a/n - been a while since i've done a jude fic heeheh, i feel it is appropriate to post some with the world cup on (maybe its coming home?)
I couldn’t be asked to write more smut for this 😭
ALSO ITS COMING HOME YAYAYA DID ANYONE WATCH THE ENGLAND VS MEXICO CUZ JUDE PULLED THRU 👀👀
masterlist
c/w - switch!Jude, switch!reader, foreplay in a hot tub, newly weds, hand jobs, fingering, hickeys and lots of making out
By the time you and Jude got back to the villa, the sun was starting to go down.
The whole day had felt slow in the best way.
No rushing, nowhere to be, no one waiting for either of you. It was strange, honestly. After the wedding everything had been so busy. Family, friends, the afterparty, the travelling. It had all gone by so fast that neither of you had a second to stop.
Now it was just the two of you.
Married.
Even thinking it still felt weird.
—
You stood in front of the mirror tending to your hair after your shower, wearing one of Jude’s shirts while he lay on the bed behind you, fresh out the shower too, scrolling on his phone with damp hair and a towel low around his waist.
You looked at your hand for a second, turning it so your ring caught the light.
—
It was mental to think about
Three days ago you had been standing in front of him, trying not to cry while he smiled at you like he was trying not to do the same.
It still didn’t feel real —
“You alright?” Jude asked.
You looked over at him, caught a bit of guard. “Yeah.”
He was watching you now.
“You’ve gone all quiet.”
You smiled a little. “Just thinking.”
“Right...”
You rolled your eyes and then looked out to the terrace. “Jude do you wanna try out the hot tub?”
Jude looked over too. “Now?”
“Yeah. We haven’t even been in it yet.”
He thought for a second, then shrugged. “Alright.”
You grinned and disappeared to get changed.
When you came back out in your bikini, Jude was standing by the bed now, pulling on his swim shorts.
He looked up at you and froze for a second.
You smiled at how strange he was. “What?”
He shook his head, laughing quietly. “Nothing.”
“It's literally just us two come on.” you replied with a teasing smile.
He walked over and put his hands on your waist. “You look really nice in this.”
You laughed. “Thank you.”
His hands stayed there a second longer than they needed to.
Even now, after being together for so long, after literally marrying him, he still looked at you like that.
Like he was still a bit shocked you were his.
—
The hot tub was already warm when you got outside.
You got in first, sinking into the water with a sigh while Jude got in after you.
You sat on the opposite side at first.
He stared at you.
“What?” you asked credulously.
He shook his head. “Why are you over there?”
You laughed. “There’s room isn't there?.”
“Come here.”
You slid over and he pulled you straight against him, your back against his chest, his arms around your waist under the water.
“That’s better,” he said.
The water bubbled around you while the sky got darker above.
It was quiet, but not awkward.
Just peaceful.
Jude played with your hair, twisting the ends around his fingers and moving it back over your shoulder.
You rested your head against him, it seemed like for the first time in ages, he felt completely relaxed.
No football. No people asking for photos. No training. No stress. Just you.
"You seem suspiciously happy mate..." you said, looking up at him. He laughed softly, the standing out against the bubbling of the water.
"I don't know mate, I think it's because I got married."
You smiled, your fingers tightening slightly over his where they rested against your hand. "True."
His chin dropped to rest against your hair, and you felt him exhale slowly, like he was still catching up to the reality of it. "It still feels mad doesn't it?"
You looked down at where his fingers were laced through yours, thumb brushing absently over your knuckles. "Yeah."
He kissed the side of your neck, slow and deliberate, his lips lingering just a second too long to be casual as he mumbled against your neck. "Best day of my life."
That made your chest go tight, so you turned a little, just enough to hide how flustered you suddenly felt. "You're being soft, Jude."
He smiled against your skin. "Only because it's you."
You leaned in and kissed him slowly, and at first it stayed that way — warm and unhurried. But then his hand moved from your waist up your side, fingers pressing into you like he needed something to hold onto, and the whole thing changed.
His mouth pressed harder against yours, like he'd been holding himself back all day and had finally stopped bothering to try. You shifted until you were facing him properly, legs tangling with his beneath the water, the heat of it was nothing compared to the way his hands were moving now — one sliding to the small of your back, the other cupping your jaw like he wanted to feel you say the next thing.
"Wow, Jude, this is a bit bold isn't it," you teased against his mouth, breathless already.
"Yeah well, I'm pretty sure we can do whatever we want now, can't we," he murmured back, drunk on the feeling of you pressed flush against him.
When you pulled back to catch your breath, his eyes stayed fixed on your mouth like he hadn't finished with it yet. "You know," he said quietly, thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, "I've barely had you to myself since the wedding."
You smiled, a little smug. "You married me."
"Exactly."
His hand slid into your hair then, tipping your head back trailing his lips down your neck eliciting a gasp from your through, he smiled against you the bastard.
"I'm your husband now aren't I?" Jude murmured, slowly sucking against your throat.
"Yes, you are." You replied breathily as the vibrations of his voice travelling to your core.
He smirked at this, getting a bit bolder now and biting at the spot that he's been slowly devouring.
"Fucking hell Jude!" You exclaimed, gripping onto his hair.
He pulled himself off you, his lips now pinkish and spit slicken, and stared at the sight of you before him. "You are so beautiful you know."
You bit back a smile trying to hide the effect that his words had on you, but he saw right through it and pulled you towards him causing the water to get very disturbed.
"Jude!" you giggled at the sudden movement, "Behave idiot."
"It's a bit hard not to when I have my wife in front of me like this." Jude's eyes hazed a little.
You took advantage of his lack of control and shoved him against the edge of the hot tub, "You're so corny." The image in front of your eyes was addictive, his chiseled body, tented shorts, the way his lips were swollen and his eyes were drunk. You decided to prove that he was yours.
"Lay back," You said softly, pushing him against the wall of the hot tub with your finger.
He did as you said, eyes locked onto yours as you straddled him hips and wrapped your arms around his neck. He then immediately parted his lips, letting your tongue to slip inside as you tasted him.
Your breathes mingled as you both bumped noses, "Jude," you said pulled back slightly so your forehead was against him.
He just looked at you with dilated eyes, his body flushed and lips wet and parted, "Y—yea?"
You pressed your lips to his quickly and tilted his head back with your fingers, exposing his neck to you. As you edged your mouth closer to his jaw you paused, letting your breath soften slightly against his pulse point.
He looked down at you with pleading eyes, his heartbeat erratic against your hand on his chest, "I love you reader." he whispered.
You pressed a haste kiss against his jaw and then to his lips, before returning to his jaw, kitten licking the area with your tongue like an in advance apology before slowly mouthing against it. His breath stuttered against your as he realised what you were doing.
The stinging sensation vibrated through his body as his right hand came up from your waist to gently grasping you hair, as you bit down he gasped slightly, eyes closed as the mixture of pain and pleasure grew onto him.
You soothed the new darkening mark on his jaw with your tongue as your lips dragged downwards to his untouched neck.
A trail of reddening bruises slow bloomed across his neck as you worked you way down. God he looked so pretty like this, like he was yours.
As you pulled back to admire your handiwork he pulled you back into him by your waist and flipped you around, now it was you who's back was against the wall of the hot tub, now he was straddling your lap, his hardness pressing into your hip.
Jude immediately started peppering kisses across your exposed neck, his mouth finally landed against your collarbone. Your brain short-circuited as his teeth gently bit into the skin, his tongue coming out in intervals to sooth the ache as if to apologise.
He sucked harder until there was a darkening shape on your collar bone, as you looking down at the sight you couldn't help but see how visually untouched he was, his erection straining out of his shorts, it was only fair to help him out right?
Your fingers traced down his water slicken body, his abs tensing under the gentle graze of your nails. He looked at you with need as he claimed your lips in a deep kiss.
Your hand followed his happy trail, dipping into the waistband of his shorts, his cock twitching in excitement like he was waiting for this.
Your hand felt along the velvety length causing him to stutter against your lips which he only did when he was desperate.
"Jude you're so hard." you teased, nose bumping his and you looked into each other's eyes, His pupils were dilated.
You grazed your thumb on his tip smearing the bead of precum that had formed all over his cock, the sensation releasing a shaky exhale from him.
You started to stroke him, the bubbles of the water clouding your vision from above.
Jude’s noises were muffled by your mouth, “Fuck — your always so so good —”
His hips started rutting into your hand, the sight of your wedding rings glistening through the water on his cock was disorienting his mind.
After a few more strokes he finally came, white hot spurts shooting out of his slit as he rode the wave out, in the hot tub, but that was a problem for later.
Jude looked into your eyes, his glassy, and wide, “I love you so much baby.”
“I love you too”
“It’s your turn then isn’t it?”
Before you could clock what he meant his hand immediately trailed down your wet curves into the water, palming your ass as he leaned in to kiss your neck slowly with fervour.
“Jude…” you breathed.
He continued his ministrations on your neck as his hand edged your bikini bottoms down. His fingers slipping between your folds.
Even though you were in water he could feel the wetness of your core, “Your my wife now, and I’m your husband.
The soft gasp that culminated from you made him smile against your neck. His index finger now slipping into your hole slowly. He pulled away from and you crouched down slightly, his eyes fixated on your as he pulled your bottoms completely off.
The visual was a stark contrast to how he was just moments earlier with his eyes pleading and watering.
He started to thrust his finger in you slightly faster eliciting soft sounds from your tongue.
“Jude can you — faster?” You asked quietly as your brows furrowed in pleasure.
“Of course I can.”
His fingers picked up the pace, his other hand coming down to nudge your clit.
The sensation became sweet as his fingers slipping between hit that same spot in you whilst his thumb was toying with your bundle of nerves causing you to start riding his hands.
To him this sight was something he would never get enough of, your eyes shut, brows furrowed, puffy lips slightly parted but silent like you couldn’t coordinate a response.
“I’m close baby — fuck”
You whimpers only egged him if as he sped up the pace slightly, your hands grabbing his hair will full force, a feeling that he very much enjoyed.
Your body started convulsing as you came, breath staggered, the waves of the orgasm washing over you slowly.
After you rode out on his finger he pulled it out, the sudden emptiness bringing you back to reality.
The hot tub slightly cloudy with cum, your bikini bottoms in the water, Jude’s cock hardening against your thigh.
Jude gave you a cheeky look, “Maybe we should take this inside?”
You smiling back, reaching into the water for your bottoms, “Yea maybe we should…”
a/n: reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated!! lmk if you wanna be on the taglist <3
Can I request Judexfemreader smut all positions all over the house all kinks. Anything plsss I’m ovulating and touch deprived 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
I hope this is everything you wanted! Enjoy bb 💛
~
Welcome Home Baby - Jude Bellingham
-
Warnings: Explicit smut | Consensual rough sex | Touch-starved/feral behaviour | Multiple sex scenes (couch, shower, bed) | Praise kink (heavy) | Slight choking (consensual hand on throat) | Heavy eye contact during deep penetration | Possessive dirty talk | Size kink (implied) | Creampie (multiple) | Descriptions of curvy/plus-size body (thick thighs, soft belly, full breasts) | Overstimulation | No prep | Slight possessiveness | Aftercare | All consensual.
