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szariahwroteit · 2 days ago

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Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 12

When Tori told Jude that she wanted to take him on a date for a change, he was excited, to say the least, a mix of curiosity and excitement taking over at her admission. He had been eagerly anticipating another chance to see her, though he could hardly imagine what the evening would hold. After their enchanting weekend together at his house, where undeniable connection and late-night conversations filled the air, reality had settled back in. Tori returned to the demanding yet graceful world of her ballet company, her days spent perfecting pirouettes and leaps, while Jude found himself swept away with his teammates on a journey to Italy for a crucial football match. Both were immersed in their separate lives, yet the thought of each other seemed to captivate their thoughts during their absence.

Jude clutched a bouquet of roses in his hand as he made his way through Tori’s apartment building, the empty yet welcoming staircase echoing his footsteps. Each step felt heavier with anticipation, and he couldn't help but replay their last encounter in his mind—the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth that seemed to envelop them both.

As he reached her door, he took a moment to compose himself, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. He took a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline mixed with nervousness. The roses were a last-minute decision, but he hoped they would add just a touch to the evening.

Jude knocked lightly, and almost immediately, Tori opened the door. “Hi,” she greeted with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she stepped aside to welcome Jude into her apartment. The moment he entered, his presence seemed to envelope the room, adding a palpable energy that made the air feel charged with anticipation.

“Hi, beautiful,” Jude smirked as he pulled a beautifully wrapped bouquet of blushing pink roses from behind his back, his eyes never leaving hers. “These are for you,” he said, extending the fragrant flowers toward her, the soft petals catching the light.

Tori felt her heart flutter at the sight of the roses, their sweet scent enveloping her senses. “You shouldn’t have,” she whispered, taking the bouquet and savoring the moment. The warmth of his fingers brushed against hers, sending a delicious thrill up her spine.

“Maybe I wanted to,” he replied, stepping closer, his voice low and inviting. The air between them thickened, as he drank in her appearance. Tori stood before him dressed in a chic ensemble that perfectly blended casual, sophisticated and sexy. Her white blouse was layered under a gray cropped vest, paired with a sleek black skirt, tights and knee-high boots that accentuated her legs.

“You look incredible,” he said, his gaze lingering on her curves, tracing the lines of her outfit that hugged her body perfectly. Tori felt a blush rise to her cheeks under his scrutiny, a warmth spreading through her as she met his intense gaze.

“Thank you, Jude,” she replied shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I was just getting ready for tonight.”

“Were you?” He moved a step closer, his voice a seductive whisper now, filled with playful curiosity. “And what exactly do you have planned?”

Tori couldn’t help but smirk, her confidence growing with his attention. ”Well, unlike you I don't have a personal chef, so I'm taking you to dinner and then somewhere else.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Somewhere else?” he said, his smirk widening. “What are you planning, Tori?”

She leaned against the doorway, allowing the playful banter to build the tension between them. “You have to wait and see.”

Taking a step closer to her, Jude placed his hand on the doorframe above her head, his lust-filled eyes meeting hers before they dropped to her plump lips.

The intensity of his gaze held her captive, making Tori acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, just inches away. “Teasing is one thing,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “But I’d prefer a taste of what’s to come.”

Feeling bold, Tori tilted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze with equal longing. “What are you doing to do about it?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper that danced between them.

Jude’s smirk deepened, and he stepped even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping her. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face upward, his expression a mix of desire and challenge.

Pressing his lips against hers, Jude let out a low hum as he deepened the kiss, capturing her mouth with a possessive urgency that made electricity rush through Tori.

Parting her lips with his tongue, Jude explored her mouth, pressing her into the doorframe as his hands found the curve of her waist, pulling her against him. Tori felt the space around them fade, leaving only the heat and hunger igniting between their bodies. With each brush of his lips, each gentle bite against her lower lip, she melted into him, responding instinctively to the chemistry crackling in the air.

His hands traveled from her waist, exploring the soft textures of her blouse and vest. As his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, Tori gasped into his mouth, the sensation of his warm hands against her skin sending a shiver of delight coursing through her.

“Is this what you had in mind for tonight?” he breathed against her lips, his voice thick with desire, teasing her with the implications of what was to come.

“Not quite,” Tori replied breathlessly, her voice tinged with excitement as she wrinkled her nose playfully, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Her heart raced, pounding like a drum against her ribcage, as the unspoken tension between them crackled in the air. “I need to put these roses in water so we can get out of here.” The vibrant petals seemed to glow in the light of her apartment.

She sensed that if they lingered much longer, succumbing to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire, they would forget all about the plans she’d made for them.

Jude had previously told her he wanted to see more of her world, and tonight she planned to do just that.

Once the flowers had been put into a vase and placed on her dining table, Jude and Tori left her apartment to begin their evening.

Dinner was fun, the conversation flowed freely between them as they dined in one of her favorite Mediterranean restaurants in the city, but it was afterward that Tori was looking forward to. Although she wouldn't be up stage performing tonight, she was taking Jude to see a ballet performance at the Madrid Opera House.

Dangerous Liaisons was easily one of her favorite stories told in ballet, it was dramatic, erotic and filled with breathtaking choreography that stirred something deep within her. As they finished their meal, Tori‘s eyes met with Jude's across the table, and it fueled her excitement even more.

“Are you ready?” she asked as she raised her hand to grab the waiter's attention and ask for the check, much to Jude's disapproval.

“Not if you're going to try and pay the bill,” he teased, his eyes narrowing playfully, although his voice possessed a more serious edge. “You know I can’t let you.”

Tori laughed, the sound light and filled with warmth. “Oh please, I insist! I'm taking you out tonight, not the other way around.”

“You know better,” Jude countered, leaning back in his chair with that charming grin of his that always made her heart skip.

“Do I?” Tori challenged playfully, a glint of mischief flickering in her eyes. “Maybe I’m ready to take the lead for once.”

“Is that so?” Jude chuckled, clearly entertained.

“Maybe be we could trade places for the night?” Tori suggested, her voice dripping with a sultry confidence.

“What would that entail?” Jude replied, his smirk deepening, clearly intrigued by the idea. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and Tori felt a thrill run down her spine.

“Let me lead tonight,” Tori said, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table, a seductive glimmer in her eyes.

“What about when the nights over?” Jude quizzed as he reached across the table and took her hand into his, the pad of his thumb smoothing over her knuckles.

There was absolutely nothing sexual about the action, but the look in his eye and the lust that dripped from his words told her everything she needed to know.

“That depends on how well you do with letting me lead,” Tori smirked knowingly.

The last time Jude handed her the reins during sex, she enjoyed taking control more than she thought she would have, but there was nothing that brought her more pleasure than submitting herself to it, a trait she’d noticed in herself since dealing with him.

As they left the restaurant, the vibrant city lights twinkled around them like stars. Tori felt a giddy sensation bubbling within her as she and Jude walked closely, their fingers ghosting against one another as they quickly made their way back to his car to avoid him being spotted by anyone. The evening air was crisp, and the soft hum of nightlife wrapped around them, adding to the thrill of anticipation for what lay ahead.

“Where to next boss?” Jude asked, glancing down at Tori.

“The Madrid Opera House,” she revealed only to be met with a look of confusion that made her giggle. “It’ll all make sense when we get there.”

When they made it back to the car, Jude gallantly opened the door for her, his chivalrous gesture making her heart flutter. “Thank you, kind sir,” Tori quipped with a playful grin as she slid into the passenger seat. She watched as he rounded the front of the car, his strong silhouette backlit by the streetlights. There was something undeniably magnetic about him.

Once he was seated, Jude turned to her, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “So, why the opera house? I’m intrigued.”

Tori smiled, excitement bubbling within her. “You’ll see. Just trust me. It’s going to be an unforgettable experience.”

As Jude started the engine, Tori rested a hand on his thigh, feeling a spark of connection that ignited every time they touched. He glanced at her, his brow raised in playful surprise, but he didn’t move her hand away. Instead, he placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently, which sent a pulse of heat coursing through her.

The drive was filled with light teasing and laughter, the atmosphere saturated with flirtation. They arrived at the Madrid Opera House just as the evening began to fully take hold of the city, shrouding the beautiful city with a blanket of intimacy. Tori led Jude through the grand entrance, her heart racing not just from the venue’s beauty but from the thrill of being in this dazzling setting with Jude.

