18+ thinking about subby pope receiving a handy <3
fem! reader, mdni. 0.8k words. sub pope, oral fem receiving, usage of ‘mama’ once, edging, crying, handjob, popes a whining mess, porn no plot.
pope cody who moved with predatory stillness, stepping into rooms all broad shouldered and unblinking. casting a shadow of uneasiness that nipped at his ankles, following him always. craig joked that he was like your guard dog, gaze tracking every small shift, literally ready to pounce at any moment.
everyone assumed he was the same in the bedroom. they were gravely mistaken.
poor pope, literally crying into your cunt, lazily lapping at your clit. fat tears streaking down his cheeks, mixing with your juices and coating his chin. he was pawing at your thighs, squishing the plump skin, spreading you open wider for him.
“feels so good… doing so good, andy.” you whined, back dipping off the bed in a near pornographic arch.
and god, the glassy eyes and furrowed brows. he genuinely was looking up at you to make sure he was doing good, like he had no idea how fucking good he felt licking you open. you couldn’t help but coo looking down at him, your fingers carding through his curls.
he was whimpering into your core, desperately humping his hard cock into the mattress. pope relished in your moans, pre cum drooling from his shaft, making his boxers all sticky. :((
it literally takes an army to get pope to stop suckling on you. he’d gave you a few sloppy kisses on your puffy folds before reluctantly parting with her.
you finally managed to get him off you, and slumped against the headboard. your nails were slowly scraping down his chest, finally disappearing into his boxers.
his hips jerked up. gaze searching yours, giving you those sad puppy eyes when you wrapped a hand around his length. he hissed, trying his best still the upward bucks of his pelvis, taking every ounce of his strength not to fuck into your fist right then and there.
“oh, fu—huck. i’m—hm not gonna last.” he whines as you begin to stroke him. he was drawing his bottom lip into his mouth to stifle his moans, biting down hard enough to taste blood.
“awh… that’s okay, honey. i’ll make it last, huh?” you croon, twisting your fist as you tug him, squeezing tightly at the base of his length. you find a slow pace, drawing it out as much as possible.
you bring your free hand up to his mouth, cupping your palm right under his chin. “spit.”
he complies almost instantly. keeping direct eye contact as he musters up enough saliva to spit out directly into your palm. your hand finally finds his cock again, smearing the newfound wetness all over his angry tip.
“ah—oh god… fu—fuck.” he’s hiccuping now, withering against the sheets, knuckles white as he grips fistfuls of the comforter. eyes rolling back, chest heaving with each shaky breath as tears slip down the apples of his cheeks.
“i can’t—ah… gonna cum,” you see it—the way the muscle of his thighs jump, abdomen tightening and balls contracting, desperately ready to bust.
you gave one final tug, stopping to squeeze the base of his cock as pope hopelessly bucked his hips into the air, cock springing around trying to find any sort of friction. “no, nooo…” he sobbed, eyes squeezing shut.
slowly, his breathing began to even out, the ruined orgasm melting away as the muscles in his body began to finally relax again. your hand left his cock and he gasped, dick slapping back against his stomach.
pope sniffed, forcing his eyes open to see you—the sight alone almost had him cumming untouched. you were crooning at him, because he was just so sweet and needy! it wasn’t his fault! :(
your fingers slowly ascended up his knee, palm gently traveling up his leg until your skin was softly rubbing against his inner thigh. he jerked hard—cock twitching painfully as your skin finally came so close to where he needed you the most.
“please, mama… need it so bad.” he’s sniffling, and how could you ever deny him?!
“oh, i know… jus’ need me to take care of you, huh? that it, honey?” he’s nodding along with you—but to be fair you think he’d agree to anything you said right now.
your hand gripped around his cock again, popes head instantly fell back against the bed frame with a choked moan. you found a pace that had him squirming against the sheets, this time swiping a thumb over the tip of his aching cock—earning you a pathetic whimper.
it didn’t take long for his orgasm to creep up again, he was a wailing mess, mumbling words almost incoherently through whines.
“oh my god—thank you, thank you… uhhhh… so good t’me,” pope fucked his cock harder into your fist as he came. spurting thick ropes of cum all over his stomach, your hand and even his thighs.
college!nerd armin who sits one row behind you in a lecture and tries to focus on the slides but your thighs are just... right there. crossed, jiggling slightly as you bounce your leg out of boredom, little skirt riding up when you shift—he’s not even hearing the professor anymore. his notes are just bullet points that say:
thighs.
thighs???
fucking thighs.
and he gets so flustered, like he adjusts his big round glasses and pretends to take notes but his face is flushed and his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight...
later that night? he’s scrolling through his phone and lands on your post—it’s a mirror pic, a seemingly innocent story—but you’re sitting on your bed with one leg up and he snaps. doesn't even make it to his bed. he’s jerking off in his desk chair, moaning like he’s being tortured, trying to keep quiet as he strokes himself to the thought of your thighs wrapped around his head, suffocating him.
armin doesn't believe his ears when you ask him to study. flash a sweet little smile. tilt your head just a little bit. he's halfway through chewing on his pen cap when you lean over his desk and say, “hey, armin. wanna go over notes together at the library?”
his brain short circuits.
he literally forgets how to speak for a full second. then manages a weak, breathy, “yeah—uh. yes. i mean. i can. i’d like that.”
you thank him like it’s nothing. walk away like you didn’t just leave a smouldering crater in his chest. but you know exactly what you’re doing. because later that evening, you show up to the library in that skirt. the tiny pink one. and the thigh highs with the little bow at the top. like a sin made of silk and smugness.
you sit across from him. cross your legs real slow.
he swallows.
don’t look. don’t look. okay, you looked. fuck.
and swallows again when you lean forward, pretending to scan your textbook, the movement making your skirt ride just a little higher.
you’re no fool. you’ve been aware of armin’s situation for a while now. the way he covers his boner with his notebook when you glance over during lectures? adorable. you’ve caught him staring at you from across the common room at least a dozen times. and those dorm parties he claims he “hates”? yeah, he only ever shows up to sit beside you and pretend he’s not practically drooling at the smell of your perfume. you think it’s sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.
you decide to tease him. just to see how long he’ll keep the good boy act up for. how long before that polite, bashful smile cracks into something desperate. how long before he snaps.
you shift in your seat, the toe of your boot nudging his ankle under the table. he freezes. you feign ignorance. flip a page. rest your hand on your thigh, drawing slow, idle circles with your finger against the exposed skin. then, you let your leg drift sideways—just barely brushing his.
armin squirms in his chair. what do people even do in situations like this? his knuckles go white where he grips his pen. his legs squeeze together.
you don’t even look up. just mumble something about not understanding the chapter. and he’s nodding too fast. offering help with a cracked voice, eyes wide, flushed down to his collarbones.
he’s shaking. he’s dying. he’s hard.
you lean in even closer—close enough to count the individual lashes framing his eyes, pupils dilated. his breath is shaky, coming in short bursts, and you can practically feel his pulse racing.
his ocean eyes flicker down to your lips before darting back to yours, a silent invitation. his breath hitches as you inch closer, every nerve in his body firing at once. he wants this, wants you, but his mind’s a whirlwind—should he pull back? should he stay still and let the moment breathe?
and then, you kiss him. soft at first, giving him time to adjust. he lets out a heavy sigh against your lips. he tastes like something fruity—like strawberry flavoured gum. the kiss is sweet, subtle and tender, like a vanilla note mixed with a slight tang, like a soft citrus. but it quickly deepens, your hands roaming over his body, teasing the warm skin of his chest through his shirt. you make quick work of his buttons, slipping your hands inside, tracing the lines of his lean chest.
your fingers tweak his nipples, pulling a gasp from him. his hands immediately fly to your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself.
“oh?” you smirk, getting closer, voice dripping with playful mischief. you do it again, only this time, your nails catch the fabric, teasing that soft spot until he can’t keep it together. “sensitive?”
he nods—his face is a mess. eyes wide, like he’s been caught in the worst way possible. but then? he whimpers. you can’t help but smirk at the sound, feeling the heat rising in your own chest.
your fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, touch feather-light but deliberate. his breath hitches, lips parting with a muted gasp when your nails graze the skin just above his waistband. he’s so responsive—every little touch draws out a sound. a whine. a strangled noise that barely makes it past his throat.
he shouldn’t be this turned on from a few light touches. his thighs are tensed like he’s trying not to rut up into you—like that would make this moment disappear. like it would scare you off. but god, it’s getting harder to stay still.
he can’t fully enjoy this. not really. he feels guilt—it’s heavy in his gut. it’s wrong, right? you’re just teasing him. he doesn’t deserve someone like you. but your touch, the way your leg brushes his, the way you’re looking at him like you know what you’re doing, making him lose his mind—it’s too much.
his fingers twitch. his dick aches for release, but he can't—he can’t—let himself go any further. not like this. not when he’s been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. he can’t just be this fucking needy. can’t be this much of a mess in front of you. it’s—
“i…” his voice cracks, just as he feels his heart slam in his chest.
“’min?” you tease, just a little too sweet, fingers tracing his thighs like you have all the time in the world.
“i have to tell you something,” he breathes out, a desperate, breathy whisper. he’s panting, struggling to hold it together. he presses his hands flat on the table, palms sweating, trying to steady himself.
you look up at him with curiosity. his heart races, and the words are choking him. he bites his lip, all at once embarrassed and unbearably turned on.
“i—i—" he stops, gasping for air, hands shaking. "i can’t—i’ve been thinking about this… about you.” he’s so close, so close to breaking. his voice is strained, trembling under the weight of what he’s saying. “when i touch myself… it’s—it's you, okay?” he barely manages to get the words out, feeling like his insides are liquefying under the weight of it.
you freeze, smile faltering. “did you?” you whisper, your tone low and teasing.
“i’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes wide with guilt and the flush of shame creeping up his neck. “it’s... i didn’t mean—fuck, i shouldn’t have said that.”
you don't give him a chance to retreat. “no need to apologize, armin,” you say, the words dripping with something that feels like victory. “you’re cute when you’re this honest.”
and then, it’s quiet—just long enough to hear him choke back another whimper of frustration, as if his body is already begging for more. "but don’t think i’ll let you off that easy, hmm?"
his hands are trembling where they clutch your waist, like he’s not even sure he’s allowed to touch you like this. you nip at his bottom lip, smile curling against his mouth when he gasps again. you straddle him so that your thighs are on each side of his, and armin thinks he could die like this—caged between you, drowning in your scent.
but you take it a step further. you place your knee against his sensitive bulge and he lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. his hands grip at your hips harder, as if anchoring himself to reality, but you can feel the way his muscles lock in restraint. the sounds of a conversation drift from behind a nearby bookshelf, but all he can hear now is the blood rushing in his ears.
the noise nearby only adds on to your excitement. having armin— armin who’d ditch anybody to study for a test, armin who colour-codes his notes and panics if he’s not fifteen minutes early to each lecture—underneath you like this? it fills you with a sense of pride knowing you’re the only one that can reduce him to nothing but a horny mess.
your thigh rocks against his twitching bulge, back and forth, slow and mean, like you're testing him. and armin—sweet, delicate armin—falls to pieces.
his head lolls back against the chair, lips parted in a perfect ‘O’, breath stuttering out in high-pitched gasps. his eyes are glassy with tears and so, so bright, like he’s staring up at heaven and not at the ceiling of a dusty library. there’s drool slipping from the corner of his mouth—he doesn’t even notice. he’s too far gone. he looks pretty, absolutely destroyed, like his mind’s been wiped clean except for the feeling of your mouth on his nipple and your thigh grinding him down into nothing.
