mouse

lover of everything & anything #englishaintmyfirstlanguage

[miumiumouse]

MOUSE ─ scorpio. she/her. scandinavian. dyslexic. unusual form of girl, just in her room.

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[sinfulpetal]

JUDE BELLINGHAM — NEVER CAN SAY GOODBYE.

summary 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶafter everything that happened at the party, you were determined to keep your distance from jude. it was just another impulsive mistake. unfortunately, jude bellingham had other plans.

warnings𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶmore unprotected sex, fem reader, thinly veiled angst, reader tries to stand up for herself, public sex, p in v, more praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, overstimulation, jude is a little less toxic in this one after he gets a taste of his own medicine, thankfully. (8.5k wc)

note𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶTHIS IS A PART TWO and is not intended to be read individually, although you can. you can read PART ONE here, make sure to heed the warnings in that one as well, thank you! also this is not proof read so if there are errors.. oops. if you enjoy my writing and would like more, please stop by in my inbox.

It had been a little over a week since the party. And it had been long enough for the ringing in your ears from the shitty dance music to fade, for the lovebites Jude had left on you to disappear, and for you to convince yourself you'd finally gotten over whatever wicked spell he seemed to cast over you.

Instead, you’d replayed it so many times that certain moments began to blur together. His laugh. The warmth of his hands around your waist. The way he’d looked at you like the room full of people didn't exist.

How had you done this again?

You'd promised yourself. Seriously, you'd promised yourself!

You were supposed to be done chasing the version of Jude you kept convincing yourself still existed.. how many times now? You were supposed to stop mistaking scraps of affection for something genuine. Supposed to walk away before you found yourself in the exact same position, wondering why he always had this effect on you.

And yet, there you were; a week later, still thinking about the way his thumb had absentmindedly traced your thigh. Still remembering how naturally you'd leaned into him, your body forgetting every promise your mind had made. Remembering how you always believed that real love should be messy and hard,

It was embarrassing. Pathetic, really.

Not to mention you'd spent months telling yourself you were getting better, that you were finally learning to keep your distance. Then one night, a few drinks, one stupid dorky grin from Jude, and every ounce of self-restraint you'd built had come crashing down around you.

Life had settled back into its usual rhythm, unfortunately; nothing ever changed when it came to Jude and his promises. You went to work, answered your friends’ texts hours late, and tried to convince yourself that enough time would eventually dull whatever this feeling in your heart was. Now and then, though, Jude would appear somewhere you couldn't avoid. A photo from training, an interview someone reposted, a clip of him laughing from training that you scroll past far too quickly, only to find yourself swiping up to watch it seconds later. It was exhausting.

So when your friend texted asking if you wanted to accompany her to a charity dinner-gala of sorts she'd been invited to, you accepted without much thought. It sounded harmless enough. A quiet evening filled with footballers, sponsors, and people dressed in clothes worth more than your monthly rent. Free food, free drinks, a reason to wear the dress that had been collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe.

You didn't think to ask who else had been invited. Why would you? You already knew. Maybe that was why you'd said yes so quickly. You could blame it on the free food, the open bar, or your friend's persistence, but the truth sat boldly in the back of your mind. Some part of you had wanted to see Jude again. Not enough to swallow your pride and seek him out yourself, of course not. If you happened to run into Jude, well, then so be it. At least that way you could convince yourself it was fate, not another broken promise of his.

White tablecloths stretched across the room beneath towering chandeliers, candles flickering between extravagant floral arrangements. Waiters zoomed through the crowd balancing trays of champagne while photographers called names from the entrance, flashes bouncing off polished marble floors. Conversations in all kinds of different languages echoed around the huge marble space, every corner occupied by familiar faces from clubs across Europe.

You'd barely accepted a glass of champagne before you saw him.

Jude stood near the front of the room, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and club officials, dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him so perfectly it may as well have been stitched onto him. His head tipped back as he laughed at something Vinícius had said, one hand tucked casually into his pocket while the other balanced a champagne flute between his fingers. He looked happy, unbothered. Exactly how you’d imagined he'd been all week, and the thought made your stomach churn. How fucking dare he act like you're invisible again? After everything?

You watched him for a moment longer than you cared to admit before forcing yourself to look away. Right. He was just a man. Jude Bellingham was only a man. You repeated it to yourself once, twice. It didn't help. Ah, well. Jude Bellingham was only a man. And at least one day you would definitely die. Lovely, lovely, warm, sweet death. The thought nearly made you laugh to yourself.

Deciding you'd tested your luck long enough, you turned on your heel before he had the chance to notice you. Or so you thought.

"Aye, there you are."

Your shoulders immediately stiffened. That voice.

You screwed your eyes shut for the briefest second before turning around, finding Jude standing beside you with the same infuriating grin he'd worn the night of the celebration, looking entirely too pleased with himself. You hated this game. You hated that Jude always seemed to have the upper hand in this little game of cat and mouse, even when he was supposed to be the one running. Because he knew. He knew you would always come back. He knew, no matter how many times you promised yourself otherwise, you'd always find yourself chasing after him.

"I was wondering how long it'd take before I found you."

"You weren't supposed to find me."

"No?" Jude challenged, amusement flickering across his face. "I was actually counting on it."

You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip of your champagne to hide the smile threatening to appear. "That's a shame, then."

"Listen, I’ve got a question for you."

You sighed, holding back an eyeroll. "You usually do, Jude."

Something about his expression shifted. Not enough that anyone else would've noticed, but enough for you to catch it. It was gone so quickly you could've convinced yourself you'd imagined it if you didn't know him as well as you did.

Jude was good at hiding things. Everyone saw the confidence, the effortless charm, the way he carried himself like the entire world was already at his feet. But you had always been better at noticing the moments in between.

"I was supposed to bring someone tonight."

Your brows lifted at his words. What is he getting at?

"But she cancelled."

"And?"

"And now everyone keeps asking where my date is."

A quiet chuckle escaped you. "Hm. Sounds like a you problem."

"It is," Jude admitted with an easy nod. "Which is why I'm asking you to fix it."

You stared at him in disbelief. "No."

"You don't even know what I'm asking."

"I have a feeling I do."

Jude’s grin only grew. "Be my date."

Silence settled between the two of you as the sounds of clinking glasses and distant conversation faded into the background. Your first instinct was to laugh in his face. Your second was to remind him that the entire reason you'd spent the last week avoiding him was because this, whatever this was, always ended the same way. Somehow, you always found yourself back here, standing too close, letting him make you forget every reason you had for staying away.

Instead, you simply looked at him blankly. He returned your gaze without a shred of hesitation, as though asking you to spend the evening on his arm was the most natural request in the world. Then, as if he already knew your answer before you'd even given one, Jude stuck his arm slightly between the two of you, offering it out with an almost amused tilt of his head.

"Y’know," he murmured, rubbing his arm before looking back at you, chuckling boyishly, "most people would be honoured."

You scoffed softly. "You're fucking impossible."

"Maybe." His smile widened as he licked his lips. "But you're considering it."

You hated that he was right. You hated that after all the promises, all the distance, all the convincing yourself that you were finally done falling into his orbit, your hand still moved before your brain could stop it.

Your fingers curled around his arm.

Immediately, his expression shifted just enough that you noticed the satisfaction he tried to hide, the small smile tugging at his lips as he had just won something far more important than a football match. And maybe, in a way, he had.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," you muttered while scrunching your nose up.

"Oi, I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to."

Jude’s laugh was quiet, almost smug, as he guided you back toward the crowd. You hated how easy it was. How naturally you fell into step beside Jude, how your body seemed to remember him before your mind could remind you that you were supposed to be careful with the man. How you should be careful with your precious, fragile heart that had been broken so many times into two.

That was always the problem with Jude. Nothing with him ever felt like a decision. It just happened.

One moment you were keeping your distance, reminding yourself that this was exactly what you had promised not to do again. The next, you were standing beside him as though you belonged there at his side, listening to him make effortless conversation with people who wanted his attention while somehow still finding ways to include you.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

If he had ignored you, if he had treated you like everyone else, walking away would've been easier. But Jude never did. Every time you thought you had finally figured out how to let go, he gave you just enough reason to hesitate, enough reason to weasel his way back into the crevices of your deeply complicated heart.

The evening blurred into a series of champagne refills and conversations you only half listened to. Who wants to listen to men talk? You told yourself it was the alcohol making you less guarded, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the music filling the room making everything feel softer than it was.

"You've been quiet."

You glanced over at him. "Have I?"

"Yeah." Jude tilted his head slightly, studying you. "You've usually argued with me by now."

A small smile pulled at your lips. "Maybe I'm tired of arguing with you."

Jude looked unconvinced, narrowing his eyes, amused. "No… you're not. Y’never are."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the laugh that followed.

Hours ago, you'd walked into the room determined to avoid him. Now you were laughing at his jokes, accepting another drink he offered, letting yourself forget why you'd been trying so hard in the first place. Sound familiar?

And when the crowd around you became too much, when the noise and attention started to feel overwhelming, Jude noticed before you even said anything.

"Come on," he murmured.

You looked at him suspiciously. "Where?"

"Somewhere quieter."

You should've said no; you knew that. Every warning bell in your head was going off, reminding you that this was the exact pattern you were trying to break. That this is exactly what happened last time you were together. Friendliness turned flirting, turned into more.

But then Jude smiled, that familiar, impossible smile that always made everything seem less complicated than it was. Thus, somehow, you found yourself following him anyway. Which, really, was the most predictable thing you could've done the whole night.

The hallway was noticeably quieter than the ballroom, the overwhelming noise of conversation and music fading into something softer with every step. For the first time all night, it felt like there wasn't an entire room of people watching. No cameras. No teammates. No strangers trying to figure out why Jude Bellingham had spent the evening keeping you by his side.

Jude leaned back against the wall, looking far too comfortable with the situation. Acting as if he hadn't just dragged you away from a room full of people after you'd spent the past week convincing yourself you were finally done letting him get this close.

"Y’know," he started, peering at you, "you make it very difficult to believe you actually want to stay away from me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "That's because I don't make it difficult."

"No?"

"No."

His eyebrows lifted, clearly unconvinced. You hated that he knew you well enough to do that.

"You're very fucking annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard."

"Probably because it's true."

Jude laughed, and for a moment you forgot you were supposed to be guarded. Forgot that you had walked into this evening with rules and boundaries and a very clear idea of how it was supposed to go. Jude had always been good at making you forget.

"You disappeared the other day," he reminded you eventually, his voice sighed.

You looked down at your heels, pursing your lip. "I was busy."

"Busy avoiding me, eh?"

You didn't answer, which was an answer in itself. His eyebrows turned upwards, and he almost pouted; in any other context you would have teased him for looking so exasperated.

"I was worried you were actually done with me this time."

Your eyes moved back to his dark gaze. The honesty surprised you because Jude was always confident and certain. But standing there, away from everyone else, he looked almost unsure. Which made that somehow worse; it would've been easier if he didn't care. It would've been easier if he was just the person you'd convinced yourself he was. Instead, he stood there looking at you like maybe he had been thinking about you too.

And you weren't sure what to do with that, all things considered; this was Jude. The same Jude who could look at you like you were the only person in the room, then remind you that he wasn't looking for anything serious. The same Jude who pulled you closer, who made you feel wanted, who sought you out in crowded rooms, only to leave you questioning what any of it actually meant, if it had meant anything at all.

He was the one who had drawn the line. He was the one who had told you he couldn't give you more, that he wasn't ready for something that required more than late nights, secret moments, and whatever existed between the two of you–or rather–the less romantic way–friends with benefits.

Yet here he was, looking at you like he was the one afraid of losing something. That was the part you couldn't understand. How were you supposed to believe this meant anything when he was the one who had made it clear it couldn't?

Therefore, for once, you didn't rush to fill the silence or reassure Jude. You didn't make some sarcastic comment to hide the fact that his words had affected you. You didn't give him the easy reaction he'd gotten so used to.

Your gaze moved toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room, trying to focus on anything other than the man across from you. You wiped at the slight smudges of mascara beneath your eyes, thankfully nothing noticeable enough to ruin your appearance. Next was the corner of your lips, checking that your lip gloss hadn't wandered anywhere it shouldn't have.