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: I hope yall eat this tf up because I lowkey did.
—
The front door clicks open at 9:17 p.m.
You’re halfway through a pint of ice cream on the couch in nothing but one of Jude’s old Madrid training shirts and a pair of black panties, thighs spread lazily while some mindless reality show drones in the background. You haven’t shaved in four days. Your hair is a mess. You’re horny enough to cry.
Then you hear his voice — low, tired, amused.
“Miss me, baby?”
Your head snaps up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.
There he is.
Jude fucking Bellingham, your sexy ass man.
Six-foot-one of lean muscle and golden skin, still wearing travel sweats and a black hoodie, duffel bag dropped at his feet. His curls are a little longer, eyes soft with exhaustion but already darkening the second they land on you — on the way the shirt rides up your thick thighs, on the way your chest heaves under the thin fabric, on the way your lips part like you’ve just seen God.
You don’t think.
You pounce.
The ice cream hits the floor. The spoon clatters. You’re across the living room in three strides, launching yourself at him so hard he actually stumbles back against the door with a surprised laugh that dies the second your mouth crashes into his.
“Missed you,” you pant between kisses, hands already shoving his hoodie up. “Missed you so fucking much, Jude — weeks, it’s been weeks—”
“I know, I know,” he murmurs, but his hands are already on your ass, squeezing the soft, full curves like he’s trying to memorize them again. “Fuck, you feel good. Look at you—”
You don’t let him finish.
You bite his bottom lip, tug his hoodie off, and push him toward the couch. He lets you. Of course he does. He’s smirking against your mouth but his hands are greedy — sliding under the hem of his shirt on your body, palms dragging up the sides of your waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of your heavy breasts.
The back of his knees hit the couch and he drops down. You follow instantly, straddling him, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Your panties are already soaked. You can feel it. He can definitely feel it when you grind down against the growing bulge in his sweats.
“Baby—” he tries, voice rough.
“No talking,” you whine, yanking the shirt over your head. Your tits spill free, full and soft and bouncing with the movement. Jude’s eyes drop to them immediately, a low curse leaving him.
“Fuck, I missed these.”
You don’t give him time to worship. You’re too feral.
You shove his sweats down just enough to free his cock — thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. The sight of it after weeks apart makes your mouth water. You don’t even bother with foreplay. You hook your panties to the side and sink down on him in one smooth, greedy motion.
The stretch burns so good.
A broken moan rips from your throat. Jude’s head falls back against the couch, eyes squeezing shut for half a second before they snap open again — locking onto yours.
“Eyes on me,” he orders, voice suddenly deeper. One hand slides up your throat, not squeezing yet, just resting there. A reminder. “That’s it. Look at me while you take this dick, yeah?”
You nod frantically, lips parted, breath already ragged as you start moving. Rolling your hips in messy, desperate circles, riding him like you’ll die if you stop. The wet slap of skin fills the room immediately. Your tits bounce with every movement and Jude’s free hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, guiding you, helping you fuck yourself on him.
“Good girl,” he praises, voice wrecked. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Look how wet you are — all that for me?”
“Yes,” you whimper. “Only you. Missed you so much—”
“I know, baby. I know.” His thumb strokes the side of your neck. “You’re squeezing me so tight. This pussy missed me, huh?”
You moan louder, grinding down harder, taking him deeper. The eye contact is almost too much — his dark eyes boring into yours, watching every flicker of pleasure across your face. He looks like he wants to devour you.
His hand on your throat tightens — just enough to make your breath catch, just enough to make your walls flutter around him.
“Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you gasp. “You, Jude — fuck—”
“That’s right.” He thrusts up suddenly, meeting you halfway, and your eyes almost roll back. “Nobody else gets this. Nobody else gets to see you like this — all pretty and feral and creaming on my cock. You hear me?”
You nod, tears pricking your eyes from how deep he is, from how good it feels, from how much you missed him.
He loosens his grip on your throat and slides his hand down to slap your ass — hard. The sting blooms beautifully across your soft skin.
“Ride me properly then. Show me how bad you needed it.”
You do.
You brace your hands on his shoulders and fuck him like you’re trying to break him. The couch creaks underneath you. Your moans mix with his grunts. He keeps praising you the whole time — “That’s it, just like that… fuck, you’re so beautiful… look at those tits bounce for me… good girl, good fucking girl” — until you shatter.
Your orgasm hits you so hard your vision whites out. You cry out his name, thighs shaking, pussy pulsing around him as you soak his lap. Jude doesn’t stop. He grips your hips with both hands and fucks you through it, deep and relentless, eyes never leaving yours.
Only when you start to slump does he slow down, pulling you down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss.
But you’re not done.
Not even close.
You’re still clenching around him when you whisper against his lips, “Shower. Now.”
He laughs — low, dark, delighted — and stands up with you still impaled on his cock. Your legs wrap around his waist automatically. He carries you like you weigh nothing, mouth still on yours, cock still buried deep as he walks you both to the bathroom.
The shower is barely warm by the time he presses you against the tiles.
He fucks you there too — slower this time, deeper, one of your thick thighs hooked over his arm so he can watch every inch of him disappear inside you. Water cascades over both of you. Your curls are ruined. His are plastered to his forehead. Neither of you cares.
“Look at me,” he demands again, forehead pressed to yours. His hand comes back to your throat — light, possessive. “Eyes on me while I fuck you deep, baby. Want to see you fall apart again.”
You can’t look away even if you wanted to.
He praises you through the entire second orgasm — telling you how perfect you are, how tight, how wet, how no one else will ever make you feel like this. You come with his name on your tongue and his eyes locked on yours, his cock hitting that spot so perfectly you see stars.
He pulls out before he finishes, stroking himself once, twice, and painting your belly and tits with hot stripes of cum. The sight alone almost makes you come again.
You both wash up quickly after that — sort of. There’s a lot of touching, a lot of kissing, his hands soaping up every curve of your body like he’s rediscovering it.
But the second you’re out of the shower?
You don’t even dry off.
Jude throws you onto the bed while you’re both still dripping wet. The sheets soak instantly underneath you. He climbs over you, caging you in, water droplets falling from his curls onto your chest.
“One more,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Need to feel you one more time.”
You nod frantically, legs spreading for him immediately. He slides back inside you in one smooth thrust — so deep your back arches clean off the bed.
“Fuck, Jude—”
“I’ve got you.” He leans down, elbows braced on either side of your head so he can keep that heavy eye contact. “That’s it. Take all of me, such a good fucking girl.”
His hand finds your throat again — firmer this time, thumb pressing just under your jaw so your head tilts back slightly. Not cutting off air, just holding you there. Owning you.
You’re so wet from the shower and from two orgasms already that the sounds are obscene. Every deep stroke makes a filthy wet smack. Your tits jiggle with every thrust. Jude can’t stop looking at you — eyes flicking between your face, your bouncing chest, and where you’re stretched around him.
“Missed this pussy so much,” he groans. “Missed how she grips me. Missed how pretty you look when you cum. Give me one more, baby. Come on. Let me feel it.”
You’re already so close.
The praise, the eye contact, the way he’s fucking you so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach — it’s overwhelming.
His free hand slides between you, thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight circles.
“What did I say baby? Eyes on me,” he reminds you when your lids flutter. “Don’t look away. Want to watch you fall apart while I’m inside you.”
You cum harder than you have all night.
Your whole body locks up, walls spasming around his cock so tightly he curses. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, eyes wide and locked on his the entire time. Jude fucks you through it, hips losing rhythm, praise spilling from his lips like a prayer.
“Fuck — that’s it, baby. So good. So perfect. My girl. My fucking girl—”
He buries himself to the hilt and comes with a broken moan, flooding you deep. You feel every pulse, every spurt, and it makes your orgasm drag on impossibly longer.
For a long moment the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the wet drip of shower water still sliding off your bodies onto the ruined sheets.
Jude collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you, but close enough that you feel surrounded by him. His hand slides from your throat to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheek.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You nod, dazed and blissed out, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Missed you.”
He chuckles softly and kisses you — slow, deep, reverent this time.
“Never leaving you that long again,” he promises against your mouth. “Not when you jump me like that. Fuck, I think I’m ruined.”
You laugh, the sound bright and happy, and pull him closer.
The sheets are soaked. Your bodies are sticky. Your thighs ache in the best way.
And you’ve never felt more loved — or more thoroughly fucked — in your life.
where haaland comes home after just wining a match to find y/n in his jersey and a lacy thong. haaland worships y/n and is this biggest and slowest eater for her. he gets her on the couch and kisses all the way down. but fucks her rough  
Hello! Thank you for your request. I hope you like it :)
Nerves pulsed through me as I moved around the quiet apartment. I had arrived home before Erling in hopes to surprise him after his winning his match. He had scored a hat trick and I decided he could use a nice celebration.
I rushed over to the closet not knowing how much time I had before my tall Viking boyfriend arrived home.
A small smile played on my lips the moment I found what I had been looking for. I slipped the familiar fabric over my head and pulled off the jeans I had been wearing leaving me in nothing but his jersey and a black lace thong, his favorite.
I spun around at the sound of the lock turning and quietly made my way to the door. I peered out into the living room to find Erling in his usual match fit. He wore long black jeans and tight shirt that did little to hide the taught muscles beneath.
I bit my lip, stepping out of the dimly lit bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.
“There you are,” I said, playing with the edge of the Jersey I wore with a small smile.
Erling spun, his eyes darkening as he took me in. His eyes trailed down the length of my body. As he watched me, I slowly lifting the side of the jersey exposing the black lace beneath.
He sucked in a breath, “Fuck, love.” He gestured me forward, keeping those blue eyes trained on mine.
I moved slowly moved forward taking my time, my heart pounding as I approached his towering frame.
I stood in front him, my chest barely grazing his. He didn’t touch me, no he watched me with an intensity I hadn’t seen before from him. Like an animal stalking its prey. Heat began to pool between my legs, my breath quickening with anticipation.
“You look gorgeous,” he murmured while brushing the tips of his fingers along the edge of the jersey just barely grazing my thighs.
“I love seeing you in my jersey, but I'd rather it be on the floor."
Erling gripped the bottom of the jersey, swiftly pulling it above my head before crashing his lips to mine. A breathy moan escaped me as he slid one of large hands up to cup my exposed breast while the other gripped my waist.
His touch was like fire, burning every spot on my skin that he touched. He moved us towards the couch, the edge it brushing up against the back of my legs.
A squeal escaped me as he gently pushed me over the edge, my back hitting the soft cushion below. I watched from the cushion below, my hair splayed out around me and my legs spread for the man before me.
Erling shrugged off his shirt exposing his broad chest, his blue eyes staying on mine. I trailed my eyes along the hard planes of muscle and followed the thick veins of his arms. God what I would do to have him wrap one of his large hands around my neck.
He leaned forward between my legs and slid his hands under my ass, hooking his fingers along the edge of my panties. "Lift," he commanded.