“nghhh—hah, i… i c-can’t think,” he whines, voice cracking, desperate and breathless. “feels too good, i’m— i’m gonna—!”
you coo against his skin, twisting gently at his nipple with your fingertips just to hear the helpless cry he gives in return. his hips jerk again, chasing the friction like he’s forgotten how to stop. he’s babbling now, barely making sense. “please, please, i—can’t—feels s’good, i—hahh—hurts—!”
his hands shake on your hips, clutching like he’s drowning, and all he can do is rut against your thigh while you kiss and suck at his chest like he’s yours to ruin.
his body trembles beneath yours, and the pressure builds too quickly, too intensely. he stammers out apologies, but before he can even register it, he’s cumming, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. his face flushes bright red, humiliation flooding him as he whimpers, trying to recover his breath, lost in ecstasy. but its too late. someone’s footsteps are closer, and the sound of their voice drifts to your ears. he feels exposed, knowing the risk of someone walking in is too real, too immediate.
you dont stop rocking your thighs against his crotch, drawing out cries that feel much louder in the public area. armin begs you to stop with a weak, “please, I can’t take it, not—ngh—somebody’s gonna see…”
he thinks you’re going to let him cum again. god, he’s so close.
your thigh feel just right, your mouth is still on his chest, his hips are twitching up—and then you stop.
the friction disappears and your mouth leaves him with a soft pop, and armin lets out the whiniest noise, hands slapping over his mouth like didn’t mean to let it out.
“wha—n-no, no, please—”
“think i got enough out of today’s lesson, yeah? can’t spoil you too much, baby—you’ll get greedy.”
you run your fingers through his hair, so gentle it’s cruel.
“but don’t pout,” you coo. “i’ll give you another lesson. my dorm. if you behave.”
you get up and fix your clothes, slow and casual, like you didn’t just drive him to the edge of sanity. he twitches in your absence, like his body doesn’t know what to do without your weight on top of him.
“i’ll see you in class,” you toss over your shoulder with a wink.
and armin? armin is left there—completely ruined, dripping, thighs pressed tight together for any relief, praying nobody walks around the corner and finds him like this.
The England vs France match had been something—6-4. By the final whistle, he was satisfied and sweaty… victorious. The locker room erupted in cheers. After the match, Jude made a quick decision—Spain first. You had mentioned you were there on a vacation, and Jude hadn’t seen you in weeks. The distance between them during tournaments was always hard. So instead of heading straight back to England or staying with the team for recovery… he booked a flight to Spain. No announcement, just pure impulse. A surprise reunion was coming.
By 7 PM, Jude’s cab pulled up to the sleek hotel where you were staying. Jude hadn’t warned you he was coming… too eager to surprise you after everything. He paid the driver and walked into the lobby, scanning for directions to your suite number.
Jude stood outside your suite door, heart pounding just a little. After confirming the right room number from the front desk, he reached out and pressed the doorbell—once. A simple ding-dong echoed inside. Jude waited, suddenly hyper-aware of his travel-worn clothes and messy hair from being on planes all day… but too excited to care.
The door swung open, revealing you—in casual clothes, even barefoot. Before you could even say hi properly, Jude launched himself forward, arms locking around your shoulders in a tight hug. You staggered back slightly from the force of it—but instantly wrapped your arms around Jude too, squeezing him like you hadn’t seen him in years, even though it’d only been weeks.
Your laugh was warm and relieved, arms tightening around Jude like you never wanted to let go. You buried your face in the crook of Jude’s neck for a second—breathing him in after weeks apart. The hug lasted longer than expected… no rush to pull away. Just two people who missed each other so much finally reconnecting. A soft kiss landed on Jude’s cheek—sweet.
You effortlessly lifted Jude—one strong arm hooked under his rear while the other grabbed both suitcases. With practiced ease, you kicked the hotel room door shut behind them. Jude clung to you like a koala, legs locked around your waist as they moved inside. The luggage clattered softly against the floor by the entrance—you weren't letting go of Jude just yet.
Your teasing grin widened as you finally set Jude down on the bed—only to immediately poke his chest playfully. The 6-4 scoreline was still fresh, and you couldn’t resist roasting England’s aggressiveness.
“6-4? You Englands are greedy” you snorted, “Couldn’t just settle for a normal 2-0 like civilized people.” The sarcasm dripped… but it was affectionate. You loved watching Jude and his teammates dominate on the pitch.
Jude rolled his eyes at your teasing—classic him, always cracking jokes after matches. He couldn’t stay mad.
“Greedy?” Jude echoed, smirking as he pulled you down with him on the bed “It’s just right.” Jude didn’t care. Right now, he just wanted to kiss his boyfriend stupid after weeks apart.
Jude flopped onto his back beside you after kissing you senseless—sprawling like a starfish, limbs taking up way more space than necessary. One arm draped over your waist lazily, pulling you slightly closer without fully cuddling. Just Jude—tired from flight as he stared at the ceiling. You turned your head slightly, studying Jude’s relaxed expression. Your voice was soft—curious.
“Sleepy?” you asked, nudging Jude’s shoulder gently with your own. The question was simple… just checking if the post-pleasure crash had hit him hard enough to pass out right there.
“Not really. I slept through the flight.” Jude’s mind wandered. Then remind.
“Tomorrow,” he started “I'm gonna… bring you home” The ‘home’ part carried weight—the Bellinghams’ house, meeting Jude’s family properly as boyfriends…not childhood best friends.
“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up at the mention of going home with Jude—That changed everything. The relationships between two families.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. The Bellinghams had known you for years… but this visit would be different. Official. A mix of nerves and excitement buzzed in him—meeting them again under new terms.
Jude shifted onto his side. The post-game high hadn’t fully worn off—his skin buzzed with energy. It was perfect clubbing time in Spain… neon lights, music pulsing.He turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Wanna hit the club?” he asked—voice already excited at the idea of dancing and taking shots to celebrate his win.
“Of course you would suggest that” you rolled your eyes but smirked—Jude’s post-match energy was predictable. Of course he’d want to hit a club. The snort was affectionate, though. You weren't saying no… just teasing Jude for being so predictable.
Jude whined dramatically—nose scrunched, lips pouting—as he shoved your shoulder again. Just putting on a scene because why not.
“C’monnn,” he drawled, dragging out the word, “Let’s gooo.” The neediness was dialed up to 100… relentless until you gave in and agreed to clubbing.
“Fine—geez” you finally relented with an amused chuckle, pushing yourself up from the bed. You knew Jude hated doing anything fun solo—especially clubbing. The second you moved to get ready, Jude’s pout vanished… replaced by a bright grin. Victory: achieved. Now they’d both dress and head out—probably in matching chaotic energy.
The club was just a few minutes’ walk from the hotel—close enough that they arrived quickly. The second they stepped inside, the bass thumped through their chests, lights strobing wildly. The energy was electric: crowds dancing, drinks being poured… pure chaos in the best way. Jude immediately brightened—this was his element.
You, ever the provider, had your wallet out before Jude could even blink. Whatever Jude wanted—shots? Done. Another round? Paid for instantly. The bartender slid drinks their way without hesitation, you tipped generously too. You didn’t care about the cost… seeing Jude happy and loose was worth every euro.
Jude, buzzing from the shots, grabbed your hand and yanked you toward the dance floor—no hesitation. The music pulsed through them as Jude started moving shamelessly. He wasn’t a perfect dancer… but he was enthusiastic, swaying with hip movements and grinning like an idiot. Pure joy radiated off him. He pressed close, grinding against you in rhythm with the beat. The alcohol had him extra tactile, his body loose and playful, arms looping around your shoulders to pull you closer. They were a tangle of limbs under the club lights.
Jude was wasted—slumped over your back like a sleepy koala, limbs loose and face smushed against your shoulder. Every few steps, Jude mumbled something incoherent.
“You’re handsomeee…can I have your number?” With that cheeky grin you can’t see because you’re busy focusing on the road. You carried him effortlessly—used to Jude’s post-celebration drunk antics—and just focused on getting them safely back to the hotel.
You entertained him back anyway: “Can’t. I have a boyfriend…his name is Jude Bellingham”
Jude’s hands wandered clumsily—tracing your jawline, poking your chest, even squishing your cheeks like a tipsy toddler discovering texture. Every touch was sloppy and affectionate, Jude giggling quietly to himself. His fingers kept exploring your face… then sliding underneath your shirt.
“Really?...That's too bad…I think you deserve two boyfriends. I’m Jude Bellingham, can I get your number?” Jude muttered again. This is going to be a long night taking care of drunk Jude. But fine, you can do this.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, sharp and unforgiving—directly onto Jude’s face. He groaned, a low, miserable sound escaping him as his head pounded like it was being split open with an axe. The hangover hit him full-force: dry mouth, nausea creeping at the edges of his stomach. His body was tangled awkwardly in the sheets—arm thrown over your chest like he owned you while sleeping, one leg hooked over yours too. It wasn’t graceful or cute—just his usual disaster sleep position that always left both of them stuck to each other by morning no matter how they started out at night. Jude didn’t move yet though… not even when sunlight made his eyeballs throb worse. Too busy suffering silently and regretting every single shot from last night.
Jude shifted slightly—careful, even through the hangover haze—because he knew. You always took care of him like this. Without words, without being asked twice. You’d wake up first in the mornings after nights out and wordlessly fetch medicines you always pack with you, grab a glass of water… So Jude nudged you again with his forehead—a soft bump against your shoulder—half-conscious but intentional. It wasn’t demanding or whiny, just that quiet trust between you two where actions spoke louder than groggy apologies ever could.
“What is it…babe?” Your voice was rough with sleep—low and sleep-warm—and it made Jude’s chest tighten for a second, despite the pounding headache. He didn’t answer right away. Just blinked slowly at you through half-lidded eyes, the sunlight still hurting him but not enough to stop this quiet moment between you two.