A pointless thing to worry about, but anything was better than looking at Jude and admitting that, despite everything, a small part of you still wanted to hear him admit he was wrong.

Jude watched you quietly with furrowed brows. Through the mirror, you could see the gears in his head turn. Eventually, he cleared his throat and walked towards you, planting his feet right in front of yours, leaning down to your eye level.

“Didn’t you tell me that the next time we won a match I could do whatever I want with you?” Jude was gaining your attention again, reaching his slender finger under your chin and directing your gaze back to him by turning your head slowly.

You giggled, eyebrows raising; not needing much reminder of the words you definitely muttered. Or maybe messaged; maybe both.

“That was because I wasn’t there,” you hummed, head tilting aside. “You don’t invite me to your games, remember?” you sassed, watching as his face faltered. Then, his eyes narrowed into a playful glare; one you returned with a teasing smile, as if to say you weren’t being serious.

You two moved past your comment; you made sure of it, although it would linger on Jude’s mind.

“C’mon, you have people waiting, I’m sure,” your hand pressed against his toned chest, gently patting him as you ushered him backwards toward the noise of the ballroom.

It was almost laughable. You were actually doing it! For once, you were the one walking away.

You were trying to have the upper hand this time, trying to make Jude wonder where you went instead of always being the one left wondering where you stood. Maybe if you pulled back first, he'd finally understand what it felt like. Maybe he'd finally wake up from this comfortable little daze he'd been in, where he could have your attention whenever he wanted without ever having to give you anything in return.

Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could. That you weren't as predictable as he thought.

Jude stared at you for a moment, almost like he wasn't used to being dismissed. Like he was waiting for you to change your mind, to laugh it off, to fall back into the familiar rhythm the two of you always found yourselves in.

You didn't. You simply smiled, taking a small step away. You didn't give him the chance to say anything else. Spinning on your heel, you slipped back into the crowd as discreetly as possible, weaving between conversations and groups of people before he could stop you.

The moment you rejoined the crowd, the atmosphere morphed to invite him back in. Jude had barely stepped back into the main room before people noticed him. Cheers erupted almost immediately, voices calling his name as he was pulled into conversations, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and guests who all wanted a piece of his attention.

Just like that, he was swallowed by the crowd. The sight should've made you feel relieved.

Instead, you found yourself searching for him anyway. A terrible habit though a familiar one. You had just turned away, reaching for another drink, when Jude’s voice caught you before you could get too far.

"Hey, don't you dare go anywhere!" Jude managed to yell out to you before he was dragged off again, leaving you to laugh and only hum.

It was only your friend who met you with suspicious eyes; you found it comical she was the first person you came across, sheepishly smiling.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit!” your friend yelled, your cheeks heating as you shook your head; even pouting as you realised you had no defence. Or shame or regret. yet, at least.

“Stop,” you whined as you hit her lightly, huffing as you grabbed her drink off her–downing it quickly as she giggled. “We didn’t do anything.”

“No judgement; after you told me, I knew you wouldn’t stay away. I can’t say I blame you,” she mused, and your eyes were rolling once more that night, shaking your head as if you had no idea what she was talking about. As if you too shared the same thought process, as much as you’d deny it.

You moved the focus of the pair of you on quickly, returning to dancing and socialising–people coming and going as the hours ticked by into the late evening, crowd thinning but not by much.

Jude’s words were ringing in your head; don’t go anywhere. But when it was almost two you were thinking of leaving, doubting Jude would be making your company once more this night.

Why did you want to keep him company? You wish you knew. If you could figure out why you were unable to avoid the man, your life would be a lot easier. But maybe tonight was different; maybe it was a comfort.

A comfort to know he would spend a memorable night of his life with you. A night he’d never forget; you’d be right there in his mind, when he’s old and grey. It would be nice to know you weren’t the only one clinging onto the idea of the pair of you; that he too would reminisce and think about it.

Your doubt continued to grow, though, alongside the temptation of your comfortable bed.

You were stupid to doubt Jude, however. You spotted him easily, considering the crowd that seemed to follow him everywhere tonight.

You watched as Jude’s big eyes darted around the room, almost urgently, searching out something or someone; searching out you.

When his eyes met yours, you watched as he grinned widely, shoulders relaxing as he suddenly moved with intent; weaving past the people surrounding him towards you. You watched in amusement, almost shock; surprised he’d meant it. Confused if you thought too hard.

“You’re still here,” Jude was grinning ear to ear, hand finding your waist almost immediately when he was in reach.

You mumbled something playfully about how it wasn’t by choice, earning a laugh.

“We’re moving up to a booth, c’mon,” his statement was an invitation, and suddenly plans of going back home were long forgotten.

All it took was a nod before his hand took yours, fingers intertwined, leading the way to a booth that was decorated in more bottles of champagne and a ‘Hala Madrid’ sign; lucky partygoers and friends filling the seats, you shuffling in next to the footballer.

Jude’s iron grip didn’t leave you. Whether it was on your thigh, your hand, your waist, your shoulder; he was always touching you as the conversations flowed.

You failed to notice the little things at first. The way he would subtly pull you closer whenever you laughed a little too hard at one of his friend's jokes, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. The way his attention always seemed to drift back to you whenever the conversation around him became too loud or too crowded.

But you did know what it looked like, though. The two of you.

You knew your friend would have laughed the second she saw it, probably asking what the fuck you thought you were doing after everything you had promised yourself. Because from the outside, the pair of you looked effortless. Like there wasn't a history of hesitation and almosts and conversations that never quite reached a conclusion and left more questions than answers.

But as the night went on, as the crowd slowly began to thin and the chatter around you faded, you found yourself caring less. The booth had emptied at some point. You weren't sure when. You hadn't noticed the way he had quietly encouraged the last few people lingering nearby to move elsewhere, leaving the two of you with a rare moment where you weren't competing with everyone else for his attention.

Maybe that should've been your hundredth warning. But you stayed.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight?” Jude’s question was accompanied by his hand returning to your thigh, resting higher than it had earlier on–head tilting towards you.

You giggled, leaning back into your seat and shifting to face him, side pressed against the back of the booth as opposed to your back now.

“No,” you told him, eyes flickering over his face, your gaze catching on his eyelashes, the small details you’d noticed too many times whenever you woke up first after a night together. His features always seemed so much harder to ignore up close.

“Look beautiful,” he hummed, and though he sounded incredibly sincere, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? You do, you are,” Jude huffed, not amused with your laughter–although the sound of your laugh had his lips naturally curving upwards despite his dismay, hand squeezing the soft plush of your thigh gently. “You always are.”

Your cheeks heated despite you shaking your head, hands moving up in innocence.

“I didn’t say anything,” you defended, not elaborating on what appeared to be doubt. Not at your own expense, rather more his intentions. You didn’t want to hear his compliments that had your heart fluttering. or notice the way he was looking at you with such admiration. You couldn’t afford to let your mind pick at and analyse every word and action with a hope that maybe he too felt the same as you.

Jude hummed aimlessly at your defence, hand dangerously high now on your thigh–but it felt right, as if it belonged there. Regardless, the feeling of it creeping upwards had your senses suddenly on high alert.

“Mmm… I’ve missed you,” Jude’s words left his lips before he could stop them, but he didn’t show any regret or panic, eyes pouring into yours. It’s the second time he’d said such a thing tonight, and you still didn’t want to hear it. Even in your tipsy state, it sent an alarm through your nerves. Don’t believe him, don’t get your hopes up again.

Your eyes were quick to leave his, hand reaching for your champagne glass in front of you; humming to try dismiss his words, missing the way his eyes squinted as he watched on.

“You don’t believe me,” Jude chuckled lowly as you sipped your drink, frame tensing as you prolonged shifting towards him again.

You weren’t given much choice, though; his hand–the one not planted on your thigh–was grasping your chin between his thumb and finger, bringing your attention back to him as you placed your drink back down. His eyebrows raised expectantly, silently telling you to speak, to confirm his suspicions. His thumb absentmindedly wiped a drop of champagne from the corner of your mouth as he waited.

“Jude, you don’t know what you’re saying,” you spoke softly, masking the weight of your words with a soft smile and watched as his face flickered in thought.

“You don’t know that.” Jude was quick, unlike you, tone one of certainty you almost envied; his grasp still set on your chin as if he was scared you’d try to escape his gaze once more. A reasonable fear.

“Yeah… okay,” you admitted defeat, in no way wanting to discuss this right now. Not while you were so close to him, so keen to get under him once more. You couldn’t think straight about him when he was invading your senses.

Jude wasn’t convinced that you suddenly believed him, but he wouldn’t push further; not when you were still in his grasp and glowing in satisfaction.

The footballer went to speak again; but for once you got on the front foot. there wasn’t much distance between the pair of you, so kissing him before he could get any words out was easy.

Perhaps Jude should’ve held his ground, stayed true to his intentions, and reassured you like a proper gentleman. Maybe he should’ve remembered the boundaries he’d set, the words he’d said before, the reasons he’d given you for keeping things the way they were.

But he didn’t; because with you, Jude had always been far better at feeling than thinking. Thus, naturally, Jude began to kiss you back. The light grasp on your chin turned to a firm hold of the side of your head, beckoning you closer as your hand planted on his chest.

You pulled away momentarily, barely; just so your lips left his, feeling his breath fan your face. You felt as if you’d overstepped, knowing he had reservations about PDA in public. You knew people spoke, and you weren’t his—realistically, the outrage would be immense.

Jude’s fingers brushed your hair delicately, as if he knew what thoughts were going through your head; and he didn’t hesitate to guide you back towards him, lips meeting once more. It was more heated this time; nowhere near as messy as the one in the bathroom a week ago, though.

Jude needed you closer, shifting his grip to your hips to pivot you up and onto his lap, your body sliding perfectly between his and the table behind you, straddling his lap with no complaints. It was out of character, knowing someone could walk up into the secluded section and see the pair of you, but if he didn’t care, neither did you.

Your dress rode up your legs from your new position, not enough to expose you, thankfully, but the rough fabric of his pants against your clothed clit had you whimpering against his lips.

The sound rang straight to his cock, which was already straining against his pants. He’d been fighting a semi since you slipped into the booth next to him earlier. Jude had always gotten so desperate and needy and the way you were slowly and not-so subtly grinding your hips against him made it a lot harder to ignore. It also had an idea forming in the wicked mind of his.

You were left to catch your breath as he pulled away this time, hands lifting you momentarily and easily handling you to straddle just one of his thighs now, your cheeks heating as you immediately caught on. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in this position with him, except last time it was in the privacy of his apartment while he was on a work call.

“Anything… I want, right?” Jude breathed slowly out, intense was his stare as his hands spread across your sides, smoothing your dress down despite wanting to rip it off of you.

It was like a trance when he got like this, eyes darker–the way his jaw was clenched shut, his gaze alone having you feel the need to squirm and stutter.

Your head looked over your shoulder, just once, needing the confirmation you were as alone as you could be; music still playing faintly at the gala, voices still heard from the floor down below—but you were alone up here. That’s all you needed to know.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hands grasping at his suit where they were previously planted on his chest–left to watch as his lips curved upwards into that damn smirk.

“Go on then,” he hummed, adjusting slightly in his seat, getting comfortable as his head tilted back ever so slightly. “Use me to get off,” he sounded so casual, your cheeks roaring in heating as you suddenly wished you’d accepted that last round of shots half an hour ago.

But you didn’t need any more motivation when his hands tightened on your waist and dragged your hips for you—your jaw going slack from the sudden pressure.

His lips twitched upwards cockily once more, watching as it sprung you into action; your hips following his movements and rutting against his thigh, chasing the feeling you knew only he could give you.

The footballer’s hands folded behind his head now, watching intently as your bottom lip ran between your teeth, eyes flickering up and down your frame.

“Atta girl,” Jude praised through a soft hum, and you had to bite down harshly on the inside of your cheek to refrain from moaning.