I lifted my hips up at his command my pussy inches from his awaiting mouth. He peeled them back, turning his gaze to the heat between my legs.
He hummed in satisfaction, "You're so wet for me." His words were like shock waves straight to my core.
He slid my panties over my legs practically taunting me with that stupid smirk of his that drove me crazy.
I needed him, not caring how I just needed his touch.
A small whimper escaped me as he continued his torturous movements with his hands, sliding them up and down my parted legs.
He hovered back over me pressing a small kiss to my lips.
"What do you need, baby?" He pressed feather like kisses along my jaw my eyes closing.
"I need you," I whispered, tilting my head back to expose more of my neck to him. He took the opportunity to nip and suck every sensation going straight to my core.
"Need me where?" He was teasing me now, working his way down my body while pressing slow kisses to my exposed skin. He kissed both my nipples and continued making his way down my body before stopping just above my pussy.
"Here?" He asked, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh.
"Haaland," I practically growled in frustration at his antics.
He chuckled, his hot breath blowing right over my pussy making my muscles clench. He took his time settling in between my legs, he placed both his hands to the back of my knees ensuring I was right where he wanted me.
He peered up at me again, blue eyes connecting with mine. "Look at me, love. I want your eyes on me while I devour you."
I gasped as he buried his face into my pussy, sucking my clit into his mouth. I grasped at his soft blonde locks desperate to keep him exactly where I needed him.
"Erling," I moaned, tipping my head back and allowing myself to sink into the tantalizing sensations.
He gripped the soft edges of my thighs and growled, "I love it when you moan my name."
He continued his tirade, hardly allowing me to suck in a full breath of air. He expertly swirled his tongue along my clit edging me further. Every lick and suck made my muscles clench and I almost screamed as he licked a long stripe up my seam.
"You taste so good for me, love," he moaned. sliding one hand up my body to cup my breast and play with my nipple.
Pleasure pulsed through me, he was playing with me and getting me so close but not allowing me to tip over the edge. It was something I'd never felt before being teased this way, been brought to the brink of madness.
He lazily dragged his tongue along my seam once more, my fingers digging into his hair and the edge of the couch cushion. My moan was practical guttural as he worshipped my body.
He continued to play, diving deeper into my pussy like he was suddenly starving and the only thing that would satisfy him was my come on his tongue. He played with my entrance, swirling his tongue around before suctioning his mouth so tight against my pussy I could practically see stars.
I moaned loudly, my thighs squeezing together. I desperate for release, "Please, baby." I begged.
"Not yet, love." Erling stopped his movements making me groan in frustration. "I want to watch you fall apart on my cock."
He stood pulling his pants down freeing his thick length. My mouth almost watering at the sight of him. He looked gorgeous, his long blonde hair framing his face and taught thick muscles on display. I bit my lip, watching the way his cock bobbed as he leaned forward once more.
He grabbed my legs, pushing them towards my head and above his shoulders. I cried out as he pushed his thick length inside me without warning.
I gripped his arms resting on either side of my head as he thrusted deep inside. Every thought melted away at the feeling of his thick cock. He pulled out completely before slamming back in grunting with each thrust.
He always did love it rough especially after a long match. The couch squeaked beneath us at his quick movements, I could barely keep up each thrust inching me closer and closer to euphoria.
My eyes fluttered closed, my pussy clenching around him. He quickened his pace, the sound of skin slapping and deep moans filled our apartment.
Erling slipped long fingers around my neck, firmly holding me in place. "Eyes on me, love," he grunted.
My eyes locked with his, pleasure coursing through me as I moaned his name over and over again. He shifted deepening his thrusts and I couldn't hold on any further, with a loud scream I succumbed to the pleasure. My legs shook as the waves coursed through me.
My eyes had stayed trained on him as he tipped over the edge, "Fuck Y/N," he growled as he spilled inside me.
We laid there for a moment, Erling careful not to crush me as he tucked his head in the crook of my neck, kissing me softly while I played with the ends of his hair.
"If this is the gift I get after every winning match," he murmured against my neck. "I'll win every fucking one."
I laughed pulling him in for another kiss and maybe another round.
Used to interviewing the cocky, over confident Jude Bellingham, you’re in for a treat when you finally get to meet his cute younger brother that you’ve heard so much about.
Warnings- sad Jobe :(, not a single Dom/ Sub dynamic in sight, raw penetration, creampie, riding, face sitting, kinda public but not really, reader and Jude have a love hate relationship.
Word count- 6.4k
you were well known around the football world, one of the rising interviewers for the teams, always somehow knowing the correct questions to ask. you were used to working with teams like Real Madrid and Chelsea. so when you were asked to work for a Dormund game, who were you to deny? especially when one of their best players was one you’ve heard so much about, and one who’s brother you couldn’t stand for the life of you. The pre game interviews started about two hours beforehand. As you approached the pitch, you could hear the players laughing and talking among themselves, clearly enjoying the atmosphere before the big match. You smoothed down your jacket, ready to face the music- and the infamous Bellingham attitude. Your first interviewee was, of course, the man of the hour himself, Jobe Bellingham. You approach slowly, careful to not interrupt any conversations. Jobe was leaning against the goalpost, sharing a laugh with two of his teammates, his relaxed posture contrasting sharply with the high-stakes environment of a match day. As your shadow fell over the group, the chatter died down instantly. The players noticed your press badge first, then your face, recognition dawning in their eyes. “Hi” you say as you approach with the camera man behind you. Jobe immediately straightened up, wiping the smile off his face and replacing it with professional politeness. His teammates instantly recognized the vibe- this wasn't just any interviewer. This was you. The woman whose interviews were legendary across the football world. They exchanged knowing looks before politely scattering, leaving Jobe alone with you and the camera crew. "Hi,"
“How do you think you’ll do today?” You begin with a basic, easy question. Jobe shrugged, his expression relaxed despite the weight of expectations. "Confidence is high," he said, slipping into his practiced pre-match interview mode. "We've been training hard all week. The boys are feeling sharp, tactically where we need to be." “How do you handle high-pressure moments during a tight match?”Jobe tilted his head slightly, recognizing the shift in questioning. Easy questions were for the local press; you were digging deeper already. He ran a hand along his hair- a tell you'd noticed before. "Pressure is part of the game, isn't it?" he said smoothly. "You learn to block out the noise. Focus on the next action, not the scoreboard." You’re about to speak again when Kovač calls all players to the pitch. You give a polite smile and nod, “good luck.” Jobe returned the nod with a genuine smile, appreciating the professional courtesy. "Thanks," he said quickly before turning on his heel to jog toward the huddle forming around Kovač. As he sprinted off, the camera cut, and your cameraman lowered the equipment, giving you a thumbs up. "Solid start," he muttered. "Short, but clean." Your eyes stay on Jobe for a moment before you head off the sidelines. Jobe slid into place among his teammates, but not before stealing one last glance in your direction. He caught you watching him and held your gaze a beat too long- a subtle challenge in his dark eyes before Kovač's whistle cut through the air. You turned away first, cheeks slightly warm, and took your seat in the press box. The game was about to begin.
The game against Düsseldorf commences. The match kicks off with immediate intensity. Dortmund dominates possession, and Jobe is electric in the midfield- controlling tempo, breaking up plays, and linking perfectly with the attack. You watch from the press box, pen tapping rhythmically against your notebook. He's composed, ruthless, and clearly the heartbeat of the team. By the 30th minute, Dortmund leads 1-0. By the conclusion of the game, the score is 2-1, Dortmund winning. The final whistle blew, triggering absolute chaos in the stadium. Dortmund players mobbed each other in celebration, job security secured and the three points safely in the bag. Jobe, dripping with sweat, chest heaving, exchanged high-fives and shirt swaps before tapping his chest against his teammates. In the press box, your cameraman started packing up immediately. "Post-match interviews?" “Oh, yeah, let’s go” You descended the stairs of the press box, notebook in hand, camera crew trailing behind. The players were already being herded towards the mixed zone, journalists and microphones ready. As you approached, Jobe caught your eye, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You wait for him to approach instead of the other way around. Jobe ambled over, sweat still glistening on his forehead, shirt sticking to his chest. His teammates had already dispersed for their interviews, leaving him alone with you again. He leaned against the barrier, one arm resting on it lazily. "Told you we'd win," he said, voice hoarse from the match.
“I never quite doubted it.” Jobe chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, right," he replied, but there was no bite to his words. He looked at you for a moment, really looked, before speaking again. "So, what do you want to know? I'm all yours for the next five minutes." “Your team was tied for more than half the match, what changed in those last ten minutes?”"A mindset shift," Jobe answered immediately, wiping sweat from his temple. "We stopped trying to force the pretty football and went back to basics. High pressing, winning the second balls, trusting the rhythm." He tapped his chest. "We knew we had the quality to break them. Just needed patience." He leaned in slightly. "Not panicking under pressure changes everything." You laugh, “I guess you’re different from your brother in that way” “I’m different from my brother in a lot of ways” his grin doesn’t falter. That grin—you'd seen it before in clips, in photos, but up close it was something else entirely. It wasn't the arrogant Bellingham swagger the media loved to harp on. It was... amused. Like he was privy to a joke nobody else understood. "Is that so?" he countered, eyebrow lifting. Your cameraman shifted uncomfortably- this was getting personal fast. “So” you change the subject “is the team planning any celebration?” Jobe caught the smooth subject change immediately, respecting your professional pivot. "Definitely," he confirmed, wiping the last of the sweat from his forehead. "Team dinner. Loud music. Probably a few too many drinks." He tapped his chest again. "Keep morale high before the next stretch." He flashed that smile. "Standard routine."
Your laughter echoed through the mixed zone, and Jobe's grin widened- just for a second- before he checked himself. The cameraman gave you a pointed look, reminding you that the interview was technically over. Jobe straightened up, stepping back from the barrier. "Gotta go catch my teammates before they've cleared out," he said, giving you a polite nod. You turn back to the cameraman when Jobe leaves. “Cut all of that out” The cameraman paused, eyebrows shooting up. "The whole thing?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "That was your best interviewer bite yet. The audience is gonna love the brother dynamic—" But you were already moving, checking your notes. The laugh, the grin, the... whatever that moment between you two had been. You couldn't let it go on record. You glare at him. The cameraman held up his hands in surrender, backing off immediately. "Fine, fine," he muttered, starting to pack up the equipment. "But you're getting softer on these athletes, you know that? They show a hint of personality and suddenly interviews are state secrets.""I know," the cameraman shot back, tossing the SD card into the equipment bag. "But seriously, that smile from Jobe was priceless. You didn't even press him. You let him win that moment." He shook his head, already heading back to the studio. "I'm cutting it." “Thanks!” You shout as he walks away. He waved a hand over his head in acknowledgment without turning back, disappearing into the tunnel of stadium staff. You stood alone for a moment in the bustling mixed zone, clipboard pressed against your chest. The laughter with Jobe still echoed in your ears, fading as the noise of the post-match crowd rushed back in. Professional mask firmly back on. That night, you’re just about to be getting ready for bed when you get a message from Jude Bellingham.