Then he swallowed hard, his throat dry as hell and finally managed:
"My head hurts…" His words came out sluggish, quieter than usual. No dramatic whining—just stating facts like some pathetic drunk who’d learned his lesson last night but forgot immediately upon waking up today anyway. And then… almost shyly…He leaned forward slightly—not asking outright—but hinting that maybe water or medicine would help…if you wake up and take it for him.
“Mhmm…” you hummed. The bed creaked softly as you untangled yourself from Jude’s weight—careful not to jostle him too much—and sat up. No eye-roll, no sigh of annoyance. Just a quiet routine. The kind that had formed over months of this: you taking care of him after anything. You padded barefoot to your luggage, there’s a bag where you kept everything essential.
Then the mini fridge next—cold water poured into a glass, condensation forming on its surface as you carried both back toward the bedroom. Jude watched through hazy eyes… still curled under blankets like a guilty but hungover stray cat waiting for scraps. And here you came anyway…
Jude took the glass and pills slowly, fingers brushing against your palm—just a brief touch. He swallowed two painkillers with a sip of water, wincing at how even that small action hurt his head. Then he glanced over at you as you lay back down… eyes already closing again like sleep was pulling you under before you could fully wake up. His parents were expecting them both to arrive together by 7AM in the morning, it’s nearly 6AM right now.
That look crossed his face. The one you knew too well—half-lidded eyes, the way Jude’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips before flickering back up with quiet heat. Jude scooted closer on the bed without breaking eye contact—slowly now—as if asking permission without words. The early morning light still filtered through the curtains. But neither cared about time anymore…you took him to party at the club but yeah. He wanted more. And it’s not like you’re going to say no to his face.
“Gonna reward me for third place?” Jude smirked. Nothing new, really. The bed dipped under Jude’s weight as he closed the distance between you two, his movements smooth despite the lingering hangover fog.
“Yeah…you’re lucky I love you” you pinch the bridge of your nose. Because nobody asks for morning sex right in your face without saying good morning first. But you have an exception.
He dropped the lube and condom onto the mattress beside you—no teasing or slow buildup this time, just focused intent. His hands found your waist first, warm on your bare chest as he leaned closer.
Then his mouth crashed into yours—not rough, but hungry. A kiss that tasted like morning breath and regret of consuming too much alcohol. Jude didn’t speak—just kissed deeper while one hand roaming your body.
“You’re not tired?” You groaned against his mouth. Jude broke the kiss just enough to huff against your lips—annoyed you’d even ask that. Tired? Yeah, his head still pounded a little from last night’s drinking. His body felt heavy. But this? Morning sex with you? That was non-negotiable.
So he rolled his eyes, affectionately before diving back in, kissing you harder this time—all teeth and desperation. One of Jude’s hands slid up your chest while the other tangled roughly in your hair…
“Do you want me to start the day happy? Of course yes. So shut up and do me.” Jude huff, this can fix his hangover pain right now—he believes.
Jude didn’t hesitate—boxers already tossed aside, muscles flexing as he moved. When you grabbed the lube and squeezed some onto your finger, Jude’s breath hitched slightly—watching with darkening eyes. No teasing now, just quiet anticipation. He lay back against the pillows without being told, one arm stretched above his head while his other hand reached for you automatically—pulling you closer by your hip like a silent “come here.” The early morning light caught every scar and tan line on your skin…
The kiss was deep and slow—different from the frantic one earlier. Jude melted into it instantly—lips parting under yours with a soft sound—and then came the sensation of your finger pressing gently against him. He tensed for half a second, always did at first, but didn’t pull away. Just breathed through his nose and leaned deeper into the kiss… letting you work him open slowly.
Jude tilted his head to the side instinctively, giving you better access to his neck—his breath coming quicker now as your lips and teeth worked over that sensitive spot just below his ear. He loved this. Loved how precise you were—how you knew exactly where Jude liked it, how hard or soft to press… like muscle memory from months of intimacy. A quiet moan slipped out when your fingers curled just right inside him—a sound half-surprise, half-relief—and one of Jude’s hands fisted in the sheets beside him while the other gripped your shoulder.
Jude made a tiny, frustrated noise—actually whined—when your fingers left him when it was about to get good. He was right there, so close to that sweet tension-building pleasure… and then you pulled away to strip. His chest rose faster now, eyes tracking every movement as you peeled off your shirt, kicked out of sweatpants. Jude bit his lower lip unconsciously—equal parts impatient and turned on by the way you moved with quiet confidence.
But damn if it didn’t feel like forever while he just lay there bare already… watching you undress slowly in the morning light.
Jude’s gaze traveled over you—appreciating every defined line of your torso, the way your shoulders flexed slightly as you pulled off the last piece of clothing.
You weren’t just hot—you look like someone who could probably bench-press half your teammates without breaking a sweat. And Jude? He loved it. Loved how you looked right now—all lean muscle and confidence—and suddenly he was impatient again. No more waiting. So before you could even crawl back onto the bed properly, Jude reached out and yanked you down by a hand on your shoulder…
The kiss was feral—Jude’s lips crashed into yours with zero finesse, just raw need. Like he hadn’t kissed you in years instead of minutes. His hands immediately fisted in your hair, tilting your head to deepen it further while his tongue slid against yours—hot and demanding. Jude breathed through his nose between desperate kisses, chest rising fast as if oxygen didn’t matter nearly as much as this.
Jude exhaled sharply as the kiss broke—chest still heaving—but his eyes stayed locked on you while you grabbed the condom packet. Jude watched, lips slightly parted, as you stroked yourself—slow and deliberate—to get fully hard. The sight of him like this: naked, waiting, legs loosely bent clearly affected you too. His own stomach tightened with heat when he noticed the way your eyes darkened—how your breath hitched just a little at the view of Jude already open and ready for you. Then the rustle of foil as you rolled the condom down properly before shifting closer on your knees between his thighs. Jude exhaled shakily—anticipation coiling low in his belly.
The kiss was soft at first—just lips meeting, tender and lingering—but then you trailed down Jude’s jawline with his mouth, pressing warm kisses along the sensitive skin there. Jude shivered. By the time your lips reached that spot just below his ear—the crook of his neck where you knew he was extra sensitive—his breath hitched audibly.
And then came it: That first brush of your tip against him… tentative but deliberate. Jude tensed instinctively—not from fear or hesitation, but because anticipation always made him hold his breath like this.
Jude’s fingers dug into your back—nails grazing skin lightly but possessively—as you pushed deeper. Not rough enough to hurt, just… needing to hold on. Every slow inch sent sparks through his body, he bit down on his lower lip hard, trying not to make too much noise even though they were alone. His legs lifted slightly without thinking, knees bending to give you better access as the stretch filled him perfectly. No pain yet—just that delicious pressure of being connected like this after weeks of distance. Jude exhaled shakily through his nose… eyes fluttering shut for a second before reopening again—to watch you.
Jude’s breathing turned uneven—each roll of your hips sending waves of pleasure through him. He wasn’t tense anymore, his body had melted into the rhythm, adjusting perfectly to your pace like they’d done this a thousand times, because they basically had. A quiet moan escaped Jude as you hit that spot inside him—the one that always made his toes curl—and his hand slid from your back up to tangle in your hair instead. Not pulling, just… holding on.
His arousal was obvious—chest flushed, lips parted with little gasps.
Jude’s gaze was locked onto yours—dark, unfocused with pleasure—as he watched the way your cock disappeared and reappeared inside him. The visual of it alone was filthy—the glisten of sweat on your skin, the rhythmic snap of hips meeting his body—and it sent heat straight to his core. He couldn’t look away. Every thrust made a soft sound between you two—the slap of skin, Jude’s hitched breaths.
His eyes can’t stop tracing every detail—hungry—as you move above him. The sharp V-line of your stomach, the faint trail of hair leading downward… all leading to that cock, thick and relentless as it hammered into him with increasing roughness. He loved this view. Loved how effortlessly strong you looked right now—muscles flexing with each thrust, sweat glistening on your shoulders—and how completely focused you were on pleasuring him. No teasing slowdowns anymore, just pure, unfiltered fucking that had Jude’s head spinning and his hips lifting instinctively to meet yours.
Jude’s curses were breathless—mumbled against his own shoulder or the pillow when they slipped out, too overwhelmed to care about volume. “Fuck—” Each one punched out between gasps as you got rougher, hips snapping harder now with that athlete’s strength. His nails raked lightly down your back— A reflex, his body craving more friction even while being completely dominated by your rhythm. The bed creaked softly beneath them… morning light still painting everything gold around their tangled bodies.
The rhythmic thud-thud of the headboard slamming against the wall echoed through the bedroom—each sharp impact syncing with your punishing pace. Jude barely noticed it over his own ragged breathing and moans.
The creaking wood blended into their sounds—the slap of skin, Jude’s bitten-off whimpers when a particularly deep thrust hit just right, your quiet grunts as you worked him open relentlessly.
Jude hated how effortlessly you could pin him—how one large hand easily trapped both of his wrists above his head, holding them there with zero struggle. It was infuriating… and hot as hell. Being smaller and leaner than you meant he’d never been manhandled like this by anyone else—no other guy had the strength or size to just… restrain him so completely during sex.
And right now? You weren't even trying, it came naturally—the way your fingers curled around his wrists, keeping them in place while your hips kept driving into him. No chance to squirm away if Jude wanted to.
Jude was already breathless, sweaty—his body thrumming with pleasure—but you showed no signs of slowing down. That fucking stamina. Your endurance wasn’t a joke. Just endless thrusts that made Jude’s thighs tremble slightly from the constant stimulation… his earlier frustration at being pinned long forgotten under waves of sensation.
Jude’s climax hit him like a freight train—sudden and overwhelming. One second he was gasping, body strung tight with pleasure… The next, his back arched slightly off the mattress as he came untouched, stripes of white landing messily across his stomach. His toes curled into the sheets, muscles tensed for a heartbeat before melting into blissful aftershocks. Pinned beneath your weight and strength? Yeah—that did it. The combination of being dominated physically and mentally pushed him over too fast. Now he just lay there dazed… catching his breath while you kept going above him.
The shift was immediate—you released Jude’s wrists, instead bracing your arms on either side of Jude’s head as you leaned down to kiss him. It wasn’t rough or demanding, it was loving. Soft lips meeting softly, a tender contrast to the brutal pace of your hips still hammering into him. Each deep thrust punched another moan out of Jude—his body overstimulated but not wanting it to stop. The kiss swallowed most of those sounds… just quiet whimpers against your mouth now. This relentless fucking wrapped in affection—the kind only they could balance like this.
The sensation of your teeth on his neck—gentle but possessive—sent a shiver through Jude just as he felt the hitch in your rhythm. Then came those last few deep, grinding thrusts… all the way in, holding there as you came with a low groan muffled against his skin. Jude gasped quietly at the sudden fullness—the warmth between them—as you stayed pressed together like that for a long moment.