He looked fucking incredible; and you were missing the feeling of his hands on you. Your hips worked faster as if it’d motivate him to touch you again. Jude had you read; he always did. He knew what you wanted and could tell by the way your eyes were pleading with him. How you were fighting back a pout and whine. Your grip on his button down had tightened, practically tugging at the material.

Jude could be cruel, but he was in no mood to deny himself tonight—considering the last time he got off was the quckie last week—he’d give you something; hand moving to cup your jaw, thumb pressing against your soft lips.

You didn’t miss a beat, allowing the digit to enter your mouth without any hesitation; Jude watching the way your eyes almost glistened in submission as he pressed down on your tongue.

You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, grunting slightly at the mere sight of you—your hips still grinding against him desperately as you treated his thumb as if it were his cock.

He was almost in disbelief, how he had you like this for him, where really anyone could see if they were to walk up the stairs. it was ridiculous actually, and stupid; both of you being incredibly idiotic, but too lust driven to care.

he wasn’t oblivious to the fact you made him think irrationally.

“Fucking look at you,” he muttered under his breath, his Birmingham accent deepening while his head tilted in slight awe. There was always a teasing tone underneath when he spoke like this. “So pretty like this, so needy, hm?”

You whimpered, unable to shut yourself up this time, surprised you’d kept quiet so long. Your thighs twitched a few times, still desperately chasing your high like he’d told you to. It was building, your stomach was tightening and you could feel the way your hips were beginning to move erratically. As could he.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged while sliding his thumb out of your mouth, selfishly wanting to hear you despite your best efforts to stay quiet. “Cum for me, yeah? All for me,” Jude edged you on ever so strategically as he tensed his leg and jolted it upwards once, then twice.

It was all you needed, your first orgasm of the night hitting you as you shook in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough for the music to drown you out. Your body folded over to hide your head in his neck, muffling any other sounds from escaping you.

“There you go,” Jude soothed, hand sliding down your back delicately, his other brushing the hair off your face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Good girl, so fucking good.”

Even in your slightly dazed state, the affection had your chest tightening, still not used to the soft moments he always found time for between orgasms.

You took a few moments to compose yourself, lifting your head sheepishly as your eyes met his once more.

“Your trousers are gonna be ruined,” you mumbled, pouting up at him in slight embarrassment—watching as he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Last thing I care about right now,” Jude snickered, gently adjusting the strap of your dress that had fallen down your arm with his eyes lingering on your chest for a brief moment as he did so.

“Should I call the car?” he asked you, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead now, delicate this time, purely because he knew if he got too handsy now he’d not be able to stop himself.

You nodded, not allowing yourself the time to think too deeply about the prospect of leaving with Jude. Maybe that was easier. If you stopped to consider it, to really acknowledge what you were doing, you might remember every reason you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.

But you shouldn’t have been surprised at this point: you couldn’t resist him. It was a fact you hated admitting, but one you could never seem to deny.

The pair of you got outside relatively smoothly; you let Jude drag you to the exit as he simply waved and dismissed anyone who tried to speak to him, his large hand enveloping yours.

The car was waiting, a bouncer opening the door for the pair of you as you slid into the backseat, not phased by the fact the sun was preparing to rise, painting the sky a soft, deep purple.

The dark privacy partition separating the backseat from the front was all Jude needed to see before he was on you again.

Rushed and messy once more, you hadn’t even got your seatbelt on before his hands cupped his cheeks as he leaned over you, closeness a need as your lips moved against his perfectly.

Your chest was practically pressed to his, but still his hand found your back, attempting to pull you closer, earning a muffled giggle as you threw one of your legs over his.

“Need you so bad,” Jude grumbled against your skin as his lips shifted to your jaw, then down your neck, your head falling back invitingly as you grinned.

His lips moved to your cleavage now, kissing at the skin of your breasts. Jude was about to tug your dress down until you sat up straight and pushed him back towards the seat.

Your hands found the zipper of his pants before Jude could get a word out, the Brit relaxing into his seat, in no way going to protest.

Jude watched through hooded eyes as you made quick work of freeing his cock, which was painfully hard at this point. He hissed through his teeth as your hand wrapped around him, jacking him off once, twice, three times—smearing the precum across his tip and down his length.

His head threw back from the initial relief, and he couldn’t stop the noisy moans that escaped him when he felt your soft lips wrap around him. He peeked down at you quickly, watching as you leant over into his lap, head bobbing up and down now as he gathered your hair into his hand and out of your way.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—just like that baby,” Jude grunted as his hips jerked upwards, smacking the back of your throat momentarily, which made you gag. Yet you didn’t miss a beat in your movements.

Your hand gripped his thigh for stability, tongue swirling around him expertly, keen to get him off as his eyes rolled back from a feeling he could only describe as ecstasy.

Jude could’ve cummed there and then, no shame either; but Madrid felt so small and the car came to a halt much sooner than he’d liked. You reluctantly slid off him, wiping your mouth oh-so innocently as you did so, cheeks flushed and eyes watery. Meanwhile, Jude hissed, trying to stuff his burning hard on back in his trousers.

You giggled slightly, climbing out the car with him not too far behind.

Jude was sure to thank the driver, emptying his wallet of its cash to provide a sufficient tip considering Jude was unsure what the man would’ve heard, but frankly he didn’t care. Not when you were in his sights.

The elevator ride up to his apartment mirrored the first moments in the car, your body pressed between his and the wall of the elevator, lips in sync, make out interrupted by the ding of the doors opening.

You were kicking your heels off before he even got the door to his place open, discarding them the moment you stepped inside. Jude used you to shut the door, pushing you roughly against the surface.

“Nuh uh,” you stopped him as he leant in to kiss you once more; your hands pressing against his chest. “Want to make you feel good,” you spoke softly, hands returning to the zipper of his pants to free his cock once more.

His eyes squinted in thought, keen to be inside of you, keen to be watching you squirm and hear you scream his name was all he could bloody think about.

You recognised that look. “Please,” you added desperately, hands tugging the straps of your dress down, your tits spilling out, which had his eyes shamelessly flickering downwards.

Jude couldn’t say no to you, not when you asked so nicely. He simply stepped back, giving you space to sink to your knees as your hand wrapped around his cock once again.

You licked up the base to the tip, eyes fixated above you, watching him as he did so; noticing the way his adam’s apple bobbed from the single action.

“Tease me baby and I’ll happily play with your pretty pussy til you're crying,” Jude whined out quickly while his hand found its rightful place in your hair, giving it a not-so-delicate tug for good measure.

You moaned at the action, confirming what you both knew was that you got the reaction you wanted; thighs squeezing together at the ‘threat’ but taking him in your mouth fully regardless. quick to mumble a ‘so impatient’ beforehand.

Jude’s actions were identical to before, except his head fell forward this time while his free hand scrambled to grab the door in front of him, your name falling from his lips in a groan like a mantra. It only motivated you, the grunts and small sounds Jude made. You were so eager to draw more out of him. You wanted to hear him praise you like he always does.

His sounds mixed with your own, gagging around his length. No matter how many times you found yourself in this spot he would always be too big, but it didn’t stop or affect your efforts. And it only turned him on more, refraining from squeezing his eyes shut to watch as your eyes watered once more.

“Always—fuck—gagging for it,” Jude spoke cockily, a moan escaping him momentarily before he could continue his taunting. “Bit of a slut for me, no?” he chuckled hazily through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stop the grin for forming as you moaned around him. Jude’s head fell back now, a breath of content falling from his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily. “Too good to me, agh,” he grunted, hips thrusting forward, and you let him. Anything to get him off sooner.

Jude knew he was close, but he couldn’t push the need to be inside of you and while he thought he was out of self restraint for the night, he surprised himself in being able to pull you off of him, using the grip on your hair.

“Gotta get inside you, love,” he explained himself as if it wasn’t obvious, helping you to your feet as you refrained from huffing, wiping your mouth and chin of the saliva that had gathered.

You didn’t need him to lead you to his room, grateful it was the first door on the right otherwise you probably would’ve both ended up on the floor, not that it’d be the first time.

You properly unzipped your dress and stepped out of it, discarding it on his floor before sitting back on his bed. Jude followed suit, shirt discarded before he stepped out of his slacks and boxers.

You crawled back on the bed as he moved to hover over you, pushing you down to lay on your back before his lips were on yours once more.

Kissing Jude Bellingham never got old, your hands tangling in his curls as he used his knee to spread your legs apart. He hooked two fingers around your panties and slid them down your frame, practically ripping them off with aggression.

You had no warning before he slid inside of you, easily doing so due to how wet you were, but the stretch was always a shock. Your jaw agape as you moaned into his mouth while you pull a sharp tug on his coiled hair.

“Fuck, y’always wrap round me so fucking well,” Jude hissed, bottoming out and giving you a moment to adjust to his large length.

“Jude, Jude, please—move,” you whimpered, hands moving to grip at his back, back arching as he began to move; thrusting in and out. He wasn’t slow, but you knew he was holding back.

Your eyes watched his intently, his scanning your features and admiring the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Jude, please,” you repeated, whimpering as you spread your legs a little more, so frantically desperate to feel all of him.

“What? Need more, huh?” Jude asked, the small gold-chain necklace that decorated his neck dangling from his chest and brushing against your chin with every thrust. “Needy little thing,” he grinned, and you could only whine as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily.

Jude’s hand shifted to your thigh, grabbing one of your legs and moving it upwards, pushing your knee towards your chest. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper, and suddenly his thrusts were harsher and quicker.

Your eyes rolled back instantly, a squeal like moan escaping you before you could even try to suppress it, nails dragging down his back as he pounded into you.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you practically chanted as he fucked you, hard. Watching your eyes roll back and jaw go slack only had him motivated, enthusiastic to draw out every possible sound from you.

Jude was relentless, you still couldn’t get used to the stamina of a footballer, how there was never a break in the pace or harshness of his thrusts. No moment to breathe or try to compose yourself, choked out moans almost straining your throat from how often he slammed into you.

“Look at me, baby, please,” Jude pleaded with you, wanting your pretty eyes focused on him. He wasn’t surprised you didn’t listen. At this point, you didn’t really make sense of his words. A habit you seemed to have formed. It wasn’t like you could help it, the way your brain seems to shut off the moment Jude hits that special spot inside of you.

His hand around your throat was enough, eyes fluttering open and he squeezed softly, whimpering as you continued to moan and pant, met with his smirk.

“Fucked dumb already,” Jude boasted while he kept his hand around your throat; not applying much pressure but the feeling of it there alone had your hips spasming momentarily. “So easy for me, baby. Could have you like this all the time.”

You moaned at his words, hearing him loud and clear this time, nodding pathetically; you’d agree with anything he says right now. Anything.

“My pretty girl,” Jude was always quick with the praise after his harsh words, the contrast always welcome as your hands shifted from his back to his biceps. “All mine,” he reiterated.

The possessive tone he found would have you falling into wishful thinking if you possessed the ability to think straight, but thankfully you couldn’t; not when your vision was starting to be replaced with stars as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

His lips caught yours in another kiss, tongues clashing as you moaned into each other's mouths—his turn to falter as your walls clenched around him, a string of curses being grunted against your lips.

You didn’t need to tell him you were close, no, he knew your body too well; he pushed your leg further back, as if it was possible, you in no place to recognise any slight discomfort when all you could feel was him inside of you, stretching you inside out.

You felt the difference in angle again, nonetheless. Your eyes lolled back once more as you came hard and fast, his name falling from your lips as you did so.

“Good girl baby, cum for me,” Jude encouraged, continuing to thrust into you as you rode out your high, back arching and pushing into him.

Your walls clenched around him once more, and he came almost immediately, releasing inside of you with a loud moan, your sounds intertwining and melting into one another.

Your nails were sure to have left marks along his back, body going limp beneath him as his head dropped to your chest briefly, catching his breath as he too came down from his high.

He wasn’t done though, despite it almost being six in the morning. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, the alcohol in his veins or you; but sleep was the last thing on his mind and his best guess was because of the latter.

He was moving again before you could fully recover, the sensitivity causing you to whimper immediately, his thrusts only slow now as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I know you’ve got one more in you,” Jude mumbled, and you wouldn’t ever dare disagree; nodding quickly as he gradually picked up the pace.