Your phone buzzed against the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room. You almost ignored it- never expected anything from Jude outside of professional courtesy. But the name caught your eye. Jude Bellingham- "Heard you were interviewing my brother today. Heard you both had quite the back and forth " Your heart skipped. How did he even-? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You send back. The reply was instant: "Oh, come on. Don't play coy. Team chat was blowing up. Apparently, there was 'chemistry'." A laughing emoji followed. "Jobe's being weirdly quiet about it too, which tells me everything." You stared at the screen, phone suddenly feeling heavier. "Fucking hell." Jude Bellingham- "Team celebration tonight. Obviously you're invited." followed immediately by "And before you argue, Jobe explicitly told me to make sure you come. He was very specific." You stared at your phone. This was dangerous territory. You interviewed these brothers professionally, and suddenly you were getting personally recruited into a team party. By both of them. “Fine, whatever” you respond. Jude Bellingham- "Perfect. I'll send the address." The message was followed by a winky face emoji and a location pin. The party was at some upscale private villa in the Dortmund countryside- exclusive, secluded, and definitely not the kind of place you'd stumble into by accident.
You sighed, already knowing you'd regret this. I get ready quickly, putting on some simple dress, not bothering with makeup, instead settling for just fixing up my hair before leaving. The villa was exactly as described- opulent, secluded, and currently pulsating with music and laughter. You hesitated at the entrance, suddenly very aware of your simple black dress amidst the sea of designer labels. Then a strong hand clasped your shoulder from behind. "Took you long enough," “Hey, Jude” you recognize the voice as you turn around. Jude stood there, hands in his pockets, grinning that annoying Bellingham grin- the one the media called cocky. "Hey," he said, leaning against the wall. "Come on in. My brother's already nursing his ego." He stepped back to let you through the crowd of players, champagne flutes clinking. "He's by the bar, looking grumpy." “Why?” "Oh, he's just pissed he can't stop talking about you," Jude said with a laugh, leading you through the crowd. "You're like, his celebrity crush or something." He leaned in, voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "He's been moaning about how you're 'professional' and 'unreachable'." “I’m his celebrity crush?! Me?!” "Dude, you have no idea," Jude chuckled, shaking his head. "He's got this whole 'unobtainable' thing going on with you. Like you're some untouchable goddess or something." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "He probably jerks off to your interviews." “You’re disgusting” you elbow him in his gut.
Jude doubled over with a laugh, clutching his gut. "Love you too," he wheezed, still grinning. He straightened up, wiping mock tears from his eyes. "Anyway, there he is." He nodded toward the bar, where Jobe stood alone, swirling his drink, looking thoroughly miserable despite the party raging around him. "Go say hi, celebrity crush." You mutter a shut up before making my way over. Jobe didn't notice you immediately. He was leaning heavily against the bar, nursing a drink, looking unfairly gorgeous even while sulking. His suit jacket was discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, jaw tight. The moment you tapped his shoulder, he turned- expecting Jude-and froze instantly. You. His expression slammed blank, then melted into something painfully desperate. "You." “Me.” You smile. "You actually came," he breathed out, sounding genuinely stunned. He immediately set his drink down, turning his entire body to face you. His eyes swept over your simple dress and bare face, looking ridiculously relieved that you hadn't gone all-out. "Jude said you'd blow us off." Then he frowned, glancing toward the entrance. "Did he say something stupid to you?" “Mmm.. give or take.” He groaned, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up adorably. "Fucking hell... What did he say?" His voice dropped lower, almost protective. "Was it bad?" He looked genuinely concerned, like he might go punch Jude if you said yes. “You probably don’t wanna know”
"I definitely don't," he agreed quickly, looking like he already regretted asking. He shot a glare over your shoulder where Jude was currently laughing with some teammates. "I'm going to kill him later." He turned back to you, softening instantly. "Ignore him. Seriously. Just... glad you're actually here." He leaned back against the bar. "You look nice." “Thank you” you smile softly “you do too.”He ducked his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Thanks," he mumbled, suddenly looking shy despite the earlier confidence. He gestured toward the bustling room. "It's loud. I can find somewhere quieter if you want? Away from Jude and his big mouth." You genuinely laugh “yeah, sure”Jobe's face lit up, relieved you'd actually agreed to his offer. He caught a glance from Jude across the room- smirking and raising a glass mockingly. Jobe shot him a middle finger without even looking back, focused entirely on you. "Come on," he murmured, guiding you toward the back of the villa, through the crowd. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the muffled thump of the party faded. It was a guest room- big, airy, with French windows leading to a private balcony. Jobe turned to face you, suddenly looking a little nervous now that you were alone. "So," he started, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So?”"So, Jude clearly has no concept of boundaries," he groaned, collapsing onto the edge of the plush bed, looking up at you. "I am going to actually murder him." He dropped his head into his hands, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Please tell me he didn't say anything too mortifying." I pinch my lips to suppress a laugh. "You're laughing. Oh god," he groaned, his hand going straight to his face again. He looked up at you, a mix of panic and fascination in his eyes. "You're laughing. That's bad. That's so fucking bad," he repeated, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly. “Yeah, it was pretty bad” "I'm going to kill him," he muttered into his hands, his voice muffled. Then he slowly lowered his hands, looking up at you with a pained expression. "Do I even want to know?" He paused, his eyes flicking down your body briefly before snapping back up to your face. “Probably not” "Yeah," he agreed weakly, running a hand through his hair again. "I'm definitely going to kill him." He sighed heavily, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. Suddenly, he froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute," he said slowly, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at you. “Hm?”"He told you, didn't he?" Jobe asked, turning around fully on the bed, looking at you with a mixture of horror and resignation. "About the... crush thing." He stated it flatly, watching your reaction. When you didn't immediately deny it, he let out a long, tortured groan, flopping backward onto the mattress.
You smile as he falls backwards. "I hate him. I actually hate him," Jobe declared toward the ceiling, throwing an arm over his eyes. "My dignity is gone. My own brother sold me out." He peeked out from under his arm at your amused smile, looking absolutely pathetic. "Stop smiling. This is a tragedy. My reputation is ruined." “You’re being dramatic” "Am I?" He sat up abruptly, ruffling his hair in exasperation. "You're the one I've been pining over for months and now my brother has basically announced it to you. I am traumatized". He gestured wildly. "He even said you're... unreachable." “Obviously I’m not if I’m here with you” He froze at that, his wild gesturing halting mid-air. He blinked at you, the sarcastic defense dying on his tongue. "Right," he breathed out, the sudden realization knocking the wind out of his dramatics. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you earnestly. "Fair point." You go to sit next to him on the bed, placing your palm on his back. “If it makes you feel any better, I like you too.”The moment your hand touched his back, you felt him physically melt. His entire posture softened, the tension draining out of his shoulders instantly. He turned his head slowly, eyes wide and searching your face like he was checking he hadn't misheard you. "You..." he started, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, looking boyishly stunned. "You like me too?"
“Why’s that so crazy?”"Because!" He turned fully to face you, his hand covering yours on his back, pressing it against him like he needed the contact. "I've been hiding this stupid crush for so long, convinced you'd never feel the same way. Jude kept telling me I had no chance." His face flushed deeper. “So you let Jude convince you that you had no chance before you even met me.. wow.” You laugh. "Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds pathetic," he groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, completely defeated. He turned his face into your neck, breath hot against your skin. "I just assumed you were way out of my league. You're professional, busy, gorgeous... and I'm just Jude's little brother." He sighed, muffled against your shirt. Your teasing smile dropped “don’t say that” His head lifted immediately, sensing your shift in tone. He looked up at you, searching your face with those intense eyes. "Say what?" he asked softly, his thumb idly tracing circles on your hand that once resting on his back, now on his lap. His voice was gentle now, no trace of defensiveness left. "That I'm Jude's little brother? Or that you're out of my league?" “Both are stupid points” He nodded slowly, still looking up at you with that unguarded vulnerability. "Yeah," he murmured, his thumb still tracing circles on your hand. "They are." He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. "But you gotta admit... from my perspective, it's kind of a losing battle." He let out a shaky breath.
“Why?”"Because," he said simply, his voice dropping lower, more intense. "You're perfect. You're kind, smart, beautiful... You have your life together. You're everything I'm not." He looked down at their intertwined hands on his lap, his thumb still moving in small circles. “You’re a professional footballer, I’m pretty sure you have a lot together” "I mean football," he scoffed quietly, shaking his head. "That's just a job. That doesn't mean I have me together." He looked up at you, eyes serious. "I'm twenty. I'm chaotic. I'm Jude's little brother. You're... stable. Mature. You're the whole package." He squeezed your hand. "It's intimidating." “Stop calling yourself Jude’s little brother.” He blinked at you, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment he looked genuinely taken aback, like it had never occurred to him. "Jude doesn't help," he muttered defensively, but you saw the crack in his confidence. "He's always been 'the star.' I'm just... Jobe." He paused, studying your expression. You frown at him, “that’s not true” "It feels true," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to your hand still on his back. "Especially next to him. Everyone sees Jude first. I'm just the... afterthought. The little brother following the footsteps." He shrugged, trying to make it seem casual, but the insecurity was written all over his face. "It’s hard to compete with a phenomenon." You cup his face to cut him off.
He went completely still when you cupped his face, surprised by the sudden movement. His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and vulnerable, all that defensive energy disappearing instantly. He looked so young suddenly, all his usual confidence stripped away. "I sound pathetic," you shake your head. "No?" he whispered, turning his face slightly to press his cheek harder into your palm. His eyes searched yours, looking for any trace of mockery or pity, finding only sincerity. He closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing grounding him. "I just hate feeling like I'm living in his shadow constantly." He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “You’re not, at least not with me”That seemed to be the only thing he needed to hear. His shoulders dropped completely, the tension finally leaving his body. He leaned into your touch, pressing his face harder against your palm, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second. "Yeah?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He opened his eyes, looking at you with such raw hope it made your chest tight. “Yeah” you nod. It was like something clicked into place inside him. He didn't just look relieved- he looked absolutely stunned, like you'd handed him something he'd been searching for his entire life. His hand came up to cover yours on his face, holding it there. "So... when you say you like me too...?" He trailed off, needing confirmation, needing to make sure he wasn't misunderstanding. You snort a laugh “I meant it”
The sound of your laugh seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for his anxiety. His shoulders dropped, a genuine, relieved smile finally breaking across his face- bright and boyish. "Thank god," he breathed out, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. "Because I was about thirty seconds away from having a panic attack." “You feel better now, hm?” He nodded, but his eyes stayed fixed on yours, intense and questioning. His hand still covering yours on his face, keeping the contact deliberate. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quieter now. "But..." He hesitated, tongue darting out to wet his lips- a nervous habit. "Jude is going to murder me." “Why would he do that?” "Because I'm pining over you," he said flatly, rolling his eyes dramatically, though the vulnerability remained. "And he's my brother. He told me to get my head straight and stop chasing someone completely out of my league." He scoffed. "And now you've gone and made it worse by telling me I'm not crazy."“He’s the one to talk, have you seen his girlfriend?” He snorted, finally cracking a real smile. "Fair point," he admitted, shaking his head. "She's a literal supermodel. Like, runway supermodel. And he's... well, he's Jude." He shrugged, but there was no bitterness in it.