“The Australian Ballet are residents here at Madrid Opera House for the week performing Dangerous Liaisons,” Tori explained to Jude who took in his surroundings with curious eyes.

“You said you wanted me to let you into my word,” she said softly, her cheeks flushing as their eyes met. “I know I’m not actually going to be up on stage tonight, but this is what I do.”

As they entered the ornate theater, Tori felt a rush of excitement. The elegant space was alive with the hum of anticipation, the seats slowly filling with an audience eager for the performance to begin. Tori led Jude to their seats, her heart fluttering as they settled in, his presence beside her feeling electric.

The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. The orchestra began to play, the first notes of the score filling the air, and Tori felt a shiver run down her spine. The curtains drew back, revealing a dramatic, sensual scene. The dancers took the stage, their bodies fluid and graceful, telling the story through movement.

Tori watched, transfixed, her eyes drinking in every moment. She could feel Jude's gaze on her, and she glanced at him, a smile playing on her lips. He seemed equally captivated, his eyes wide with fascination as he took in the performance.

As the first act ended, Tori turned to Jude, her face glowing with excitement. "What do you think?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper in the hushed theater.

"It's incredible," he replied, his eyes sparkling with awe. Jude was completely enchanted as he watched the performers on stage, the way they all gracefully moved in unison, their bodies contorting with every fluid motion. The dim lights cast a soft glow over them, accentuating the curves and lines of their athletic bodies. Each performer seemed to lose themselves in the rhythm, their expressions a mix of passion and concentration.

Breaking his gaze away from the stage, Jude turned to Tori who watched in awe of the dancers. “I’ve never actually seen you dance, but it makes sense that you are a ballet dancer.” Jude said as he leaned into her.

“How?” she whispered, a curious smirk taking over her features as she turned her attention to him.

“You’re graceful,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “Even when you're not dancing, there's this elegance about you. It's like you carry ballet with you everywhere.”

He didn't need see Tori dance to know she was talented, she possessed the same grace the dancers on stage moved with. Even when she wasn't at her best, she had a poise to her and as Jude watched the dancers on stage, it all made sense.

Tori's smile widened, a mixture of pride and shyness surfacing in her expression. “I appreciate that, Jude. Ballet has always felt like an extension of who I am,” she said softly, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions.

Jude studied her, intrigued by the depth of her passion. “Ballet is to you what football is to me.”

“Exactly,” Tori replied, her gaze breaking away from Jude's and drifting back to the stage.

He wasn't particularly sure what the performance was supposed to invoke in him, but a tempest of emotions swirled inside Jude, and as he looked over at Tori, he felt a deep connection to her.

With each elegant pirouette and expressive leap on stage, Tori became more absorbed in the performance, her body instinctively swaying to the rhythm as if she were dancing along with the artists. Jude couldn't help but admire her, captivated not just by the dancers but by how Tori seemed to embody their artistry. There was an undeniable fire in her eyes that ignited his own desire to explore the layers of her world, to peel back the layers of her passion, and discover what lay beneath.

As the performance intensified, the tension in the air thickened, mirroring the story unfolding before them—a tale of desire, betrayal, and irresistible attraction that resonated with the unspoken chemistry crackling between Jude and Tori. He shifted in his seat, his leg brushing against hers, igniting a spark that sent electricity racing through him.

During a particularly sensual dance, Jude felt the urge to reach for her, to see just how far this evening could lead them. Their surroundings faded away, along with the audience. The world outside was eclipsed by the shared intensity between them, wrapped in the thrumming heartbeat of the orchestra’s score.

As the show came to an end, the audience along with Tori and Jude stood to their feet. The room erupted in applause, echoing off the ornate walls of the opera house. Tori felt a rush of exhilaration as she clapped, her heart thrumming in rhythm with the cheers. The dancers took their final bows, their expressions a mixture of joy and exhaustion, and Tori found herself brimming with admiration for them.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Jude murmured feverishly into Tori's ear, pressing himself against her so she could feel his arousal against the small of her bac.

Despite Tori’s eyes being fixed on the stage as the rest of the audience showered the performers in applause, Tori's hands were clasped together as if in prayer as she stood completely stuck, the man behind her consuming her every thought.

Tori froze, her body going rigid as Jude's low, husky words caressed her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel the heat of his breath, the press of his firm body against her back, and the prominent bulge of his arousal nestling against her ass. A gasp escaped her lips, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

His large hand splayed across her hip possessively, fingers digging into her flesh as his other hand toyed with the hem of her skirt. Tori's thighs clenched together, a throb of need pulsing between them.

"Baby," Jude rasped, nipping at her earlobe. "I want this perfect little body, so fucking bad.”

Tori's breath hitched in her throat at his words, a mix of excitement and desire surging through her. The intensity of his statement, paired with the proximity of his body, set her senses ablaze. She could feel the heat radiating off Jude, and the urge to submit to his desires coursed through her.

"Jude," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she turned her head just enough to catch the glint in his eyes, which sparkled with unrestrained lust. "Not here."

“Then let’s go,” Jude growled into her ear, his voice thick with urgency, making it clear he wasn't willing to keep the simmering tension contained much longer. He pulled away just enough to gauge her reaction, his intense gaze locked onto hers, searching for any sign of hesitation.

As they went to leave the opera house, jude was spotted by two eagle-eyed fans who were also in attendance and stopped to take a picture with them.

Although she may not have known it when they first met, there was no denying how big of a star Jude was. Tori stood back and watched with amusement as Jude’s fans gushed over him as he gave them a few moments of his time before bidding them a good night.

“All done, superstar?” she asked teasingly as Jude approached her, his smile wide and infectious, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Just doing my part as a public servant,” he quipped, a playful tilt of his head as he joined her side, his hand finding its place on the small of her back, guiding her towards the doors. The touch sent a thrill racing through her, reigniting that delicious anticipation that had built so intensely throughout the evening.

“Servant, huh?” Tori replied, arching an eyebrow. “I might need a few more services from you tonight then.”

“I plan on serving you, Tori,” Jude responded, his voice deepening, a promise laced within his tone that made her skin tingle with excitement. The way he looked at her was almost possessive, igniting a fire she found hard to contain.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, the city buzzed around them—multicolored neon lights flickered, and laughter echoed in the distance, blending harmoniously with the palpable tension lingering between them.

“Where to now, boss?” Jude asked, intentionally leaning closer, making sure his words brushed against her ear.

“Your place,” Tori said, her voice barely above a whisper as she pulled back to look into his eyes. Her heart raced at the boldness of her words and the intensity pooling in his gaze.

Without a word, Jude held out his hand to her, his expression a mix of anticipation and desire. Tori felt her pulse race as she grasped his warm, inviting palm, a sense of security enveloping her as they stepped into the uncertainty of the night.

The drive to Jude’s place was charged with an electric atmosphere. Tori couldn't help but steal glances at him, her heart fluttering as she watched the way he gripped the steering wheel, focused yet eager. The hum of the engine, combined with the low thump of music from the radio, created a backdrop that heightened her senses.

Once they arrived at his house, the dimly lit entryway welcomed them, casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. Jude closed the door behind them, sealing them off from the world outside, and Tori could feel the tension between them swell.

“Do you want a drink?” Jude asked, his voice smooth, as he moved towards the kitchen. Tori watched him, her heart racing at the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his jeans hugged his form beautifully.

“I’m fine,” she replied, taking a step closer, her gaze never leaving him. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he moved—each gesture was laced with an underlying promise of the passionate night ahead.

Jude turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, that wicked grin on his face that made her weak in the knees. “You sure?“

Tori’s heart fluttered at that, but she waved him off playfully, moving closer until the space between them was negligible. “I just want you...”

The words hung in the air like a sweet promise, igniting an even hotter spark of desire between them. Jude's breathing hitched, and the gravity of the moment stretched, pulling them closer in an almost magnetic way. She could see the heat flickering in his eyes, amplified by the intimacy of the dim light around them—everything about this night felt charged, electric.

Jude pushed himself off the counter, closing the space between them with a purposeful stride. He captured her waist, his hands firm yet possessive as he drew her closer. Tori could feel the heat radiating from him, the palpable desire coiling tighter around them like an inescapable truth.

Bowing his head, jude leaned into Tori until their lips ghosted against one another , a tantalizing tease that made her breath hitch in her throat. "Who’s leading?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with the weight of anticipation that lingered in the air.

