slapping your thigh. you could tell he was close because he began to ramble as his hips pounded into you like a rabid animal.
you’re mine. you’re mine. maybe once you’re carrying my child you’ll fucking know that-fuck! we were made for each other, do you know that? your pussy is fucking made for me. i love-love you. i love you more than he ever could!
his hips slammed into you one, two, three more times before they stilled and you were met with the warm feeling of his cum seeping inside of you. fuck, fuckk you’re so tight mamá. he groans as he releases a heavy load into your pussy. it didn’t matter what he did, he would always be the man who cared for you more than anyone in the world. you pulled his face down to kiss him deeply. his tongue forced it’s way into your mouth and you felt as if you were getting wetter than you were before.
get him out of my fucking house, okay? he kissed you on the cheek sweetly.
liked by zaralarsson, judebellingham, theestallion and others
yourusernameㅤ an unforgettable night ✨️✨️ thank you, london, i hope we see each other again soon 💋
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username1ㅤ i think it's ridiculous how people keep posting that they were at the concert
⤷ username2ㅤ why???
⤷ username1ㅤ i wasn't there
theestallionㅤ 🔥🔥🔥ㅤ𖹭 by author
⤷ username3ㅤ omg i NEED another feat
⤷ username4ㅤ SO REAL!! i still haven't gotten over roc steady
username5ㅤ she was simply ethereal ✨️✨️
username6ㅤ the feeling of seeing this woman on stage is surreal
username7ㅤ MY QUEEN 👑🐾
username8ㅤ i wish i were jude bellingham
⤷ username9ㅤ as if he could handle this woman 🙄🙄
⤷ username10ㅤ girl what are you talking about???
⤷ username11ㅤ at the beginning of yn's unholy hours era, people started speculating about who the songs on the album were about, then a girl on twitter made a huge thread comparing the lyrics to jude bellingham. but they were never seen together, even though they were spotted in the same place before
⤷ username10ㅤ but didn't jude already mention in an interview a few months ago that he was dating someone???
⤷ username11ㅤ yes!! but he never said who it was, and the photos never show his girlfriend's face, so people speculate that it is indeed yn
⤷ username10ㅤ you really need to touch some grass......
username12ㅤ the biggest fomo of my life
username13ㅤ the end of an era 😔
⤷ username14ㅤ i can't believe her tour is over 💔💔
⤷ username15ㅤ i hope that the end of this era represents the beginning of another, more iconic one
⤷ username14ㅤ we're talking about yn!! of course she'll always be iconic
yourusername
♬ㅤyn ･ touch my body
liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, duquesa and others
yourusernameㅤ 💋💋
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zaralarssonㅤpretty girl 🩷ㅤ𖹭 by author
⤷ yourusernameㅤ youuu ❤️
⤷ username1ㅤ girls, when are the feat coming out???
⤷ zaralarssonㅤsoon 🤫🤫
⤷ username1ㅤ OMFGSKSKSJSKSKAAAAH
username2ㅤ her back must ache so much from carrying the weight of being the most beautiful woman on the planet
username3ㅤ pretending i didn't notice the bellingham brothers and half the football players in the likes...
⤷ username4ㅤ relax guys everyone's a fan of yn!!
⤷ username5ㅤ imagine being this iconic
username6ㅤ she's so pretty— SOFT LAUNCHING?????????
⤷ username7ㅤ i had the same reaction 😭😭
⤷ username8ㅤ guys i don't think i'm ready for this
⤷ username9ㅤ OMG is this really happening?????
username10ㅤ OMG WHO IS THIS GUY????
⤷ username11ㅤ GIRL i’m dying of curiosity to find out who he is
⤷ username12ㅤ me too!!
⤷ username13ㅤ i have a hunch...
⤷ username10ㅤ who is it???
⤷ username14ㅤ for the love of god don’t say it’s jude bellingham
⤷ username13ㅤ then i don’t have a hunch anymore
⤷ username14ㅤ what’s your thing with this guy??
⤷ usernams15ㅤ i saw a tiktok edit and i think they make a cute couple....
⤷ username14ㅤ 🙄🙄
username16ㅤ does your boyfriend know how to fight??? just asking for a friend....
username17ㅤ girl you can't just do a soft launch out of the blue like that!!!!! give some advance notice first
⤷ username18ㅤ girl... i think that was the advance notice.......
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yourusername
♬ㅤyn ･ ART
liked by judebellingham, k.mbappe, pinkpantheress and others
summary 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ you convinced yourself that being a footnote in jude’s life was better than getting hurt again. truly, you were finally distancing yourself away from jude. but this time, jude bellingham refused to let you go.
warnings 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ unprotected sex, fem reader, jude is begging, crying, plenty of praise, apologising, hair pulling, fingering, slight angst, miscommunication, light choking, soft dom!jude, overstimulation ig, oral, & fluff at the end (7.8k wc)
note 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ wrote this while listening ain't too proud to beg by the temptations, so, there was my inspo. and, boom, there you have it! 50s music always gets me in a jude mood. also, my 3 part series has concluded. i hope this lived up to the hype, i really enjoyed finishing this story and having jude reconcile. THIS IS THE FINAL PART to a 3-part series. you can read PART ONE HERE, and PART TWO HERE.
You couldn’t believe him, which was ironic, really, because this was probably the most believable thing Jude Bellingham ever did.
The photos found you before he was able to explain—or rather—excuse himself.
You were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, a terrible habit of yours. Suddenly, you came across a blurry picture of Jude outside an expensive restaurant, then another from inside. Jude sat across from a woman you recognised immediately, the same woman he’d mentioned the night of the gala: “I was supposed to bring someone tonight… but she cancelled.”
Evidently, she’d made it up to him. Wow.
Your manicured thumb hovered over the screen, refusing to scroll any further. Instead, you found yourself reading the comments beneath the post. There was complete strangers picking apart every detail, convinced they knew exactly who she was to him. Some called her his girlfriend. Others insisted she was just a friend. Others called her all sorts of horrible names. A few were already congratulating him, saying how pretty she was.
You exited the app before you could read another word. Because the truth was, it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter whether she’d been a date, a friend, or someone Jude simply shared dinner with. It didn’t matter if the internet had gotten it completely wrong.
What mattered was how easily your stomach sank. How quickly every conversation you’d had with Jude over the past few months came rushing back. Every lingering glance of his. Every touch that lasted a little too long. Every time he’d found you in a crowded room as though there was nowhere else he’d rather be, touching the small of your back so intimately as he did so. Every time you had made love to each other. Every time you had left his warm embrace in the morning when the consequences of your actions caught up to you. You knew this, yet kept running headfirst into a brick wall.
After the party, you’d walked away convinced that would be the last time. The last time you’d let yourself mistake his attention for affection because you knew better now. The last time you’d convince yourself that maybe he’d changed his mind. That, maybe, the boy who swore he didn’t want anything serious had finally realised he wanted something more. Then, the gala happened; you were thrown back back to square one.
Looking back, it made you cringe. You found yourself doing that a lot more recently.
You’d spent months clutching pieces of Jude because they felt better than having none of him at all. A hand on your thigh beneath a dinner table, arm wrapped around your shoulders in crowded rooms. Pillow conversations that blurred into early mornings, with you making eggs for yourself while Jude fixed his premade nutritional bowl. The little moments that felt far too intimate to mean nothing, yet never enough to mean something of fruitfulness.
Jude gave you just enough to keep hoping, then reminded you, without ever having to say it again, that hope was all it would ever be. And the worst part was that you let yourself become content with it.
You convinced yourself that being a footnote in Jude’s life was enough, even when he had somehow become the centrefold of yours. You were willing to exist in the margins of his world, to take whatever pieces of him he was willing to offer, while he occupied every corner of your thoughts without even noticing it.
He’d told you from the beginning; he didn’t want a relationship. Jude didn’t want commitment, didn't want to make promises he couldn’t keep. So why had he spent months making it impossible for you to leave?
Your phone buzzed against the comforter, the sound breaking through your thoughts. It's almost like he knew you had found out, that you had been thinking about him. You eyed your phone with disdain as his name lit up your screen before it disappeared again. Another message came through less than a minute later, then another.
Normally, you would’ve answered by now. Even if it was hours later. Even if you wanted to be angry with him. Somehow, you always replied to Jude because you cared about him.
However, not this time.
You turned your phone over, burying his name against the mattress before it had the chance to taunt you again.
You were sick and fucking tired of his bullshit. Tired of trying to decipher someone who had already given you his answer months ago. Tired of letting his actions convince you of one thing while his words insisted on another. Tired of being pulled back into his orbit every time you finally found the strength to walk away.
Maybe this was exactly what you needed. To be disappointed enough to finally believe Jude; he truly didn't want anything, and it didn't mean anything to him.
Jude knew he screwed up big fucking time. The worst part was that he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t understand why.
At first, Jude brushed it off. Maybe you were busy; you had a tendency to sleep for long periods of time. Or maybe you were finally giving him a taste of his own medicine. But after the fifth unanswered text and the third missed call, something in his chest began to tighten. You never ignored him before. You might’ve been frustrated, you might’ve needed space, but you always came back to him. You were always so understanding.
It wasn’t difficult to piece together what had happened. The photos had been everywhere before he’d even made it home. One dinner with a woman he’d known for years, someone he’d promised he’d make it up to after she cancelled on the gala, and suddenly the internet had decided he had a new girlfriend.
The thought would’ve been laughable to Jude under any other circumstances. She was nearly ten years older than him, someone he’d always viewed as a close friend and nothing more. There had never been anything romantic between them, nor would there ever be.
Jude could only imagine what you thought when you’d seen them. The explanation sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill the second you answered his phone calls. But the longer you ignored him, the more he realised the explanation wasn’t really the problem; the problem was him.