His eyes lit up at your laugh, something soft and tender replacing the frantic energy he'd been showing. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "You're really gonna let me do this?" he murmured, voice low and hopeful. His hand slid from yours to the back of your neck, fingertips brushing lightly through your hair. “Yeah,” you smile, “I am”He didn't hesitate. He closed the tiny gap between you, pressing his lips against yours softly but firmly. It wasn't a frantic kiss; it was relieved, like he'd been holding his breath for months and could finally exhale. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, holding you like you were something precious he was terrified to break, pouring months of pining into the moment. You’re the one to deepen the kiss, pulling him back with you onto the bed. He went willingly, his body following your lead as you both tumbled backward onto the plush mattress. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepened, his earlier nervousness replaced by something far more hungry. A low groan escaped him against your lips, his fingers tangling in your hair as he felt you take control- and god, he loved it. You roll the two of you over, straddling his lap but not breaking the kiss. He let out a surprised grunt as you flipped him over, but his hands immediately found your hips, gripping them tightly as you settled onto his lap. Even kissing you, his breath caught when he realized what had changed- now he was underneath you, vulnerable, exposed- yours. "F-fuck," he breathed against your lips, hips shifting slightly under yours.
His fingers dug into your hips, anchoring you both as your hips moved slowly against his, keeping the kiss going. His free hand wandered upward, trailing along your sides with shaking hesitation, as if he were terrified of pushing too far too fast. He broke the kiss abruptly, staring at you with wide, panicked eyes as his lower body trembled beneath you. "Hey," he whispered, voice strained. “Hmm?” "Can I...?" he trailed off, swallowing hard. His gaze flicked downward, then back up to your face, searching for permission- no, needy for it. "Can I touch you like that?" He hesitated, then added desperately, "Like, really touch you?" “You don’t have to ask” His hands didn't hesitate. They slid up your sides, thumbs brushing your ribcage as he inhaled sharply against your neck. His lips traced a path from your jaw to your collarbone, kissing everywhere he'd been dreaming about. A shaky breath escaped him as his hands reached your breasts, cupping them through your dress with trembling fingers. "Jesus," he muttered against your skin. He worshipped you. He didn't grope or rush- he handled you like you were absolute gold, his hands kneading your breasts slowly, thumbs circling through the fabric. He buried his face in your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses, completely losing himself. "You have no fucking idea," he breathed against your throat, hips rolling up desperately beneath you. “Need- more” you gasp. He didn't need telling twice. His hands immediately left your chest, frantically grabbing the hem of your dress to tug it upward. "Lift," he commanded breathlessly, helping you pull the fabric over your head and tossing it aside. The second your skin was bare, his hands were back on you, warm palms cupping your bare breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.
He groaned loudly, the sound vibrating against your chest as his thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples, watching them pebble instantly. He didn't just touch; he explored with a reverent desperation, leaning up to wrap his lips around one peak, his tongue swirling and teasing. His teeth grazed the hardened bud gently, his hands gripping your waist to keep you grounded as he sucked harder. “Jobe..”The sound of his name on your lips made him whimper against your breast, his whole body trembling beneath you. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and hazy with want. "I've got you," he promised, voice strained but steady. His hands slid down from your breasts, palms hot against your stomach, fingers tracing the line of your hips. “Stop teasing, asshole.” He let out a breathless laugh against your skin, finally done with the torture. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered, fingers hooking into your underwear and dragging them down in one swift motion. He tossed them aside without a second thought, his hands immediately gripping the backs of your thighs, urging you higher up his chest. "Sit," “Are you sure, I-“ "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he interrupted firmly, guiding your hips until you were straddling his face, core right above his mouth. He looked up at you with pure hunger, hands gripping your ass tightly. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," “o-oh fuck” you say when he pulls you down. He didn't give you a single second to adjust. His mouth sealed over your clit immediately, tongue flattening against the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucked hard. Your thighs trembled instantly around his head, your hands flying down to tangle in his hair as his tongue worked relentless, rhythmic circles against you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves up your spine.
He feasted on you like you were his last meal and first love combined, tongue dipping inside to lap at your slick before returning to focus on your clit with meticulous, maddening precision. He alternated between sucking and licking, teasing and plundering, his fingers pressing into the globes of your ass to hold you steady as you bucked against his face. He felt your thighs start to shake violently, heard your gasp, and he knew. He didn't stop- didn't slow down even when your hips jerked against his face. He sucked harder, tongue flicking rapidly against your clit as your walls clenched around nothing. "That's it," he mumbled against you, the vibration making you cry out. You held the headboard as you finish on his face. He swallowed hard, refusing to let you go as you came hard against his face. His jaw flexed, his tongue continued working even as you sobbed into the headboard, your whole body trembling uncontrollably. He held you steady, his nose buried in your damp skin, tongue flickering deliberately against your still-sensitive clit- forcing you to feel every single aftershock. "Breathe," He tugs you down to straddle his waist again. Your thighs nearly gave out as he yanked you down, your core still pulsing and oversensitive from your orgasm. He watched your face intently, chest heaving, slick dripping between you. His hands gripped your waist firmly- not letting you retreat or pause. "Breathe," he repeated, his voice rough, commanding. His thumbs stroked your hips, feeling you tremble beneath his touch. “Need you” you whisper.
He never needed to hear it more. His eyes were dark with a hunger that made you tremble. "Then take it," he said, voice low. "Take what you need, I'm not leaving." His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping as he watched you, his hands guiding you closer. His abs flexed, hard as steel beneath your palm. He wasn't going anywhere. Your hands tug down his waistband. His hips bucked immediately as your fingers brushed his skin, helping you tug the fabric down in one clumsy, desperate motion. He kicked them off, leaving him completely bare beneath you- cock hard and leaking against his stomach, thighs trembling with restraint. His hands clamped onto your hips again, holding you still. "Look at me," he demanded, voice strained. "Please." Your gaze flicks up to his. Dark eyes, wide and desperate, pupils blown black with want. His jaw was clenched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he fought for control. You could see him shaking beneath you- not just from arousal, but from the effort of holding back, of not just flipping you over and fucking into you blind. "Fuck, you're so pretty like this," His hands gripped your hips harder, guiding you down until your slit brushed against his cockhead. He hissed, eyes rolling back slightly as you coated him in your slick. "Slide down," he breathed, voice breaking. "Don't rush. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." His thumb found your clit again, rubbing slow, gentle circles as encouragement. Your legs shook violently, struggling to sink down slowly. He didn't rush you, his thumb rubbing lazy, soothing circles against your clit to help you stretch. Every inch felt overwhelming- he was thick, leaking, and filling you perfectly. Your head dropped forward, nails digging into his shoulders as your body swallowed him inch by inch. "Good girl," he breathed, his voice wrecked.
"Take it," he gritted out as you slowed, hips not moving. "Take all of it," his hands guided you slowly, carefully, pushing you down. He met your gaze, his eyes intense and unwavering, encouraging you to push past the overwhelming fullness. His cockhead angled up slightly, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. Your breath hitched, your whole body shuddering as he hit that spot dead center. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to push back up. He held you still, fingers digging into your hips. "No," he groaned, "keep going." Your eyes were rolling back, walls clenching hard around him. He was so deep, so fucking deep- your belly pressing against his. “Jobe..” you whimper. "I've got you," he soothed immediately, hands stroking your back gently. His voice was rough with emotion, "You're doing so good, baby. Just a little more." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his hips lifting slightly to help you take the last inch. You finally sank all the way down, your hips settling flush against his, your body stretched completely full around him. A broken sob tore from your throat at the sheer intensity- he was buried so deep you could feel him in your stomach. His forehead dropped against yours, his arms wrapping securely around your waist to hold you together. "I know," "I know, I know," he whispered against your lips, pressing kisses to your damp forehead, your nose, your trembling mouth. One hand rubbed soothing circles up your spine while the other held your hip steady. "Just breathe. You took it all. You're doing so fucking good." He stayed perfectly still, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, his heart pounding against your chest.
You begin to move your hips on him. He groaned, his face burying in your neck as you started to move. The friction was insane- too much, too fast. He wasn't ready for this kind of movement. "No, no, slow... fuck, slow down," he managed, hands gripping your hips to control your pace. His jaw was clenched hard enough to break a tooth. "Breathe through it, please." You smile lazily and slow down. That lazy, fucked-out smile made his chest ache. He let out a ragged breath, finally able to relax his grip on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin soothingly. "There she is," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. "That's it. Just like that." He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours as you set the pace. Each slow, deliberate roll of your hips sent waves of pleasure through him- not too fast, not too rough, just... perfect. His hands slid from your hips to your waist, gently guiding you, helping you find that rhythm. "Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows. Your pace was driving him insane. Slow, deep rolls that made his toes curl and his vision blur. Each time you lifted up, you dragged yourself down the thick length of him, milking him on the way back down. His hands gripped your waist tighter, not to stop you, but to feel every movement. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. Your pace stayed deliberate and torturous, milking him perfectly. Every time you rolled your hips, your walls squeezed around his shaft, dragging a broken, strangled moan from his throat. His jaw hung slack, his abs contracting violently as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. He wasn't rushing you- he was letting you use him exactly how you needed. "So good,"
“I’m so close” you whimper. "Don't stop," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "Keep going, baby. Just like that." He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles in time with your slow rolls. The dual stimulation was too much, the coil in your belly snapping tighter instantly. "Let go. Come on me. Fuck, I've got you." You collapse against him as you cum around him. He groaned hard as your walls clamped down like a vice, milking him hard. Your entire body convulsed, your clit screaming as the orgasm ripped through you. He took your weight easily, arms wrapping around your trembling frame, holding you steady as you came hard- your walls pulsing around him relentlessly. "That's it—" he hissed through clenched teeth, head snapping back. "Good girl... just let it happen," he choked out, feeling you clench violently around him. He held you together as your body trembled through the aftershocks, your slick soaking him completely. He pressed kisses into your damp hair, grinding his hips shallowly to help you ride it out, his own control hanging by a thread. "Got you." “Inside, Jobe” you whisper. He cracked immediately. That soft, desperate plea shattered whatever self-control he had left. "I've got you, baby. I've got you." His hands locked hard onto your hips, thrusting deep and burying himself fully. He came with a broken groan, flooding you with thick, hot pulses, his face burying in your neck. "I got you... I got you." He shuddered violently against you, his hips rocking shallowly as he emptied every drop inside you. His breath came in ragged, broken gasps against your neck, his hold on you tightening until you could barely breathe. You could feel him pulsing deep within you, filling you completely as he came down, his heart hammering wildly against your chest. "Jesus," he choked out. You laugh softly as you just lay against him, his arms coming up to wrap around you.