Tori's heart raced as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the storm of emotions whirling within her. “You,” she replied, her voice dripping with sincerity and playful confidence.

In an instant, their lips collided in a feverish kiss, his tongue parting her lips as he swept Tori off of her feet, turning them so he could sit her up on the counter he previously leaned against.

Jude stood between Tori's parted legs as his hands found the edge of her skirt, his fingers teasing along the sensitive skin of her tights-covered inner thigh. A whimper escaped her lips as he leaned in, his teeth grazing along her neck as he marked her in a way he knew only he could.

"I need you..." he rasped into her ear, the words coming out husky, charged with a need that made her body tremble. "Tell me you need me too."

Tori's hips bucked against his touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. "I do," she breathed, the words leaving her on a moan. "I need you so much, Jude."

He growled against her throat, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I'm going to give you everything you need, Tori." With that, Jude ripped open her blouse, not even bothering to remove it fully before his mouth latched onto her breast, the lace of her bra no barrier at all.

Tori cried out, her back arching off the counter, pushing herself further into his touch.

Jude's hands roamed over Tori's body with a desperate hunger, as if he were trying to memorize every curve and hollow. He pulled back just enough to drink in the sight of her, her blouse torn open, her laceclad breasts heaving with each ragged breath. The image seared itself into his mind—a vision of pure, unbridled desire.

"I want to taste every fucking inch of you," Jude groaned, his voice rough with need. He nipped at the swell of her breast, his tongue tracing the edge of her bra before dipping beneath the lace to lave at her sensitive skin.

Tori whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. "Please, Jude," she whimpered, her hips rolling against the hard length of him. "I need to feel you."

With a low growl, Jude tore her bra away, the flimsy fabric giving way easily beneath his strength. Her breasts spilled free, and he cupped them in his palms, his thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, ducking his head to draw her nipple into his mouth.

Tori's head fell back, a low moan spilling from her lips as Jude's mouth worked at her breast. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, the suction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins.

"Jude..." she gasped, her hips grinding against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. She could feel him hard and heavy against her, the thick ridge of his erection pressing insistently against her core.

Tori whimpered, her nails scoring down his back. "I need you inside me," she pleaded, too far gone to care how frantic she sounded. "Please, Jude. I'm so empty."

“Lay back,” Jude instructed.

Tori laid back on the counter, her eyes locked onto Jude's as he made quick work of removing her skirt and tights, leaving her bare except for her panties. The cool air of the kitchen kissed her damp skin, making her shiver in anticipation.

Jude stepped back, his heated gaze raking over her, taking in the sight of her splayed out before him. His eyes lingered on the damp patch darkening the fabric of her panties, and he licked his lips hungrily.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growled, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. He dragged them down her legs, tossing them carelessly to the side.

Tori lifted her hips, helping him remove the last barrier between them. As soon as the fabric cleared her feet, Jude's mouth was on her, his tongue delving into her.

"Ah!" Tori cried out, her back bowing off the counter as Jude's skilled mouth worked her over. His tongue circled her clit before pushing deep inside her, lapping at her essence.

Tori's fingers tangled in Jude's hair, holding him close as he feasted on her. His tongue was relentless, stroking and flicking against her most sensitive spots.

"Jude," she panted, her hips rolling against his face. "Don't stop."

He hummed in response, the sound muffled against her flesh. Two fingers replaced his tongue, pumping steadily inside her as his lips closed around her clit. He suckled the sensitive bud, and Tori saw stars.

"Fuck, I'm so close," she warned, her thighs beginning to tremble. "Make me cum, please Jude. I need it so bad."

He doubled his efforts, his fingers curling inside her to hit that spot that made her see white. His lips constricted around her clit, sucking hard.

Tori came with a silent scream, her back arching almost painfully. Pleasure crashed over her in waves as she gushed into Jude's mouth. He lapped at her release, not letting up until she collapsed back onto the counter, boneless.

Scooping Tori’s sated body into his arms, Jude disregarded the mess they'd left behind in his kitchen as he took her upstairs to his bedroom, not caring to even close the door behind them.

When they finally made it to Jude's bedroom, Tori laid spent across his bed, her body still trembling with aftershocks of her intense orgasm. Jude took a moment to admire her, drinking in the sight of her splayed out across his sheets.

She was a vision of perfection, her skin glowing in the soft light that filtered in through the windows. The remnants of her ruined outfit lay discarded on the floor, a testament to their passion.

The need to be inside her consumed Jude. He quickly shed his clothes, his erection springing free. Tori's eyes fluttered open, drinking in the sight of his naked form. She licked her lips, her gaze zeroing in on his hard length.

"Come here," she purred, crooking a finger at him.

Jude stalked towards the bed, crawling over her until he was settled between her parted thighs. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance, and they both groaned at the contact.

"I need you," Tori whispered, lifting her hips to take him inside, the absence of a condom not lost on either of them.

"I need you," Tori whispered, lifting her hips to take him inside. The absence of a condom wasn't lost on either of them, but in that moment, it felt too good to stop.

Jude let out a guttural moan as he sank into Tori's heat, her walls gripping him like a vice. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, his forehead coming to rest against hers as he savoried the sensation of being sheathed inside her.

Tori's nails raked down his back, urging him to move. "You feel so big," she whimpered, her hips rolling against his.

Tori's words resonated through Jude, a groan rumbling from deep within his chest as he felt her walls flutter around him. The sensation was intoxicating, her heat enveloping him like a silken glove. He started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back into her, setting a deep, powerful rhythm that had Tori crying out in pleasure.

"Yes, baby," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Jude."

He obliged, driving into her over and over, the force of his thrusts pushing her up the bed. The room was filled with the audacious sounds of skin slapping against skin and their shared moans of ecstasy.

Tori's legs came up to wrap around his waist, changing the angle of his thrusts. Jude hit a spot inside her that had her back arching as she dug her nails into, and she practically screamed his name.

"Fuck, right there," she whimpered, her hips canting to meet his. "You’re so perfect."

“Tell me this pussy is mine,” Jude growled as he leaned into Tori, filling her to the hilt as he stilled inside of her, possessively making sure she felt every last inch of him.

Tori's breath quickened, and the intensity of Jude's gaze ignited a fire within her. "It's yours," she breathed, her voice tinged with desperation and desire. "Only yours."

With those words, Jude resumed his relentless pace, driving into her with a fervor that left them both gasping for more. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, and she could feel her impending climax building once again. Tori’s mind swirled with sensations—the weight of his body against hers, the friction of his skin gliding over hers, the rhythm of their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, feeling her walls pulse around him. “You’re perfect, Tori. So fucking perfect.”

As he deepened the connection between them, the world around them faded away, leaving nothing but the two of them entwined in this moment of raw passion. Every thrust, every gasp only fueled the fire that blazed between them, and Tori felt herself surrender completely to the intensity of it all.

Jude's gaze never left hers, his eyes darkened with desire and the promise of ecstasy. Every time he thrust into her, he claimed more of her; it was as if they were both merging into one being, lost in their fierce connection.

“Jude,” she moaned, her fingers curling around his biceps, pulling him deeper into her. “I’m so close again. Don’t stop—please, don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice strained with effort as he increased the pace, his body slick with sweat, the bedroom filled with the sounds of their unified pleasure. “I’m right there with you.”

With each relentless thrust, Tori could feel the tension within her coiling tighter and tighter, until finally, it snapped. The wave of pleasure surged over her, pulling her under in a blissful torrent. “Jude!” she cried out, her body convulsing around him, each contraction coaxing him deeper inside her.

Jude let out a deep groan, feeling her walls tremnle around him as she came, the overwhelming sensation of her release pushing him closer to his own. “That’s it, baby. Let it go on my cock,” he urged, his voice thick with desire as he thrust into her.

As Tori rode the peak of her orgasm, Jude lost himself in the feeling of her body beneath him. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, the way she danced around him only enticing him further.

Hooking her right leg over his forearm, Jude pinned it to the bed making tori’s eyes go wide as she realized how much more intense this position was going to feel. His thrusts deepened, and every movement sent a powerful jolt of pleasure coursing through her.

“Please, Jude,” she gasped, her heart racing as she felt the heat building within her again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Good,” Jude murmured, his breath ragged as he reveled in the intensity of the moment. He leaned in closer, planting sweet kisses along her collarbone, whispering sweet nothings that only heightened her arousal.