Before he got into a rhythm, however, he slid out, sitting back on his knees. You simply looked at him, awaiting his next move.

Jude then manhandled you onto your stomach easily like you were nothing. He tugged your hips up and you followed naturally, back arching as your ass propped in the air, his calloused hands grasping and squeezing the soft flesh before sliding back inside of you.

The way he contorted you into another position had you moaning out loudly, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as Jude found the pace he’d previously possessed.

Your whole body jolted with every thrust, face gradually pushing into the covers, moans muffled as your back arched further.

He didn’t like not hearing you though, obsessed with the way you’d moan and borderline scream his name. He flew into action by grabbing your hair and pulling so your head was lifted, which caused a loud whine to escape you on cue.

“So fucking good, y’take me so well,” Jude grunted his praise. With his hips slamming into yours, you couldn’t form words, only replying in little whines and whimpers, choked out moans as your body became overstimulated.

Jude knew your limits though, and knew how far he could push you. his hand snaking around your waist to find your clit, and rubbing circles on your sensitive bud had your body shaking immediately.

“Fuck! Jude, oh my God,” you practically cried out, unable to do anything but take all he was giving you, hand tangled in your hair still keeping you in place as he pounded in you.

“Take it love, know you can,” he grunted; fingers speeding up. He was obsessed with the way your thighs spasmed, your walls clenched around him and your hand reached back to try to grip his wrist.

You came again, unable to give warning as your eyes watered and vision spotted white from the mere overstimulation.

“Ah, there you go, good girl, so so good, could watch you come undone my cock every day,” Jude talked you through it, hips still moving relentlessly as he let go of your hair, your front half falling back into the mattress. Both of his hands gripped your hips now as he chased his own high.

You whimpered as he fucked you through your high, and when he came inside you again you swear it all became a blur, trying to recover from your back-to-back orgasms.

Jude slid out of you and rolled off of you after he caught his breath, much quicker than you. His hand delicately pushing some of your hair back had your head tilting to face him, a lazy smile grazing your features.

“You're incredible,” Jude mumbled, admiring you quietly; and if you weren’t exhausted you would’ve laughed at him.

“Shut the hell up.” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut, legs still shaking as Jude rolled his eyes. There was a stupid smile that graced his delicate features still.

“No running out of me again, yeah?” Jude hummed and slithered an arm to wrap around your frame, easily pulling you into his chest. You should’ve been alarmed, gone into self-preservation mode and pushed away. But couldn’t, preferring to simply accept his embrace that you’d always crave, head finding a spot on his toned chest.

“Don’t think I could if I tried,” you chuckled, not sure your legs would hold your weight if you tried to stand, let alone walk.

“Yeah good. That was the whole point,” Jude scoffed playfully, fingers dancing up and down the side of your arm, gaze fixated on you below him. You laughed softly, knowing this conversation needed to be addressed properly. That would wait until the morning, or well, maybe early afternoon in this case—when you wake up, you’ll be met with that sinking feeling again. The one where you’ll feel the need to flee, to escape him and the domesticated side you so badly wanted to yourself.

But you’d settle for this for now, just like Jude would settle for you believing this was the most he could offer. Considering you can never really say goodbye to Jude, huh?

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[sinfulpetal]

JUDE BELLINGHAM — WHAT KIND OF FUCKERY ARE WE?

summary 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ you tried your hardest to swear off jude bellingham. but you can’t get enough of him, and he can’t get enough of you.

warnings 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ unprotected sex, fem reader, beginning is a flashback, angst???, reader needs to stand up for herself, public sex, p in v, plenty of praise, degradation (maybe), hair pulling, thigh riding. jude is a little toxic and kind of a slut but what’s new?

note 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ hi so… this is my first smut. ALSO NOT PROOF READ LMFAO i hope it’s alright, i’m finishing this at 4AM…. but anyways if you enjoyed this let me know because i’m considering a part 2! thank you for reading enjoyyy

You swore you’d stay away from Jude Bellingham. God, it made you cringe thinking about it now.

You’d stood in your bathroom one week ago, staring at your own reflection deeply. You were done settling for half-hearted conversations and a version of Jude that barely seemed to have room for you anymore. Granted, he was a high-performance athlete dealing with the pressures that came with the title… But still, that wasn't fair to you!

But… It also wasn’t your fault you were terrible at keeping your word.

“Where are you going?” Jude’s voice pulled you from your drowning thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, finding him stretched across the bed, watching as you wandered around the room collecting your things.

The wadded sheets that caressed his lower half did little to offer modesty, his taupe skin glistened with sweat across his abdomen, decorated in red lines left moments ago by your nails.

You ignored his words as you shifted your lace underwear up your trembling, tired legs, your eyes scanned the room in search of all of your clothing. Jude had never been too considerate or precise when discarding them across the floor; he was always so needy and desperate with you.

“Oh, come off it,” Jude scoffed jokingly, not understanding why you’d been in such a hurry after fucking. “We are well past this.”

Touché—you raised your eyebrows in agreement. You had always stayed back, cuddled up in Jude’s arms until he checked out of the hotel the next morning. And that was the issue.

“Jude, you know this was a mistake.” You grumbled out, not offering him a second glance. You know if you did, you wouldn’t want to leave. And that made you annoyed. Especially with yourself.

Jude laughed. Laughed! God, you sometimes envied how unbothered he could be. You rolled your eyes, turning away to find your skirt crumpled on the floor. With an irritated sigh, you shimmed it back up your legs while Jude pushed himself off the bed, tugging on his boxers as though nothing had happened.

“Ouch,” his lip came to a pout, acting as if your words had stung him. He didn't believe you, so they didn't affect him. Damnit!

“I told you last time this wasn't happening again.” You volleyed out an explanation, sounding more like you were convincing yourself rather than him. And you were—Jude didn't even ask for an explanation.

“Ah.. And yet, here we are.” Jude exhaled a chuckle through his nose; and your annoyance was beginning to spread due to his inability to take you seriously.

“Well it's not happening again.”—Famous last words. You looked at Jude and hoped your expression was enough to persuade him to believe your words. But he didn't; maybe because you were the one who sought him out tonight. Or maybe because he didn't want to believe you deep down. Regardless.. He’d prefer to avoid such conversations.

You groaned when you couldn't find your shirt while Jude watched in amusement. He didn't bother to help you—why would he cover up the red and purple marks that caressed your skin thanks to himself?

“Have I lost my touch or something?” Jude knew that wasn't the case. Not when you had just cummed around his fingers and cock three times.

You took a sharp inhale and spun on your heels to face him fully, “Listen, I'm no longer fine with just being a fuck of convenience.” You admitted, shoulders shrugging defeatedly. Only then did you capture the falter on Jude’s face—or rather—his deep eyes. Oh, his eyes. You could get lost in his expressive, gorgeous eyes.

His eyebrows pinched together in confusion as his lips tugged into a small frown.

“That's what you think this is?” His question almost sounded accusatory, but you knew better when it came to Jude. He was just so unintentionally animated, that anything he said came out ten times more passionate.

Jude bent over and scooped up your shirt off the floor but refrained from forfeiting it just yet.

Come to think of it, you didn't want to answer his question, even though it had the most obvious answer. You didn't need it rubbed into your face that your needs didn't align. So, instead, you went to grab your shirt from his grip, but he was quick to draw it back; eyebrows curling in question. Jude really wanted an answer.

“How else would you describe it, Jude?” You tilted your head to the side.

Jude faltered once more, his lip trembling. He hadn’t signed up for this. He avoided this question the last time when you had ‘ended’ the arrangement that had been going on for far too many months now.

“Fun,” Jude settled on. And when you let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, he shuddered. “You.. You know what I mean,” he attempted to follow up.

It startled him. Jude was usually good with words. People had always told him he was mature beyond his years, that he always knew the right thing to say. But when it came to you, he felt like the stupidest man alive.

He searched for a better word, but nothing came. Convenience wasn’t right. It made you sound temporary, interchangeable. You were anything but that.

“I know what to expect from you, Jude.” You successfully grabbed your shirt this time and yanked it over your head. “I'm not going to ask for more. But this isn't enough for me anymore.”

Your explanation was fair; he couldn't complain. Jude couldn't throw it in your face, tell you that he already warned you that he didn't want anything serious. Couldn't make it your problem, or tell you that you were wrong, or your expectations were wrong.

Because they weren't wrong. And that was Jude’s problem. You made sense, you were doing what was right by you. So why did it make him feel like shit? He should be grateful you weren't putting him in an awkward position he had been in far too many times, forced to let others down. He really couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“Thanks for the fun night,” you smiled sarcastically, being able to throw his words in his face. Jude had to refrain from scoffing in disbelief.

You knew damn well it wouldn’t be the last time you saw Jude, but you’d hoped it’d be the last time you were that close to the footballer. Given that the last time you melted beneath his touch and came undone from nothing more than a few whispered words and lingering touches.

You prayed that was the case, and it seemed more and more likely that it was as the months flew by.

Jude knew you were in Madrid; he always knew what clubs you were attending despite never telling him. The smarter side of your brain screamed out danger but the impulsive side made you miss the little game you two had.

Honestly, he barely crossed your mind, it wasn't like it was hard to avoid a footballer. Hot property, especially in Madrid. There were fans chomping at the bit to get their hands on any Real Madrid player, thus security crowded around anyone with any sort of status. It was impossible to stumble across the man.

But ignoring his presence was a bigger feat than intended, especially when he scored the winning goal against Barcelona. As if the posters of his face and name everywhere weren't enough!

Suddenly, Jude’s face was plastered everywhere all at once, and only his name dropped from everyone's lips. You'd like to think there was no bad blood; but he was so hard to resist and you resented him for it. Suddenly he was everywhere—yet not in reach. Perhaps it was a good thing.

So you were optimistic. If getting near Jude was hard before, it'd be ten times harder now. Man of the moment; you felt that you'd be in the clear.

So.. How the fuck did you manage to be only five people back in the front of the line for the exclusive after party club? Your VIP pass decorated your neck as Jude walked past the front doors. He was ushered through the crowd, no need to pay or wait like every other eager party-goer, hoping their name made the list with cash in hand to pay for entry.

Jude shouldn't had spotted you, not with the gaggle of paparazzi that snapped enough pictures to blind a person or the slew of people cheering for him for a shred of attention. But, of course, Jude did.

“Hey, hey, they’re with me.” Jude stopped in his tracks; fishing you and your friend out of line towards him. The second your eyes met his, your expression hardened. Jude only snickered, looking far too pleased with himself.

You wanted to stay where you were and tell him you would wait like everyone else and get in yourself. Your pride was too strong to spare yourself ten minutes and a couple of hundred euros. Yet, your best friend, however, was far too pleased to get in for free. She didn't know your guys’ history, and you couldn't blame her for wanting to be a part of the attention. Hell, you knew Jude was hot as much as she did.

Deep down, it almost felt shameful, as if you were just some pretty girl Jude picked out to entertain himself with. But you only viewed it that way because you feared that had been true in the past. And knowing him, it probably was.

“Would you believe me if I said this is almost the highlight of the day?” Jude spoke to you with a wide grin, head ducked down towards you to ensure you heard him over the music growing in volume as you entered the venue.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes even; it appeared opting to be cold was the easiest option. Friendliness never lasted long with you two; being friendly became flirty. Flirting leads to touching and suddenly you'd be trapped beneath the nearest surface and his fiery body.

"No." Your answer was short, 'forgetting' to mumble the obvious, a congratulations, you'd feel bad if he wasn't getting it from every angle, but he was.

Jude’s grin only widened, regardless, bemused at your words. You weren't surprised, you doubted anything would wipe the shit-eating grin off his face right now. A breath of relief escaped you when someone grabbed at his arm and tugged him along, turning his attention elsewhere as you turned to your friend. Drinks were an absolute need tonight.

In hindsight, deciding to stay in the secluded area reserved for the Real Madrid player was definitely a bad idea. But with the rest of the venue packed shoulder to shoulder, you stood by your decision.

The free drinks and friendly faces proved to be enough of a distraction; music and alcohol flowing through your veins, so much so you’d join in on the cheers every time someone toasted to the footballer, or his name popped up on a board with bottles of champagne arriving.