He tucked your face immediately into his neck, holding you with absolute gentleness. You were completely boneless, limp and melted against him, still trembling from your orgasm. His big hand rubbed slow, rhythmic circles up your spine, pressing soft kisses to your hairline. "I've got you," he whispered, keeping you tucked safely against his chest. "Easy, baby." You peak your eyes open and smile at his fucked out expression. He was completely wrecked—hair a messy dark halo against the pillow, lips swollen and bitten red, eyes heavy and unfocused as they struggled to stay open. Seeing that lazy, satisfied smile on your face made his chest ache, and a tired, crooked grin tugged at his mouth. "Don't look at me like that," he rasped, voice shot to hell. “Can’t help it” He let out a breathless laugh, his chest rumbling softly against yours. His hand came up to brush the damp hair away from your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with infinite tenderness. He looked utterly ruined- cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. "You fucking destroyed me," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Jobe?” He groaned softly, his eyes still half-closed, looking absolutely fucked. His thumb continued stroking your cheek, hesitating before pulling back. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice utterly shot. "What is it?" He didn't even have the strength to look at you properly- still blinking stupidly like a confused puppy, his body completely drained. "Speak slowly. Fuck." You smile softly at how he was acting but then you clear your throat, “never compare yourself to your dork brother ever again.”
A/N: that picture that’s going around of Erling man spreading, my lord his thighs look SOOOO GOOD.
The living-room lights were low, the city outside Manchester’s tall windows nothing but a distant hum. Erling was sprawled on the oversized couch like a king on his throne—legs spread wide in those black compression shorts that always drove you insane. The fabric had ridden up high on his massive quads, exposing even more of that thick, sculpted muscle you were obsessed with. Veins stood out under smooth, pale skin. Every twitch of his leg made the muscle flex, and your mouth went dry.
He caught you staring again. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips, blue eyes dark with amusement and heat.
“You’ve been eyeing my thighs since I got home from training, baby.” His voice was a low murmur, Norwegian accent thicker with want. One big hand patted the bare expanse of his right quad, the slap echoing softly. “Go on. Use my thigh. You know I let you ride it whenever that pretty little pussy gets needy.”
Heat flooded your cheeks, but the ache between your legs won. You climbed into his lap without another word, straddling the thick pillar of muscle. Erling leaned back against the cushions, arms stretched along the back of the couch, manspreading even wider so you had all the room you wanted. The shorts rode up another inch, the hem now brushing the crease where thigh met groin. You could see the heavy outline of his cock thickening against the fabric, but he made no move to touch it. This was for you.
Your hands braced on his broad chest as you lowered yourself onto his quad. The first drag of your bare, already-soaked pussy along that warm, rock-hard muscle pulled a whimper from your throat. Erling’s eyes flicked down, watching the way your slick immediately glistened on his skin.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice rough. “So wet already. My greedy girl. Grind on it. Make a mess of my thigh like you always do.”
You rocked forward, clit catching on the ridges of muscle, then back again, hips rolling in desperate little circles. The size difference made everything filthier—his thigh was thicker than some men’s waists, forcing you to spread wide, every movement smearing your arousal in shiny streaks down the muscle. Erling flexed deliberately under you, the sudden hard swell pressing up against your folds and making you cry out.
“That’s it… ride it harder,” he encouraged, one hand finally dropping to grip your hip, guiding you. “Use me. Take what you need. I love feeling this sloppy cunt dripping all over me while I just sit here and watch.”
Your head fell forward, forehead against his shoulder as you chased the friction. The wet sounds were obscene—your pussy sliding faster, clit throbbing each time it dragged over a vein. Erling’s free hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back so he could watch your face.
“Eyes on me, baby. Let me see how much you love my thighs.” He flexed again, bouncing you slightly, and the added pressure tipped you over. You came with a broken moan, thighs shaking, flooding his muscle with fresh slick that ran down in rivulets toward his knee. Erling groaned low, his own cock now fully hard and leaking against the shorts, but he still didn’t move to touch himself.
“Good girl,” he praised, voice soft and filthy at the same time. “Look at the mess you made… gonna need another shower before bed. Or maybe I’ll just make you lick it clean while I fuck that pretty mouth.”
You slumped against his chest, panting, still lazily grinding through the aftershocks. Erling’s hand stroked down your spine, then gave your ass a possessive squeeze.
“Whenever you want, elskling,” he whispered against your temple, already patting the other thigh like an invitation. “These legs are yours. Now catch your breath… because I’m nowhere near done letting you use them tonight.”
࿔. 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 : citação a hard sex, muito dirty talk, blow job, spit kink, degradação, copa do mundo 2026 universe, engasgos e acho que só.
࿔. 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 : já to liberada de meter os 'especial copa do mundo 2026'...? ai gente eu estava subindo pelas paredes por algo dele, então esta bem sujinho. aproveitem!
𝄞 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 — luz, cama e ação - alee, mc cabelinho, qualywav1.
Imaginava a encheção de saco que cairia nos ouvidos de Richard por parte dos parceiros de time no outro dia. Duvidaria muito que aquelas paredes finas do quarto de hotel luxuoso reservado para o jogador da seleção colombiana, no México, estivessem abafando os barulhos do sexo ríspido que vocês faziam. Você não era lá muito contida; qualquer toque mais bruto era o suficiente para lhe tirar um sonzinho manhoso e, bom… Richard amava isso. Já tinha a feito gritar aos quatro cantos do cômodo, ao passo que a pica a empalava sem dó, indo e vindo sem um pingo de clemência, acertando seu fundo com força e um ritmo ininterrupto, acertando tapas ardidos onde as mãos másculas alcançavam, marcando todo seu corpinho mole. Iria ficar toda assadinha nos próximos dias para o acompanhar no jogos, mas ah! Era por uma boa causa. Uma ótima causa.
No momento, seu estado era deplorável. Baba escorria por seu queixo, ao passo que a extensão douradinha era abrigada em sua boca. Ajoelhadinha no chão, ao lado da cama, o corpo grande e atlético do Rios a encurralando. Ah, era muito! Chegou a dar algumas tossezinhas contra o falo grosso ao se engasgar, mas não larga o períneo de jeito nenhum, os sonzinhos molhadinhos a deixando mais molhadinha. Você se separa do falo apenas para cuspir em abundância na cabecinha avermelhada do moreno, emendando uma punheta rápida e babona contra a extensão, mas não dura muito; logo a boquinha engole todo o comprimento novamente, os olhinhos brilhantes de luxúria mirando a vista para o jogador acima, que mantinha a palma entrelaçada em seus fios, acompanhando o vai e vem do boquete babão que recebia.
— Filha da puta gulosa do caralho… — ele murmura rouco, não escondendo o sorriso de puto que nasceu nos lábios, se atrevendo a empurrar o quadril contra sua boca, sentindo o gemidinho manhoso que veio de sua garganta bater no caralho completamente engolido por sua boca. Você conseguia perceber, mesmo que com os olhinhos meio embaçados, a marra dele oscilar de vez em quando, os grunhidos roucos escaparem sem permissão junto das risadas torpes pelo tesão avassalador de estar completamente entalada em sua garganta. Por mais que evidentemente estivesse no controle dos movimentos imundos da sua boca, ele estava completamente rendido no macete da sua cavidade, que expelia baba em volta do prepúcio rijo. “Caralho, porra.”
Compartilharam um riso lascivo após você afundar o membro até o final da garganta e prontamente os sonzinhos dos leves engasgos ecoarem mais uma vez pelo quarto, retirando o pau todo babado da cavidade quente para recuperar um pouquinho de ar em ofegos, podendo ver o fio de saliva que ainda os mantinha conectados. Você não perde tempo em o engolir todinho novamente. Não estava nem aí para as tossezinhas que dava contra o falo grande quando se engasgava; estava faminta. Queria tirar tudo dele, cada gotinha da gala espessa. Sugava o períneo com muita gula, gemia contra o falo, soltando-o apenas para cuspir em abundância no períneo e logo voltar a sorver todo o comprimento novamente, mirando os olhinhos aguados para o colombiano acima de vez em quando.
Sua boquinha encostava na virilha aparada dele, a cabeça gorda do caralho escorregava com afinco pelas paredes da sua garganta. Uma de suas mãozinhas de unhas bem feitas circundava o cacete numa punheta curtinha quando sua boca deixava parte da extensão de fora da cavidade, enquanto a outra fazia vergões na pele dourada e tatuada do namorado, fazendo mais sons roucos serem soltos da boca do Rios. Filho da puta, sádico, gostoso.
Quando você sente o caralho grosso dar uma guinada em sua garganta, se apressa a cessar o contato da boca, se afastando da rola para deixar a boquinha bem aberta, de um jeitinho erótico que sabia que o levaria ao êxtase mais rápido, estirando a língua abeirada ao topo da glande.
— Fode minha boquinha, hm? — Seus olhinhos pidões beirariam a inocência, se não houvesse a contradição do sorrisinho de vagabunda plantado em seus lábios. “Fode ela e depois esporra na minha cara, amor…” Seu tonzinho judiado evidenciava o esforço da gargantinha em abrigar tudo aquilo, a frase sensual saindo mais chula por esse motivo. Esfrega o pau velho na carne gorducha da bochecha, soltando um leve ronronar, enquanto mantinha os dedos apertando a base e as bolas graúdas de leve.
— Caralho, amor. — Escuta a voz rouca proferir entre dentes, observando o abdômen trincado contrair e o pau teso guinar mais uma vez, fazendo-a fechar os olhinhos e rir manhosinha ao escutar a sequência de gemidos roucos escaparem dos lábios avermelhados de Richard, não tendo tempo de sentir o pau grosso judiar mais um pouco de você, prontamente sentindo toda a porra quentinha ser despejada em abundância em sua língua no momento seguinte, com algumas jatadas caindo para suas bochechas úmidas, te obrigando a tirar os dedinhos da coxa tatuada e levar até a área rechonchuda, retirando as gotas de porra da pele que se alojaram em sua bochecha e levando à boca, soltando gemidinhos em deleite ao chupar as próprias falanges meladas.
Um risinho ecoa de sua garganta quando o jogador segura o pau, agora flácido, e bate em seu rostinho, esfregando a pontinha do caralho que ainda escorria esperma por sua boquinha. “‘Tava gostoso, amor?” Ele questiona. O sorriso cafajeste desenhado nos lábios. Você não o responde, apenas desce o tronco e se inclina um pouquinho, deixando um selinho na cabeça gorda do falo, deslizando sua língua num movimento devasso para capturar resquícios de porra que vazavam no cantinho de seus lábios junto à quantidade copiosa de saliva. Richard sentia que poderia ficar duro mais uma vez com a cena do seu rostinho manhoso e acabado. Os lábios totalmente vermelhentos, a boquinha entreaberta soltando ofegos, os olhinhos aguados completamente entregues. Estava tão, mas tão acabada… Porra, que delícia…
Ao você limpar toda a bagunça, sente a mão grande do do Rios que residia na base de sua nuca, escorregar até seu rosto e se firmar no maxilar, o anelar de um lado e o polegar de outro, prendendo seu olhar no dele. “Vadia suja... ” É o que a voz rouca dispara, ainda com um riso repleto de libidinagem aberto nos seus lábios, observando sua boquinha se abrir e a linguinha se estender para fora novamente, mostrando para o namorado que não tinha sobrado nada.