With renewed emphasis, he began to thrust harder, his hips snapping against hers with delicious intensity. Tori’s breath quickened, and she couldn’t help but moan loudly at the feeling of him filling her completely.

“Baby, please let me cum in you,” Jude groaned, his voice thick with desperation and need. The urgency of his words sent a jolt of excitement through Tori, and she could feel her body responding instinctively to him.

"Yes, Jude," she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that hung in the air between them as she opened her eyes up to him. "I want to feel you fill me up."

With that, Jude's resolve broke. He slammed deep inside her, his rhythm relentless and frantic as he chased his own release. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, every thrust igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over them both. Tori dug her heels into his back, urging him on as she wrapped her legs tighter around him, craving every inch of him.

“God, Tori,” he panted, his breath hot against her skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

As her body tightened around him, Tori felt the heat coiling inside her once more. "Just a little more, Jude," she urged, her voice shaking as she neared the brink again. “I’m so close.”

Jude's thrusts became more urgent, his grip on her thigh tightening as he poured everything into each deep and sloppy thrust, ready to claim her body as his.

With a powerful thrust, Jude buried himself deep within Tori, his body trembling with the effort as he felt her walls pulsate around him, igniting a fire within that pushed him closer to the edge. “Tori,” he breathed, his voice raw and desperate,

Jude let out an orgasm inducing moan as Tori came beneath him, her pussy ushering him into his own release as he pushed his face into the crease of her neck, letting out a deep groan.

As pleasure surged through Jude, he could feel her tightening around him with every pulse, sending him spiraling over the edge. Waves of ecstasy crashed over them, and he surrendered to the blissful sensation as he filled her, the connection between them amplifying the intensity of their shared climax. Tori's name spilled from his lips as he broke, the taste of her warmth enveloping him entirely.

They lay intertwined for a moment, the air thick with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Tori's breaths came in soft whimpers, still riding the tail end of her bliss while Jude pressed gentle kisses along her neck, savoring the warmth of her skin against his.

“Tori,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, the last remnants of their shared bliss still echoing in the distance. He gently pulled away to look into her eyes, both filled with a mix of wonder and that ever-present heat. “You were amazing.”

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled in a sexy disarray. “So were you,” she replied, her voice thick with satisfaction. She reached up to brush her fingers against his cheek, relishing the moment of intimacy.

“I aim to please,” Jude teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned down to nip playfully at her bottom lip.

Tori giggled softly, that infectious sound wrapping around him like a warm blanket, igniting another spark of desire. “Oh really?” she challenged.

Jude’s grin widened, and he rolled them, settling Tori beneath him, his hands framing her face just before capturing her lips once more. The kiss started slow, building with an intensity that mirrored their earlier passion, but beneath the surface simmered a different kind of desire—a hunger for one another beyond the physical.

#jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham #fanfic #chick lit #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #real madrid #jude victor willliam bellingham #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jb22 #jb5 #real madrid cf #smut

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pdriesta · 21 hours ago

Text

a love like this — 8

an — a series of blurbs based on the main couple of "something real". this is based on this request! i am sorry it took so long, i hope it was worth the wait!

masterlist

the bedroom was calm and quiet, the kind of peace that only settled late at night when the world outside felt far away. y/n sat cross-legged on the bed, her ipad propped on her knees, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. her focus was razor-sharp, her finger swiping across the screen as she scrolled through lists, pictures, and notes. she was the picture of a type-a planner, meticulous in her approach to everything, even birthdays.

beside her, jude was reclined against the headboard, his arm lazily draped over her waist. her leg was slung over his, and his fingers traced absent patterns along her thigh, his touch soft and soothing. his phone lay forgotten in his lap as his gaze remained fixed on her. she looked so cute like this, glasses perched crookedly, lips pursed in concentration, completely in her element. the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile every time she frowned slightly or adjusted her glasses with an impatient push.

"all right," she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. her tone was all business as she glanced at him over the top of her glasses. "we’ve narrowed dinner down to two options. do you want something fancy and formal, or cozy and intimate?"

he leaned forward slightly, his head hovering near hers as he peered at the screen, his face close enough that he could smell the faint vanilla of her lotion. "cozy," he said without hesitation, his voice warm. "mum’s not really into all that posh stuff."

y/n nodded, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she made a quick note on the ipad. "good choice. there’s this little italian place i found. family-run, super cozy vibe, and they do a special birthday dessert. i think she’d love it."

“sounds perfect,” jude said, his hand sliding up and down her thigh now, squeezing gently as he watched her. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

“someone has to be,” she teased, shooting him a knowing look, her brows raising slightly. “if i left it to you and jobe, we'd be stuck with you boys playing fifa all night.”

he laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained, his head tilting back slightly. “true. but you know she’d still be happy with that.”

“sure,” y/n said, her tone softening as she glanced at him. “but she deserves more. she deserves to feel celebrated.”

“we both do,” jude agreed, his voice quieter now, laced with a genuine gratitude that made her pause. “thanks for helping me with this, baby.”

she leaned into his side briefly, her cheek brushing against his shoulder, and his heart swelled at the simple gesture. “don’t thank me yet. we still have decorations to figure out. oh, and we need a distraction plan. i don’t trust jobe to handle this without supervision.”

jude groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed like a petulant child. “he’s going to be a nightmare, isn’t he?”

“you’re both nightmares,” she said with a smirk, swiping at her screen again.

his hand stilled on her thigh for a moment as he stared up at her, his chest tightening at how into this she was. her energy, her enthusiasm—it all meant so much to him. it was more than just planning his mum’s birthday; it was about how she always cared, how she always gave her all.

“what?” she asked, blinking down at him when she noticed his silence.

“nothing,” jude said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “just... you.”

she tilted her head, her brows knitting in confusion. “what about me?”

he reached up, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone before he kissed her cheek, lingering just long enough for her to giggle. “just love you, that’s all,” he murmured.

she rolled her eyes, but her blush betrayed her. “focus, jude. we still have work to do.”

“nah,” he said lazily, pulling her ipad out of her hands and setting it on the nightstand. “you’ve done enough planning for tonight. come here.”

“jude—” she started, but his hands were already guiding her to lie against his chest, her leg still draped over his as his fingers resumed their slow, deliberate strokes along her thigh.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he said softly, his lips brushing the top of her head.

“you’re just saying that because i’m doing all the work,” she teased, though her voice wavered, her heart fluttering at his words.

“nah, it’s because it’s true,” he replied, his eyes fixed on her as she nuzzled into him, her hand splaying across his chest. “and because i’m obsessed with you.”

she laughed softly, the sound muffled against his shirt. “don’t let that go to your head.”

“too late,” he said with a grin, pressing another kiss to her temple. “but for real, baby. thank you. this is going to mean the world to her.”

y/n tilted her head up to look at him, her expression softening. “you’re welcome, jude.”

he stared down at her, his heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt. “how did i get so lucky?”

“probably because i felt bad for you,” she teased, grinning up at him.

he laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “you’re terrible.”

“and you’re stuck with me,” she quipped, her grin widening.

“damn right,” he said, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss. “and don’t you forget it.”

the next morning, sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, painting the cozy space in warm golden hues. y/n sat across from denise at the wooden table, a steaming mug of tea cupped in her hands. the faint scent of chamomile mingled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread, leftovers from breakfast still sitting on the counter.

y/n’s phone was tucked discreetly in her lap, her thumb moving quickly across the screen as she sent updates to jude.

y/n: everything’s good here. she hasn’t suspected a thing. we miss you, though.

she glanced up at denise, who was eyeing her with the kind of look that only a mother could give, one that seemed to see right through her.

clearing her throat, y/n set her mug down with a light clink and forced a casual tone. “so,” she began, her voice bright, “i was thinking we could have a little girls’ day. you know, just the two of us. nails, maybe hair, a bit of pampering. what do you think?”

denise arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile as she cradled her own mug. “you’re spoiling me, aren’t you?”

y/n mirrored her smile, feigning nonchalance. “of course. it’s your birthday week—you deserve it.” she reached for her tea, taking a sip to steady herself under denise’s knowing gaze.

“and jude’s too busy to hang out, is he?” denise asked, her tone light but laced with suspicion, her eyes narrowing just slightly.

y/n shrugged, her expression carefully neutral. “he said he’s got things to do,” she replied smoothly, though her phone vibrated softly in her lap, likely another message from jude. “so, what do you say? just us girls?”

denise studied her for a moment, her smile widening as if she were onto something but didn’t feel the need to press. “all right,” she said with a soft laugh, shaking her head. “you’re better company than him anyway.”

y/n laughed, relieved, and stood to grab her bag from the counter. “don’t let him hear you say that. his ego will take a battering.”