An arm slithering around your waist should’ve been alarming, but shamefully you recognised the muscular grip immediately, your body naturally welcoming such action instead of pulling away.

“You still haven’t congratulated me.” Jude’s voice was low and in your ear, Birmingham accent thick, making you have to take a sharp breath. It was stupid, ridiculous the way such an action could have your mind growing hazy.

“Haven't I?” You posed the question innocently, bringing your drink to your lips as if it would offer you refuge from the temptation behind you.

You’d lost your friend ages ago, and suddenly you couldn’t recognise many people around you. Or maybe you didn’t make an effort to, because the company you quietly craved was the man behind you.

“Nope,” Jude popped the ‘p,’ lips lingering next to your ear momentarily before he pulled away to also bring his drink to his lips, you taking the moment to turn around and face him. “Not very nice of you, you know?”

You’d rolled your eyes again, a small laugh escaping you. Wanting to point out the fact that everyone was dropping to their knees to sing his praise. He didn’t need it from you. Not to mention how pesky his little Britishisms can be.

Did it make your heart skip a beat that he wanted it, though? Of course it did, despite your brain screaming that it shouldn’t. It was far too easy to cling onto anything this man did.

“Well done,” you spoke, voice laced with sarcasm despite there being truth to your words. “I’m so, so, so proud of you!”

Jude chuckled and his face lit up in amusement once more; a vast contrast to every other conversation he had tonight. This very reason he’d sought you out. Jude thought it spoke for something, the fact his mind had been consumed with so many thoughts of you despite the win he’d just accomplished with the team.

“Thank you.” Jude grinned from ear to ear, and it was as if on cue, he was being tugged away once more; and suddenly, you could breathe again.

You took the time to grab some much needed air, a balcony not too far. The next hour or so ended up being a bit of a blur. You ended up back on the dance floor, familiar faces all around, drinks continuously flowing—reunited with your friend whose lipstick was now smudged and hair slightly tangled, your hands quick to fix it up with small giggles.

You were loosening up, so much so that when Jude next appeared with two drinks in hand and daring eyes… You couldn’t help but accept. You were practically dying by your own hand, you knew you should politely decline and slip back into the crowd. But Jude Bellingham was always so hard to ignore, especially in a black button-up and white slacks.

Both of you toasted and raised the glasses to your lips, somehow still moderately sober in comparison to those around you. You knew your limits and you didn't want the night to end prematurely.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” Jude had to shout for you to hear, your eyes narrowing as you shook your head. You were somewhat surprised at his efforts. His ability to seek you in a crowd that was there for him and his team. All for what? To ask you that question?

“Why would I be mad at you?” You deflected, because you knew he had a point. You weren’t mad at him, obviously. He hadn't done anything; you’d been the one to… get attached. But you were quite clearly being distant and cold and you didn’t feel like explaining why.

Jude shrugged his shoulders, face scrunching up like he was thinking momentarily, giving you time to admire how pretty he looked. How his large hand wrapped around the glass, the way his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up.

“You’re avoiding me,” his brow shot up and you were rolling your eyes once more, like a broken record. The grin on his face showed he didn’t care to sound desperate; that he was well aware why you were acting in such a way. He distinctly remembered the last conversation between the pair of you. How you swore off the two of you—much to his dismay.

“I’m not! I’m keeping a friendly distance,” you corrected playfully, eyebrows raising as he nodded unconvincingly, lips parting in fake shock.

It was pathetic, you already could feel it. Your self restraint slipping away. Suddenly, posing yourself the question, would it be that bad if you entertained yourself with the idea of him just one more time? Just once?

“Right,” Jude practically sung, a laugh following suit as he downed the rest of his drink. “There’s no fun in that.”

All you could do was shrug at his words and give no answer because you agreed. This wasn’t fun, it was hard. It would be so much easier to let yourself take the usual reckless route. And why live life the hard way?

So, there, you chose easy, and when someone appeared to place a drink in Jude’s hand and capture a few minutes of his attention, you allowed the footballer to throw his arm over your shoulders; tugging you closer to his body. He didn’t want you slipping away into the crowd again.

You let yourself stay in his grasp, mindlessly swaying to the music and awaiting for him to finish shooting the shit. You should’ve taken this precious time to realise this was what you were meant to avoid. Take this precious time to duck out from his hold and busy yourself with someone else once more.

But instead you found yourself leaning into Jude; admiring the way his calloused yet gentle fingertips danced on your collarbone—oblivious to prying eyes and jealous gazes from those who were hoping to be in your place. His cologne was intoxicating, his touch was familiar and inviting and the way he was keeping you close while still paying you attention despite everyone trying to get their two cents in with him had your stomach flipping and fluttering.

“I really, really missed you,” Jude whispered; your head tilting aside invitingly. Contrast to your initial and intended behaviour. Regardless, the moment his lips met your skin, all rational plans were out the door with a relieved sigh.

“Good.” you answered back, knowing to not grow excited by such a confession. Not needing to say the words back because Jude already knew you missed him. You were always missing him—and he loved that.

Another kiss was pressed to your skin, and another.

“I mean it,” Jude mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut briefly at the feeling of his lips still peppering your skin. Heat spreading across your cheeks, which you later blamed on the temperature inside the venue.

You were glad you’d made your mind up, having come to the conclusion that one more night with him couldn’t be that bad. Your thought process was definitely influenced by your sexual desires rather than rationality or consideration for your aching, breaking heart. But it meant you weren’t dwelling on his words and picking them apart, instead focused on the way his hand was now resting on the side of your leg.

“Is there a bathroom near?” Your question was all Jude needed to hear as the pair of you were not so subtle as you weaved through the crowd.

His lips were on yours the moment you were in the bathroom, your back being pressed against the door to shut it—his fingers fiddling around to find the lock and the moment he heard it click, his hands were all over you.

It was messy, and rushed; adrenaline pumping between the pair of you much like the muffled music seeping through the door. Your hands were pawing at each other, his at your waist, then your hips, then your legs; touching what he could of you over the silk of your dress.

Your hands were gripping the back of Jude’s head, then running down his chest; attempting to pull him closer despite his body pressed tightly against yours. His hands then moved to grab yours, before lifting them up and over your head; pinning them to the door as his lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck.

“Jude,” you breathed in need. Your eyes shut as you attempted to push forward off the door, wanting to touch him in any way. Excitingly, you were no match for his strength.

He tutted and smacked his lips quietly, kissing at your skin with such intent that made you whimper.

“What do you want?” Jude’s question was almost a taunt while his knee was pushing between your thighs. Jude knew exactly what to do to have you squirming. It made you feel helpless, needy and desperate. Nonetheless, not one bit regretful or ashamed you found yourself here again.

“You—fuck—anything,” you breathed, hips rutting against his leg slightly; the action not unnoticed as a cocky smirk grew on Jude’s lips.

Your eyes poured into his, watching as he bathed the sight of you in. You were so flustered and worked up already, and he barely touched you.

“Yeah?” he hummed, releasing your hands now so he could cup your cheek, which made it hard for you to nod but you attempted to regardless.

“Want you to fuck me,” you elaborated; taking the chance to touch him, hand going straight to the huge bulge in his trousers. Jude gritted and hissed through his teeth with a curl of his eyebrows.

You two would often take your time. Jude liked to have you spread open for him, a few orgasms deeply thanks to his fingers or tongue first before fucking you sensually. Taking his time in kissing every inch of your body, exploring your mouth, kissing you and touching you all he could. He loved to memorise your body like a map.

However, the both of you had a sense of urgency tonight. Keen to feel him inside you, aware there were plenty of people awaiting the footballer; that the night had barely begun in the grand scheme of things. The fact you’d avoided him for so long. The fact you promised, but God, it’d been too long. Jude would struggle to draw this out the way he wanted to.

“Barely touched you, baby,” Jude pointed out with a smirk as if he was not feeling the same burning desire to be with you.

You normally would’ve paid more attention to the way your stomach flipped at the casual drop of the nickname, but his actions captured your attention before you could dwell too hard.

It was a relief as he moved you to the sink counter, pressing on your back to bend you over the surface. Behind you, your hands scrambled to grip on the counter as your eyes settled on him in the mirror. A position you’d only be in for him, and Jude knew that.

Spreading your legs was easy as you watched Jude, flipping the skirt of your dress up and merely pushing your panties aside; fingers swiping through your wetness, entering you once, then twice.

“Gotta make sure this isn’t a mistake, hm?” Jude’s inquiry was a taunt, quoting you, hands leaving your figure. He then unzipped his pants and freed his cock, leaving you to whimper and watch in the mirror.

Jude didn’t make the move to touch you, prolonging your torture; hips swaying slightly as you dwelled on his words. His big doe eyes were pouring into yours through the mirror and your cheeks only grew more hotter. His reminder that you had once claimed you didn’t want this anymore had you speechless, not suddenly rational.

“What changed your mind?” His hands moved to squeeze your ass, cock pressing against your entrance which left you with nothing but anticipation and emptiness. “Cause we finally won? Am I good enough for you now?”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t in such a compromising position, his wicked grin enough to show his words were simply throw away comments, not an insight into his actual assumptions.

“Jude… please,” you whined, all you could muster. Your hips attempted to push back onto him but his hands on your ass held you directly in place; chest rising at the sight of you so needy for him. A sight he’d never, ever get sick of.

“Your words, not mine, babe,” Jude reminded you; tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he took in the sight of you momentarily, your laboured breathing and inability to keep still due to your need for him always something he loved to be witness to.

He was usually gentle with you at first, would warm you up; start off slow and build up to the pace that would have tears streaming down your pretty face. But he was insanely eager tonight, adrenaline still pumping madly through his veins. And by the way you were looking at him in the mirror told him you reciprocated.

“Gotta fuck some sense into you, yeah?” Jude’s question was matched with his hand tangling in your hair. He grasped a few strands before tugging you up harshly which made your back meet his chest and a gasp escaped you. “Yeah?” Jude repeated when you failed to answer.

You tried to nod quickly, hips pushing back once more to little success with the position he had you in. His lips were next to your ear now and the chuckle he let out had your thighs attempting to squeeze tightly together.

“Please! Please,” you whimpered; desperation growing pathetically quickly. It was almost pathetic, how he could shorten your vocabulary to pleas and curses in such little time.

Jude would like to say he was one of those men who could do this all night, but that would be a lie. He groaned audibly at your whimper; chest now pushed forward towards the mirror beautifully, still with a perfect view of your face.

He gave you no warning as he slid inside of you, your jaw going slack as he bottomed out; letting go of your hair and pushing your back down once more. Your hands flew to the counter again, moaning at the stretch while he groaned at the way your walls hugged him so, so tightly.

He didn’t give you the usual time to adjust, moving immediately and thrusting deeply inside of you, hands using your hips to meet his movements.

“Swear you’re fucking made for me,” Jude groaned as his head fell back, pounding into your tight cunt repetitively, your moans escaping each time as your face contorted in pleasure.

It was too good—he was too good. You weren’t sure how you could ever actually give this up.

You attempted to keep your moans hushed, although with the volume of the music you weren’t at much risk of being heard; which was good, because you were struggling to keep quiet. In fact, failing miserably! Your eyes rolled back when Jude didn’t fail to hit that spot inside of you repetitively, hands still gripping your hips tightly.

His grunts and groans were addictive, so much so you wanted to open your eyes and bask in the sight of him but the pleasure was too much to do so.

Jude, however, wouldn’t settle for such, hand tangling in your hair once more. He tugged once and pulled your head up slightly, with clear intentions behind his actions.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he cooed breathlessly, and you did as he said, being met with his ones through the mirror; a lazy smile gracing his features as you whimpered and gripped the counter tightly.

You never expect to get off so quickly from pure penetration, but you were. Suppose it was made easier with the sight of him and his hands gracing your skin, plus his filthy, loud mouth.

“So good,” you whined out; not that you needed to vocalise such a thing, it was already clear. But Jude loved your praise as much as you loved his. He hummed in agreement, squeezing your ass in appreciation.

Suddenly, his groans began to grow in frequency.