Dividem uma risada enodoada ao você se encostar contra a base da cama, tentando recuperar um pouquinho de sanidade depois de toda a sua energia ser levada pela foda intensa. Quando menos espera, seu corpo é impulsionado para cima e em seguida acomodado sobre a kingsize disposta ao meio do quarto. O corpo imenso de Richard se abrigando sobre o seu, entre suas pernas, não perdendo tempo em juntar os lábios no seu num beijo lentinho, em que ele engolia as suas lufadas ofegantes. Um risinho manhoso sai de você em meio ao ósculo quando o escuta sussurrar um “Gostosa” seguido de estalar certeiro de um tapa na lateral de sua bunda redondinha.
Você separa o embolar das línguas com uma expressão arteira em seu rosto, roçando sua boquinha de leve na dele ao proferir num tom sujo, sussurrado:
“Vou ficar esperando meu gol amanhã, ouviu?”
. ۟ 🍥 ⃞░ curtiu? deixa um comentáriozinho, uma curtidinha ou um rblog. até a próxima história ⟡﹒🐺
Kenan Yildiz Masterlist | Football Masterlist | Football Masterlist II
It’s 1:47 a.m. when you hear the lock turn.
You don’t move at first,just listen for the familiar shuffle, the quiet exhale, the careful way Jude tries to enter your shared apartment like he isn’t a hurricane of noise on the pitch.
Then he appears in the doorway, hair damp from the shower at the stadium, hoodie pulled up like it could hide the fact that the entire city knows his name.
He finds you on the sofa with a blanket over your legs and your phone face-down, pretending you weren’t waiting.
His eyes soften immediately.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough, like he’s still running.
You lift your chin. “Hey.”
He drops his bag by the door, then hesitates like he’s deciding whether he’s allowed to be tired in front of you. Jude always does that after matches,holds himself together until he sees you, and then the tension loosens.
“How was it?” you ask gently.
He makes a face. “Don’t.”
You blink. “Don’t?”
“Don’t say the words,” he complains, walking closer. “Don’t say, ‘You played amazing.’ Don’t say, ‘You did your best.’ I’m,” He exhales hard, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna combust.”
You open your arms without saying anything.
He doesn’t resist. Jude falls into you like gravity. He sits, pulls you into his chest, and for a second you can feel how hard his heart is still going, thumping against your cheek.
You thread your fingers under the edge of his hood. “Okay,” you murmur. “No words.”
“Thank you,” he mutters into your hair.
You stay like that, your legs tangled, the apartment quiet except for the distant hum of Madrid outside. It’s strangely calm considering, just a few hours ago, he was in front of thousands of people. Now it’s just you and him and the faint smell of his cologne mixed with stadium soap.
Eventually, he shifts back enough to look at you.
His eyes are tired. His mouth is trying to smile anyway.
“You hungry?” you ask.
He stares at you like the idea is suspicious. “At nearly two in the morning?”
“Yes, Jude. People eat food at night.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re plotting something.”
You shrug, innocent. “Me? Never.”
He gives you a slow once-over like he’s assessing a threat. Then his gaze drops to your blanket. “You stayed up.”
“I was reading,” you lie.
He reaches for your phone and lifts it. The screen is black. He raises an eyebrow.
You snatch it back. “Okay, fine.”
His smile finally breaks through. “You were waiting.”
“Maybe.”
His voice turns soft. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
For a beat, he doesn’t answer. He just looks at you like he’s trying to store the moment somewhere safe.
Then he clears his throat, suddenly casual. “You know what I want?”
“What?”
He leans closer, whispering like it’s a secret. “Churros.”
You blink. “Churros.”
He nods solemnly. “Churros.”
You laugh. “You literally have a chef.”
“That’s not the point.” Jude sits up straighter, getting serious, like he’s about to negotiate a contract. “Listen. Stadium food tastes like cardboard. And I’m not eating another protein thing. If I see another protein bar, I’m calling the police.”
You grin. “The police?”
“Yes,” he insists. “It’s harassment.”
You tap his cheek. “You’re dramatic.”
He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“Because I run around for a living,” he argues. “Come on.”
You stare at him. “You want to leave the apartment right now.”
He nods again. “Yeah.”
“Jude, it’s,”
“Two a.m.,” he finishes for you. “Exactly. Perfect time.”
“It’s not perfect time for anything except sleeping.”
He pouts. It’s subtle, but it’s there. “Please.”
You squint. “Are you using the boyfriend eyes?”
He looks offended. “These are my normal eyes.”
“These are definitely the boyfriend eyes.”
He tries to hold the serious expression for another second, then breaks, laughing quietly. “Okay, fine. I am. It’s been a long night.”
You pretend to think it over, drawing it out just because you can.
Jude watches you like his life depends on your answer.
“Alright,” you say finally. “Churros.”
His entire face lights up. “Yes!”
“But,” you lift a finger.
He freezes. “But?”
“No cameras,” you warn.
His smile turns calmer, more knowing. “No cameras.”
“No people recognizing you.”
He smirks. “That one’s harder.”
You point at him. “Jude.”
He lifts both hands. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’ve got a plan.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It’s not terrifying. It’s genius.”
You throw the blanket off your legs and stand. “Show me your genius plan.”
He stands too, taller than you, warm and familiar. Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out a black beanie and a pair of glasses with plain lenses.
You stare.
He puts the glasses on with a straight face. “Disguise.”
You burst out laughing. “You look like,”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to rob a library,” you wheeze.
He scoffs. “It’s subtle.”
“It’s not subtle. You’re Jude Bellingham.”
“Not with the glasses,” he insists.
You wipe your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me.”
You hesitate just long enough to make him nervous.
He leans in. “Don’t.”
You grin. “I do.”
His shoulders drop in relief, exaggerated. “Good.”
You grab your coat from the hook. “If we get spotted, I’m blaming you.”
He’s already slipping into sneakers. “If we get spotted, I’m sprinting.”
“You’re not sprinting. You just played ninety minutes.”
He points at you. “I can sprint for churros.”
“Footballers are unreal,” you mutter, locking the door behind you.
,
Madrid at night feels like a secret.
The air is cool when you step outside, the streetlights painting everything in gold. Jude immediately shifts closer, like his body instinctively wants to shield you from the world. He tucks his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.
“You’re warm,” you mumble.
He presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re always ‘fine’,” he teases, squeezing your shoulder.
You lean into him anyway. “Where are we even going?”
“There’s a place,” he says, voice low. “A tiny one. Open late. I went once with Fede.”
You glance up at him. “You went for churros with your teammate?”
Jude shrugs. “Don’t judge me. We needed sugar.”
“That’s adorable.”
He groans. “Don’t call me adorable.”
“You’re adorable.”
He lowers his voice dramatically. “I’m a serious athlete.”
You laugh. “Sure.”
As you walk, the city feels softer. Less loud. Fewer eyes. No flashes. Just the sound of your footsteps and Jude’s quiet commentary.
He points at a closed shop. “That place is always packed during the day.”
“You know that because…?”
“I have eyes,” he says defensively. “I live here.”
“You live here,” you repeat, amused, “like a normal person.”
He looks at you. “I am a normal person.”
You tilt your head. “Are you?”
He scoffs. “Yes.”
“Normal people don’t have an entire stadium chanting their name.”
Jude’s mouth twitches. “Okay, but normal people also don’t have you.”
Your chest warms.
You try to play it off. “That sentence didn’t even make sense.”
“It made perfect sense,” he argues. “You get it.”
You bump your shoulder into his. “You’re cheesy.”
He gasps. “Me? Cheesy? I’m literally just stating facts.”
“Facts,” you echo.
“Yes.” He looks down at you, eyes softer now. “Fact: I like this.”
“What?”
“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the street, the night, the two of you. “Walking around like nobody cares.”
You swallow. “Nobody does care.”
Jude huffs. “People care too much.”
You squeeze his waist gently. “Then don’t look at them. Look at me.”
He does. Immediately. Like it’s easy.
“Okay,” he says, quieter. “I’m looking.”
It’s the kind of moment that feels almost too real,like you could live in it forever if you asked.
Then his stomach growls loudly.
You freeze.
He freezes too, eyes widening as if betrayed by his own body.
You start laughing again. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t,” he complains, but he’s laughing too. “It’s been a stressful evening.”
“You’re literally a cartoon.”
“I’m hungry,” he insists. “Please.”
“Okay, okay,” you say, still grinning. “Lead the way, Number Five.”
He perks up. “Don’t call me that out here.”
“Why?”
He leans close, whispering. “Because it sounds like I’m famous.”
You roll your eyes. “You are famous.”
He lifts a finger. “Tonight, I’m just Jude.”
You look at him. “Okay, Jude.”
He smiles like you handed him something precious. “Better.”
,
The churros place is exactly what he promised: tiny, warm, bright inside like a pocket of daylight. The smell hits you the second you walk in,fried dough, sugar, chocolate.
Jude’s eyes widen behind his stupid glasses.
“Oh,” he breathes.
You elbow him. “Try not to look like a kid in a candy shop.”
“I can’t,” he says. “This is heaven.”
The woman behind the counter glances at him, then at you, then smiles like she knows more than she’s saying.
“¿Dos chocolate con churros?” she asks.
You answer before Jude can. “Sí, por favor.”
Jude stares at you. “Look at you.”
“What?”
“Ordering like you’re from here,” he says, impressed.
You shrug. “I’ve had to survive on my own sometimes.”
He leans in, murmuring, “I like it when you’re confident.”
Your cheeks heat. “Stop.”
He grins. “No.”
You take a seat at a small table near the window. Jude sits across from you, then immediately reaches his foot out to tap yours under the table like he can’t help it.
“You’re restless,” you observe.
“I’m happy,” he corrects.
“That makes you restless?”
He nods. “Yeah. Like… when I score.”
You soften. “You did score tonight.”
His smile fades a little. “Yeah.”
You tilt your head. “But it didn’t feel good.”
He looks at you like you read his mind. “It should’ve. But I keep thinking about the miss earlier.”
“You’re allowed to be human,” you say simply.
His eyes flick to your hands on the table.
You slide one closer. He takes it, thumb rubbing the back of your knuckles.
“I don’t feel human sometimes,” he admits quietly. “It’s like… people want me to be a headline.”
You squeeze his hand. “You’re not a headline to me.”
His throat bobs. “I know.”
The churros arrive. A plate of golden sticks dusted with sugar, two cups of thick chocolate steaming. Jude looks at it like it’s sacred.
He picks one up carefully. “Cheers,” he says, holding it up.
You lift yours too. “Cheers.”
He dips it into the chocolate, then takes a bite. His eyes flutter shut dramatically.
“Oh my God,” he whispers, reverent.
You laugh. “Is it that serious?”
He chews, swallowing, then points at you with the churro. “You don’t understand. This is healing.”
You dip yours and bite. It’s warm, sweet, and perfect.
You hum. “Okay. Yeah. This is… really good.”