“oh, i’ll tell him to his face,” denise quipped, her voice full of playful mischief as she stood as well, straightening her blouse.

y/n grinned, her hand brushing her phone in her pocket as she sent one last message to jude

y/n: we’re heading out. don’t mess anything up while we’re gone.

“ready to go?” y/n asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“ready,” denise said, glancing at her with a smile. “this better not be some elaborate scheme you and my son cooked up.”

y/n feigned innocence, her eyes wide as she held the door open. “me? never. you know i’m much more trustworthy than jude.”

denise chuckled, stepping outside. “we’ll see about that.”

as they walked down the path, y/n couldn’t help but smile to herself. the plan was going smoothly so far, but the hard part was yet to come. she only hoped jude had everything under control.

the nail salon was a picture of calm—soft instrumental music playing in the background, the gentle whir of dryers filling the air, and a faint lavender scent drifting through the space. denise was thoroughly relaxed, reclining in her pedicure chair as a technician worked on her feet. her expression was one of pure bliss, and y/n felt a brief pang of guilt for what was happening behind the scenes.

beside her, y/n was fidgeting, flipping through the color swatches with half the attention they deserved. her mind wasn’t on the vibrant shades of polish or the serene atmosphere. it was on her phone, which she’d tucked into the pocket of her hoodie to avoid distraction. unfortunately, that plan was failing miserably.

her phone buzzed once. then again. then, a third time in rapid succession.

denise opened one eye, glancing at y/n’s jittery movements. “someone’s popular,” she teased, her tone light.

y/n forced a nervous laugh, waving it off. “probably just spam,” she said, clearly lying through her teeth. the buzzing continued.

denise smirked, sitting up slightly. “spam texts don’t usually come in triplets. what’s going on?”

“nothing!” y/n blurted, far too quickly to be convincing. she hesitated for a beat, then turned to denise with a sheepish smile. “actually, uh… could you grab my phone? it’s kind of stuck in my pocket, and my nails are wet.”

denise gave her an amused look, but she reached for the phone, pulling it free and holding it out. “here you go, miss ‘nothing’s going on.’”

“thanks!” y/n said brightly, taking it with a little too much enthusiasm. she unlocked it and glanced at the screen—and froze.

the group chat with jude and jobe was in full-blown chaos.

jude: WHERE’S THE DUCT TAPE? jobe: WE DON’T HAVE ANY. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME WE NEEDED IT? jude: I DID TELL YOU. YOU NEVER LISTEN. jobe: THIS IS YOUR FAULT. jude: WE NEED TO STOP ARGUING.

y/n’s eyes widened as it hit her like a brick to the face—she had completely forgotten about the surprise they were planning for denise. her stomach dropped, and she let out a strangled noise that made denise sit up straighter.

“what’s wrong?” denise asked, her concern giving way to curiosity as she watched y/n’s panicked expression.

“uh, nothing!” y/n said, her voice climbing several octaves. she tilted the phone away from denise’s view, typing furiously.

y/n: STOP TEXTING ME. SHE’S RIGHT HERE. I FORGOT. FIX IT.

another buzz came through before she could lock the screen.

jobe: we’re out of balloons. jude: WHY ARE WE OUT OF BALLOONS? jobe: ask yourself that, mr. “i need to test how much they can stretch before they pop.” jude: don’t bring science into this.

y/n groaned audibly, smacking her forehead with her free hand.

“y/n,” denise said, leaning over with an amused smile, “you’re acting like you just got caught cheating on a test. what’s going on?”

“NOTHING!” y/n squeaked, quickly locking her phone. she was failing spectacularly at hiding her guilt, and denise was enjoying every second of it.

“let me see,” denise said, reaching for the phone.

y/n dove—literally dove—out of her chair, clutching the phone to her chest like it held state secrets. “nope! nope! everything’s fine! don’t worry about it!”

the salon technician paused mid-swipe, blinking in confusion as y/n scrambled back into her seat, trying to act normal while clearly anything but.

denise raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she fought back laughter. “you’re hiding something,” she said, crossing her arms.

“me? hiding? never!” y/n stammered, avoiding eye contact. her phone buzzed again, and she visibly winced.

denise smirked. “it’s jude and jobe, isn’t it?”

y/n froze, her eyes darting to denise like a deer caught in headlights. “…no?”

denise burst out laughing, her suspicion confirmed. “oh, they’re up to something, aren’t they? and you’re in on it.”

“nope!” y/n said, shaking her head so quickly it was a wonder she didn’t get whiplash. “not me! i don’t know anything!”

denise leaned back in her chair, still laughing. “whatever it is, it’s going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “probably,” she muttered, which only made denise laugh harder.

despite the chaos, y/n couldn’t help but smile a little. as disastrous as the boys might be, she had to admit—it was shaping up to be a memorable surprise.

meanwhile, jude and jobe were knee-deep in party supplies. balloons were scattered across the floor, some half-inflated, others popped. the banner they’d bought was somehow tangled beyond recognition, and the cake sat untouched in its box.

“this is a disaster,” jobe muttered, holding up a deflated balloon.

“just focus,” jude said, trying to untangle the banner with one hand while texting y/n updates with the other.

when y/n’s message came through, telling them to stop fighting and focus, jude let out a breath of relief. “see? she believes in us.”

“she’s the only one,” jobe said dryly, but he grabbed the tape and got to work on the streamers.

when y/n and denise walked through the door later that evening, denise froze in her tracks, her eyes widening. the living room was a breathtaking vision of golden balloons floating in clusters, warm fairy lights strung across the walls, and a table beautifully arranged with a spread of food, desserts, and neatly wrapped gifts.

but what truly stole the scene were the three men standing at the center of it all—mark, jude, and jobe—all grinning from ear to ear.

“surprise!” they shouted in unison, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of excitement.

denise’s hands flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. “you lot… oh, my boys…” her voice cracked as she clutched her chest, clearly overwhelmed.

mark stepped forward first, pulling her into a warm embrace. “happy birthday, love. you deserve this and so much more.”

“oh, mark…” denise whispered, her voice trembling as she leaned into him. “thank you.”

jude was next, stepping in with a boyish grin as he wrapped her in a tight hug. “happy birthday, mum. hope we did you proud.”

denise held onto him for a moment longer, cupping his face as she pulled back. “you always do.”

jobe was already hovering nearby, shuffling awkwardly but with a proud smile. when denise turned to him, he opened his arms sheepishly. “i helped too, you know.”

“of course you did, my baby,” denise cooed, pulling him into a hug that made jobe groan but didn’t stop him from holding on just as tightly.

when she finally pulled back, her tear-filled eyes landed on y/n, and her expression softened into something almost mischievous. “you had a hand in this, didn’t you?”

y/n laughed nervously, glancing at jude and jobe for backup that didn’t come. “maybe just a little,” she admitted, her cheeks warming.

denise didn’t hesitate to wrap her in a hug, her voice warm and full of affection. “well, you’ve officially earned your spot as my favorite.”

“hey!” jude protested immediately, stepping forward to slide an arm around y/n’s waist. “she’s mine, actually.”

“not today,” denise said with a playful laugh as she wiped her tears and gestured to the table. “now, let’s eat before you three manage to burn something else.”

“oi!” jude shot back, feigning offense. “dad was the one in charge of the oven.”

“and i supervised,” mark added with a grin, clapping jude on the shoulder.

denise shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips as she took her seat at the table. “you’re all lucky i love you so much.”

jobe plopped into his chair, shooting a pointed look at jude. “she loves me more, though.”

jude crossed his arms, leaning casually against the table. “let’s not get carried away. everyone knows i’m the favorite—firstborn, golden child, all that.”

“golden child?” jobe repeated, raising an eyebrow. “you couldn’t even blow up balloons without popping half of them. i had to fix your mess.”

“fix?” jude shot back. “half the streamers are lopsided because of you!”

denise laughed, shaking her head as she served herself a plate. “you’re both my favorites, and that’s final. now stop bickering and eat before i take the title away altogether.”

y/n giggled, pulling a neatly wrapped box from the pile of gifts. “maybe we should let auntie decide after she opens these. the best gift wins favorite status.”

denise opened her presents one by one, her laughter and joy filling the room. jude’s gift—a personalized bracelet with charms representing their family—earned an emotional gasp, while jobe’s cozy slippers drew an equally delighted response.