After the gala, Jude convinced himself everything had finally settled into place. The two of you had started talking more than ever before. Good morning texts became routine, calls that were supposed to last ten minutes somehow stretched past midnight. He found himself reaching for his phone after training without thinking, itching to tell you about another ridiculous argument that had happened in the dressing room or to tell you another funny story about Mastantuono or something Kylian had raved on about during ‘team meetings’.
Jude genuinely enjoyed your presence. The constant pressure that followed him—the cameras, the expectations, the endless rollercoaster that is football—disappeared whenever it was just the two of you. You never asked anything of him besides his company, and somehow that became the thing he looked forward to most. In fact, you really didn't even care about Real Madrid or football, nor did you bring it up unless he did first.
He’d convinced himself he finally had his feelings sorted. Or, at the very least, under control. Jude told himself there was no rush to put a name to whatever the two of you were. Things were good as they were! That eventually, when the timing was right, he’d figure the rest out.
Looking back, it was beyond selfish of him. Jude was asking you to wait for an answer he wasn’t willing to find because every time things edged toward something real, he’d retreat behind the same sentence he’d repeated from the very beginning: I don’t want anything serious.
But, at the time, Jude believed he was doing the right thing.
Football had to always come first. The scrutiny that followed him everywhere was relentless, and he knew better than anyone what happened when the public got hold of someone’s private life. Every relationship became a headline, every minuscule move was analysed for entertainment on social media.
Jude told himself that keeping you in the grey area was protecting you from all of it. If there was no label, there was nothing for the media to destroy; there was no way they could take you away from him as they had done to so many others.
It sounded noble in his head, but, really, it was just a shitty excuse. Because while he’d been trying to shield you from the outside world, Jude had been hurting you himself.
You’d become the person he wanted to tell everything to. The first face he searched for after a good match. The opinion that mattered more than thousands of strangers praising him online. Being around you never felt like another obligation. It felt like home, and he’d grown so used to having you there that he’d stopped appreciating how much of yourself you were giving him.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He was selfish.
Jude accepted all the parts of a relationship that came naturally, your company, your comfort, your unwavering support, while refusing to give you the one thing you deserved in return: certainty.
He thought back to the gala more than he’d care to admit. The way you had fit beneath his arm as though you’d always belonged there. The way he’d found himself looking for you in every room, wanting you beside him even when he was surrounded by people. Asking you to be his date hadn’t been planned.
And that, he realised, should’ve been enough for him to face the music: Jude Bellingham wanted to be yours, and he wanted you to be his.
Maybe some part of you had always known Jude would eventually reach out. He never stayed away for long, even if you were the one that sought him out moreso. There was always a text after a few days of silence, some excuse to start a conversation again, some small reminder that he was still there. You had gotten used to him finding his way back into your life before you had the chance to fully convince yourself he was gone.
But you hadn’t expected to open your door and find him standing there.
The knock had been quiet, his knuckles barely making enough noise against the wood to announce his presence. It was almost like Jude wasn’t sure he wanted to be heard, as if some part of him was still giving you the chance to ignore him. Had you not been home, had you not been standing close enough to hear the faint sound, Jude probably would’ve convinced himself that it was a sign and gone back to his car. He would’ve told himself he tried, that showing up unannounced was too much, or that you deserved space from him and his selfishness.
Yet, you were home.
It wasn’t that Jude was someone who avoided difficult conversations. He was passionate by nature, someone who felt everything deeply and never did anything halfway. Jude knew from an early age that he couldn't get what he dreamed of in life without that. But standing outside your door, knowing there was a chance you might not let him in, was different. This wasn’t a conversation he could charm his way through. There was no crowd to distract him, no confidence to hide behind, no easy smile that could make everything feel alright.
For once, the mature Jude Bellingham had no idea what to say.
When you finally pulled the door open, he looked nothing like the man you were used to seeing. He wasn’t carrying that effortless, nonchalant confidence he wore around everyone else. There was no teasing remark waiting on his tongue, no playful grin to soften the tension between you.
Jude just stood there, framed in your doorway, looking more nervous than you had ever seen him. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, shoulders tense as his dark eyes immediately found yours. They were red around the edges, a little swollen. You could tell Jude had spent the entire drive over fighting back tears or had already lost that battle before he reached your door. It was unsettling seeing him like that, to say the least.
“Can… we talk?”
You stared at him.
For a second, you hated that your first instinct was still to let him in. You hated that even after everything, after seeing those photos and convincing yourself you were finally done, some part of you still softened at the sight of him looking this lost. Stop, you won’t give in.
You didn’t move, instead, your face hardened. “You came all the way here just to fucking talk?”
His expression tightened slightly, and his lip trembled. “I know—I know how this looks.”
A quiet laugh escaped you. Not that anything was funny, but because you couldn’t believe his audacity.
“No, Jude. You don’t.”
The words left your mouth before you could soften them. Jude’s eyebrows pulled together immediately, a small crease forming between them as if he genuinely couldn’t understand why you were pushing back. His lips parted, ready to argue, but there was no confidence behind it.
“I do.”
You shook your head slowly. “No, you really don’t.”
Your fingers curled tighter around the edge of the door, the only thing keeping you from crossing your arms or stepping back completely. You needed the barrier. And needed the reminder that he was standing on the other side of it for a reason.
“Because if you did,” you continued, your voice growing steadier despite the ache building in your chest, “you wouldn’t be standing here acting like this is just a misunderstanding.” Jude’s expression shifted. You watched the realisation settle in his face. “You wouldn’t show up whenever you decide you’re ready to have a conversation and expect me to just forget everything that happened. Or that it’s okay to treat me like shit.”
As you spoke, you realised you knew Jude too well. You knew every small change in his expression, every hesitation, every moment where he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
“That’s—that’s not what I’m doing.” His voice was quieter now. You let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no amusement behind it.
“Then what are you doing?”
For a moment, Jude just stared at you. His mouth opened slightly; he had an answer ready, but nothing came out. His eyes flickered away from yours for half a second before returning, and somehow that frustrated you even more.
Because Jude always had something to say. He was quick with his words. Always knew how to lighten the mood, how to make you roll your eyes when you were trying not to smile. He could talk his way through almost anything.
But now, when he was standing in front of you, seeing the hurt he had caused and realising there wasn’t a simple explanation that would make it disappear.
For once, Jude didn’t have the right words. And maybe that was because, for once, there wasn’t an excuse good enough.
“I was worried.”
You blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow in confusion. You hadn’t expect him to disregard you. “What?”
“I was worried when you stopped answering me.”
The words almost made you laugh again. “You were worried?”
“Yes.”
“You were worried!?” You repeated it, shaking your head. “Jude, do you know how many times I was worried about you?” That shut him up. “Listen, you don’t get to just come to my fucking house and act like you’re the one who got hurt because I finally stopped putting up with your bullshit. You just can't.”
“I know what you saw.”
The words came out suddenly, almost like he couldn’t keep them trapped inside anymore. You looked at him, and Jude immediately shook his head, taking a small step forward before catching himself. His hands slipped from his pockets, fingers dragging through his hair in frustration as he tried to find the right way to explain himself.
“The photos,” he said, voice strained. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Jude watched as you didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. “She wasn’t what you think.”
A bitter laugh left you before you could stop it. “Jude—”
“No, please. Please. Just let me explain.” There was something different about the way Jude said it. No confidence. No attempt to brush it off, but rather pure desperation. He was begging you to hear him out. “She’s my mate. That’s it.” The words spilled out of him quickly, like he was afraid you’d interrupt before he could finish. “She’s been my mate for years. She’s, like, literally ten years older than me, and I have never looked at her like that. Not once. There has never been anything romantic between us.”
His eyes searched your face, looking for any sign that you believed him.
“The dinner was exactly what it looked like. Dinner.” He swallowed, settling on that. “I told her I’d make it up to her after she couldn’t come to the gala. That was all it was. I swear, I swear.”
You stayed quiet, and the longer you did, the more unsettled he became. He was worried you’d leave him alone one and for all, that this was the nail in the coffin. That you’d never talk to him again, never forgive him, never let him back in over a miscommunication. That you’d would never accept one more idiotic action of his. And Jude couldn’t blame you one bit.
“I know how it looks,” he rushed out. “I know, God, I’m fucking daff. I know you saw those pictures and the first thing you probably thought was that I’d been leading you on.” His voice faltered, his expression twisting sour; he was fighting back tears. “And I—I understand why you would think that.” For a second, he looked away, jaw tightening as he tried to compose himself. “But please don’t think that.”
His eyes found yours again, all red and glassy. “Don’t think that I was sitting there with someone else while you were just…” He stopped, shaking his head. “While you were nothing to me.” The last sentence seemed to hurt him more than anything else he’d blurted out. “Because you were never that.”
His voice cracked, trembled and shook. “God, you were never that.”
Jude dragged a hand down his face, frustration and regret mixing together until he looked like he didn’t know what to do with either.
“I know I’ve given you reasons to doubt me. I know I’ve made you feel like you weren’t important enough, like you were just someone I could come back to whenever I wanted.” His voice shook as he spoke. “But it was never because of someone else. It was me being a fucking right dickhead.”
You watched him for a moment, taking in the way his breathing had become uneven, the way his fingers kept flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with all the guilt he was carrying. Jude had always been someone who held himself together. The person who found a way to keep going, even when things got difficult. He was stubborn like that, always convinced he could handle everything himself. Right now he looked completely worn down. And honestly, it had worried you. Deep down, you always would love and care about him, which is why you took everything so hard. And also why you kept coming back.
“Jude,” you sounded quietly, his eyes frantically lifted to yours. “Hey. Look at me, it's alright.”