Jude was close, but in no way would he ever cum before you. His hand sneaking around your waist and dipping in between your thighs, finding your clit with ease. Jude’s fingers circled your clit expertly, dancing and sliding around like he knew you like the back of his hand. Because he did.

“Come for me baby, go on,” his words of encouragement were all you needed to hear as he continued to thrust in and out of you. You released on his cock virtually immediately at his demand. Your walls squeezed him so perfectly, Jude’s name so pretty coming from your lips—his own high cascading him as he came inside of you with a loud groan.

It was oddly satisfying, a quick release; a new experience for the pair of you. The both of you panting and coming down as he slid out of you.

Jude was gentle again, a contrast to before, as he turned you round and sat you on the counter. Your breaths were heavy as you observed him and his hands reaching up your thighs and tugging your underwear down your legs before shoving them in his pocket, only then pulling your dress down for you.

“Pervert,” you mocked with a teasing smile, Jude’s own one growing as he rolled his eyes—hands shifting to rest on your thighs.

“Collecting all the wins today,” he shrugged; a boyish chuckle escaping him as your face screwed up—his humour never lost on you as you pushed against his chest.

“I should smack you for that,” you taunted, failing to pretend to be disgusted as you grinned at him. Your entire body flushed and chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath, a small chuckle escaping you.

There were a few moments of silence as Jude adjusted himself, zipping his trousers back up and straightening out his shirt; your own hands moving to flatten your own hair.

“You gonna stay?” Jude’s question fell upon you with his intent gaze, eyes showing genuine interest. Your own eyebrows quirked in interest, unexpectedly. You'd assumed this was it for the night. Jude got his fix, you got yours.

“…Maybe,” you raised your shoulders slightly, not in a teasing way, but genuinely. You weren’t going to overstay your welcome. You were sure the casual party goers would be falling off the next couple of hours, the ones who just wanted to get a glimpse of the footballer.

You were assuming you fell into that category, not his inner circle.

“You should,” Jude hummed; and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you and the man almost frowned.

“You need to celebrate out there,” you hummed, patting his chest lightly with a small laugh.

His eye roll was one of sass, like you should’ve expected. What you didn’t expect was for him to insist on you staying.

“Yeah, I did already,” Jude retorted, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his thumb moving absentmindedly against the warmth of your skin.

And maybe that was the problem. Because somehow, somewhere between every warning you’d given yourself and every promise you’d made, you’d ended up right back here.

Still close enough to him to forget why you were supposed to leave.

© SINFULPETAL. // all rights reserved. do not copy or repost any original content from this blog.

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[ariaaaq]

england lost i better see comforting jude fics or helping him calm down 🥲

[miumiumouse]

STEVE HARRINGTON

Written fics & dabbles for Steve Harrington!

Battle of starcourt mall

Don’t kiss and tell

too early

[miumiumouse]

START OF SOMETHING NEW | summer lovin’

summary : how Dustin deals with his best friend and sister relationship (and how he gets put in his place)

warnings : few curse words

pairing : Steve Harrington x fem reader

notes : y/n crashes out & also high school musical mentioned?

If you guys happened to enjoy this, make sure to like and reblog, let me know what you liked about it - share your thoughts! It would mean the world! ❤️

The terror and chaos that the Fourth of July had the summer of 1985, slowly settled down after. The calmness and silence that the town of Hawkins typically had, came back.

It would be delightful to say that everything went back to the way it was! Well, it did, just not for everyone - Dustin.

Dustin Henderson, is a smart guy. But the only thing he just couldn’t solve and even wrap his head around was the fact that his best friend, Steve and his older sister, Y/n were dating.

He just couldn’t comprehend that Y/n could somehow fall for such a guy like Steve. And he couldn’t understand how Steve even swooped Y/n under her feet, like he did.

If everything was the way it was before, they had to break-up and start arguing like they used to. Steve had to be hung up on Nancy, and Y/n had to go back to when she never talked about boys.

But, that just wouldn’t happen. For at least 3 weeks after he found out they were seeing each other, Dustin complained and commented non-stop.

It was every time Y/n went out, even if it wasn’t to see Steve. And it was every time, Steve couldn’t hang out, even if simply just was working.

It did come to a holt, but that was only after Y/n had said something that actually got Dustin into his head.

School had started back up, Steve had got into a routine of picking up Dustin, Y/n and Robin since it was on the way.

Dustin and Y/ had been arguing, over something stupid, just normal sibling behaviour.

Dustin sat at the dinner table, a bowl of cereal in front of him, even though half of it was in his mouth.

“It’s stupid, Y/n!” Dustin exclaimed, cereal almost gushing out of his mouth, milk dripping down the side of his mouth. “Let. It. Go!”

Y/n stood at the kitchen counter behind him, eyes narrowed at his stupid hair, not believing he could say something like that. She scoffed, and placed the coffee creamer back in the fridge

“Oh, wait! Maybe you’re not good at letting things go- like for an example, my best friend!” He yelled again, scooping another spoon up

At that point, Y/n had enough of Dustin’s non stop comments, and just mean behaviour. She slammed the fridge door, and walked over to Dustin, so she’s standing right in front of him. Covering whatever cartoon he was watching on the television.

He’s about the protest when she says sternly

“Look, it get it that you don’t like the fact that me and Steve are seeing each other, but you’re not only hurting your so called best friend, but also your older sister, who’ve sacrificed so much for you, shithead-“

and she didn’t stop there

“it’s not only blatantly childish, but also mean, what do you think is gonna happen? I’m just gonna break up with Steve, because my brother fake barfs whenever we’re together? Grow up! Steve doesn’t complain whenever your out with your other friends or taking a hike just to talk to Suzie, is he? No!” She yells.

Dustin looks at his sister like she just grew, three heads - never hearing a crash-out like this.

“And stop chewing with your mouth open, it’s disgusting, your spilling milk from your own mouth, you dickhead” she finishes off

“Y/n-“ Dustin calls after her, as she storms out

“Tell Steve, I’m not going to school!” Y/n yells from her bedroom door, then slams it.

Dustin jumps when the door slams, and rubs his eyes

“Shit” he murmurs to himself, slamming his hand down on the table and finishes his cereal off.

After about 5 minutes, the familiar sound of a sputtering engine perked up the Henderson driveway. Steve's car always sounded like it was seconds from falling apart — because, honestly, it was.

He honked once. Then again.

Robin sat shotgun, fiddling with the volume knob on the radio, flipping between Top 40 stations and some weird metal music radio.

Steve was halfway out the driver’s window, peering toward the front door. He glanced at Robin, then back to the window of Y/n’s room.

“… her windows shut” he muttered “she always opens it for me.”

“Gross,” Robin said under her breath, but it lacked sass.

The front door opened with a loud creak. Dustin walked out, bag slung over his shoulder, expression tight. No Y/n behind him. No second set of footsteps. Just him. And he looked… nervous.

Steve squinted. “Where’s your sister?”

Dustin didn’t meet his eyes as he opened the back door. “she’s not coming.”

Steve paused mid-sit. “What?”

“She’s… uh… sick. Or maybe furious. Definitely one of those.” Dustin coughed. “She told me to tell you.”

Robin raised her eyebrows. “Yikes. You pissed her off?”

Dustin slumped down in the back seat like he could sink into it and disappear. “Apparently, yes.”

Steve slammed the driver’s door shut and turned around, one arm over the back of the seat. “Dude, what happened?”

Dustin groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing. I mean—something. She just freaked out on me at breakfast.”

Robin bit her lip. “Was it, like, actual freak out, or just Y/n pulling the older sister card again?”

“No, like… full-on monologue. Rant. Slamming the fridge, calling me a shithead and a dickhead in under ten seconds. She covered all the bases.” Dustin sighed and ran a hand through his curls. “She told me I was being an idiot to you and her. And I guess… maybe I kind of am?”

Steve frowned, his fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

Dustin didn’t usually admit stuff like that unless it really hit.

“She said I act like the world’s ending every time she talks about you, and that I fake barf when you two kiss—”

“Well, you do,” Robin cut in. “Last week at Family Video? Dramatic retching in public.”

“It’s my sister!” Dustin snapped. “Also, it’s Steve!”

Steve glared at him through the rearview mirror.

“Sorry,” Dustin added, quieter. “I guess I was just… being a jerk. I didn’t really think she’d blow up like that.”

Steve exhaled and nodded, still facing forward now, his tone a little more serious. “She’s not mad because you hate me, Henderson. She’s mad because you made her feel like she can’t be happy with me around you.”

That quieted the car.

Robin adjusted the rearview mirror, eyeing Dustin in the back seat. “You know, for someone with a girlfriend across the country, you sure suck at supporting relationships.”

Dustin groaned and tugged the hood of his jacket over his face. “I get it. I suck. Can we just go?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He just started the car, shooting one last glance at the house. At the dark closed window.

“Hey,” Dustin added after a few blocks of silence. “Maybe I could, I don’t know… pick her up something? Like… chocolate? Or that weird musical she likes?”

Robin blinked at him. “Wow. An actual gesture. Should we stop the car? Is this a medical emergency?”

“Shut up,” Dustin muttered.

But Steve smiled faintly. Because even if he didn’t say it, Dustin clearly cared. He just had a way of showing it that made everyone want to strangle him first.

Steve mental noted buying chocolate and picking up ‘footloose’ from his own job, because Dustin was never going to remember buying it himself

[miumiumouse]

BATTLE OF STARCOURT MALL | s. harrington

summary : how the last episode of season three goes down for Steve and reader

warnings : mention of blood, the flayed and whatever gore happened in the last episode

paring : Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

notes : tihiii, love this one - its quite long so buckle in

If you guys happened to enjoy this, make sure to give it a like, and reblog, let me know what you liked about it - share your thoughts! It would mean the world! ❤️

The Fourth of July, 1985, had been eventful—just not the kind you’d think.

Y/n hadn’t been at the fair, hadn’t eaten barbecue like she usually did with her mom and brother, and definitely hadn’t seen any fireworks—unless you count the cart Lucas stocked up on.

He’d ranted about some plan—apparently a backup for El. Y/n hadn’t really followed. She’d been out of it ever since the cabin incident. You know, when that enormous, creepy, spider-like monster went completely berserk, dug into El’s leg, and slammed Y/n so hard against the wall it gave her a solid second-degree concussion.

Honestly, the only thing she did to celebrate the Fourth was put on a cute red, white, and blue outfit—which was now ruined. Bloodstained, gunk-covered, and clinging to her skin like a memory she didn’t ask for.

The only thing that felt halfway good was regrouping. Seeing everyone alive. Her and Steve had shared eye contact and a silent nod. It said, “Hey, I’m okay—are you okay?” And it killed him not to just run and scoop her up into a hug. He wanted to check every inch of her, like his eyes could erase any pain she’d been through. But they didn’t say anything.

They never really did.

What Steve had done, though, about 20 minutes ago, was confess to being in love with Y/n—to Robin, that is. Not Y/n. Of course.

Mike, Will, Lucas, Max, and El probably already had it figured out—especially after walking in on them at the Mall and, before that, at Y/n’s house. The only person who was totally clueless was Dustin. Shit.

So all Steve and Y/n could offer each other right now were those glances. Soft, meaningful.

The lights in Starcourt Mall were dim—thankfully low enough not to worsen Y/n’s lingering headache. The voices, though? Loud.

Joyce, Hopper, and… was his name Barry? Larry? No, Murray. That was it. They were talking in code half the time, but sometimes paused to dumb it down for the rest of them—for the ones who didn’t have superpowers or speak Russian or play D&D.

Suddenly, Murray (there it is) yelled, “Yoo-hoo!” while flapping blueprint papers like a maniac as he waltzed over to the group.

“Listen, Mr. Bunman, I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for 24 hours—” Erica cut in, sass turned up to a 100.

Y/n turned quickly to Steve—he was already looking at her. Her eyes were wide, brows pinched with worry. He gave a small shrug, like, “Yeah, I know. I don’t like it either.”

She let out a small breath and dragged a hand down her face, fingers pressing over her mouth. Disbelief and frustration swirled together in her chest.

“It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way,” Dustin offered, waving a pen like he was presenting a game plan, not a death wish.