Jude nods vigorously. “See? I told you.”
You take another bite. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
He leans forward slightly. “Why not?”
“Because you’re…” You gesture to him. “You.”
He looks genuinely confused. “And you’re you.”
“That’s not,”
He interrupts gently, voice softer now. “I just want to be a boyfriend sometimes.”
You pause.
He says it like it’s simple, but his eyes don’t look simple. They look like he’s asking permission.
So you reach across the table, cup his cheek with chocolate-scented fingers, and smile.
“Then be my boyfriend,” you whisper.
Jude’s whole expression melts.
He leans into your hand. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His hand covers yours on his cheek. “I love you.”
The words land warm and quiet between you, like the churros, like the night, like the way Madrid doesn’t feel scary when it’s two a.m. and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that’s real.
You smile, heart too full. “I love you too.”
He grins, relief and happiness all tangled up. “Good.”
“Good?” you tease.
“Yeah,” he says, dipping another churro. “Because I was gonna be really embarrassed if you didn’t.”
You gasp. “Jude!”
He laughs, eyes bright. “I’m joking. I know you love me.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you adore me.”
You try to glare, but it fails.
Outside, the city stays quiet. Inside, Jude steals another churro and offers it to you without thinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You take it, bite into the sugar, and realize,this is normal.
Not the stadium, not the cameras, not the noise.
This.
Jude, in ridiculous glasses, sharing churros with you at 2 a.m. like he doesn’t belong to anyone else.
(content warning: smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])
ps: it's been a while since i wrote smut pls be nice about it
“Bellingham, we shouldn’t-”
“Save your regret for later, princess,” he cut her off, quickly finding her lips into a sloppy kiss.
Pinned against the wall, with his muscular body pressed against hers, she knew salvation wouldn’t come. There was no god, no force of the nature that could stop what was bound to happen. That could stop them.
“We both are going to regret this,” she mumbled between the kiss, her voice hoarse and low, panting. Why was she even trying to deny it?
“Jesus, princess. Can you shut your fucking mouth for a second?” He asked with a small smirk, his breath sparse. “So feisty. Always wanting to have the last word, always wanting to control everything…”
As the taunting words left Jude’s mouth, his right hand started moving slowly. From her neck to her collarbones, to the valley of her breasts, to her lower belly, applying just enough pressure to hear her pant once again. To hear her losing control, losing her morals and everything she had ever believed happened between them.
“Let it go,” he whispered in her ear, his plump lips brushing against her ear and gently biting her earlobe. “Let it go, doll. Let me take care of you.”
Everything was a mess. This wasn’t the moment nor the place for this to happen. She wasn’t even supposed to do as much as look at him. But something about his unbuttoned social shirt and his now wrinkled suit, the intoxicating smell of his expensive cologne and that goddamn smirk of his made her brain stop working, being guided by something so primal that she had yet to understand.
“It’s- a fucking club bathroom. Anyone could come in-”
Jude just groaned, annoyed and frustrated. He knew he had chosen the only woman who wouldn’t want to take him tonight – but he also knew that was merely a façade. If she thought he didn’t notice her lingering stares, the way she’d hold her breath next to him whenever she was slightly caught by surprise and the desire in her eyes, she was so wrong.
“Let them fucking come. They’ll see me and leave in the same instant. I don’t fucking care if there’ll be headlines about my behavior tomorrow.” He said, staring into her eyes, his tone firm. “Let me take care of you. Know you need it. See right through you, princess.”
She opened her mouth to come with a smart retort, but he was quicker. Jude’s hands went to the back of her thighs, suddenly pulling her and lifting her of the ground with ease. Guiding her to the sink countertop and gently placing her there – perhaps the only gentle act he had and would have throughout the night.
“The more you talk, the more I’ll want to shut you up,” he warned her with a husky tone, his finger under her chin to make sure she was looking at him. “And that’ll just make me tease you more and not give you what you want.”
She gulped and gave him a small nod. She’d never say it out loud, she’d never give him the pleasure of agreeing with him. So difficult, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, he was more than pleased with the challenge of making her scream his name to prove otherwise.
“Good,” he said, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as she looked at him. Uncertainty, desire and frustration placed behind her eyelids. He could see all of that. “You’re so pretty. So desirable,” he whispered, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath. “Wouldn’t want you spending the night with anyone else. It’d fucking kill me, princess.”
She barely remembered how they ended up in that bathroom. How they went from barely looking at each other to this closeness in the span of a few hours. She knew she had drunk as much as him – they wouldn’t be there otherwise. Not when they’ve always claimed to hate each other. If they were in their right minds, they wouldn’t even be in the same room.
She remembered having a man hitting on her as she drank. He was attractive, for sure, but nothing that would make her give him any attention. She remembered smoking her strawberry mango vape when Jude abruptly took it out of her hand when he wasn’t even that close a few moments before. His tight grip on her wrist, not enough to hurt her, but enough to keep it there, guiding her away from the man, was something she couldn’t forget.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She asked him with annoyance as he guided them to a more secluded spot. God, she hated admitting it, but he looked so good in formal clothes.
“Taking you away from that fucking douchebag that was eating you with his eyes,” he retorted, the anger clear in his tone as he gave her back her vape. She quickly put it in her purse. “You have to stop smoking that crap, as well.”
“I’m sorry, but since when did you feel entitle to control my life in any way whatsoever?” She asked with a sarcastic smile, annoyed at his attitude.
“If you think, for a second, I’d let you leave the club with that guy, with someone that’s not even close to your level-” he stopped once he realized what had said. He licked his lips and sighed, his hands resting on his waist as she looked at him with confusion.
“Who would be close to my level, then?” She asked with crossed arms, tilting her head.
Jude just gave her a small, cocky grin that he always carried with him. Thank God for his drinks, because only then he’d have the courage to retort her so easily.
“Who do you think, princess?”
After that, it was all blurry. A mix of tongues against each other, the taste of his strong drinks, his cologne, his hands pulling her closer. The anger, the frustration, the desire – until stumbling upon the bathroom because they had no other choice when lust controlled them so easily.
The feeling of the cold tiles of the countertop and Bellingham’s confession brought her back to the moment, looking into his eyes.
“I wasn’t going to leave the club with him,” she said, her eyes falling to his mouth. So, so close that she could reminisce the taste of it. “I wasn’t going to leave the club with anyone.”
Jude seemed rather pleased by her reply, his body finding a way to be even closer to hers. Despite always trying to say they hated each other; it was always the same – like magnets being drawn. All they had been doing, this whole time, was prolongating the inevitable. He was fucking tired of it.
“Good,” he whispered, his hand slowly travelling to the insides of her thighs, dangerously close to her warmth. She held back a whimper and he grinned at the sight. It was almost as if she was already coming undone from a single movement. “Wouldn’t want anyone but me to have the privilege.”
She looked up at Jude, suddenly realizing how big he was, how easily he was towering her and she could barely see past his long shoulders. With a sudden movement, her arms were now resting on his shoulders, caressing them.
“Need you to say it’s mine, darling. Would you do that for me, hm?” He whispered in her ear, expecting a tantrum, some remark to show how bratty she was. But his fingers were too close to her core for her to even come up with something that smart.
“That what is yours?,” was the best she could come up with, acting innocent despite the way her voice cracked.
Jude, in response, only looked deeply into her eyes as he pressed two fingers to her covered warmth, feeling the damp that was formed.
“That this is mine.” He spoke lowly, pressing his fingers even harder, earning a gasp from her as her eyelids shut, as if she was still trying to hold herself back. To gather some self-control.
“It’s yours,” she whispered. Jude thought about demanding her to speak louder, but it was already so much than he ever expected her to say.
His middle finger tossed her underclothing to the side, his index finger already moving over to her clits with enough pressure, in slow, circle motions.
“Already so wet, princess. All that denial and for what?” Bellingham chuckled lowly, almost as if as taunting her, as if his own underwear wasn’t feeling extremely tight. “Tell me what you want.”
She sighed. She had been holding back for so long that she decided that it wasn’t time to play around anymore.
“Want you to fuck me,” she said, looking into his deep brown eyes in a silent plea.
And how could he ever deny her anything when she was looking at him like that?
He inserted two digits into her core, moving them around her walls, trying to know which spot pleasured her the most just from the way she had to shut her eyelids strongly. She felt so warm and looked so desperate that the bulge in his pants became even more apparent, if that was possible.
“I wish I could just slam myself into you right now,” he whispered in her ear as his fingers began to distance from each other inside her, scissoring her slowly as she gasped. “But I need to get you prepped. Don’t want to hurt you that much.”
When Jude said, her eyes fell to the prominent bulge, realizing how big he actually was and whimpering just from imagining. He chuckled against her ear as she clenched around his fingers, knowing exactly what went on inside her head.
After realizing she was almost about to cum on his fingers, Jude took them off her and she whimpered again at the sudden emptiness. He sucked his fingers as the other hand undid his belt in a single, quick motion. She rushed to help to unbutton his pants, and even more eagerly to help him take his underwear off just enough so his cock would jump out.
As it sprung out, she watched it in all its rigidness. It was bigger than she expected, and his tip was already leaking with precum. It hit her, then, that Jude was just as vulnerable and desperate as she was.
Her hand quickly grabbed his cock, moving slowly and spreading his precum around it so her movements came with more ease. To his own surprise, he moaned, not being able to hold back anymore.
Jude gripped around her wrist, taking her hand away from his member and lining his hips with her entrance. His tip teased her once, twice, threatening to finally go inside her. Eager and impatient, she moved her hips, so he was finally inside her.
He moved slowly as she felt like she was burning from inside out, having a hard time adjusting to his size. As he finally bottomed inside her, Jude gave her some time to get used to it. When she gave him a small nod, that’s when he started moving.
“Shit,” he mumbled in her ear, trying his best to not go too hard. She clenched around him, whimpering and moaning, not bothering anymore to hide a single sound. It was driving him insane. “You feel so, so good.”
“Jude,” she called him out, her eyes closed. He thought it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen – her hair all messy, her dress wrinkled, panting and desperate. If he wasn’t in the same state, he would be taunting her. Usually, that was how he was. But, for some reason, it was different with her. He needed to be inside her.
He didn’t even realize when exactly his thrusts became harder and erratically. He only knew that because she was moaning his name more often, louder.
When he accidentally hit her sweet spot, she saw stars behind her eyes, arching her back and rolling her eyes. God, if she had more of this, she would drool. She couldn’t think – not at all, not when he was slamming into her walls like that.
“Jude, I’m-” she clenched tightly around him, and he moaned.
“I know, baby,” he was panting as well. He needed to make her cum, and perhaps, more desperately, to cum. He didn’t know for how long he could handle it. “Cum for me, princess. You’ve been such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Cum.”
It felt more like he was ordering than praising, but, as soon as she came, he spilled inside her walls.
“Fuck,” Jude said, trying his best to grab for air as his head fell to her shoulders. She caressed him softly. Even though they were both a mess and could barely breathe, he chuckled from her act. Smirking, he looked at her and said: “Was that all I needed to do for you to stop hating me?”