For a second, Jude didn’t move. Then he shook his head, dragging a hand over his face as he let out a rough breath. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, like he was trying desperately to pull himself together.
“No, no,” Jude pursed his lips. “It's not alright.” You frowned slightly at the correction. His eyes flickered back to yours, red around the edges, his expression twisting with frustration. “It’s not fucking alright because I know what I’ve done.”
His voice cracked slightly, and you could hear how much he hated admitting it.
“I know I can explain the dinner. I know I can tell you she’s just a mate,” He shook his head quickly, almost like he needed to make sure you understood. “But that’s not even the point, is it? I was a proper idiot.” The words were so simple, so unlike him, that they almost hurt more. “I should’ve realised sooner. I should’ve seen what was right in front of me instead of convincing myself I was doing the right thing.”
Your expression softened slightly. “Jude…”
“Stop!” He shook his head immediately. Not angry, rather desperate. “Don’t do that.”
“Wh—Do what?”
“Make it easier for me.” Jude’s voice dropped. “I know I hurt you. I know I messed this up. I fucked up.”
You reached for him slowly, your hand resting against his arm. “Jude, please, it’s okay.”
He looked down for a second, breathing out shakily before looking back at you.
“It’s not.” His fingers curled around your hand carefully. He felt like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold onto you anymore. “I don’t want you to forgive me because you feel sorry for me. I don’t want you to just forget because I’m standing here apologising.”
His eyes searched yours. “I want to actually fix it. Let me make it up to you.” His voice was quieter now, almost a plea. “Please.”
You faintly smile and it’s so, so sad. He feels his heart crack and his eyes burn. He wants to make the warmth of happiness touch your features once more. He has let you down so much lately. Jude wanted to make it right, wanted to show you how much he did really care about you. And something in him shifted, you could tell. His gaze held yours, darker now, not with anger, but with a kind of certainty you hadn’t seen from him before. Slowly, carefully, his hand lifted, sliding up and down your shoulder.
Jude feels like he’s sinned and you are the only one who can absolve him of it.
“I—I need to make it up to you," he chokes out, and he is painfully aware it’s not that late and that the two of you are standing in your apartment doorway. Therefore, anyone could walk out of their door and see Jude Bellingham was begging for forgiveness. But he couldn’t give a shit. You need something to soothe the hurt. He can give that. He would give anything. His pride is minimal when it comes to you, especially now.
"Just tell me what to do," he breathes as he steps closer, toe to toe now, large hands cradling the sides of your face.
“Be only mine,” you whisper, and there isn't even a warble in your voice. That’s all you could say, that’s all you wanted him to do. And he could grant that wish. He can see it from the heat and challenge in your eyes. So, he kisses you.
He kisses you with that need that burns him from the inside out every time he sees you, with long and possessive sweeps of his tongue that make your knees weak. He steals your breath greedily and you moan in response. Then when your fingers curl into his shirt, he knows immediately where he needs to take you next.
The two of you barely stumble in through the door of your apartment before he grumbles, “Hold on tight.”
He hooks your thighs around his waist, the deep timber of his voice has you doing as he commands without hesitation. Your teeth latch onto the tendon in his neck as he jumps you against the bulge of his cock. The two of you make it down your narrow hallway to the bedroom. He hisses his approval as your mouth worries that sensitive area, bruising him for the future.
"Mine," you growl against him, and Jude quietly chuckles. He loved this sudden possessiveness you had over him—perhaps it was jealousy, perhaps it was relief that you knew he had let you into his heart.
You don't want him to think about anything right now; you felt rather selfish. You want his thoughts to be only of you. That's the least Jude could do after all of this shit he put you through.
Suddenly, he groans before he drops you on the bed; you know that sound by heart. It’s the sound he makes when everything is too overwhelming and you have him wrapped around your finger. It’s the sound he makes when he is trying to control himself, when his cock is kicking and threatening to spill. You knew it all too well.
You sigh, your fingers eagerly making work of his T-shirt. Meanwhile, his hands snap the elastic of his sweats, making you shiver as he slowly peels them off himself.
You bite your lip as you fall back against the mattress, watching him slip out of his boxers easily and prowl towards you. Seeing Jude naked and his cock hard, flushed at the tip and sticky with precum, is such a fucking beautiful sight to behold. You could never get tired of this.
No matter how many times you promised yourself you would walk away, you always ended up back here, because, really, you couldn’t get enough of Jude.
Not the version everyone else saw, but this one. The one who let his guard down with you. The one who showed up on your doorstep, begging for your forgiveness. The raw, authentic Jude Bellingham.
And maybe that was your fatal flaw. Because slowly, you began to forgive him as you realised this wasn’t Jude trying to keep you as something convenient. He was just a man who had been too stubborn, too afraid, and too blind to recognise what had been right in front of him the entire time.
Jude undresses you slower. Each sliver of skin he exposes is blessed with his mouth, kisses, licks, bites, and scrapes of his teeth. He worships you just like you wanted, just like you deserve. He spells his apology out in silent words against your sternum. He whispers his love against the softness of your stomach, he says how beautiful you are with deliciously slow kisses on the inside of your thighs.
"You are so perfect. More than I ever fucking deserve, I swear," Jude huffs, dragging his cheek along your pelvic bone. “Thank you, thank you.”
Light and teasing touches were only tolerable for so long, you could deal with Jude’s fingers dancing around your clothed folds while his lips stayed on yours—but when he pulled away your breaths became irregular, clinging to every ounce of patience you had.
You were about to whine when his hand pushed your panties to the side, slipping a digit inside of you without warning was enough to have you choking out a moan. Your hand flew to grip his bicep to ensure your legs wouldn’t give out on you.
Jude was watching you as if you were God’s gift to the earth, thumb settling on your clit naturally that within seconds of him getting to work your eyes were fluttering shut, head falling back against the wall.
“You’re soaked already, baby,” his words were barely audible; too in awe of you, but you still managed to catch them as you nodded ever so slightly.
“For you,” you breathed out—not that it needed clarifying, but the reassurance had the footballer smirking proudly, even rewarding you as suddenly a second finger slipped inside of you.
Suddenly, it was becoming hard to keep quiet, with strings of moans and whimpers escaping you in succession. Which made Jude’s hard-on strain against the bed. But that was the last thing on his mind, preferring to hold you against the mattress with the only goal of having you come undone in his grasp.
His name sounded heavenly as you moaned it, so much so Jude thought no one else should ever speak it again—nothing could compare to you. He got it now, God, he was stupid.
“Look at me, please,” Jude’s demand was so gentle you almost missed it, eyes still fluttering shut as your thighs squeezed around his hand. Despite hearing him you couldn’t act, control of your body slipping away ever so quickly with the way his thumb was circling your sensitive bud.
Jude’s breathy laugh wasn’t enough to capture your attention either, his touch was all your mind could focus on. So it was when his free, large hand trailed up your body to wrap around your neck that’s when your eyes shot wide open.
His eyes were inquisitive, clearly attempting to gauge a reaction to the action. Your lips parted despite having no pressure applied. Though it was the way you clenched around his fingers that told him enough.
The slight squeeze of your neck was enough to draw a moan out of you, and Jude could only hum in content. Jude could die right here, and he'd die a happy man, he thought. You were so fucking perfect.
It was quickly becoming overwhelming, pleasure suddenly building so quickly. Your eyes poured into him as you struggled to form words. “S’close,” was all you managed out; Jude’s nod was in sync with his curled fingers, your nails digging into his skin as he brushed the spot that had your legs almost giving out.
You were holding onto him for dear life, moans growing louder and whinier as your vision started to become starry despite having your eyes open.
“Let go baby,” his words were enough to push you over the edge, releasing onto his fingers as you practically panted his name like it was a prayer.
Jude had concluded a long time ago that he couldn’t fall for you more than he already had; but as he watched you come undone, he realised he’d been wrong. Your beauty truly knew no ends—and he was now more eager than ever to watch your face contort in pleasure again and again.
Admiration filled your own eyes as they opened once more to peer down at him, flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile spreading on your face as you attempted to catch your breath.
“You’re incredible,” Jude couldn’t stop the praise from escaping him, and watching the way your smile grew had him feeling no regret either; no shame like he usually would when a compliment perhaps too sentimental slipped passed his guard. “You are so perfect—so patient with a right idiot… I—I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
The sight above you rendered you speechless, no shame in your eyes raking over his toned frame as he stood again at the foot of the bed. You quickly felt overdressed, seeing Jude’s naked body. Your own hands found the hem of your shirt, peeling it off your body, no bra meaning your upper body was exposed to the Brit.
You could visibly see him gulp, his eyes dancing over your naked body as he took a few deep breaths; tongue flicking over his bottom lip. The man even shook his head in disbelief, unable to help himself when you invitingly leant back on your elbows. No matter how many times he saw you, you never ceased to render him utterly speechless.
Jude was on top of you within moments, situating between your spread legs as his head found the exposed skin of your chest, open mouth kisses pressed to your neck, slowly making their way to your breasts.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he’d practically whined, your fingers finding the back of his head once more. You could only whimper as his teeth tugged on your skin momentarily.
“Want to make you feel good,” you whispered, unable to ignore his hard on pressing into your hip—the feeling had you squirming, keen to feel more of him. Even when he swore this was about you, you felt the need to make him feel oh-so good.
Jude simply shushed you, however, not being derailed as his kisses moved to your stomach now, your head smacking against the pillow as you tried to control your breathing—left to stare with wide eyes at the ceiling momentarily.
“I feel amazing already,” Jude spoke matter of factly, his hands spreading over your thighs as he parted them to his liking. Your eyes flickered down, not expecting to meet his brown ones. He looked like he was ready to devour you, it made your core ache. He offered no relief as your legs could only squeeze against his hold.