Hopper stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You can show us the way?” he repeated.

“Don’t worry,” Dustin replied confidently, “you guys do all the fighting and dangerous hero stuff—we’ll just be your... navigators.”

“No,” Hopper shot back flatly.

“Yeah, no. Dustin, you’re not going down there again.” Y/n’s voice cut through, instinctive. Big sister tone in full effect. Sharp, firm, terrified.

A beat later, though, she found herself in a car with Dustin, Robin, Erica, and Steve. On their way to the tallest radio tower in Hawkins—Dustin’s own ham radio set-up. Y/n had insisted on going with them.

Because, yes, she didn’t trust Dustin out of her sight. Or, atleast not until she knew he was in a safe place.

But also because Steve was going. And she couldn’t watch him leave again—not after what they'd just been through. She needed to be near him. Needed to make sure he came back too.

“Higher and Higher” was playing on the tape deck, a weirdly upbeat contrast to the mood in the car.

“Jesus, How far is this place, man?” Steve groaned, hands tight on the wheel.

“Relax, we’re almost there,” Dustin said from the backseat.

Y/n had planned to sit in the back with Dustin and Erica, but Robin had slipped in first—leaving Y/n up front, next to Steve. She’d caught the choice, even if she didn’t understand it yet.

“Suzie must be pretty special, huh?” Y/n asked, eyeing her brother.

Robin perked up. “Yeah, I mean, if you built this whole thing and lugged it into the middle of nowhere just to talk to her?”

“I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be,” Dustin said dreamily.

“She sounds made-up to me,” Erica muttered.

“She sound made-up to you?” she asked Steve.

Steve hesitated.

“Why are you hesitating, Steve?” Dustin caught on.

“I—I'm not—I mean, totally, absolutely real,” he fumbled. His eyes darted to the side.

“Left. Turn left,” Dustin called.

“There’s no road here!” Steve yelled.

“Turn left now!” Dustin insisted.

“Jesus, hang on!” Steve swore. His hand instinctively flew out and landed on Y/n’s thigh, steadying her before the car lurched left, crashing through a fence.

“Whoa! Henderson, where are we going?!”

Steve yanked his hand back fast, trying not to make it obvious—but Dustin had seen. Of course he had - that little shit.

“Up!” Dustin shouted.

“Whoa!” Steve groaned, the car rumbling and sputtering up the steep hill.

“Oh, Jesus!”

“We’re not gonna make it!” Robin yelled.

“Yes, we are. Come on, baby, come on, baby!” Steve coaxed the car like it was a skittish horse. It finally gave out near the top with a sputter and a groan.

“Guess the Toddfather has its limitations,” Y/n said, sliding out with a sarcastic grin despite the mud on her pants.

Steve shot her a look—half annoyed, half charmed. She always got to him like that. Always.

After a call with Murray—a.k.a. Bald Eagle—and some light teasing about Dustin’s “My Little Pony thesis,” they finally got back in touch with the rest of the group.

Until the signal broke.

Strange sounds crackled through the walkie.

“Griswold Family, do you copy?!”

Only a bone-chilling roar answered back.

Y/n’s heart seized. She needed to take charge now.

“Where are you going?!” Erica yelled as Y/n suddenly broke into a sprint toward the car.

“I’m getting them the hell out of there!” Y/n yelled over her shoulder.

“Dustin, stay here! I don’t want you near that thing—contact the others!”

“Hello?! You can’t just go alone!” Robin called

Steve was faster. Already running to her.

“Wait! Steve!” Dustin yelled, throwing a walkie at him. “Stay in touch! Keep my sister safe, Harrington!”

“Got it, Henderson!”

They climbed into the car. And then—Steve kissed her.

Hard.

It was messy, breathless, charged. Everything they hadn’t said since summer began was right there in that kiss.

(It was revolutionary to steve - everything he had said to Robin, and everything they had talked about made sense to him now - he was down bad in love with her)

When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against hers, eyes searching.

“Please… just let me know you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, hand on the back of his neck. “But that bloody eye? We’re gonna talk about that later, Harrington.”

He laughed, soft and warm. She kissed him again.

Then they were off.

Steve gunned the car down the hill, barely making the turns, nearly vomiting from adrenaline. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, he blurted out:

“I was thinking... after all this bullshit is over,…. Uh, I uh, I want to take you out. Like,….on a real date.”

Y/n looked over at him, wide-eyed and silent.

“I mean—like, I drive you home, open your door, pay for dinner, maybe get a kiss at the end of the night. And then maybe ask you if I can be you boyfriend. Officially.”

Y/n smirked, pretending to consider it. “You really think you get the boyfriend title after just one date?”

“I—uh—no—I mean, I just—”

“I’m messing with you, handsome.” She slid her hand down his arm, lacing her fingers with his. “Of course I will.”

He exhaled, gripping the wheel with his other hand. “Thank. Fucking. God.”

She giggled, kissing his cheek.

The moment ended when they rolled up to Starcourt Mall again—just in time to see Billy’s car racing straight toward Nancy.

“Drive into them!” Y/n shouted.

“What? What?! What?!”

“DRIVE INTO THE CAR, STEVE!”

“FUCK!”

Steve slammed the car into Billy’s with a gut-wrenching crunch. The impact rattled their bones. Tires squealed. Metal twisted. The world went sideways for a second.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, breathless, his hands strangling the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white. He looked over at Y/n immediately.

“Baby—are you okay?”

She slowly ducked her head back up from where she’d instinctively shielded herself. Her hair was in her face, blood on her cheek.

“Ask me tomorrow,?” she muttered, voice dry and shaking.

A roar split the air, high and horrible. The melted-people creature—The Flayed—shrieked from atop the mall. Dripping with what used to be people.

They both turned, staring up through the cracked windshield. Steve’s lips parted in disbelief. Y/n just shook her head like she was trying to wake herself from the worst nightmare imaginable.

Then headlights.

A car skidded beside them. Jonathan honked twice and yelled through the rolled-down window. “GET IN!”

Steve didn’t wait. He scrambled out of the driver’s side, threw open the back door.

Steve reached for Y/ , tugged her arm, and she climbed in beside him, slamming the door shut.

They sped off, the creature shrieking somewhere behind them. The mall lit up in pulses of unnatural, glowing red.

Y/n stared out the back window, wide-eyed, barely blinking.

Her fingers found Steve’s, instinctive, desperate. He gripped her hand and leaned down, kissing the top of it without thinking.

They didn’t speak.

There was no need to.

The rest of the night unfolded like a fever dream—one of those strange, surreal ones where nothing made sense.

Monster hunting them down? Check.

Military nowhere to be found? Obviously.

Oh—and at one point, Dustin’s mysterious girlfriend did show up over radio.

And together, they sang. A full, passionate duet of “Never-Ending Story.”

Steve and Y/n sat frozen in the backseat, watching death chase them down—while listening to two lovebirds belt out an ‘80s ballad like they were auditioning for Broadway.

Y/n blinked. “Dusty-Bun?”

Steve coughed out a laugh. “Suzie-Poo?”

They both cracked up, probably from the trauma. Or the adrenaline. Or both.

Then—something changed.

“It’s turning around!” Steve shouted, eyes darting to the rear window.

“What?” Nancy yelled from the passenger seat.

“It’s turning around!”

“Maybe we wore it out?” Lucas offered.

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan muttered, hands tightening on the wheel. “Hold on.”

He spun the car hard, tires screeching, dust kicking up as they followed the trail of chaos back toward Starcourt.

When they caught up with the monster, it had returned to the mall—looming, furious, leaking, terrifying.

Lucas perked up like a lightbulb going off. “I got it.”

“With what?!” Jonathan barked. “How are we gonna help?!”

Lucas grinned. “We’re celebrating the Fourth of July differently this year.”

The next part was chaos in motion.

They’d broken into different spots across the second floor of the mall, giving themselves a little high ground. Everyone was armed—not with guns, but with fireworks. Two boxes each.

Y/n ducked behind a toppled shelf with Steve, sparks flying overhead as Lucas launched another explosive toward the creature.

The blasts hit their mark—bursting, into the Flayed’s body. It screeched, but didn’t fall.

“Steve,” Y/n called out, eyes darting to their firework box. Empty. She grabbed a loose one with shaking hands.

“We’re out,” she said.

Steve turned, then looked down. “Fuck. Shit.”

He scrambled for the walkie, holding the button down. “Dustin! We’re out of time!”

Y/n sank to her knees, covering her head. When people talk about worse case scenarios? Yeah, they haven’t tried this.

Steve saw it. He crouched in front of her, pulling her hands away gently and wrapping one arm around her waist.

“Hey. Hey—look at me,” he said, voice soft. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

Her eyes welled with tears. She nodded, but didn’t believe it.

Neither did Steve.

He held her, pressing his forehead to hers. Everything in him wanted to protect her. But what the hell could he even do against something like that?

A scream cut through.

They turned, just in time to see Eleven on the floor, clawing her way backward as the monster loomed over her. The Flayed roared, opening its mouth—hand? claw? whatever the hell it was—reaching down to grab her.

Then—Billy.

He stepped in.

He caught the creature.

With nothing but his bare hands and the raw force of whatever defiance still lived in him.

“Jesus,” Steve whispered.

“Oh my god,” Y/n whimpered, burying her face in his chest.

They watched, helpless, as the Flayed impaled Billy again and again. It latched onto his chest. He screamed—high, guttural, awful.

The final strike went through his heart.

Billy collapsed, body limp, falling down on the ground

Y/n turned away, curling into Steve. He wrapped both arms around her and shielded her face. His stomach turned. He wanted to throw up.

Then came the final roar.

The creature—disoriented, writhing—began to fall apart.

It howled, convulsed, and burst like some rotten firework. Flesh, blood and bone flying everywhere. The mall shook.

Joyce and hopper. They had shut the machine off.

The shockwave hit like an earthquake. The Flayed collapsed against the railing near them. The floor cracked. The air filled with smoke and ash and melted everything.

Steve grabbed Y/n’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on! We’ve gotta move!”

They ran to the railing, looking down just in time to see the creature splatter into the ground. Fire spread across the building like a living thing.

The mall was completely destroyed. It died with the flayed

They stumbled down the ruined escalator, ducking rubble and flame.

Outside, the chaos continued—military trucks and helicopters circled like vultures. Medics rushed in.

A soldier grabbed Y/n’s shoulder and steered her toward a row of ambulances. “Ma’am, over here! You injured?”

Y/n’s head, dazed. “Uh, I-“ cutting her off she were rushed to an ambulance.

Steve followed close, never letting go of her hand.

They both were checked over—flashlights in the eyes, blood pressure, a million questions they barely answered. They just held each other the whole time, dirty, and eyes wide with shock.

Finally, a sense of calmness hit the scene. Everyone now in their own ambulances, Joyce coming back to re-group with her own kids.

Steve sat beside Y/n, hand tight in hers.

“I can’t believe we survived that” she murmured

He smiled, weakly “I can. You’re kind of a badass, you know”

She chuckled, leaning into him. Locking eyes, and finally kissing him again, with no rush or need for hiding - after what felt like hours, days, weeks.

He kissed back, harder - a silent agreement to not keep everything under wraps anymore.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” A suddenly yell from across the parking lot. Dustin

Him and Erica had been driven over here, after Mike had let some police men know there were more.

Steve and Y/n pull away from each other, locking their gaze to Dustin who runs after them.

“Excuse me! I need an explanation right this minute!” He exclaims, anger and disgust bubbling in him

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out, and he sighs - locking towards Y/n

“HELLO?!” Dustin yells

“Dustin-“

“Don’t ‘Dustin’ me! What the hell is going on?! Why were you two just kissing?!” He screamed, looking so ever furiously

“Please, you didn’t know about them?” Erica from the other ambulance, sitting with Lucas beside her, said with sass “they’ve been at it all summer”

“Erica!”

“What! You knew too Lucas?” He looked to Lucas, who shrugged and Dustin looked back at his two traitors “does everyone know but I?!”