“oh, these are perfect!” denise exclaimed, slipping the soft slippers onto her feet immediately.

mark chuckled as he poured drinks for everyone. “see? between the three of us, we’ve got everything covered.”

jobe groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair. “ugh, i’m surrounded by couples. it’s disgusting.”

“don’t be jealous, mate,” jude teased, leaning over to nudge him. “your time will come.”

y/n smirked. “maybe one of the girls here will catch your eye.”

“great,” jobe muttered, shaking his head. “just what i need—relationship advice from you two.”

denise laughed, her hand resting on mark’s arm as she looked around the room. “well, one thing’s for sure: i’m the luckiest woman in the world to have all of you.”

mark leaned over to kiss her temple, while jude and jobe immediately started arguing again over whose gift had been better, their banter filling the air as the family settled in for a night of food, laughter, and love.

hours later, after the laughter and the cake and the countless stories shared, y/n found herself in the kitchen, tidying up some of the remnants of the party. jude appeared in the doorway, his face softer now that the chaos had subsided.

“hey,” he said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “we did it.”

y/n turned in his arms, a small smile playing on her lips. “we really did. your mum looked so happy.”

“she was,” jude said, pulling her into a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. “but let me tell you, next time jobe is on mum duty. you’re with me. i almost had a hundred breakdowns today.”

y/n laughed, her arms tightening around him. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m serious,” he said, his tone mock-indignant. “the balloons, the banner, jobe threatening to eat the cake before dinner—it was chaos.”

“well,” y/n said, leaning back to look up at him, “maybe next time jobe can get his hair and nails done. he’d love it.”

jude chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “you’re probably right. but for now, i just want to hold you.”

they stayed like that for a long moment, the noise of the day fading into the background as the comfort of each other took its place.

“i missed you today,” jude murmured, his voice low.

y/n smiled against his chest. “i missed you too. but look at it this way—we survived, and she had an amazing birthday.”

“yeah,” he said softly. “thanks to you.”

“thanks to us,” y/n corrected, lifting her hand for a high-five.

jude grinned, meeting her hand with his. “team bellingham, undefeated.”

she laughed, her head resting against his chest as he held her tighter. the day had been long and chaotic, but in this moment, with jude’s arms around her, it all felt more than worth it.

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona

#pdriesta writes #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #real madrid #jb5 #jude bellingham fanfic #football blurb #jb5 x reader #football imagine #football x reader #football smut #football fanfic

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dorabellingham · 2 days ago

Text

Play fair

warning: a little more sexual than normal

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you are far from each other and he decides to make a surprise, but things end up going another way

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was dawn when you woke up from a confused dream and, when you opened your eyes, you found only silence. The bed seemed bigger, more empty, and you felt the cold air in the space that was usually filled by Jude's heat. He was away, travelling with the team, and his absence made each night seem longer.

You tried to turn around and sleep again, but it was impossible. The longing corroded, and the sheets had the smell of him, which only made everything worse. Every memory emerged strongly: his touch on your skin, the hoarse timbre of his voice whispering things that only you could hear, and the way he always pulled her close before going to sleep.

You sighed deeply, feeling your heart tighten. You ran your fingers through the empty pillow next to you, closing your eyes for a few seconds. There are only two days left, you remembered, trying to find consolation, but in fact, two days seemed like an eternity.

Unable to relax, you got up and walked around the house. The lights were off, and everything seemed too calm. You decided to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but even while drinking, the silence still screamed. You went back to bed, but sleep just didn't come.

It was almost three in the morning when you heard the sound of the key turning at the door. You froze, your heart beating fast. It was impossible for it to be him, but at the same time, who else would have the key?

You got up slowly, his bare feet against the cold floor, and went to the corridor. When the door finally opened, you saw the tall and familiar figure entering. Judae

-Jude?

Your voice came out weaker than you expected, full of disbelief.

He put the suitcase on the floor and opened a tired but satisfied smile.

-Surprise, babe!

He said, his eyes shining when he saw you standing there, with his T-shirt covering your body.

Before you could answer, he was already crossing the space between you, pulling her into a tight hug. His smell, the heat, the presence... everything was real again, and you felt your eyes fill with tears.

-What are you doing here? Shouldn't you come back in just two days?

You asked, the voice muffled against his chest.

-I knew you missed me, and so did I. -He replied, holding your face with his big hands and looking directly into your eyes. -I needed to get back to you.

You couldn't answer, because before he could think of anything, Jude tilted his head and kissed you with intensity. It was as if he was waiting for it all the time, as if every second away from you had been unbearable.

You responded to the kiss with the same urgency, holding his shirt and pulling him closer. His hands slid down your waist, squeezing as if he wanted to memorise each curve, while he felt the heat rise through his body.

-You're crazy, Bellingham.

You murmured against his lips, panting.

-Crazy about you.

He replied, with that corner smile that made you lose control.

He took you on his lap with ease, as if you didn't weigh anything, and began to walk towards the room.

-Darling....

You started protesting, but he interrupted you.

-Shh. You have no idea how I waited for that.

He said, his voice hoarse and low, sending chills all over your spine.

When you arrived in the room, he gently put you on the bed, but there was nothing soft in the look he threw at you. It was intense, loaded with desire, and you felt your cheeks getting hot.

He took off his shirt with a quick movement, revealing the muscular body you knew so well, and you bit your lower lip, trying not to show how much you were being affected.

-You don't play fair, Jude.

You said, the voice is low and almost trembling.

-I never promised I would play, sweetie.

He replied, leaning over you while his smile increased.

His hands found the bar of your shirt - or rather, his shirt - and slowly slid it up, revealing more of your skin. You didn't try to stop him, you just closed your eyes and let him drive.

The kisses began on the neck, slowly descending as his hands explored every centimetre they had missed. You held the sheets tightly, trying to contain the small sounds that tried to escape from your lips, but Jude seemed to know exactly how to provoke you.

-I missed it so much, Y/n.

He murmured against you skin, his voice deep and hoarse.

You couldn't answer; all you could do was pull him closer, as if you needed him to breathe.

The room was filled with low sighs and moans, each more desperate than the other. There was nothing soft or delicate that night; it was pure accumulated desire, longing overflowing with every touch and movement.

When you finally walked away, both were panting, your bodies hot and intertwined. Jude looked at you with a satisfied smile, and you rolled your eyes, although you couldn't contain your own smile.

-Did you miss me for that?

You provoked.

-And was it enough, babe?

He replied, with that presumptuous tone that you hated to love.

You shook your head, laughing low, and snuggled up to his chest.

-Next time, try not to keep me waiting so long.

He wrapped you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

-I promise. Next time, I won't be able to stay even half of this time away from you.

And that night, for the first time in days, you finally slept peacefully.

136 notes · View notes

allgoodnamesrgoneee · 7 months ago

Text

I have a couple requests that I'm currently writing right now so while you guys wait, here's a little something to snack on. Enjoy😉

What's For Dinner

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Jude come home and fucks you in the kitchen

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.9k

Warnings! NSFW! SMUT (18+), unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, the slightest pussy slap, kitchen sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

"Fuck, baby" Jude pants right into your pussy making you whimper. "Am I making you feel good?."

You nod. Not that he could see from where he had his face buried in your cunt.

You're sprawled, spread out on the kitchen counter like a decadent meal as your boyfriend ate you out. His tongue flickered in and out of your folds opening you up.

When you don't answer him, he slows down his movements making you whine in need. He lifts his head to look at you through hooded eyes and gently smacks his palm down on your clit.

"Answer me," he warns, his hand snaking up to squeeze your breast through your(his) shirt. His other hand slowly dips into your heat. You can't help the moan that escapes from your lips. His tongue licks at his lips which are shiny from your juices as he watches your face. "Tell me you like it." He whispers seductively as he rubs your swollen nub.

You can't help the way your back arches off the counter as he slips one then two fingers in your hole. "I like it," You gasp out. "Please, Jude, please don't stop." You beg him.

He gives you a devilish smirk as he bends down takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard and bites down softly. You nearly come undone right there.

It was Saturday night and you were supposed to be making dinner. Jude had just come home from a long day of training. All he wanted was to go home, eat and cuddle with his girl.

But you had to fuck him up.