“Jude,” you whined, using all your strength to ensure you could keep your eyes on him, a pretty sight that was rendering you impatient. “Please,” the plea left you in desperation.
“Oh, baby,” Jude just clicked his tongue in reply, leaning up to give you a delicate, sensual kiss to silence your pleas. He pulled away, eyebrows twisted exasperatedly. “I should be the one begging you.”
Then, his tongue follows, tracing a flat path down your lower stomach to your throbbing clit. He nips sharply at your hip and relishes your breathless squeal. This time when he licks you, the tip of his tongue presses inside your fluttering walls. Then the width of it slips all the way up to your mons. He laps over every pearl of your slick; he savors every moan and sigh he pulls from you.
“Oh, fuck, Jude! S—so good,” you groan while you twist beneath him. Jude’s strong grip latches onto your arms, pinning you down.
“Ah, don’t run away from me, babe, please,” Jude whines against you. He sounded so inebriated, so desperate, so needy. All for you. It made your mind spin—you could feel your sanity slipping away. Everything. The photos, Jude showing up and sobbing at your door, his admission, his devotion to you, the way his tongue felt against you—it was all too much for you to handle right now.
Jude’s lips wrap around your aching nerves and pull blood to the surface with a strong suction. It makes you squeak and gasp, trembling. Your skin dances with heat that spreads across your body. With each roll of his tongue and suckle of his mouth you feel your mind whirl away just a bit more. You are fracturing under his guidance. He coaxes you with touches and murmurs, all languid.
"C'mon, baby. Y'know what I want. Tip over that edge for me," he smirks in a dragging purr, looking up at you through your legs.
It pulls your breath from your strangled lungs; it makes your hips buck futilely against his hold. You’re shaking with the sensations he is bringing to the surface now. Your hands move from grasping at the sheets to gripping his coiled hair. You think about pulling Jude away, but rather you instinctually hold him still while you grind softly against his mouth, shoving his face further down. Jude groans with approval and takes it. He flattens his tongue against you and instead of pinning you, he holds your waist so he can provide leverage for you.
You shudder and tremble at his allowance. At the way he bends and molds for you to take your pleasure from him. Normally, when you both had run-ins together, he would be in control, rough and leading. Though, that's not what tonight is about. Tonight is about you, and giving you everything you want and how you want it on a silver platter.
Jude realised what worshiping you means, he knows he is begging for forgiveness for dragging his feet when it came to you. And he will do everything in his power to lift you higher, even as you come for the first time that night on his tongue. Because you gave him everything—and, well—ignored his naivety. But at last, Jude finally understood what that meant to you, and what you meant to him.
It was a blur, the next few moments, you were not really present while Jude shifted your legs off of his shoulders and back onto the bed. Though once you realised the sight in front of you, it didn’t take long for you to push yourself up the bed so you were sitting up.
“You good?” Jude’s voice was soft now, ensuring you were okay; not oblivious to your tired body. You nodded however, a lazy smile spreading on your lips in reassurance, hooded eyes taking him all in. You just wanted to feel all of him.
“Perfect,” you breathed, leaning forward to connect your lips without another word. It was greedy, a few moments of no contact and you were drawn to him again, tasting yourself on his mouth. You just wanted more and more, and the way Jude’s hands flew to your waist showed it was truly reciprocated.
You pushed him slightly to sit down, switching positions so he was resting against the headboard now—it didn’t take much force; Jude was letting you guide him, hands delicately roaming your fatigued frame.
Jude moaned into your mouth the moment your hand wrapped around his length, pumping a few times was the relief he’d been ignoring since you both entered your room.
Jude struggled to kiss back for a mere moment, causing your eyes to flutter open, lips curving upwards at the sight of his face contorted in pleasure. Fuck, you could get used to that image.
“C’mon baby,” Jude rasped out as his hands found a home on your hips, guiding them upwards ever so slightly. “Fuck yourself on my cock, yeah? Would you do that? For me?” Despite his usual dominance, his gentle, submissive voice laced with his northern accent made you shiver with thrill. Your arms moved to hold onto his shoulders, enough to help steady you as you guided your hips on top of his, lowering yourself down onto his cock.
The pair of you gasped in sync, your forehead resting against his as you took him all in at once, jaw going slack from the stretch.
You stilled, needing time to adjust to his size, even after being with him for so long—and Jude had no complaints, the feeling of you wrapped around him making him content.
“You feel s’fucking incredible,” the man rasped, lips brushing against yours as he spoke; and you could only whimper at first, a few deep breaths escaping you.
“So—ah—fucking big,” you moaned; having to swallow intently before mustering the energy to begin moving. You gazed at him hard, slowly riding him.
The closeness and intimacy would usually scare you. Hell, it would normally terrify him.
The vulnerability of it. The weight behind every lingering touch, every confession, every moment where there was no room left to pretend this was something casual. Jude had spent so long convincing himself that keeping things undefined was safer, that putting distance between what he felt and what he admitted was the only way to protect both of you.
But now, Jude accepted it. In fact, he wanted it.
He wasn’t pulling away when things started to feel real. He wasn’t searching for a reason why it couldn’t work or finding some excuse to keep you at arm’s length. For once, he wasn’t fighting the feeling that had been there all along.
He was letting himself have it. Letting himself choose you.
Your nails dug into his skin once more as you shifted up and down, Jude’s hands only on your skin to ensure he had a hold on you—letting you set the pace as he watched, jaw tense and eyes adoring.
“Fuck, Jude,” you whined when he’d bottom out once more, hitting a spot so deep inside of you that your toes were curling. The sound of his own grunts and moans only added to the pleasure.
“Doing so good for me, baby,” his praise only encouraged you, words so delicate. You sped up as much as you could, not too fast but with more urgency than before; as much as your sore body would allow. “So fucking good.”
It wasn’t long before you started to tire, your moans grew whinier but you didn’t need to say anything, a choked moan escaping your throat when his hips suddenly thrusted up to meet your movements.
You hadn’t thought you could feel more full but you were wrong, and Jude didn’t relent as he started fucking up into you.
You were like a doll in his hands, as he started to practically move you up and down his cock; his own hips continuing to thrust up you couldn’t keep up, eyes screwing shut as your mouth fell agape.
“Oh—Oh my God, Jude, fuck,” you were practically chanting; a string of curses and his name; it all felt too good. So perfect, you couldn’t comprehend any of it.
“Take it baby, y’doing so well.” Jude grunted, and you nodded so quickly, like you could ever disappoint him. Fingers reaching to his back and nails dragging across the skin—his thrusts harsh, not slow, but not too quick that you wouldn’t have time to feel every inch of him.
Your head was thrown back, exposing your bare chest further to him, which Jude made the most of for the time being, lips ducking down and attaching to one of your nipples for a few moments. But as your sounds got louder he needed to be able to see your face clearly, hand moving up your back and tangling in your hair to force you to look at him.
“Open your eyes, please,” he practically insisted, and at this point you’d do anything he said without question; eyes blinking open to look at him.
His stamina was still so impressive, unsurprising, especially anymore, as he bounced you on his cock like you weighed nothing. Though the way Jude’s breaths got shaky and his hooded eyes revealed he was feeling the pleasure like you were.
“Who’s making you feel this good?” Jude’s question escaped him without much thought; he just needed to hear you say it. Wanted to revel in the fact he had you in such a state, that you still wanted him. Your praise and reassurance held such a high value to him.
“You, Jude, you,” you whined out in response. You felt his hand move back to your hip, needing to use your own strength now to keep your head upright. “Feels so good,” you told him, squeezing him as you did so.
Jude groaned at the feeling, almost having cummed on the spot; thankfully he didn’t, because he needed to see you fall apart one more time.
“Y’want to cum again, yeah? That you want?” his mouth seemed to know no ends, the taunting only making your stomach grow tighter as you nodded to the best of your ability.
His breaths were heavy now, hands travelling to your bottom. He used the plush of your ass as his grip on your body instead.
“Wanna hear you say it,” Jude begged, head ducking into the exposed skin of your neck, more kisses pressed onto your skin and the thought of marks being there from the amount of attention he’d paid to it was the last thing on either of your minds.
You were struggling now, too fucked out to process his words as quickly as he’d like, so much so a harsher thrust upwards had you aware you needed to answer him, yet you already forgot what he said. Instead, you just screamed out a moan.
“Too fucked out to form words baby?” Jude teased now that he knew he had your attention; and he chuckled once more when you shook your head quickly. You had your Jude back. “Want to hear you say it.” he repeated, eyes piercing yours.
“Wanna—oh, fuck—cum, agh, again,” your words were laced with desperation, needing to take a breath between sentences as his cock spread you open. “Please—please let me cum.”
The man’s hum of satisfaction turned into a moan of pleasure at your plea, sounding and looking so pretty for him, it was clear you’d done enough as you felt his hand snake down between your bodies to your clit.
Your vision went white practically immediately, almost yelping from how sensitive you were; thrown over the edge with little warmth as you came on his cock, practically screaming his name as you did so.
Jude came inside you merely a few seconds later, jaw slack from the sight of you and the way your walls squeezed him once more, only now was his thrusts sloppy as you both rode out your highs.
You were practically limp in his lap, forehead pressed against his bare shoulder as his own head rested against the headboard; loud, heavy and irregular breaths filling the silence.
Jude’s hand gently moved to your head, fingers running through the strands of your hair comfortingly, the action causing you to hum in appreciation. Both of you were content with the silence, purely because neither of you knew exactly what to say, what to do. This was unexpected, to say the least.