The kiss was lazy now—soft, almost drowsy after the intensity of what just happened. You pressed your lips to Jude’s gently, a quiet “mhmm” humming against them before slowly pulling away.
Then you carefully withdrew, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid discomfort for either of them. The room was thick with the scent of sex and their mingled sweat—but neither seemed bothered by it. You rolled onto your side next to Jude…
“Let’s take a shower, starfish” you chuckled at Jude’s laying position after resting for a while. Jude cracked an eye open at the nickname—starfish—and scoffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. If anything, he found it kinda cute how you came up with weird pet names for him.
"Shower sounds good," Jude mumbled, stretching his arms above his head before sitting up slowly. His body ached pleasantly—the kind of soreness that reminded you of exactly what happened this morning.
You took the driver’s seat without question—Jude never drove anyway. He doesn't even have a license yet, his mom has always picked him up or Jude just relied on teammates or now, you for rides. The car ride was quiet but not tense—just the hum of the engine and Jude watching whatever on his phone. They pulled into Jude's neighborhood, familiar streets leading to his house… The place looked fancy as ever: manicured lawn, curtains in the windows slightly open like someone was peeking out. Jude swallowed hard. First time bringing a boyfriend here.
You noticed Jude’s glance—silent but asking for reassurance—and without a word, you leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. No pressure in it. Just warmth… something soft to ground him before facing his family. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before you pulled back, thumb brushing lightly over Jude’s cheekbone as if saying “you got this” without words. Then you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the car—rounding to open Jude's door for him like an automatic gesture by now.
The warm smell of breakfast hit them as soon as they stepped inside—Jude’s mom stood at the stove in a colorful headwrap and long apron, stirring a pot with focused energy. At the table sat Jobe—his younger brother, already scrolling on his phone while waiting for food. They both turned when Jude walked in… followed closely by you.
Jobe blinked once. Then twice. Oh. His eyes darted between them—the way Jude subtly leaned into your side—Jobe knew. His smirk widened—so obvious—and he muffled a snort into his palm when Jude glared at him.
Meanwhile, their mom turned around from the stove, wooden spoon in hand… and her face instantly lit up.
"Jude!" she exclaimed in that rich, warm voice of hers—all love and no hesitation as she immediately opened her arms for a hug.
You stayed where he was for half a second… suddenly aware this was the moment. First meeting his girlfriend's parents. Except… it wasn't just any girlfriend here, it was him.
Jude practically launched himself into his mom’s arms—hugging her tightly. She hugged him back just as fiercely, rocking slightly while squeezing him. The scent of spices and her floral perfume wrapped around them. Then she pulled back, cupping Jude's face with both hands to look at him properly—eyes soft but scanning for any changes.
Only then did she notice you standing nearby… quiet and respectful near the doorway. Her gaze shifted to you—and immediately softened even more.
Mrs. Bellingham didn’t hesitate—she pulled you into a hug just as warm and tight as the one she’d given Jude. Just motherly love extended to you like you were already family—which, in her mind, you basically were.
She squeezed you gently, patting your back twice before releasing you… then immediately cupped your face with both hands—studying it closely like she always did. You have grown into a handsome gentleman, not the same 10 years old kid carrying her Jude home after he hurted his ankle during a football match.
Jude took a deep breath—suddenly nervous despite knowing his family liked you.
They’d all known you for years, you’d come over for holidays, eaten meals at their table, even helped Jobe with homework. But now? The relationship status was officially boyfriend. So Jude cleared his throat slightly and said—calm but firm:
"Ma…uhm Y/N. He’s my boyfriend." The words hung in the air—just stating it plainly like that was how things were now…
Mrs. Bellingham’s eyebrows shot up, her spoon still hovering mid-air like she’d frozen in place.
"What?" she repeated—voice higher than usual with surprise. "When was this?" She turned fully toward them now, eyes darting between Jude and you as if expecting one of them to laugh and say “just kidding!” But no.
Meanwhile, Jobe bit his lip hard—trying not to grin like an idiot because this reaction from his mom was gold. His dad remained silent for a beat… just absorbing the news calmly from where he stood near the fridge.
Your voice was calm as you answered honestly.
"Last summer, Mrs. Bellingham."
His mom blinked rapidly, spoon now clutched in both hands as her brain recalculated. Last summer meant… they'd been dating for nearly a year without telling her?
Jude stepped forward immediately. "Mom… I’m sorry." he said, voice softer than usual—genuine regret lacing his words. "We didn’t mean to hide it from you guys… we just—we weren’t sure how you’d react."
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The truth was? They had talked about telling their parents eventually—but Jude had been nervous, worried about how conservative some relatives might be… so they waited. Now that silence felt heavy in hindsight.
Mrs. Bellingham turned off the stove with a quiet click, wiping her hands on her apron before exhaling slowly—like she was organizing her thoughts.
Then she spoke, calm but firm: "I’m not mad… just surprised." She looked between them again—not angry, not disappointed… more processing.
"Y’all have been friends for how long? And now you’re dating?" A small frown creased her brow—not in disapproval of you yourself she clearly adored you, but at the idea that they’d kept this from them for so long.
Your voice was steady—earnest and sincere as you spoke directly to Mrs. Bellingham, meeting her eyes without flinching.
"I love Jude genuinely, Mrs. Bellingham," you said, the weight of your words clear in every syllable. Then added: "And I promise… I’ll take care of him."
Mrs. Bellingham exhaled again—long and slow, like she was letting go of a mental image she’d carried for years. She had always pictured Jude bringing home a nice girl someday… someone who’d make him happy, who he could settle down with. A future daughter-in-law she could fuss over, teach recipes to… maybe even grandbabies eventually. Now? That vision shifted completely—but not in the way most people would expect. Her expression softened further as she studied you—the man her son loved so openly—and something clicked into place for her…
Mrs. Bellingham’s face softened completely—any lingering surprise melting into quiet acceptance.
“As long as Jude is happy, then I’m happy. You’re welcome here."
Then she smiled at them both… and declared:
"Breakfast is ready.”
Jude’s eyes widened slightly—genuinely surprised—as he watched his mom’s calm reaction and then casually announce breakfast like this was the most normal thing in the world. He’d braced for harsher questions. Maybe even mild disappointment or confusion from her… not instant acceptance.
But there she was: already turning back to the stove, plating food with that same loving focus she always had—now including you as part of their family meal without missing a beat. Jobe, meanwhile, smirked into his orange juice at Jude’s stunned expression. Yeah… Mom liked you. If it has to be a man, she’s glad it was you.
Now that she knew about their relationship, everything made sense: Why Jude relied on her less, How he’d suddenly started planning weekends away—always with you, The way his mood improved whenever his phone buzzed.
She studied Jude carefully over her tea cup… then asked gently: "So… how did this even start?”
Jude set his fork down, the sausage now tasting like cardboard in his mouth as he gathered his thoughts. It had been that one fight—the explosive argument after you announced you were leaving Real Madrid to join Manchester City. The tension between them had been unbearable… until it all snapped.
"We argued" Jude started, voice quieter than usual. "After Y/N said he’s leaving I lost it.” He glanced at you briefly—no anger there anymore, just history hanging in the air between bites of breakfast…
He swallowed hard. "It was during that time I… figured out that I liked him. Everything felt empty without him so I decided to confess. And Y/N said yes." he admitted quietly to you across the table—words he’d never said aloud until now…
Mrs. Bellingham took a sip of her tea, then—ever the master of subtle interrogation—shifted gears entirely with a new question.
"So," she began casually, setting her cup down "when are you two moving in together?"
Just straight to housing plans like it was the most obvious next step in their relationship. Jude nearly choked on his orange juice… while you blinked once, caught off guard by how quickly she’d jumped from emotions to logistics…
Jude cleared his throat, setting his glass down carefully.
"Uh… it’s complicated," he admitted with a slight shrug. "Y/N is in England now—Manchester City—and I’m still here with Real Madrid." The distance wasn’t something they could ignore: time zones, busy schedules, only seeing each other during breaks or quick flights between matches. He glanced at you briefly—both of them knew long-distance wasn't ideal… but they also weren’t ready to end things just because of geography yet…
Mrs. Bellingham’s face brightened immediately—like Christmas had come early after you explained your plan.
Oh. So they were planning to be together long-term after all. She smiled, a real one this time, and took another sip of her tea as you explained your plan: finishing your Manchester City contract before potentially returning to Spain… possibly joining Real Madrid again if the opportunity arose.
Jobe whistled under his breath at that level of commitment…
Mr. Bellingham—who had been quietly observing this whole conversation from the head of the table—finally spoke up, his deep voice calm but laced with genuine curiosity.
"Wait," he said, setting down his fork. "You’re really considering leaving Man City… for him?" He studied you carefully—not skeptically, just trying to understand how serious that commitment was. Giving up a top club like Manchester City wasn’t something athletes did lightly… unless their partner meant everything.
You didn’t even pause. "Yes, sir." You answered immediately—voice firm, eyes steady on Mr. Bellingham’s without a single flicker of doubt. Just absolute certainty that yes, you would give up your current club if it meant being with Jude full-time… career implications be damned. The room went quiet for a beat—even Jobe stopped chewing his toast to watch the exchange…
Mr. Bellingham leaned back slightly, still studying you like a puzzle he was trying to solve—but now with a glint of respect forming in his gaze.
"Alright," he said after another sip of coffee. "So if you move back… where would you two live?" No beating around the bush—he wanted details about how this actually played out logistically…
You answered calmly, keeping your tone respectful but confident. "I’m planning to buy a house here in Madrid, sir." you said—already having researched properties discreetly for months now.
Mrs. Bellingham suddenly clapped her hands together—excited—like she’d just mentally decorated the entire estate already.
"Oh! A house here in Madrid?" She glanced at Jude, eyes sparkling with approval. "That’s perfect." No more long-distance calls. No more counting hours until they could see each other again. Just… home. Together.
Jobe kicked Jude under the table subtly—grinning like an idiot because his brother had bagged someone serious. A silent “You got a whole man who would buy you a house. Congrats” in his teasing gaze.
Jude shot Jobe a half-hearted glare—stop grinning like that—but he couldn’t deny the truth in it.
You were a full package: loyal, devoted, strong… and now willing to uproot your entire career for him? That wasn’t just luck—that was love. His chest warmed at the thought. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bellingham kept smiling to herself while clearing plates—already imagining Sunday dinners with them both living nearby…
After breakfast, you stood up—insisting on helping Jude’s mother with the dishes.