There you were standing in front of the stove, hips swaying to the song you had playing on the speaker. Not noticing his tall figure behind you completely unaware. Torturously reminding him of the heaven between your legs. Taunting him with the tight wet heat it promised.

He felt himself grow hard at the thought of it. At the thought of wrecking you on that kitchen counter. His dick was already aching and weeping at the chance to be inside of you.

You were sautéing the vegetables when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, a blend of cedarwood and vanilla that always brought a smile to your lips.

His breath was warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat radiating from the stove.

"Smells amazing," he rasped, pressing his hips into your back allowing you to feel his already growing bulge. You jump at his touch not hearing him come in but then relaxed in his hold.

"Jude!" you laughed, turning around to face him. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and his grin was impossibly charming, the kind that could melt even the sternest resolve. "You scared me," you scolded lightly, though the warmth in your voice betrayed any real annoyance.

"Did I?" he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. The sensation sends another shiver through you, and you feel a warmth pooling in your panties.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access, and he takes the invitation gladly. His kisses trail from your ear down to the curve of your neck, each one making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

His fingers danced along your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding up under your shirt to rest on your stomach. "What are you making?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending another wave of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cooking.

You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his face out of the corner of your eye. The way his dark eyes glimmered with affection made your heart skip a beat. "your favorite," His hands moved higher, gently grazing your ribs, causing you to squirm.

"Yeah? This all for me?" His breath is warm against your neck, lips grazing your neck.

It wasn't long until he had you on the counter feasting on your pussy instead. Slurping up your juices and reducing you to a sobbing mess. Desecrating your kitchen, your eating place with your wet warm slick. Something that would disgust a decent person but just turned him on and spurred him to dig deeper with his tongue.

This was all your fault really. How could he resist you, in the kitchen covered in hickeys, the ones he had left on you this morning, wearing only his shirt and your panties.

His chest swelled with pride knowing that he was the one who had done this to you. His sweet innocent girlfriend. He loved ruining you for anyone else. Loved the fact that he was the only one to have. To see you like this.

Jude fucking loved it.

Seeing the evidence of his work on display on your soft squishy body drivng him crazy since he walked through the door, until he couldn't take it anymore.

He had to have you. Wanted to take you again immediately but no. Not right now.

Right now he was going to finish his meal first.

So here you were, legs spread on the kitchen counter as you rode his face letting out the sweetest noises and singing his praises. Letting him defile you with his deft and sinful tongue. You moaned, a broken desperate sound grinding your hips against his mouth seeking more pleasure.

Jude lapped up your juices eagerly, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place as he feasted on your cunt. "Oh God," You gasp out. "Oh fuck." You groan louder, "Jude." The way your voice trembles made him groan in pleasure, his cock twitching with the need to get inside of you. His thumb found its way back to your clit circling it over and over again.

"Baby, baby, baby." You chant out, your hands tangling in his coily hair. Your hips moving on their own accord riding his tongue like the best ride in the world. He hums into your cunt and your vision goes blurry as pleasure shoots through you, your orgasm making you feel weightless. You feel yourself fall but Jude holds you tight keeping you close.

"Good girl," he praises you as you come down from your high. He lifts his head to look at you with a satisfied smile on his lips. He knew he could make you feel good. He knew what you needed.

Jude smirks at you, his eyes glinting in the kitchen lighting. Your juices glistened on his chin and he licked it off without missing a beat, savoring your taste. His fingers left you with a satisfied pop, and he wipes them clean on his shorts.

God, you wanted him so bad. Deep inside you.

And he was more than happy to oblige straightening himself and pulling out his dick.

Jude stroked himself a few times slicking his member up with your slick. His dick was aching having been neglected for the whole day. It was hard as a rock with a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. He rubbed it in, coating the head in your cum.

He leaned over to you, your legs still open and wrapped around him, pulling you closer to him. His eyes looked deep into yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. He grinned, the smile on his face making you melt into a puddle.

"I can't wait to fuck this pussy." He says, rubbing his tip on your clit. Gathering some of your wetness on last time before slowly pushing in. Jude moaned as he slid in, inch by delicious inch.

You cry out in shock, your body stretching to accommodate his size. Your cunt is dripping and ready for him and he slides in easily. You're so fucking wet for him.

You arch your back into his touch. "Yes, Jude. Please." You beg him as you grip his shoulders tightly. Your nails digging into his skin as you cling to him.

It took all his concentration and willpower not to cum right then and there. He took a moment to let you both get used to the stretch before carefully pulling out till only the tip remained before slamming back inside.

"Oh fuck baby! You're so tight, so warm. So wet." His voice was full of awe. "You're so fucking perfect." He praised as he continued to move. His movements slow and languid, savoring the feel of your tight walls around him. The way he had you pinned between the counter and his body. The way he could control your pleasure.

He sped up his thrusts, hitting all the right spots as he fucked you senseless. Your moans were music to his ears and he revelled in it. He grunted with every thrust, pushing deeper inside of you. His breathing was heavy as he fucked you into the counter. The sounds of skin slapping and your moans filled the air.

He took you like that on the kitchen counter. Taking you with rough, hard thrusts until he had you screaming for him, until your screams echoed through the house. Your fingers digging into his back as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you.

You made all sorts of sweet noises, moaning your ass off not worried about being heard. Jude thrilled at that. Hearing you let loose without a care in the world and his chest swelled with delight.

He drilled your sweet hole, slowing down his thrusts to grind your walls before changing the pace up again and pounding you hard. It drove you crazy and he loved seeing his girl going wild with pleasure like this especially when it added to his as well.

"Baby," he panted. "Tell me how how much you love my cock!"

You tried to answer but your words kept getting interrupted by his fierce thrusts. "Ju-Jude! I love-love it!"

Jude moaned and bent down to kiss your pretty little mouth luxuriating in their softness and the beautiful sounds that spilled from them.

You were so fucking sexy.

The love of his life, lying beneath him all soft and pliant, all for him. All his. So sinfully sweet and deplorably thirsty for his dick. Canting your hips so he slipped deeper inside you and begging both with your body and mouth for more.

More of him. For him to bury deeper inside and burst you full with his cum. How could he ever get enough of you when you acted like this every time you had sex. How could he ever resist your temptations when you looked this beautiful spread out beneath him.

No wonder he hadn't stopped fucking you ever since your first time.

He fucked you so good. Fucking your tight cunt, taking you like an animal in heat. He fucked you so hard you could feel him in your stomach, your soul. You're so fucking full of him. His cock was so hard and hot inside you, filling you up.

He was fucking you like a whore, using your body for his pleasure. And you loved every moment of it. Every second he had your legs up, pounding your pussy. You're a mess, completely ruined.

"I'm gonna cum, Jude. I'm cumming." You gasp out, your hands running down his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving your mark. Jude groaned, his movements becoming more frantic as you tightened around his cock, your orgasm starting to wash over you.

"Fuck! Baby!" Jude cursed as your pussy clenched around him. Your muscles contracting around his dick, milking him for everything he had. The sensation was so strong it nearly knocked him over the edge.

You moaned out in pleasure, your body limp as you rode your orgasm out. Your body shuddering with pleasure, your pussy twitching around him. Jude looked at you in awe.

God he loved you so much. He loved the way your body responded to him. The way you were putty in his hands, giving him the power to bring you to heights of pleasure. The way you clung to him as your body shook with ecstasy.

"Shit baby," He grunts out, his movements becoming jerky. "You're making me cum." He groans as his orgasm builds up in him. His hands are holding your ass tighter, pulling you closer to him. The way he had you pinned against the counter made it impossible for you to move.

He was deep inside you, his balls slapping against your ass. His eyes never left yours as he fucked you through his orgasm. His breathing heavy, his mouth hanging open. Your pussy twitched around his dick milking him of all his cum. He shuddered in your hold.

"Ah fuck, sweetheart. You're so good." His voice was rough from his climax. His thrusts slow down as he empties his seed deep inside of you. You moaned out in pleasure at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up.

"Jude." You whimpered as you felt yourself getting filled with his seed. He was so hot, so thick and it felt like it was going to spill out of you any moment. His dick twitched inside you, his cock still hard and full even after emptying himself inside of you.

He was still rock-hard and still pumping away at your pussy. Your head fell back and you arched your back into his touch, pushing your breasts closer to him. He obliged, taking a nipple in his mouth sucking gently.