After everything that had been said, after all the apologies and truths that had finally been dragged into the open, neither of you really knew what came next. It was strange, sitting here with the person you had spent so long trying to let go of, only to realise that neither of you had ever truly wanted the distance.
Jude’s fingers slowed slightly, his eyes dropping to where his hand rested before looking back at you.
“I’m sorry.” The words were softer this time, though his voice was hoarse after everything. Not rushed, not desperate. Just honest. “I’m so sorry.”
You could hear the weight behind it. Like no matter how many times Jude said it, he still felt like it wouldn’t be enough. His thumb brushed lightly against your hair as he looked at you.
“I know I’ve said it already—and I’m probably ruining the mood—but I mean it.” There was a small pause as Jude chuckled. “I should’ve done this sooner.” His gaze softened, “I should’ve stopped being scared and just told you what I wanted.”
His thumb brushed against your hand, clearing his throat. “So… would you be mine?”
And finally, you heard the words you wanted to hear all along from his lips. You didn’t have to think about it. Not because everything that happened suddenly disappeared. Not because the hurt wasn’t real or because forgiving him had been easy.
But rather somewhere along the way, you had realised Jude wasn’t asking you to forget what he’d done but he was asking you to believe he could do better. And that was the difference.
You squeezed his the nape of his neck gently, watching the tension slowly leave his shoulders as he looked at you.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
A small, boyish smile beamed across his face, almost disbelieving. “Yeah?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yes. Yes, Jude.”
And for the first time in a long time, there was no uncertainty between you. No wondering where you stood. No trying to decipher what his actions meant.
Just him. Just you. And finally the quiet understanding that this time, you were finally choosing each other.
summary: during a moment of intimacy, jude tries something new
requested: -
⚠️: smut-ish
pairing: jude
genre: smut
authors note: short blurb that came to me while in class. lame ass title because i spent so long just thinking of one .
🎵: -
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It was one of those slower days. No work to be done. No training. Dishes put away. Clothes folded. Nothing on tv you wanted to watch. Heavy rain outisde which didn't allow for any outdoor activities. So Jude had suggested a pastime that was a favorite for you both.
Jude made quick work of removing your clothes and it didn’t take too long for you both to end up in the shared room.
Some time had passed and your first orgasm had came, the second rapidly approaching. He was quickly nearing his first.
The two of you had reached a rhythm that signaled a peak. He had you on your back, the blankets all spread out while over you, bracing himself with his elbows, arm muscles working overtime. As he pounded into you, his hands held yours above your head, fingers laced. Muffling a small sound between your lip, you turned your head to the side, exposing the side of your neck.
Jude watched you and in that moment, his pace faltered, only for a second.
He didn't know what came over him. Jude only saw the expanse of your neck and something in him.. changed. The smooth skin was tempting, inviting. It was just.. there. And without a moments hesitation, he pressed his lips at the base of your neck, kissing you lightly before his intrusive thoughts kicked in.
Feeling his soft lips on your neck, you had only begun to moan when you felt his tongue hard and firm, pressed against your skin as he licked upwards, stopping just below your ear. The soft moan cut halfway and you let out a startled scream.
"Jude! EW!" you shoved him off, eyes opening immediately.
The man only shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "M'bad."
"No, it's not just... 'my bad!' Ugh!" you tore your hand from his grip, frantically wiping your neck.
His eyes widened a fraction, processing the reaction. With heavy breaths, his gaze was locked onto you, his hands still braced on either side of your head.
When you finished wiping your neck, you stared at him in disbelief. "Why'd you do that?"
"Didn't like it?" he murmumed, leaning close. The two of you were still connected, you could feel him twitching in you.
A small laugh escaped your mouth. "Not that I didn't like it, was just... unexpected."
He smiles. "So I could do it again?"
Your heart lurched and your brows knit. "Ew, Jude, this is gross, we just had lunch, no!"
It went silent for a second. Both of your chests heaved with exertion. His smirk widened.
The mood left you.
"Alright, off." you grumbled, nudging him away.
He huffed while slipping out of you. "Fine."
The separation was quick and after moments of shuffling and moving around, your reached for your shirt that was at the end of the bed.
"I didn't even get to finish." he groaned, his arm slung over his eyes.
Pulling on your shirt, you merely glanced back at him. Despite the blanket covering his lower half of his body, the proof was there. He was unfortunately still aroused.
"You should've thought of that before licking me like a lolly!" you laughed.
Jude laughed but it was strained. Taking another glance at him, he was now on his stomach, searching for some alleviation. He let out a few muffled sounds as he bucked against the mattress before giving up with a groan. “Fucking hell.” The man grips the blanket on the bed before he turned back over, lying flat on his back.
Moving to lie beside him, you kissed his shoulder. "I'll help you later, ‘kay? Just.. caught me off guard."
“Was jus’ my tongue.” he mumbles.
Your shook your head. “Well yeah but it was unexpected.”
Jude didn’t reply. He glances at you, that shit eating grin still on his face. With a hard eye roll, your hand slipped beneath the blanket, finding his dick, still hard. “Here, compensation.”
“Thank you.”
But neither of you were really focused. Your movements were near robotic and he wasn’t really in it. He gave a small grunt, bucking into your hand and you mumured something, probably an 'oops', he didn't hear. Suddenly, his hand came over yours, stopping it. You raise a brow.
"Hm?"
He twists his lips in thought before squinting at you. “So.. if that’s something I wanted to try again, my tongue all over you...”
Fighting a smile, you looked up at him. “Next time, just give me a warning." your hand squeezed him unconsciously. "Your tongue was.. cold."
"Cold??" His brows shot up. "Really? My tongue was cold?"
"As fuck."
He seems surprised, sitting up. "Is that good or bad?"
The absurdity of the question seemed to kill any rememnats of the mood. His member softened and he didn't even realize. You drew your hand back, his dick going limp. The sound of skin meeting skin seemed to echo through the room.
With a sigh, you sat and and faced him but he wasn't looking at you. His tongue was out and he was feeling it every few seconds with his fingers.
What had this day come to?
"Okay!" Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, wiping your hands. "We're losing the plot."
He blinked, dropping his hands. "Might be, but it was hot."
Your brows raised. "Hot? Licking my neck was hot- Pfft, okay superstar. No more tongue for some time."
A loud scoff left his mouth as he leaned in, closing the distance between you two. His soft lips met yours and just as you thought the mood would return, his tongue poked out, licking you once more.
"Enough!" was all you were able to say, a fit of laughter taking over you.
"You'll give in by tommorw night." he smirked, licking your lips.
You batted him away, laughing agaisnt his mouth. "Mm, don't know about that."
But the look in your eyes suggested otherwise. Jude nodded to himself, a low and satisfied ‘mhm' leaving his lips. The two of you were definitely trying this again soon, he knew it. You both risked a glance at each other, and saw the shared idea in each others eyes.
He raised a brow. “Tomorrow?”
“Tonight.”
-
this is so silly, i love it haha
i remember seeing an ad in a magazine years ago in which some guy was licking this girls neck and it was actually so hot
jude being absolutely obsessed with the girl he fucks 24/7 (aka you) , loving every inch of her even if she probably enjoys arguing with him more than having sex.
warnings : sex, toxic jude, cussing, pussy eating, over stimulation
not proofread!
jude puts his phone down with a thud, rubbing his tense eyebrows. obviously, he's not taking the loss well, why the fuck would you point that out?
always running your mouth. whatever, he's used to it. he kinda likes it, but he'll never admit that.
twenty minutes later, he hears his phone buzzing and he immediately picks up without even checking if its you, mumbling the room he's in.
after impatiently waiting on the king sized bed, the door finally opens and you walk in wearing shorts and one of his oversized shirts that you stole from him a couple of months ago.
jude gets up, walking over to you and kissing you. his lips smack against yours with some sense of urgency that only you can mimic.
"mm- slow down. i just got here." you try to speak, barely able to pull away before he stuffs his tongue into your mouth, making you moan in surprise.
"please, let me fuck you. im so hard, y/n. i need your pussy." he whines, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and nose.
you roll your eyes but nod in consent.
jude doesn't waste one millisecond, lifting you up and throwing you down on the plush bed, taking his shirt off right above you which makes you bite your lip.
theres nothing more you love than admiring judes body. he's toned, has abs and a big dick, and muscles. what more can a girl want?
you spread your legs teasingly, taking your time unbuttoning your shorts.
jude clearly doesn't find it nearly as funny aa you do, since he roughly grabs them and pulls them down your legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor.
"you're actually pissing me off." he grumbles, pulling your panties off to and leaning down, licking a strip up your already wet cunt.
"so? that's what im best at- ah!" you moan as his plump lips wrap around your pulsing clit, sucking as if his life depended on it.
you squirmed on the bed, unable to move due to his strong hands holding your thighs down. incoherent words and moans come out of your mouth due to how good and overwhelming his tongue is.
he eats your pussy out like a starved man, groaning at the taste and gripping you tighter when he feels your hips trying to move away from his face.
"don't run from me pretty, you taste so good." he practically moaned into your pussy, tongue licking against the gummy walls.
jude was clearly enjoying himself. not only was he moaning just like you, but he was basically humping the mattress.
"im gonna cummm! please please please don't stop-" you babble on and on continuously, pussy leaking straight into his mouth.
jude doesn't stop or slow down, instead he sucks on your clit again because he knows that makes you cum every time.
you immediately orgasm, gasping and closing your eyes shut in nothing but pure pleasure. "jude, fuck."
he continues eating you out to prolong the orgasm until you smack his head.
"im obsessed with your pussy." he smacks it softly, snickering at your legs closing on instinct.
"can i fuck you now?" he mumbles, sliding his shorts and boxers down.
you roll your eyes, clearly exhausted from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you 30 seconds ago.