You rolled up your sleeves and started washing plates at the sink while chatting with Mr. Bellingham the local farms in Norway—the simplicity of it, early mornings milking cows, how hard work was just part of life. Mrs. Bellingham listened eagerly from her chair… then perked up when you mentioned cooking.
"Oh! You cook too?" she asked warmly.
“Yes ma’am. I’m a fast learner” you say with a faint smile.
Mrs. Bellingham’s eyebrows shot up. "Wow" she breathed out—genuinely impressed by how versatile you were. Meanwhile, Jude smirked into his cup… remembering all those times you had surprised him with homemade meals even though you two were very busy training.
You flashed that charming smile—the one—soft and genuine as you turned slightly toward Mrs. Bellingham, still drying your hands on a towel.
"I'll take care of dinner tonight, if you let me." You offered… not in a boastful way, but like someone genuinely wanting to contribute.
Mr. Bellingham gave him an approving nod, any man who offered to help with meals was already winning points…
The living room buzzed with life—Jude’s cousins, both older and younger than him had arrived, along with his nephew, a hyperactive 5-year-old who immediately latched onto Jobe. Laughing kids ran around while the adults chatted in clusters: Jude's aunts gossiping over tea, uncles debating football… and you still comfortably holding court with Mr. Bellingham about agriculture.
Meanwhile, Jude sat on the couch sandwiched between two cousins—one teasing him about finally bringing a boyfriend home after years of being single…
The little nephew plopped himself right onto Jude’s lap like it was his royal throne, tiny legs swinging as he munched on a cookie. Meanwhile, the cousins bombarded Jude with rapid-fire questions—way too excited about his new relationship status:
"Is Y/N really that tall?"
"How did you two get together?"
"Do you guys kiss all the time now? Eww!" one cousin teased dramatically. Jude chuckled at their nosiness… but answered patiently between sips of iced water while balancing the kid in his arms…
Jude watched the chaos around him—the laughter, the sibling bickering, his little nephew now trying to touch his hair—with quiet warmth. Even though he was dating a man… this? A big, loving family with kids running around someday? That future still felt right to him. He’d always imagined having children one day—maybe not through traditional means—adoption or surrogacy, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was love… and building something like this.
His gaze flickered toward you across the room for just a second—imagining it all together…
You moved calmly through the buzzling market, thinking of what to cook while two little voices bombarded him with endless chatter—Jude’s cousins insisted on going to the market to shop for ingredients with the two.
"Can we get those chips?"
"Why are you buying so many onions?"
"Is that for cooking? You’re gonna cook dinner? Cool!"
They bounced around your legs like hyperactive puppies, occasionally grabbing items from the rack randomly—only to be gently redirected by Jude.
You balanced the grocery bags effortlessly in two hands—strong from years of training and carrying equipment—but still made space for Jude. Without a word, you stuck out your pinkie, for Jude’s hand to hold… which they did naturally, fingers linking as they walked through the parking lot. Then—because he couldn’t help it—Jude leaned down and kissed you quickly on the lips right there.
The cousins gagged dramatically:
"EWWWW! GROSS! GET A ROOM UNC!!!" they yelled, waving their tiny hands.
Jude shot his cousins a playful glare, still holding your single free finger.
"One day you will have someone you kiss all the time," Jude said matter-of-factly—like it was an inevitable law of life. "So get used to it now." The kids scrunched their noses in protest but didn’t argue further…you chuckled under your breath at Jude’s parenting skills—effortlessly shutting down their dramatics with logic…
Jude let out a soft, content hum—warm breath brushing against your neck as his hands wandered under the fabric of your shirt, fingertips tracing lazy patterns over toned abs. He was perfectly happy like this: holding you from behind while watching you cook with that focused intensity… the way muscles flexed in your arms as you stirred pots.
Without thinking, Jude murmured against you:
"You look really sexy doing domestic stuff." The compliment slipped out naturally—genuine admiration laced in every word….
Mrs. Bellingham observed them from the kitchen doorway… and her expression softened into something tender and happy. Not just because of their relationship—but how right it felt seeing them together like this…
The dining room filled with the sound of chairs scraping and lively chatter as fifteen people—Jude’s entire extended family—settled around the long table. Aunts, uncles, cousins young and old… sitting at the head with a proud smile. The aroma of your cooking had everyone eager. Mrs. Bellingham took her seat beside Mr. Bellingham while Jobe plopped down next to his giggling cousins—the ones who’d called Jude and you "gross" earlier for kissing now eyeing their plates hungrily….
"When’s the wedding?" one aunt joked, grinning into her wine glass.
"Yeah! You two look like you’ve been married for years already." another added.
An aunt leaned over and squeezed Mrs. Bellingham’s arm:
"Y/N? He cooks like this? Ohhh he’s a keeper."
Jude smirked but didn’t deny any of it—his hand resting casually on your thigh under the table…
Mrs. Bellingham shot the aunt a light huff—half-laughing, half-defensive—as she waved her hand dismissively.
"Don’t pressure the kids!" she said warmly but firmly, shaking her head like calm down! She knew they were just excited… but marriage wasn't even on tonight's agenda, though you cooking this well definitely didn't hurt your case.
When it was time to leave, Jude stood up and gave his mom a quick hug—"I’ll be back tomorrow, just have some business to handle." He said smoothly, not a lie…serious business with…you. Mrs. Bellingham raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him, just kissing his cheek before shooing them off.
You grabbed the car keys without a word—used to Jude’s impulsive decisions—and followed as Jude gently tugged you toward the front door by their linked hands…
You paused with the car door open, turning to Jude—genuine question in your eyes.
"Why? We can stay if you want." You said softly, not assuming anything. Maybe Jude had other plans… maybe he just wanted to get away from family for a bit…
Jude didn’t answer with words—just that sly smirk you knew too well.
"You know exactly why." He said. Jude leaned in and kissed you right there by the car—quick but heated—a silent promise of what was coming once they got to the hotel. Then he pulled back just enough to slide into the passenger seat… leaving you standing there for a second, processing how obvious Jude’s intentions were…
The second you parked the car, Jude was out of the passenger seat—eager. He grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the hotel entrance, practically speed-walking like he couldn’t wait another second. You laughed under your breath at Jude's impatience but matched his energy… both of them brushing past late-night guests in the lobby without breaking stride…
The second the hotel room door clicked shut, Jude crashed into you—lips meeting in a hungry kiss as his hands immediately went to work—fingers fumbling with your belt buckle while their mouths moved together messily, breaths mingling in the small space between them. You let out a quiet sound against Jude’s lips—half-laugh, half-moan—as they backed toward the nearest wall without breaking contact…
Jude crowding you, all urgency and possessive gratitude. The belt clattered to the floor, forgotten. Zippers came next—Jude undoing your pants with quick fingers, his own breathing uneven. Every second of you cooking for his family today… serving them perfectly… had Jude wired. He didn’t care if you were tired. This wasn't about fatigue. It was about reward—about showing appreciation in the most intimate way possible…
Jude’s teeth scraped lightly over your neck—claiming, marking you up without hesitation—as he pushed the fabric of your pants down past your hips. Each nip and kiss was deliberate, a mix of affection and appreciation. A reward for the hours you spent cooking, for being so damn perfect with Jude’s family today… No words beyond that whispered "This is a reward." before Jude sealed their mouths together again—hungry, insistent…
Your faint smirk stayed in place as Jude dropped to his knees without hesitation—determined. The cool air hit your skin briefly before Jude tugged your boxers down, revealing everything beneath. No further teasing buildup, just Jude looking up at him with dark, focused eyes… like this was the only thing he wanted right now.
Jude’s expression was painfully open—eyes full of love, no teasing left in them. Just pure, overwhelming adoration as he gazed up at you from his knees. There was no hiding it. Jude leaned forward and pressed an achingly tender kiss… right where it mattered most.
Your breath hitched—sharp—as Jude dragged a slow, searing lick up your length, the heat of it making your hips twitch instinctively. Then came those soft kisses—teasingly light at first… testing… before growing bolder with each press of Jude’s lips.
Jude’s tongue curled around the sensitive tip, swirling with deliberate precision—before his teeth gently grazed it. A teasing nibble. Not enough to hurt… just enough to send a jolt straight through your nerves, making your fingers around his cheeks shiver. You just put it there.
Jude hummed quietly at the reaction—loving how responsive you were tonight…
Your mutter came out strained—”God, Jude—” as that soft, kitten-lick brush of his tongue sent another wave of pleasure through you. Then Jude took you properly into his mouth… warm, wet and perfect, the suction just right. A broken groan escaped you this time, feeling a burn coil at your stomach as you braced one hand against the wall to stay upright…
Your breath came unevenly—by the sight of Jude on his knees, moving with quiet devotion. Every bob of Jude’s head sent heat coiling low in your stomach… the warmth, the wetness, Jude's throat fluttering around your cock—it was intoxicating.
The sensation hit Jude’s throat—just the tip brushing there—and for a second, his reflexes kicked in with a small gag. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he swallowed around it, forcing himself to relax as his lips stayed sealed tight… determined to keep going despite the brief discomfort. You felt every flutter of Jude’s throat around your length—the effort and devotion in it making your pulse spike…
Your moan slipped out—low and rough—as Jude’s throat flexed around you again, the tight heat overwhelming for a split second before Jude pulled back just enough to reset. Then he dove right back in, rhythm steady now—bobbing his head with focused enthusiasm, taking you deeper each time like he was on a mission. Just pure dedication to making this good.
Your moan spilled out louder this time—”Oh fuck—Jude!” as those strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place. Just Jude controlling the pace, making sure you felt every second of this slow burn… even though the pleasure was building too fast, too intense—threatening to tip you over the edge already…
Your breath hitched—gasped—when Jude’s nose brushed against your skin, taking your cock all the way in each bob, that tiny sensory spark tipping you over the edge. A shuddering climax ripped through you, waves of pleasure crashing in seconds as you came right then… still braced against the wall with Jude between your legs.
Jude kept moving—gentle, rhythmic bobs of his head even after you had come—milking every last pulse of pleasure from you. Just tenderness… letting you ride it out fully while Jude kissed and nuzzled along your thighs afterward like a kitten, easing the intensity down gradually.
Jude swallowed without a single grimace—cleaning up completely like it was nothing—before pressing soft, lingering kisses to your muscular thighs. The gestures were soothing… grounding. A way to calm you down after the intensity, his lips brushing over warm skin in quiet affection.
Jude stood slowly, still warm from being on his knees—and without hesitation, he kissed you deeply. It was a slow, sweet kiss… letting you taste yourself on Jude’s tongue—hint of salty, mildly sweet and intimate and undeniably them.