“Alright- alright, look, your sister has a massive concussion, so you might wanna stop screaming” Steve put a had up to Dustin’s chest and push him a tiny bit away

“No!” Dustin screamed “she deserves that after trading spit with my best friend all summer!” He continues

Steve sighs, stands up, looks back at Y/n giving her a smile

“What! What was that smile?” Dustin yells

Steve puts his arm around Dustin’s shoulder “we’re just gonna go over here”

“You better tell me the truth, Harrington!”

Y/n watched with a smirk as Steve pulled her little brother away for a talk.

Jesus, what a typical American Fourth of July!

[miumiumouse]

DONT KISS AND TELL | s. Harrington

summary : a call from a secret lover accidentally reveals a tiny big secret

warnings : not but fluff

pairing : Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

notes : uhhh this is one is cute 😌

if you guys happened to enjoy this, make sure to give it a like, and reblog, let me know what you liked about it - share your thoughts! It would mean the world! ❤️

RING, RING, RING !!!

The shrill ring of the scoops ahoy phone cut through the whirring of ice cream machines and distant laughter, and gossip from customers

“Scoops Ahoy, what can I do for you today?” Robins voice echoed lazily through the little intercom speaker, already sounding tired, bored despite it being barely noon

There was a short pause on the other end of the line before a soft and a little hesitant voice answered

“Hi, could i maybe talk to Steve?” Y/n spoke through the receiver warm but slightly rushed - she wasn’t 100% sure she should be calling.

Robin raised an eyebrow, peering out the front window just as Steve leaned over the counter, handing some kid a his cone, flashing that signature slightly over confident Harrington grin. She turned back to the Oberon, skeptic.

“Uh, sure… what’s the matter?” Robin asked laced suspicion in her tone.

Y/n but her lip, squinting her eyes and internally cursing herself for not thinking of an excuse.

“Private family matter…” she mumbled quickly fingers drumming against the receiver nervously.

Robin sighed, then cuped her hand around her mouth “steevvvveeeee!”

There was clatter in the background, and muffled sounds from customers - then finally the shuffle of footsteps followed by the sound of the phone being picked up.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice buzzed through, curious, breathless, probably still wiping his hands on his sailor shorts.

Y/n’s lips curled into a smile without even meaning to. Just hearing his voice had that effect.

“Hey, handsome.”

A slow, dopey smile spread across Steve’s face instantly. Robin, from the corner of her eye, watched with folded arms and a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, pretty.” He leaned on the wall, twisting the cord in his fingers. He already sounded like he’d been transported somewhere else — far from melted chocolate fudge and sticky kids.

“I was just calling to ask if I could stop by scoops today?” Y/n said gently.

His smile faltered, just slightly. Crap. He glanced over his shoulder seeing Dustin hunched over a walkie talkie

“Uhm..” he hesitated

“What?” Y/n asked, her voice slightly dipping into concern that always made Steve’s stomach tighten “is everything okay..?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking fast “yeah, yeah - totally.. todays just kinda insane in here.. we’ve got a new shipment also Dustin’s breathing down my neck about that girl Suzie… and uh” he rubbed his eyes “I- I- I don’t think he’s gonna go away at any point”

“Oh” a beat “so.. I shoudnt come?”

He winced at how disappointed she sounded “No - I mean, yeah. I just… the chance of getting caught by Dustin is fairly high, and… yeah…?”

The silence on the other side of the phone could simply just make him cry “rain check? Midnight still on?”

A soft sigh crackled through the phone, “yeah, alright fine”

He bit his lip “you sure? Don’t go overthinking it now,- I- It’s not that I don’t want you here, baby”

“Yeah, no it’s fine- I’ll let you off the hook for now” she smiled, and nodded through the phone as if he could see her.

“Your too good to me”

“Don’t get used to it sailor boy” she teased “midnight. Don’t stand me up”

“Never in my life- bye baby”

“Bye handsome”

Steve lingered on the phone for a second after the line clicked off, the slowly set it back in place. He turned, only to find Robin watching him like he just confessed murder.

“What?” He asked

She narrowed her eyes “you call your family members ‘baby’ and ‘pretty’?”

“Yeah, we’re, like… knit-tight” Steve said, voice cracking slightly under the weight of the lie

Robin scoffed “you’re hiding something”

He met her eyes

“Or should I say someone?”

He glanced to the side, trying to play it cool “nope”

Robin crossed her arms “mmmhmm.. you’re definitely seeing someone”

He almost chocked on air “what? No- I told you she’s just - it’s a family-”

Robin raised an eyebrow so high it almost vanished into her bangs “Steve. You called her baby”

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then shrugged “that just how we.. you know.. talk”

“Right. And I accidentally flirt with the pizza guy for free garlic knots”

Steve gave her a look “you do flirt with the pizza guy”

“Exactly my point” she said, smug

He ran an hand through his hair, stalling “it’s not- I mean, nothing serious”

Robin leaned over the counter “so you are seeing someone”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but all that came out was an awkward half-sigh “I don’t kiss and tell”

Robin grinned “I knew it.”

He grumbled and turned away grabbing a tray of cones

“Don’t worry” she called after him “your secrets safe with me lover boy”

Steve didnt turn around, but the tips of his ears went red as he mumbled “it’s not like that”

Robin just smirked to herself, watching him retreat. Sure. ‘Not like that’

Robin then turned around to the counter were a confused Dustin stood

“What secret?”

Robin opened her mouth, then closed and shrugged “your his best friend - go interrogate him yourself”

Dustin scoffed, and walked into the little scoops office - and not even a second after Robin could hear bickering between the two. Keeping it to herself, she sighed and smiled.

[miumiumouse]

masterlist of miumiu mouse

(very short so far! Just starting out, so give me some time!)

⊰ STEVE HARRINGTON

[forevermoreharrington]

summer with boyfriend!steve harrington is all about late nights and soft mornings, nine o'clock dinners at quiet restaurants, walking home slightly tipsy and majorly in love, his hand around your waist and his jacket around your shoulder to keep the slightly cool breeze away, waking up together, your desserts from last night in take out boxes on the kitchen counter, steve's shirt slipped over you and his shoes by the bedroom door, there's lip gloss still shining on his neck and collar bones, the room feels warm enough for your bedsheets to be pushed down the bed, leaving just you and your boyfriend, convincing each other that cheesecake is an expectable breakfast <3

[miumiumouse]

TOO EARLY | steve h.

summary : in which Steve & Y/N’s typical summer morning gets interrupted

warnings : a little suggestive, but nothing crazy! Also use of curse words.

pairing : steve harrington x Henderson!reader

notes : first fic, it’s a little short I’m sorry, hope it’s fine! Set in the first episode of season three, right before Dustin gets a surprise from his friends. Also, in this Steve and reader hides their situationship from Dustin - I’m thinking it happened in the month that Dustin was away at summer camp.

if you guys happened to enjoy this, make sure to give it a like, and reblog, let me know what you liked about it - share your thoughts! It would mean the world! ❤️

Hawkins, Indiana is surprisingly warm in the summer. The sun is already up and nagging down at 8:47 a.m.

The soft glow of the morning shines through the filtered curtains, painting strips across the tangled bedsheet.

The window is cracked just a tad, letting in the scent of heat and the hum of a neighbor’s lawnmower.

Y/N, barely covered, sits on top of Steve’s naked stomach, kissing down until she meets his lips. Her fingers lazily trace his jaw, pulling him closer—if that’s even possible.

Slow and heated, this is how they’ve started every morning this summer. Just the two of them, like no one else exists.

Steve’s hand slides down her bare back, gripping her hips and making her rock against him. He smiles into the kiss.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK—loud knocking from the front door suddenly interrupts them, ruining the moment

They freeze against each other.

Steve’s face snaps toward the door, and Y/N lifts her head, glancing toward it with a puzzled expression.

Steve squints at the clock hanging beside Y/N’s multiple Cyndi Lauper and Dolly Parton posters.

“Thought we had half an hour..?”

“Yeah… me too,” Y/N replies, turning her head back to Steve’s.

A beat of silence passes. They look at each other, sharing a silent agreement to ignore whoever’s at the door.

Outside, a familiar group of teenagers stands on the front porch, the wood creaking beneath them as the summer heat radiates around them.

Mike, arms crossed (with Eleven’s arm wrapped around his), sighs in annoyance. “Thought you said she was home.”

“She’s supposed to be,” Max mutters, looking at Lucas like he should know more.

Max steps forward, knocks harder, and nearly yells, “HELLOOO?!”

Inside the heated bedroom, Y/N groans and rolls off Steve. She slides her hands across her face. “Whoever’s out there is not going away.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his disheveled morning hair. He looks over at her, offering a comforting look.

“Look, it’s probably just Mormons—they’re aggressive this time of year.”

Y/N shoots him a look and pushes his side with her leg. “Steve.”

“I’m going, I’m going…”

He stands up, still half-naked, grabs a shirt, and decides on boxers and confidence rather than bothering with jeans.

He heads toward the front door, opens it—and—

“Woah.” He blinks at the group of teenagers he once babysat. “What the hell are you shitheads doing here?”

Mike doesn’t miss a beat with his usual attitude. “Better question—what the hell are you doing here?”

“This early in the morning at Y/N’s?” Will chimes in, surprising even himself.

“Your best friend’s sister?” Lucas says, sighing at the sight of Steve.

“Woah, Dustin’s not my best friend—” Steve tries to defend himself.

“And why are you in your underwear?” Max grins at him.

He’s busted. A deer in headlights. Or rather, a half-dressed man at his best friend’s sister’s house. At 8:52 a.m.

Steve opens his mouth, but no words come out—just air and sheer panic.

Before he can scrape together any of his dignity, the teenagers push past him, marching straight into the house.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve spins around, waving his arms like that’ll stop them. “Dustin’s not even here for like, another half hour!”

Ignored.

Y/N steps into the hallway, now wrapped in one of Steve’s shirts that falls mid-thigh, covering just enough.

She freezes in shock at the herd of teenagers inside her house.

“Shit.”

Max turns around, arms folded, giving her a look. “You forgot.”

Steve whips his head around to face Y/N, half-naked and half-mortified, silently begging her to say something—anything—that’ll explain this.

Y/N sighs. “I totally forgot.”

Steve looks around at everyone, baffled. “What?!”

Y/N grabs his arm, turning to the teens. “Alright, you set it up—do your thing. But if you tell Dustin—”

“We’re dead,” they all finish in unison.

She pauses, realizing she’s used that threat way too much, but just nods and mutters, “Yeah.”

Steve, still confused, follows her back into the bedroom.

Y/N cracks the window fully open and begins rummaging around the room for her clothes.

“Baby,” Steve says, watching from the bed, “what’s happening?”

She looks up at him, smiling. “They planned to surprise Dustin. So they wanted to come early and set it up or something.”

His eyes wander down her now-exposed body, clearly distracted.

She catches on, slaps him with a shirt.

“Ow—alright,” he chuckles, rubbing the spot where she hit him.

She smiles and leans down to kiss him. “So I should probably head out,” he mumbles against her lips.

She nods, now pulling on her own clothes.

“Will you come by Scoops later?” he asks, hopping into his jeans.

She turns from her closet, pretending to think. “Only if there’s free ice cream.”

He laughs, watching her fondly. Steve Harrington is down bad—not that he ever meant to be. Who falls for their best friend’s kid sister? Only Steve, apparently.

“You got it,” he says with a grin. “Robin’ll be there too.”

He gets up from the bed, sliding his hands around her waist from behind.

Y/N smiles, leaning into him.

“Oh yeah… I really like her,” she murmurs, turning to face him.

Steve beams. “Yeah, you two are getting along great. Starting to feel like the third wheel.”

Y/N chuckles, rolling her eyes—when suddenly, a high-pitched, almost-girl scream echoes through the house.

“What the—” Steve starts, pulling a face.

“YYYY/NNNN!” Dustin screams at the top of his lungs.

“Shit,” Steve mutters. “Shit, shit—”

“He’s gonna run in here any second.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he continues, scrambling around the room, grabbing his stuff, and dashing to the window.

“I’ll see you later, handsome,” Y/N says, blowing him a kiss as he climbs out.

“Bye!” he yells back, just before tripping over a book and falling straight out the window.