"give me a minute, geez.. i don't have footballer stamina."
jude sighs but lays down next to you , watching as you try to slow your breathing and relax.
"okay.. im good. but im not doing any work, yeah?"
"fine with me. cmon, on your belly." he taps your waist, motioning for you to turn around.
you comply silently, lazily rolling around so your face is stuffed in the pillows, extremely close to falling asleep.
jude rolls on a condom before positioning himself behind you, spreading your ass cheeks and pressing his thick mushroom tip against your pussy.
"fuuck. you're so tight." he pushes in, making both of you moan at the delicious feeling.
once his cocks fully inside you, he starts thrusting. not slowly, not softly, but fast and rough. just the way he knows you love. his hips slam against your with a loud plap-plap-plap! , girthy dick hitting spots you didn't know existed.
"shiiittttt, jude!" you moan mindlessly into the pillow, mouth wide open in pleasure.
he groans in response, lifting your hips up so he can fuck his cock into you in a different angle.
"i love your pussy so fucking much, oh my god." he practically whines, eyebrows furred in pleasure as a thin layer of sweat forms on his beautiful skin.
after a couple minutes of nonstop fucking, jude feels your gummy walls clenching around him just enough to make his hips stutter, losing his rhythm.
"you gonna cum, pretty? can feel you- fuck, clenching around me. 's so tight."
you nod into the pillow desperately, turning your head to the side so you can speak clearly.
"im- im gonna cum. please. please let me cum?" you whimper, tears streaming down your face from how good everything feels , even if you were about to fall asleep 6 minutes ago.
judes thrusts turn even rougher (if possible), his breaths coming out hard and quick. "cum with me, pretty."
at his demand, you immediately start cumming all around his cock. moans turning into whines and pussy clenching impossibly tight as the knot unravels in your lower tummy.
he finishes right after you, moaning your name as his hips still, cumming into the condom.
jude collapses ontop of you, kissing your sweaty shoulder as you both try to catch your breath.
"that was.. really fucking good." he mumbles, kissing your neck, then ear.
you only nod in response, too tired to reply verbally. jude knows you're pleased though, noticing the small smile on your face even though your eyes are closed.
jude knows you two aren't exclusive , but sometimes it's nice to pretend otherwise.
【 WHERE 】 ⋮ your best friend’s older brother is the definition of off-limits. you should never look his way, let alone catch feelings for him. but jude seems to have other plans, and after one too many glances, you’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not the only one breaking the rules.
🪽 . . . GENRE ⋮ best-friend’s brother!jude x f!reader ; smut with no plot ; mdni.
content warning ─────── cursing alcohol nipple play pussy eating unprotected sex ( ) risk of getting caught
⤷ ゛WORDCOUNT ˎˊ˗ 3K. not proof read.
when jude hit twelve years old, he made a list of all the things he wanted to do when he would be 20. papers scattered around his floor with his nearly empty school bag hanging from his bed.
- travel around the world ( at least 2 countries )
- learn a new language ( spanish or german )
- get into the real madrid club
- keep a great relationship with his family no matter what.
what small jude didn’t except is that the older version of himself would be a fucking idiot willing to ruin his brotherhood pact just to get a taste of a girl he shouldn’t even be looking at.
“hi jude!” was all it took him to fell head over heels for you. a simple greeting compiled with that pretty smile of yours and a sneak peak of your dimple.
after that, jude did everything he could to forget you, but you kept coming with jobe to do your homework or hanging out with the two of them, you even got along with his mother. at this point, no matter how many steps back jude was taking you'll always make the double of his steps forward.
until one night when he couldn't take it anymore.
the day has already been fucking long. the training was tiring and jude's stats were really bad compared to usual, for lunch they forgot half of his order and he was fucking starving, and on top of that, you were laughing really hard with a guy who kept his hand wandering around your fucking waist.
jude knows, he's not supposed to feel anything too serious, to feel jealous, heck to feel possessive around you. after all you're his lovely little brother best friend, what kind of image would he have if jobe found that the two of you did something. would he still hang out with you ? probably wont innit ? he can't risk that for you.
not for you who didn't asked anything of his fucked up mind, you can't be a collateral damage or a victim of his greed.
you whose only sunshine and good weather without rain or clouds ever, you probably wears matching pajamas and snuggle in your bed at night after taking a fuming bath, probably wake up with the sun rays filtering to your window and that fucking bastard is about to ruin you if his hand ever land on you-
"is everything alright, love?" without even realizing, jude had made his way next to you smacking the guy hand.
“oh jude, i’m good yeah, just talking with a friend”
a friend huh ? barely saw any friends who hold the waist of the other while staring at their chest.
“yeah right . . . we should probably go, jobe already left an hour ago.”
jude jaw tighten, his hand lingering a second against your arm before shoving it in his pocket and finishing his drink in a sip. the guy looked between the two of you like he was sizing up a challenge, trying to adjust his posture and flare up his chest to look taller but jude was still towering him over.
“okay, he should probably call for a uber.”
the both of you drink and you were pretty tipsy, this lighten up the first alarm in his mind.
the club’s bass— some private clubs where you could find actors, footballers or singers around every corners and not feel like a complete fangirl sweating and shaking asking for a picture. the kind of club jude liked, he could be himself without any judgment or someone asking for a autograph because all of this were banned there— still thumped behind you as you waited on the sidewalk for an uber.
“you didn’t have to do that you know, he was harmless.” you said to break the silence.
“harmless?” he scoffed, clearly mocking your naivety, “mate had his hand all over you while looking right into your tits—“
he stopped himself, regretting to have used that word but you didn’t seemed to mind it pretty much so he continued.
“that’s not harmless, love.”
when the uber arrived, jude opened the door for your and watched you get in without bumping your head, “if i didn’t know you, i’ll almost think you were jealous.”
he froze for a second wondering if you actually say what you did, before laughing it off.
the ride was quiet, too quiet. but in this small car with the chauffer humming on some r&b song and his blood boiling, jude wasn’t trusting his mouth to say anything reasonable or not dirty to you right now.
he kept his hands on his thighs fidgeting the fabric of his trousers to probably keep his mind occupied.
when the uber finally pulled to your house, jude paid before you could even reached for your phone. you gave him a small grateful smile that could tore the countries in his heart up.
“you don’t have to walk me to my door.” you said softly.
“just making sure.” he reassured himself.
so he followed you right behind, hands shoved in his pocket, at the doorstep you paused, keys in hand before turning around to face him.
“i just remember, jobe asked me for this book . . . umh football psychology? can you come help me to look for it please?”
is this the english equivalent of “do you wanna come and see my cat?” or “do you wanna come eat ramen?” or are you genuinely naive enough to let some dirty men enter your room at night while being tipsy and wearing what seems to now be the shortest dress ever.
jude’s eyebrows lifted, terrible fucking idea. this was the second alarm his brain gave him.
but he nodded anyway, “led the way.”
the house was quiet and dark, your parents were definitely sleeping. jude followed you upstairs, each cracks of the stairs feeling louder than the one before. when you pushed opened the door of your room and turned on the light, the familiar scent wrapped around him, vanilla, sun and clean laundry, everything about you that was driving him crazy.
he stood akwardly near the doorway while you moved to your bookshelf pretending to search. the room felt smaller with him in it, probably because he was towering most of it.
you glanced back at him over your shoulder, “can you check with me please?”
so he moved closer and closer until he was too close, the air between you thickened with every seconds, he could hear you breathing slightly quicker now, or maybe it was his own.
“you really didn’t had to scare that guy off today, but i’m glad you did.”
jude swallowed, “didn’t like the way he was touching you.”
you laughed and placed a book back on the bookshelf, “are you seriously jealous ?” you said jokingly.
but jude stayed silent, he didn’t denied it.
“jude?”
you turned your head and you were inches away from each other at that exact moment.
at this point you’re pretty sure jude did the ‘triangle method’ you saw on tiktok, his gaze went from your right eye to your left before dropping on your lips, all that while looking atrociously good and cute and so fucking fuckable at that moment.
your breathing had picked up, matching his. the tension cracked up and took all of the space in the room within a second. his hand came up slowly to the back of your neck probably waiting for you to back up, which never arrives.
no words were needed, you blinked and suddenly jude was on you, mouth grinding against yours like a dog in heat. it definitely wasn’t the type of kiss that would simply end like that.
he kissed you like a starved man, his hand on your neck guided you, a low groan rumbled in his chest and the sound of you two kissing was what animated the room.
“fuck it . . . “
he muttered while taking his breath before devouring you again. his hands slide down to your hips to pick you up from the floor, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he led both of you to the bed without even looking.
honestly that was pretty hot, to see him completely focused on you, not giving his attention to anything else than your lips and your body.
jude hands slide under the helm of your dress, palm hot against your thighs until he delicately laying you down on your bed, only then he broke the kiss to focus on your neck. sucking your skin and making sure he found your weak spot.
“tell me what you want,” he breathed,accent thicker now that he was into it, breathing in that sensitive spot.
you shivered under him, hands caressing the back of his neck, he pulled back to look at you— putting all of his weight on himself— eyes dark and wanting, asking for more.
“i’ll do it however you want it . . .”he whispered.
you tugged him back down into a kiss, slower and deeper this time, which he melted into instantly. he groaned into your mouth his hands sliding up each inches of your dress.
you ached into him giving him any permission he needed so his hand found your bra and carefully removed the strapes off your shoulders.
“you’re too pretty for me to ruin you,” he kissed your forehead while his gentle and caroused hands slightly caressed your chest.
being so exposed in front of him at that moment definitely was something.
jude eyes drank you, making sure he wasn’t missing out a single detail about your body, like he needed to remember everything about this night perfectly to close his eyes at night.
his mouth then found your breast, teeths biting softly your nipples as your back arched and you contained your sounds.