Jude studied your dazed expression—the slightly glazed eyes, the soft exhale still lingering from his lips—and smirked. Adorable. He couldn’t help it. Reaching up, Jude brushed a thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in to kiss you again—softer this time… almost playful after all that intensity…
Jude’s eyes flicked toward the bed—subtle, but loaded—before sliding back to you with a look that was pure mischief. Jude stepped closer, hands already reaching for your waist to guide you backward… That gaze said everything:
link is flushed all the way up to his ears when you tug him down onto the bed with you, his hair sticking to his cheek from the sweat he’s worked up earlier. he looks like he’s waiting for you to say something, like he’s bracing for a demand, but you just pat your thigh and pull him close.
he’s already hard when you slide his trousers off — thin and twitchy, a soft pinkish tip that’s leaking more than he probably realises. not huge, not intimidating, just…him. perfect in a way that makes your mouth water because it fits you so well every single time. it’s the kind of cock you can get addicted to, small enough to press deep without hurting, but stiff enough to make your toes curl when he moves just right.
but tonight, you don’t want him to move at all.
you guide him in, slow, sinking down onto him until you feel the weight of him snug inside you. link’s jaw goes slack, a sound spilling from his lips that he tries to swallow down, and you shush him with a hand on his chest. he’s so warm inside, filling you in a way that makes your belly thrum with need, but instead of riding him like he expects, you just stay there, shifting until he’s seated all the way.
his eyes fly open, blue and panicked. “y-you’re not—?”
“shh,” you murmur, stroking over his ribs. “just wanna keep you in me. nice and full.”
the poor boy trembles. his cock twitches inside, leaking, every throb making your walls flutter around him. he’s sensitive, always so sensitive, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to buck his hips.
you nuzzle into his neck, lips brushing his pulse. “you feel so good, link. small and perfect, keeping me stretched juust right.”
he whines at that, biting down on his lip. your cunt clenches around him lazily, not even fucking, just holding. your warmth swallows him whole, sticky and tight, and his hands fist the sheets because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
time stretches out like this — link buried inside, his cock twitching helplessly while you breathe against his throat, your thighs hooked around his hips to keep him caged. the intimacy of it has him melting, shaking from restraint, little gasps slipping out every time you squeeze around him without warning.
“you like being my plug, hm?” you tease quietly, voice soft and mocking all at once. “just sitting here, letting me keep you inside like this.”
his whimper is muffled against your hair, but his cock gives you the answer for him. he loves it. loves being used like this, even if it’s just to keep you full and satisfied.
and gods, the longer you stay stuffed with him, the more your body hums with a lazy heat — like his small, pink cock was meant to be in you forever.
could you pleaseeee do one where reader uses his tie as a leash and makes him crawl whilst naked 😖😖😖 SORRY
a/n: YES YES YESSS
I'LL FOLLOW YOU
warnings: gn!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!nanami, light choking, pet play, subspace, pet names, light handjob
nanami kento was a simple man. he grew tired from always being strong and in control during his day work, leading him to crave someone taking control. it helped him relax when someone was making all the decisions for him. when someone was telling him what to do and taking control of his very being, he let his brain turn off.
right now, he was kneeling on the floor beside your desk, his head leaning against your thigh as he stared off into nothing. not thinking, not staring at anything in particular, nanami was just sitting there naked, on a cushion for his legs. your hand absentmindedly pet his hair, carding your fingers through it as you finished filling out some paperwork from a recent mission.
every now and then, your eyes would flicker back down at your handsome darling, at the way his yellow and black-dotted tie sat snuggly around his neck. a leash for your sweet puppy. he was such a smart man, but like this, he'd be dumber than bricks without your guidance.
"do you want to go to bed, darling?" you asked, sliding whatever was left of the paperwork away. it could wait another night. right now, you had better things to take care of. your hand slid down to the side of his face gently as you awaited his reply, carefully removing his glasses from his face to let him slide further into his space of dependancy on you.
"kentooo..." you cooed softly when he didn’t reply after a beat, gently urging him to look up at you with those glazed over, foggy eyes. when those brown orbs did land on you, he exhaled through his nose, relaxing more like the reminder you were there helped him. "hi darling. you ready to go to bed?"
the man kneeling at your feet nodded at you, blinking slowly with his lips slightly parted. he sat up straighter as you stood up from your chair, no longer using your thighs as a pillow. instead, you stepped around to his side, taking the end of his tie in your hand.
"come on, puppy. let's go to bed." you tell him, your voice a soft, soothing bandaid on all of his day's stresses. he slowly moves onto all fours, his knees sliding off the cushion as he begins to crawl, following your steps as you hold his leash loosely in your fist.
nanami, arches his back slightly--even though you're not looking--for the sole reason that even in his foggy mind, he knows you like it. he knows you like seeing his bare body, all yours, positioned like your little pet that he was more than happy to be. he knows how you like watching him crawl with his legs a little more spread than they should be.
the sorcerer also knows he loves the feeling of you guiding him on something as simple as where to go in his own house, that he equally knows the layout of. the way you glance back at him with a loving smile, kissing the air at him before turning back to watching where you're going, your hand pulling his leash ever so slightly to bring him closer to you, makes him nearly melt on the spot. one day, he would dissolve into a puddle of your affections and his adoration for you. he knew it in his soul.
as you entered your bedroom, your hand wrapped tighter around his tie, cutting off his air supply ever so slightly - enough to make his breath hitch and come out a little ragged. you pull a little tighter, making him choke quietly before looking up at you with watery, teary eyes. his gaze is blurry from his glasses being gone, but he can still see your eyes roaming his body, gaging his reaction.
when he whimpers softly, you tighten it more just for a second before loosening his tie again. giving him a head rush you know he loves.
"up here, puppy." she ordered softly, patting the bed and moving a hand to his ass to help him climb up. even on the bed, nanami doesn't lay down until you do first. he sits there, his legs curled beneath him and his hands on the pillow, watching you round the bed to your side. his eyes don’t leave you for a second even as you sit down. when you do lay down, you pull his leash gently to urge him down on top of you - which he easily complies to.
your hand loosely wraps around his half-hard dick, making him whine softly and cuddle closer into your side. you can feel how shivers wrack up his body and pull the blanket over the two of you with your free hand.
"shhh, my sweet darling. i'll take care of you. you behaved so well today." you praise, even though nanami was always incredibly obedient. you'd think it would kill him to go against something you wanted him to do. your hand gently moved up and down his dick, caressing it and gliding your thumb over the tip as it swelled to full hardness, leaking small beads of pre-cum.
"thank you." he whispers against your neck, always so utterly grateful for your care, your attention, and your touches. you were the only one who knew how to properly take care of him, he was sure of it.
your free hand wrapped around his tie again, pulling him closer for you to push your lips against his. the motion succeeded in silencing his thoughts and, in turn, making him cuddle closer against you like a needy puppy instead of the big, strong, smart, sorcerer he was.
what would he do without you there to take care of him?
a/n: i hope you enjoyed!! feel free to request again if it wasn't your cup of tea :) what a high it is to get requests. (p.s. what do we think about the dividers? 🤔)
HEY! DID YOU ENJOY THAT? CONSIDER LEAVING ME A TIP! :) IT HELPS THIS BLOG STAY RUNNING AND PUSHES ME TO WRITE MORE TO FEED ALLLLL YOUR FICTIONAL FANTASIES <3
Hey Ken!! Milf reader x inexperienced Bucky please 👉🏻👈🏻
You’d noticed him the moment he moved into the apartment across the hall.
James Barnes. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a metal arm he kept tucked under long sleeves and a haunted look that made your chest ache. The building’s resident war hero, back from whatever fresh hell the government had put him through.
He was polite—painfully so. Always nodding when you passed in the hallway, murmuring a quiet “ma’am” that made you feel all of your years in the best possible way.
You were the divorced mom down the hall who spent weekends alone. A body that had softened, filled out, grown into itself—and a confidence that came with it.
Tonight, the power had gone out in the middle of a brutal summer storm.
Your place was the only one with a working generator hookup, so you knocked on his door with a flashlight in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
“Hey,” you said when he opened it, leaning against the frame in a thin tank top and cotton shorts. “You’re welcome to wait it out here. No sense sitting alone in the dark.”
Bucky hesitated, cheeks flushing under the stubble, but he followed you inside like a lost puppy.
Now the storm raged outside while candlelight flickered across your living room.
You sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, watching him. He perched on the edge of the armchair like he might bolt any second, metal fingers drumming against his thigh.
“You keep looking at me like I’m gonna bite,” you teased, sipping your drink.
His eyes flicked up, wide and uncertain. “You’re… you’re real pretty, is all. And I haven’t— I mean, it’s been a long time since I…”
Since he’d been with anyone.
You set your glass down and patted the space beside you.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
He obeyed immediately.
The couch dipped under his weight, heat radiating off him, rain clinging to his skin. You could smell it—clean, storm-soaked, mixed with something distinctly him.
You reached up slowly, giving him time to pull away, and cupped his jaw.
“Ever been with a woman who knows what she wants, Bucky?” you asked softly.
He shook his head, breath catching. “Not… not like this.”
“Good.”
Your smile was slow. Warm.
“Then let me show you.”
The kiss started soft. Just a press of lips.
He made a quiet, surprised sound, then melted.
His mouth opened under yours like he’d been starving for it, his hand coming to your waist, tentative at first, then firmer as you deepened the kiss. You guided him easily, letting him follow your lead, his shy little responses sending heat pooling low in your belly.
When you pulled back, his lips were swollen, his pupils blown wide.
“Bedroom?” you whispered.
He nodded so fast it almost made you laugh.
You took his hand and led him down the hall.
Your room glowed gold in candlelight.
You turned and pulled your tank top over your head.
His breath hitched.
Your breasts spilled free, heavy and soft, nipples already tightening in the cool air—and under the weight of his stare.
“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, like you were something sacred.
“Touch me,” you said.
His hands shook as they came up to cup you, thumbs brushing over your nipples with reverent care. You arched into him with a soft moan, and that was what broke him.
He dropped his head, mouth finding your neck, then lower—kissing, mouthing, until he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked.
You threaded your fingers into his hair, holding him there.
“That’s it, baby… just like that.”
He groaned against your skin, the vibration shooting straight between your legs.
You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants—thick, insistent against your thigh. Your hand dropped to palm him, and he jolted, hips jerking forward with a broken sound.
“Easy,” you murmured, stroking him slow. “We’ve got all night.”
You undressed him piece by piece, kissing every inch you revealed—scarred shoulder, metal plates, soft skin, the trail of hair leading down.
When his cock sprang free—heavy, flushed, already leaking—you exhaled softly.
“So pretty.”
You dropped to your knees.
“Wait— you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you said simply, looking up at him. “Let me.”
The first swipe of your tongue had him swearing under his breath—something that sounded like Russian.
You took him deeper, working him slow and steady, hollowing your cheeks, your hand cupping his balls. His thighs trembled, metal hand hovering near your head, not touching—like he didn’t trust himself to.