“fuck . . . jude . . .”
“yes, love. keep saying my name,” his tongue circled your bundles of nerves watching fight back every sounds that could come out of your mouth.
he then released your nipple with a wet pop and went on the other, making sure both of them gets the same attention.
jude kissed his way to your inner thighs, his big brown eyes looking up at you, your hand caressing his face as he settled between your most intimate part waiting for your approval.
“can i, love? please.”
the please hit you somewhere hard, the jude bellingham— rising star, middle field maestro who could have anyone at any places in the world was looking at you like you were doing him a favor.
you nodded and slowly he removed the only obstacle between his mouth and your pleasure. he delicately put your panties down next to him and took a time to admire you.
“oh my— you’re so . . . fuck, shit— i’m so sorry, love, i need you so badly.”
he then licked your entirety from the bottom to the top reaching your clit. a movement so simple that had you tremble like a puppy in the rain.
his long fingers and more precisely thumb pressed against that knot of pleasure whole his tongue licked you multiple times, curled inside you, got you wet and dripping with his saliva.
he kissed your lips, kissed your clit and took it into his mouth as two of his fingers were pushed to your inside, coating them with wetness the second they got in. stretching you like a promise of what is coming next.
a strangled cry escaped your throat before you could stop it, and jude's free hand clamped gently over your mouth.
"shhh, love, you have to be quiet. can you do that for me?“ you nodded against his palm.
he thrusted down deep inside you, to the point you had to grabbed the sheets like it owned you money, your back arching from the pleasure he was providing to you. jude kept going until your legs were shaking around his shoulders, you moans grew louder to the point you that you had to bury your face in a pillow making sure you wouldn’t wake up your parents. what would they think if they saw their little princess almost naked with her bestfriend brother between her legs.
“fuck fuck— jude, i’m coming . . .”
only then he stopped and crawled back up, kissing you so you could taste yourself. your tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened for you with a soft deseperate sound that made your stomach flip.
while you kissed him, your hands found the hem of his shirt, he broke away for half a second just to remove it before coming down on you again almost immediately, needy for your lips, and you forgot how to breathe.
obviously you already saw his chest before, at the beach or the pool or simply while he was training, but this was a complete different situation. you touched him without thinking, palms flat against his pectorals, then sliding down, tracing the topography of his body like you were reading braille.
jude shuddered, his whole body trembling above you.
“you’re too much for me, darling,”he said it against your sternum, lips brushing the bone as he spoke.
“jude,” your feet teased the waistband of his trouser, “i want you inside.”
for a moment he didn’t moved, his eyes closed to your words, cock pressing hard against his briefs, maybe he was trying to control himself or ask God for the forgiveness of his brother because he was about to fuck his best friend like he never thought he would.
“are you sure? i don’t think we could go back as normal after that.”
you rolled your eyes and leaned forward to slowly remove his trousers, “i know.”
you pushed his boxers down and his cock sprang free.
glistening, a pearl of moisture already leaking from the tip, it was darker than the rest of his skin and a lot larger than you expected, the ridge pronounced, the shaft beneath it thick and veined.
you reached for him without thinking, wrapped your hand around it and couldn't close your fingers, he was too thick, you squeezed gently and his whole body jerked.
a groan tore from his throat, loud enough that he had to clamp his own hand over his mouth.
“love, don’t do that to me.”
he softly pushed you back on the bed and settled between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your entrance.
the tip slided through your wet fold, coating himself with your arousal. your lips parted for him, swollen and slick and eager as you both watched the head disappeared between you two.
“fuck, i thought the tip would be enough, but i fucking need you.”
he pushed foward and sound was obscene, wet and sucking and so loud in the quiet room that you both froze, eyes wide, waiting for some sign that your parents had heard. but the house remained silent.
jude leaned down to kiss you once again, “tell me if it hurts baby, i’ll stop right away.”
“it doesn’t,” you kissed him back.
he pushed deeper, your inner walls stretched around him, your pussy— that sweet and leaking secret part of you— gripped his shaft like a fist, in a slick fleshy embrace that you could both feel.
“holy . . . “
the head of his cock pressed against your cervix—that ring of tissue deep inside you. he was fully seated, balls pressed against your ass, pubic bone grinding against your clit.
and he stopped moving,
“look at me.”
you opened your eyes even if you didn’t remember when you had them closed, “i want to remember this, your pussy stretched around me.”
you felt his cock throbbed inside you, every pulse and beat was there, your inner walls fluttered around him, still adjusting to the stretch, still producing slick that made the fit wet and perfect, and jude moved again.
slow. so slow you could feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him dragging against your inner walls.
“oh god— . . . jude—“
his rhythm built, slow at first, then faster.
his hips rolled against yours, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with each thrust, and your pleasure started to build.
the wet sounds of the two of you filled the room, your pussy was absolutely drenched, leaking into you ass and coating your sheets.
the squelch of his cock moving through your slick folds was loud enough to be embarrassing if you'd had any room left for shame, which you didn't.
“more . . .” you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist, “harder, jude, please.”
he obeyed, of course he would. his pretty princess under him asking him to go harder? faster? his pace increased, hips snapping against yours with a force that made your breasts bounce and the headboard tap against the wall.
“shit,” he reached up, pressed his palm flat against the headboard to muffle the sound. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, “can you be quiet for me, princess? can you come quietly while i fuck you?"
you nodded and suddenly you felt it, your inner walls clamped down around him, the contractions were rhythmic, involuntary, pulsing from deep inside you and radiating outward.
your g-spot—that rough patch he'd found earlier—throbbed against the ridge of his cock. your clit, pressed against his pubic bone, sent sparks shooting through your entire nervous system.
and jude kept his eyes on you, watched your face twist in pleasure, “that’s it, darling. give everything to me.”
your pussy convulsed, your thighs trembled, your nails still teasing his back, and jude didn't flinch, didn't look away, didn't stop moving inside you.
each thrust drew out another wave of contractions. each withdrawal made your inner lips cling and stretch.
jude dragged out your orgasm with his, his movement grew faster and harder, his head came to rest on your shoulder before his body frantically convulsed, paiting your inside in white thick strips.
“you need to eat a girl out at least twice before you get to fuck her”
you stop mid word— whatever it was you were talking to laura about, now long forgotten— you don’t remember ever reacting so fast to something.
terrifying horror on your face when you lock eyes, that doesn’t really match because he’s got this amused face on mixed with cockiness.
“what?” wide eyed and face contorted into something you can’t quite explain.
there’s quiet before the whole lot start cackling up.
you look to ferran for an explanation and he just shrugs smugly, you’re not sure how to feel about him sharing such private details even when you love your friends so dearly. “i was just explaining them how a real man does it, amore”
“the missus taught you well huh?” dani playfully hits him in the ribs wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
“well what can i say? you gotta know what you’re doing” ferran answers with that shit eating grin plastered on his face.
you sigh, your face in your hands. “no i don’t wanna talk about it” you interrupt laura before she has a chance to say anything about the topic.
one might be asking: did you know he was going to be there? and the answer is absofuckinglutely.
you had planned the whole weekend around it.
now, finding yourself on the same place, the casual horror of it all, and you know because your friends had been insufferable ever since finding out.
and he was so smug about it too, different girl every night on his lap, and giving it all he had in his friends ig stories.
well two can play that game.
you were done being a saint about the breakup and swallowing it all down every time it threatened to come ashore.
the endless therapy sessions you subjected yourself to since it happened? blaming yourself for every single thing that had happened during those four years you had been together?overthinking about what you could’ve done better? if you were even to blame for the horrid separation at the end of a stupid saturday afternoon in november.
dating a footballer certainly wasn’t easy but what you hadn’t expected was how the aftermath of it was a lot more harsher; courtesy of his fans.
from having to private your socials to carefully choosing every single person you hung out with, because you were terrified of ending up online just for rumors started by stupid people that knew nothing about you, about what you two had.
and ferran in all this? absolutely nothing. there were gossip of him seeing someone in january, and that’s when you knew you had to quit talking to walls and get a hold of your life instead of spending days thinking what’s he gonna do?
so when you saw him standing on your hotel lobby with nothing but swimming boxers on a tuesday when all you really wanted that day was some coffee and food before spending the rest of it being fried by the sun, you were not going back.
you sat your friends down and set him apart filling the gaps. what the best course of action to take was, to show him how good you were, especially with the way pilates classes have helped the body you were going to show off as much as you could hoping he could be half as bitter as you were.
to show you weren’t the only one to have lost something that day.
he sucks, but he’s rich is the last thing you hear in the bathroom of some party in a little black dress retouching your makeup before going back to him.
and fuck if he didn’t look like god on earth with the stupid hair he had decided to grow out along with the just right enough beard, glasses pulled up to hold his hair back, but most importantly he was shirtless fucking show off, with the tan and the tattoos he had added to his collection. god you were absolutely foaming at the mouth, to think you’ve had him, for four whole years before he decided you weren’t enough for him to keep tagging along.
and when you lock eyes, you feel it all over your body, the look on his face is like bait like he’s daring you to go over.
so you empty the gin and lemon you had in one go and stride over, with the courage and adrenaline from both alcohol and the cheering of your friends, everything disappears.
we could talk about how that was all platonic and calculated but you’d be lying.
his scent, his touches, his voice, his kisses, his presence: everything blurred in one.
you can’t remember any of it. not that you can bring yourself to, not when his body is laying right next to you.
it almost makes you cry: both happy and sad. because you haven’t realized the deep trouble you got yourself in the moment his lips touched yours. how disappointed your mom and therapist are going to be, all the progress made crumbling to pieces like a house of cards blown by a petty child.
but what’s a girl to do? play it cool.