“Ma’am— fuck— I’m gonna—”
You pulled off with a soft pop.
“Not yet,” you said, standing. “On the bed, soldier.”
He went instantly.
You climbed over him, straddling his hips, your shorts and panties gone in one smooth motion.
You were soaked.
Achy.
And the way he looked at you—spread over him, open, dripping—made your clit throb.
You took his cock in your hand and dragged it through your folds, teasing yourself, teasing him, until you were both breathing hard.
“Ready?” you asked.
“Please,” he said immediately.
You sank down slowly.
Every inch.
The stretch was perfect—full, deep, exactly what you needed. You both moaned when you bottomed out, hips meeting his.
You stayed there a moment, letting him feel it—how warm you were, how tight, how you clenched around him.
Then you started to move.
Slow at first. Rolling your hips, grinding down so your clit dragged against him.
His head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping your thighs hard.
“Look at me, baby.”
He did.
Glass-eyed. Wrecked already.
You picked up the pace, riding him harder, the wet sound of skin filling the room, louder than the storm outside.
“You feel so good,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. “Filling me up so well.”
His entire body reacted.
Cock twitching hard inside you, a broken sound tearing from his throat.
“I've got you,” you whispered, rolling your hips in tight circles. “You’re doing so good for me. Such a sweet, needy boy.”
That was it.
He came with a shout, hips bucking, warmth flooding you in hot pulses.
You followed right after, clenching around him, riding it out until your body gave out and you collapsed onto his chest.
For a long moment, there was nothing but breathing. And rain.
Then his arms wrapped around you—tight. Careful. Like you might disappear.
“That was…” he exhaled shakily. “I’ve never…”
You kissed his jaw, smiling against his skin.
“We’re just getting started, sweetheart.”
His cheeks flushed.
“Next time,” you added softly, “I’ll teach you how to use that mouth.”
He huffed out a quiet, nervous laugh.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Outside, the storm began to fade.
Inside, candlelight flickered over tangled sheets and soft skin.
And Bucky Barnes—former assassin, war hero, haunted man—curled into you like he’d finally found something safe.
Something warm.
Something his.
And you?
You stroked his hair, holding him close, and let yourself enjoy being exactly what he needed.
You woke to the feel of the house vibrating from the door being slammed. Not quite but enough to jolt you awake. It was eight in the morning. The usual time you would wake up on a Sunday morning—but not from the sound of a slamming door and some grunting.
Quickly, you slipped on some warmer clothes and went out into the living room. The cold floor against your feet sending chills through your body. It was dark with the curtains on every window blocking out most of the sun, creating an even colder atmosphere. The first thing that caught your eye though was Remmick’s figure towering over the sink in the kitchen. He turned around hastily once he heard your footsteps. “Oh, good morning. Sorry to wake ye.” His voice softened, like he was trying to coat it from sounding harsh.
You meandered over to the curtains, opening them enough to get some light inside. Taking a seat at the table in the middle of the kitchen, and rubbing your face a bit—still trying to wake up. “This is when I get up anyway,” your voice gentle but still laced with some annoyance. Remmick walked over behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them softly. You put your hand on his and dismissingly patted it twice before getting up, “I need to get ready.”
Remmick groaned in frustration as you disappeared down the hallway and into your room. While you opened the creaky drawer your mind wandered to how you got here to begin with. The night you ran into Remmick, the frightened feeling and his mischievous grin like he knew exactly where this would end up.
It took him a while to persuade you to keep him as your own in your house but eventually his begging got somewhat insufferable so you let him. You tried to hate it but there’s something about his charming demeanor that sort of captivates you. Maybe he just likes to play nice but either way you don’t let yourself get attached to him or anything.
He always claims you were his savior that night which you believe to be a bunch of nonsense but even as much as you try to make yourself be against him, you can’t. Sometimes his company isn’t so bad. Kind of like a guilty pleasure of yours, especially considering you’re going against the church and the town people’s beliefs about him.
But he’s actually quite harmless. Towards you at least. No one else would believe that, so he’s your little secret. And you put on a persona that tells him you’re unbreakable and you have control of yourself but in all honesty, you know you’d crumble to the ground at his knees if he really asked you to.
You finished getting ready, running your hands over the material of your dress as you pierced a look in the mirror before leaving the room. Walking out and back into the living room area, you found Remmick now draped over the couch. A bit sprawled out. Not paying any mind, you grabbed your things and went straight towards the door.
“I’m off, be back la—” you’re suddenly cut off by Remmick’s voice. “Oi, c’mere.” He declares. Letting out a sigh, you tread over to him. Taking your hand without permission nor second thought, he kisses it gently. “Be good,” he said sternly with a slight grin. Pulling away, you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes even though you wanted to. “You’re the one that needs to be good. Don’t get any bright ideas while I’m gone, mister.”
“Yes ma’am,” Remmick says in a mockingly sarcastic tone. You couldn’t help but crack a small smile as you squinted your eyes, turning around and leaving without a trace or any last words.
Church wasn’t any different. Same old, same old. It felt like any regular Sunday. The pastor would speak, you’d all pray, the pastor would speak a bit more and that was that. But there was something that was different about today. It didn’t feel as refreshing as usual. Like there was something missing. You tried to not let it get to you though.
Once arriving back home, you open the door. Remmick was nowhere to be found at first sight. Putting down your stuff, you got yourself some water. Taking a sip and by the time you turned around Remmick finally spawned out of thin air, your body jumping a little. He didn’t speak.
“Where were you?” You asked bluntly. “Yer room,” he responded plainly. Like he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Your brows furrowed by nature, “What were you doing in there?” Remmick looked up at the ceiling, scratching at the stubble of his beard. “Nothin’. Just scoping,” his voice sincere sounding as he moseyed over to the couch and sat down as if he didn’t have anything to admit to.
It was a little strange but that was Remmick’s whole thing anyway so you didn’t question any further. “I’m going to change,” you said without expecting a response, gathering your things and fading into your room once again. Nothing seemed to be moved or touched. Maybe he really was just looking around. Nothing else.
After changing into something more neutral, you went back into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, the cold air hit your skin, sending a shiver through you. The orange juice was getting low and you were out of eggs. Groaning, you closed the refrigerator. You happened to not be the only one groaning though.
Turning around, you see Remmick sitting on the couch like before but he’s now got his head leaned all the way back and his hands are antsy. You can’t figure out what’s going on until your eyes catch the bulge in his pants. You gasp to yourself, not loud enough for him to hear. Like it might get you in trouble. The last thing you want is to draw attention towards him and the fact you noticed.
One thing that’s never happened between you and Remmick is anything sexual. It’s hard to believe but it’s true. You always kept a strict rule that just because he was lounging around in your place didn’t mean he got permission to bring his hornyness into all of it. Sometimes he’d jokingly ask but even if you denied he’d let it go.
The prompt outline of his pulsating dick though was hard to not stare at. Keeping your cool, you stepped a little closer in his direction. “I might go out to get some things for breakfast.” Your voice was clear, but your eyes kept wandering as much as you tried not to. Remmick groaned a little quieter than before, his eyes keeping their distance from yours. “Alright, sounds good.” His voice hoarsely let out, sounding almost out of breath.
To keep yourself from staring any longer, you quickly rushed yourself out of the room. But before you could get away just yet, Remmick’s voice could be heard as he croaked a yelp of “Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, hoping he wouldn’t mention what you thought he might. Stepping backward, Remmick came into vision again but he was finally looking at you.
His eyes desperate. Droplets of sweat on the side of his face as strands of hair stuck to his forehead. Fangs partially in view from his mouth being agape. Chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon. And his dick begging to be dealt with.
You swallowed thickly, sweat forming on your palms. The room grew small, becoming hotter as you stepped forward. Never did Remmick ever make you feel as riled up as he did right now. Like you’re some wild animal who doesn’t know how to handle themselves.
“C’mere,” Remmick urged. Moving closer, he groaned lowly, “Sit.” His voice demanded. Taking a seat right next to him, you kept your eyes on him, trying to attend to what he was wanting. Remmick groaned lowly again. “Here.” he said, patting the middle of his lap. Your eyes widened. “Remmick, what is th—” you began. “Please,” he pleaded, cutting you off in the process.
You were hesitant but you did as he said. Getting up and sitting on his lap—facing away from him—he whimpered loudly. The bulge now pressed against your clothes core, you stopped yourself from letting out any sounds you’d regret. Remmick shuffled a bit under you as his hands found your hips. His chest suddenly got close, hovering close to your back. His hands sneaking further, locking around your waist to pull you closer. Your back now fully touching his chest.
Remmick got his face real close to yours, his mouth inching away from your neck. Inhaling the scent of your body, he worked his way up to your ear. “Ye ain’t never been so quick to do somethin’ like that.” He murmurs low and intimidating. “Think I know what it is,” one of his hands lifting the cross necklace from your skin as the other stays wrapped around your waist. His finger grazing the warm metal. “It ain’t workin’ no more,” he says. “But I know what will.”
You feel his cock twitch, a large gasp leaving your throat like you just had the wind knocked out of your lungs. Remmick got a firm grip on your hips again, beginning to grind you onto him. You moaned without thinking, his dick rutting harder into your clothed core.
Slowly, he slipped his hand underneath your shorts along with your panties. “I knew since the day ye came across me in those woods,” he whispered. His fingers rubbing gently on your clit. “Since ye gave me the opportunity to stay here.. with ye.”
You closed your eyes, trying to focus your mind on something else but the rutting of his dick, his fingers and his condescending words made it hard to. And he didn’t stop there. He kept traveling further down towards your heat, teasing the area. “Already so wet f’me,” he muttered.
“Wanna know what I was really doin’ in ye room love?” he murmurs unrighteously. You squirm, letting out a weak whiny “yes.” Remmick continued to tease further as he spoke, “I was fondling your panties against my dick. That’s what got me so worked up.” You let out a loud whimper, your thighs squeezing around his fingers. “That’s turnin’ ye on baby? I didn’t know ye were so filthy.”
Remmick’s voice thickened, “So now just admit it, sweetheart. We both know it’s true,” he exhorted as you whined. The friction between his cock and your core combined with his fingers becoming more powerful. Finally, you gasped, “Okay!” Remmick hummed lowly, brushing the hair by your neck out of the way. “Okay what, love? Gotta give me more than that.” He said corruptly, jerking his pelvis into you. You winced at the contact, becoming weaker by the second.
“It’s true,” you let out, your head falling backwards onto his shoulder. Swallowing hard, trying to coat your parched mouth. Remmick slips two of his fingers in, earning an audible moan from you as you arched your back. He lets his thumb rub your bud as his middle and ring finger work at you. “Atta girl. Knew ye had it in ye,” he praises as you fall apart underneath him.