“babe” his morning voice scratches every single fiber in you, pulling you closer.
Summary: Comparing him to others is definitely a bad idea, he could flip you over the counter and fuck it out of you if he should.
Word Count: 1.2k
Ferran Torres x Reader
The living room was quiet except for the faint sound of a football match playing on the TV.
She was lying on the couch with her phone in her hand, half watching the game, half scrolling through social media. The soft evening light came through the windows of the apartment she shared with Ferran.
He had just come back from training. Still wearing his Barcelona training shirt and grey sweatpants, Ferran walked into the room, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. Training always left him looking a little tired, but also…unfairly handsome.
She looked up from the couch, “Training done?”. She asked.
He hummed softly. “Yeah”. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before sitting beside her on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him.
For a moment everything felt calm. Comfortable. Easy.
Then her mouth moved before her brain could stop it. “You know,” she said casually while watching the screen, “Pedri’s passes are so precise. Like… he always sees everything on the field.”
Ferran didn’t react at first. He just kept watching the TV where she’s pointing at.
She didn’t notice. “And Gavi’s energy is crazy too,” she continued absentmindedly. “He never gets tired.”
Still nothing.
Then she added the worst one without thinking. “Actually… Lamine’s dribbling lately is insane.”
Ferran slowly turned his head toward her.
She finally felt his eyes on her. “…What?”, she said.
He studied her face for a moment, completely calm. Too calm then he asked quietly, “Are we talking about my teammates again?”
Her stomach sank a little. “…yes, why?”
He looked back at the TV.
She exhaled, relieved. Crisis avoided.
Except it wasn’t. Because the problem wasn’t that she compared him once, it was that she did it all the time lately.
Not intentionally she just spoke without thinking as always but her mouth might get her into trouble one day.
And Ferran was patient. Very patient. He almost never snapped at her and he almost never raised his voice in front of her.
He was gentle with her. Protective. Soft in the way he held her, kissed her and looked at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
But he also had limits. And sometimes…she forgets that.
—
A few days later she was in the kitchen together.
She was sitting on the counter while Ferran cooked pasta for both of them while being shirtless just in his shorts like he always does when he’s alone with his girl at home. He moved around the kitchen easily, like he’d done it a thousand times.
“Smells good”, she said.
He smirked slightly. “It will be.”
She watched him for a moment. Then the words slipped out again. “You cook better than most your team though,” she said thoughtfully. “But I think Frenkie said he cooks too. I wonder if he’s better.”
Ferran paused just for a second. Then continued stirring the pasta.
She didn’t notice the small change in his expression. “Actually,” she added, swinging her legs lightly, “I think one of the guys said-”
“Amor.” His voice wasn’t loud.
But it was firm enough that it made her stopped mid sentence.
She blinked at him.
He turned around slowly. His arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter across from her.
His expression wasn’t angry. But it was serious.
And suddenly she remembered something important. Ferran Torres was one of the calmest people she knew. But when he drew a boundary…he really means it.
“…Yes?”, she said quietly.
He tilted his head slightly. “You realize you do this a lot, right?”
She frowned a little. “I do what?”
He let out a slow breath. “You compare me with others.”
Her heart dropped. “I don’t mean to-“
“I know,” he interrupted gently.
That was the thing about him. Even when he was serious, his voice stayed soft. But his eyes didn’t move from hers.
“You say Pedri does this,” he continued calmly. “Gavi does that. Lamine this. Frenkie that.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I just talk nonchalantly sometimes” she mumbled.
“I know.”
Another pause then his tone changed slightly. Still calm. But firmer. “But it’s getting out of control.”
She froze. Ferran almost never used that tone with her never in their two years of relationship. Not angry. Not harsh. Just…strict.
The kind that made her stomach flutter nervously. She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”
He watched her for a moment. Then he walked closer until he was standing right between her legs. His hands moved to the counter on both sides of her, trapping her between his arms.
Her heart skipped. Not because he was being intimidating. But because when Ferran got serious in rare cases he looks more attractive.
he focused completely on her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe. “Look at me, love”, he said quietly.
She looked up at him.
His expression softened slightly. “I don’t mind you talking about my teammates,” he said. “They’re my friends.”
She nodded.
“But,” he continued, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t like being compared to them every day.”
Her lips parted a little. “I don’t even notice when I do it.”
“I know.”
His thumb traced lightly along her jaw. “That’s why I’m telling you.”
His voice dropped slightly. “Because I’m patient, but I still have limits.”
Butterflies exploded in her stomach. She nodded quickly. “I understand.”
He studied her face for a second. Then he sighed and suddenly his serious expression softened completely. “You’re lucky I love you a lot,” he murmured.
Her cheeks flushed. “How much?”
His eyes warmed instantly. He leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead. “So much that I’ve listened to you compare me to half the squad for months.”
She laughed nervously. “…That bad?”
“Very.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god.”
He chuckled softly and gently pulled her hands away. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“That’s not the point.” she groaned.
He smiled. Then he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her to cradle his hips with her legs, pulling her closer to him as he can’t live without her.
“But listen,” he said softly.
She looked at him with blushed cheeks while her hands wrapped around his neck to stay steady in his arms.
“I don’t need you to compare me to anyone,” he continued. “I just want you to see me.”
Her chest tightened. “I do see you.” she whispered.
His eyes searched hers. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “You’re patient,” she said quietly. “You’re gentle. You take care of everyone. You work harder than people think.”
His expression softened even more. “And?” he teased.
She thought, “…And you’re the most handsome footballer on the team.”
He laughed. “That’s the important part”
“Obviously.”
He shook his head, smiling.
Then he leaned down and kissed her properly this time. Slow. Warm. The kind of kiss that made her heart melt immediately.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
“But seriously,” he murmured. “No more comparisons.”
She nodded quickly. “Promise.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You said that last week.”
“…This time I mean it.”
He watched you for a moment. Then he sighed dramatically. “Alright.”
She smiled.
“Because if you compare me to someone again-”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
A mischievous smile appeared on his face. “I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck the hell out of you, and see what name you’re gonna scream.”
Her face turned bright red. “…Ferran!”
He shrugged casually. “You’ve been warned.”
And honestly…she wasn’t completely sure if that was really a warning of punishment or just an away to make her scared, either way she liked it.
can you possibly write something about kylian please?🥹💗
DYEING;
⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗
kylian mbappé x f!hairdresser!reader.
dating.
note: thanks for ur req!! i love him sm
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you dye your boyfriend's hair again because you (and he) loved his blonde hair era.
for years, kylian hadn’t touched his hair. he kept it short and simple. he would occasionally joke about changing it then immediately decide it was too much effort and move on with his life.
this was why your reaction caught him completely off guard.
one evening, the two of you were scrolling through old photos on his phone while lying on the couch, then one picture appeared. platinum blond, his famous blond hair when he was at psg.
“you looked really good,” you smiled.
“with blond hair?”
“yeah.”
“really?” he raised an eyebrow.
you looked at him like the answer was obvious and he stared at the photo for another second.
“i thought people hated it.”
“some people have terrible taste.”
“that’s your professional opinion?”
“i’m literally a hairdresser and i'm telling you the blond was cute.”
“cute?”
“very cute.”
“that’s not convincing.”
you rolled your eyes. “fine, if it's what you want me to say, yes kylian, you looked hot.”
“thank you,” he smirked.
“idiot,” you said, shoving his shoulder.
later that night, after you’d forgotten about the conversation entirely, kylian was still thinking about it.
you had said it so casually and so honestly like you weren’t trying to convince him of anything, and it was exactly why he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
three days later, you came home from work and found him waiting in the kitchen.
“what did you do?” you narrowed your eyes.
“nothing.”
“that’s the smile you make before doing something stupid.”
“i have an idea, can you redo my blond?”
“what?”
“the blond. you’re bringing it back.”
“are you serious?”
“yes.”
“because i said one nice thing?”
“one very nice thing.”
“that’s not a reason,” you laughed.
“it’s enough for me.”
you shook your head. “you’re ridiculous.”
“so is my hair right now.”
“your hair is fine.”
“it could be blond.”
you couldn’t stop smiling, only kylian would make a life decision based on a single compliment.
a few days later, the two of you were standing in your salon after closing hours, kylian sitting in one of the chairs with a cape around his shoulders. he looked really too excited.
“you trust me this much?”
“obviously, you’re a professional.”
“i’m also your girlfriend.”
“exactly.”
you laughed before starting.
the process took a while and for the first hour, kylian talked non-stop... then he started getting impatient.
“how much longer?”
“you’re worse than my clients.”
“i am a client.”
“you’re getting the boyfriend discount.”
“which is?”
“you stop complaining.”
he groaned and you smiled to yourself.
a few more hours passed before you finally stepped back.
“done.”
for a second, he simply stared. the famous blond hair, same shade from years ago and maybe even better.
“okay,” he smiled.
“okay?”
“you were right.”
you crossed your arms, smiling proudly. “i know.”
“i actually missed this,” he said touching his hair.
“you look good.”
“just good?” he turned toward you.
“fine,” you smiled. “you look very sexy.”
“thank you.”
“your ego didn’t need that.”
“yes it did.”
he stood up before walking over and wrapping an arm around your waist.
“if i had known all it took was one compliment from you, i would’ve changed my hair years ago.”
you rolled your eyes. “don’t say it like i never compliment you.”
“yeah yeah,” he touched his hair. “i’m keeping it thought.”
“we’ll see.”
“no,” he smiled. “i like it.”
“because it actually looks good?”
“no,” he shook his head. “okay yes... but also because you like it.”
that answer made your heart melt far more than the blond hair ever could and he seemed to know it so well.