“I’ll treat ye to somethin’ even better,” he says. You give a small hum in response, unable to speak. “Use yer words darlin’. It’s all yers if ye ask.” You whine, building up the ability to say anything. “What’s that?” Remmick grins sinfully. “Sit on my face,” he says immorally. Your breath hitches, the words catching you by complete surprise.
“..okay,” you say unsurely. Remmick pulls his hand out from your panties, the loss of contact making you moan softly. You weakly rotate yourself so you’re now facing Remmick. He slides downward a bit, his head now against the bottom of the cushion of the couch, helping him get a better angle.
You frailly crawl towards his face, your center finally hovering just above his mouth. His hot breath grazing your clit as he doesn’t waste another second before diving in, licking and suckling at the bundle of nerves like he’s been starving for it. You throw your head back as your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping gently at the locks. A rhythm begins before you, thrusting your hips deeper into his wet mouth.
“Just as sweet as I’d thought it’d be,” Remmick mutters underneath the musk of your slick. He keeps one hand steady on your thigh as he holds you down while his other hand maneuvers towards his still erect cock. Pulling it out from his boxers, the cold air hitting his reddened tip. He groans deeply as he begins to stroke himself, the vibrations from his mouth sending a buzzing sensation. You start to feel that knot twisting inside.
His mouth continues to work at you like a man starved as he strokes harder. You feel as you become closer and closer, the unraveling about to occur. “Rem..” you breathe. “I’m close.. so close,”
Remmick doesn’t stop, instead speeding up as his strokes match the pace. You can feel him groaning underneath you, driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck.. don’t stop!” You yell. Grinding against his face right as the knot in your stomach snaps and Remmick lets out one final groan, both of you finishing at the same time.
Slowly, you ride out the wave of your high as Remmick licks gently at your core, collecting anything spilling out of you. He lifts you up from his face with ease as he slides himself upward all in one. Both of you are sweaty and panting. Your eyes low with exhaustion, head falling forward against Remmick’s chest. He brushes your hair away from your face and mouth.
“That can’t ever happen again,” you say not very convincingly. Remmick grins, snickering to himself as he fondles your hair. “Wouldn’t hurt though,” he jokes. You smile tiredly against his chest. Remmick softly kisses your head, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I have a request idk if you're doing them right now or not, so if you forget I said anything, I really, really need Subby Fuma in my life, and I know I could write it myself, but I think you would write it so much better than me. Also, how are you doing, babes
veeeee!!!! :D hiiii ahehe I’m doing well~ and I’m ALWAYS taking requests idc how busy I am :p
I’m so honored ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ, I hope this is up to your standards love ~ mwah mwah <3
take a break | subby husband!fuma x reader
Tags: sloppy kissing, messy pussy eating, hair pulling (m.), fingering, cum eating, praise, munch!fuma, softdom!reader x needy subby fuu fuu~
wc: 1.5k
hope u love itttt i love youuuu <3 - vivi 🍰
All you’ve seen was the back of his head for hours, eyes glued to the computer screen like it might get up and run away if he blinked.
His foot taps against the velvety carpet impatiently, fingers thrumming against the panel of his desk, almost completely ignoring your presence.
You sigh, drearily. You knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose..he’d been complaining about the massive project he needed to get finished up by Friday since the week before, and it was now Wednesday night.
The stress weighed heavy on his boxy shoulders, slouched over the tiny desk. He stretches, letting out loud, fatigued yawn.
You watch him from the doorway, leaned against the sturdy frame.
You had already made dinner, and he barely ate. He barely moved. His determination and dedication was one of the things you admired most about your hardworking husband, but seeing him this exhausted stirred an uneasy feeling in your chest.
It hurt, being unable to provide some magical solution. You’re always worried about not supporting him enough; and he’s always worried about you worrying for him.
He doesn’t notice when you tiptoe up to him, noise cancelling headphones swallowing his ears. You snicker to yourself faintly as you slip the headphones off.
“Okay, that’s it. You need a break, now.” Your tone is honeyed yet firm. His soft locks flip gracefully as he whips his head around to you, a sweet, nostalgic curve to his lips.
“But I’m almost done my loveee,” he chuckles softly as he attempts to grab the headphones out your hand. You hide them behind your back with a playful glare.
“Baby, you said that this morning.” You drag a hand through his hair, pecking his forehead gently.
He spins his chair around to you, staring down at his half-numb fingers cheerlessly. He exhales; part yawn, part weary sigh.
“I know, I know…I’m just sick of worrying about it, I wanna get it done it already.” He huffs, nearly pouting.
You unfold his hands with a tender smile, straddling his lap. You hold his head in your hands, kissing his scalp.
“Baby..I need you to listen close when I say this, okay?” You smush his cheeks, locking eyes with him.
“Okay..I’m listening.”
“Everyone knows how hard you work fuu. Everyone knows how driven you are, how reliable and responsible you are. Everyone, especially your colleagues. You don’t need to keep fighting to prove that, baby.”
“I..I know. I’ve just..set a standard that I want to uphold, in every aspect of my life. It just keeps me busy..” He places his hands over yours as you cup his cheeks.
“You’re allowed to need a break. This project will be completed, but not at the cost of your well being. I won’t allow that.” You thumb his cheek delicately, gazing into his warm, coffee colored eyes with same love you shared your vows with. He swallows, nodding gently.
“o-okay sweetheart. You’re right..I could use a break.” He snakes his arms around your waist with a feeble grip, nuzzling into your chest with a light sigh. You stroke his hair, then his cheeks as his eyes flutter shut.
Your husband was so much more than what the word “man” or “lover” could ever define. The softest soul hidden under protective armor.
“C’mon..” you mumble as you start to stand, but he pulls you back down.
“Nooo, wait..just stay right here for a second. I need you.” He murmurs lowly into your cleavage, hand pressed firmly to your lower back.
The words trail down your spine amorously. A warmth’s been buzzing over your skin since you’ve walked into the room, but this meek, clingy side to him always made your senses go rogue.
“Okay. I’m not going anywhere honey..” you run your nails over his scalp soothingly. His face moves to the crook of your neck, peppering it in faint, wet kisses.
His hands slide to your hips, placed lightly as his lips glide down your collarbone with soft, kitten licks between the kisses. You shiver on his lap, a hushed moan leaving your lips as he fondles your breasts, thumbs circling your perked nipples through his loose t-shirt you stole.
He tugs at the skimpy fabric as his eyes meet yours again, lids lowered with a hazey, weighted gaze.
“I love you so much..” a single finger traces your jaw. You thread your fingers into his hair as you pull him into you, pressing your lips to his in a roused, reverent kiss. His lips part on contact, tongue tangling with yours lewdly.
The chair squeaks as your hips roll against his, triggered by his sweet whimpers slipping into the air. He wraps his plushy lips around your slippery tongue, groaning noisily as his hands cup your ass, rocking you into him. You extend your tongue a bit as he gets lost in you, swiftly stiffening at the sensation of your small frame engulfing him.
You break the kiss briefly to slip the top up and over your head in a quick motion, rushing back to his warm, laved lips. He stretches his mouth wide as your lips glue together, swirling his tongue around your mouth frenetically as he rolls your sensitive nipples between his finger tips.
You moan quietly between split breaths, tossing your head back as his lips refocus to your neck again, pulling the thin skin between his teeth and sucking nimbly. His lips attach to your nipples soon after, tugging at them with his lips as his circles with a pointed tongue.
“m-mmm baby…” you lift your head up watch him as he stares up at you, lips locked around your swollen nipples like they were a personal life source. “fuuuck fuu..ugh~…” his thick, lengthy cock twitches at the sound of your voice, pressing hard between your folds as he bucks into you desperately.
“You were so right love..I needed this.” He drags a flat tongue along your nipple as he speaks.
You let out a small laugh, pecking his forehead. Then, suddenly, he lifts you up, standing from his seat and walking over to your king sized bed. He tosses you down as you bounce on the mattress with a fit of giggles.
“Hey- what was that for?!” You prop yourself up on your elbows, befuddled.
He just chuckles, slowly crawling between your spread legs.
“I’m just taking a break like you said to babe..” his lips curve as he hooks his fingers around your tiny pajama shorts.
He looks back up to you, you laugh quietly, nodding as approval.
He tugs them down, carefully, your panties along with them as he kneels in front of your soaked center, placing your legs over his shoulders.
He licks a slow, tantalizing stripe down your folds, maintaining eye contact as you tangle your hands in his hair again, back arching sharply at the feeling of him spreading you open. His tongue dives between your folds rapaciously, lapping at you like a dog with its water bowl.
“f-fuck, fuu..just like that baby~..” your eyebrows pinch upward in the center tightly as your lips fall open, head threatening to fall back.
“Mmmmh…mhmm~” his depraved groans vibrate against your sensitive, swollen clit, making your body jerk suddenly. A small grin forms against your sopping heat. “You taste so good mommy..”
That feathery, undying heat sprawling over your skin slowly seeps into your core as his greedy tongue works on you in combination with his sensuous words.
Your hand buries into his messy hair, tugging at the root with a tender tenacity as your teeth sink into your lower lip, stifling your blaring moans.
He lets out a low, splintered groan, brows furrowed faintly.
His tongue was arresting, unraveling with a precise, devout infatuation. His fingers only drag you toward your peak as he curls two digits into your hot, aching cunt, hitting the reactive spot deep inside you like it was second nature.
“Are you gonna cum for me mommy?..mmh~, please…cum on my tongue babe..” he mewls, wrapping his lips around your clit, massaging the pearly nub with his tongue. The filthy, wet noises drown out his whimpery tone, making your limbs go weak.
His eyes find yours again, a light smirk dancing across his face. Your body trembles dramatically as you watch him get lost between your legs, drowning in your heated desire.
“ah~ ugh, that’s it baby, yes~..such a good boy~” your voice is raw and ragged from all the heavy breathing. he lets out a drawn out whine against your numb, dripping heat. “I’m- ugh!~” you cry out as his tongue roughens, sucking and slurping your clit messily.
“Please~, please love…give it to me, cum on my tongue.” His growls are muffled by your legs wrapping around his head, the thrashing waves of heat ripping through you as your body tremors violently. A set of ear splitting whines and moans fill the room as your body buzzes in our bliss.
“f-fuck..babyyy~..” you hide your red hot face in the covers, giggling as you unwrap your legs.
He gives you a giddy, toothy grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand before settling next to you on the now ruined bedset. He puts an arms around your waist, nuzzling your neck sweetly.
“Thank you my love. You always take such good care of me, I’m so lucky.” The smile weaves into his tone as he mumbles sleepily.
“Mm, I’m the lucky one.” You kiss the top of his head, pulling the comforter over him.