"Jude!" You gasp out. "It feels too good." You mewl, trying to push him away but he's too strong. His hands grip you tight. "Too sensitive." You whine. "Stop! Please."

"You can't take it?" He whispers, licking his lips. "You can't take my big dick, baby?" His voice is low and husky.

You can feel his dick twitch inside you at his words. Your pussy spasms in response to his taunts and he grunts out in pleasure.

Jude thrusts a few more times, his movements becoming languid before slowly pulling out of you. You whimper as his dick slides out of you, his seed following suit. He pulls back to look at you. Your legs still open for him. Your cunt on full display. A mess of our juices mixed together.

You looked beautiful like this. Spread out on the counter, a mess from his lovemaking. His eyes travel down to your pussy, taking in the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole. Your pussy was stretched out and red from his pounding. He grins at the sight.

"Fuck," he whispers, his voice full of awe. "Look at that." You follow his gaze to your cunt. It's still dripping from your orgasm. Jude pulls you closer, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He held you as you both come down and you wrap your arms around him happy to be held.

Once he calmed down he kissed you deeply and passionately and you responded just as eagerly. You kind of stay there making out lazily for awhile before you remembered about dinner.

Placing one more soft peck on your lips, Jude set you down, grinning as you wobble on your feet. "What a welcome," he laughs as he takes you in his arms, nuzzling your neck. "I think I'm going to like coming home more often." You slap him on the chest laughing at his antics and he gives you a goofy grin before kissing you again.

The kitchen smelled like sex. You were covered in sweat and cum. Your thighs sticky from his release. You're sore but you can't help but feel satisfied. It's been a while since he's taken you this rough, this wild. You missed it.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" Jude asks, his expression turning serious.

You shake your head. "No. It was perfect." You assure him, smiling softly.

He gives you a sheepish grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Good." He kisses you once more.

You sigh happily, content. "I love you," you whisper as he continues to pepper kisses on your neck.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he responds, his voice low and husky. "Now come on." He laughs as he lets you go. "Let's get you cleaned up?" In one swift movement you were back in his arms, bridal style. "And then I'll finish dinner."

You squeal as you're picked up. "I'm supposed to cook tonight, babe!" You laugh.

"Ah, but you were otherwise occupied," Jude retorts. "Besides, I want to take care of you tonight." You melt at his words. How could you resist him? "Plus you deserve a break." He says as he heads out the door. "You've had a long day too." He smirks at the last words, remebering this morning and what you just did.

You laugh, hitting him on the chest. "Stop it." You're blushing, burying your head into his neck.

"How did I get so lucky?" He asks, his voice filled with reverence above you

You smile agaisnt his skin. "You didn't." Your words come out slightly muffled, placing a soft kiss on his neck. "I'm the lucky one." And you were lucky to have him. Lucky to be loved and cherished by him. He was the best boyfriend in the world. And you were going to make sure he knows it.

"I'm not complaining," Jude smirks at you before giving you a quick peck on the lips. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." He bounces you up a bit in his arms making you squeal with laughter. Melting his heart. "Or else we'll be having takeout for dinner." He smiles down at you one last time before bolting upstairs.

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #football #jude x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham #jb5 #bellingham

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rmadridcore · 14 days ago

Text

Love in Slow Motion

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: Nine times Jude felt a strange warmth whenever he was around you, and one time he finally realized what it was.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s note: took a break from writing, but i’m back with a little fluffy Jude fic 🤍 i’ll start getting through my requests as well 🫂

The type of relationship you and Jude had was very special to him. It hasn’t been too long since you two became a couple and he wasn’t the type to get too serious, too fast. He preferred keeping things casual — no heavy responsibilities, no complicated emotions, just light and easy. But that all shifted when you walked into his life. It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, what used to feel complicated or burdensome didn’t seem that way anymore. He found out how peaceful it could be to have the right person by your side. With you, everything felt good, natural. He was attracted to you, sure, but it went far beyond that. There was this deep respect, an admiration that ran much deeper than anything he had ever experienced before. And he was glad to have you in his life.

But then there was that other feeling. It was subtle at first, a strange, confusing fuzz in the pit of his stomach. A warmth that spread through his chest and left him feeling... overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

The feeling would hit him at the most random times, uninvited but never unwelcome. He couldn’t quite put a name to it at first, but it was undeniable — it was strong, intense, and utterly inescapable when he was around you. And it took him a while, 10 moments to be exact, before he finally realized what that feeling really was.

The first time it hit him was during an ordinary Tuesday at his place. You two had just come back from the gym, snacks in hand — a little indulgence after an intense workout. You sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, meticulously sorting through your favorite candy, arranging them by color like it was some life or death mission. Jude couldn’t help but watch, utterly mesmerized. The way your brows furrowed in concentration, the seriousness in your expression over something so trivial. It was adorable. He didn’t even realize he was smiling, his heart swelling with that familiar warmth. He’d barely noticed it then, but that was the first time the feeling crept in.

The second time was less subtle. You two were lounging in bed, tangled up in each other’s arms as the worst crime series he’d ever seen played on TV. You loved it, adored it, despite how horrendously predictable and dull it was. If it were up to him, that show would never grace his screen, not in a million years. But when you asked him to watch it with you, he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to. Even though he didn’t care for the show, he found himself invested — not in the plot, but in the way your face lit up during the ridiculous twists, how you laughed at the over the top dialogue. It hit him then, that same feeling, stronger this time. He didn’t care about the show. He cared about you, about how happy you were. And somehow, that made it all worth it.

The third time it hit him was at dawn. Thirst had woken him up in the middle of the night, and after a quick drink of water, he climbed back into bed. But sleep didn’t return as easily. Instead, he found himself gazing at you — your sleeping figure, so peaceful, so serene. You looked perfect, nestled into the fluffy pillow with the blanket pulled up to your chin. His heart swelled as he watched you, that same unamenable feeling washing over him again. There was something mesmerizing about how relaxed and beautiful you looked, your soft features illuminated by the faint light creeping through the curtains. You were flawless to him, like a dream come to life. And as he lied there, wide awake, he realized how happy it made him to be the one who got to fall asleep and wake up next to you. He was happy, so happy, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

The fourth time came just before he had to leave for training. He was sitting at the kitchen table, lazily texting his brother, when you came over and placed a cup of coffee in front of him. You gave him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, leaving him to take his first sip. As the warm liquid touched his lips, it hit him — you hadn’t asked him how he liked his coffee in months. Only once, when you first started seeing each other. Since then, you had memorized his exact preferences, down to the smallest detail, making it for him just the way he liked without ever needing a reminder. That tiny, thoughtful gesture struck him harder than anything else could have. You knew him so well, and you cared enough to remember the little things. It was a simple moment, but it made him feel that same warmth, that same fuzzy feeling in his chest, stronger than ever.

The fifth time was during a dinner at your friend’s house. The evening had been fun, filled with laughter and conversations, but it was after dinner when that familiar feeling surged through him again. The guests had spread around the house, sipping on drinks and chatting in small groups. He had just come back from the balcony, where he had been talking with a few friends, when he spotted you across the room. You were sitting on a couch with your girlfriends, your head thrown back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room. God, you were beautiful. The way you laughed, so carefree, so full of joy, it made his breath hitch. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your cheeks flushed from whatever joke had you in stitches, and he felt like time stopped for a moment. In that instant, all he wanted was to hold onto that image of you, happy and glowing. He wanted to freeze time, to keep you laughing forever. It was in moments like that when he felt it the most, this overwhelming, undeniable feeling.

The sixth time hit him when he was getting ready for an award show. You had been by his side all evening, calming his nerves, reassuring him with your words, building him up when he felt uncertain. He loved how involved you were in his career, how you were genuinely his number one fan. As you stood there fixing his collar, making sure he looked perfect before he walked out the door, that feeling rushed over him again. There was something so tender about the way you took care of him, focused on every little detail, and it hit him just how lucky he was to have someone who cared this much.

The seventh time happened on a simple stroll through the city. You loved being outdoors when the weather was nice, and Jude loved tagging along, happy to do anything that brought a smile to your face. As you two walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalk, an adorable white puppy caught your attention. Without a second thought, you dropped Jude’s hand and rushed over to pet the dog, kneeling down and squealing at how cute it was. Watching you gush over the puppy, completely losing yourself in the moment, made that warm, fuzzy feeling flood his chest again. He stood there, grinning, watching as you melted into a bundle of squeaks and giggles, and all he could think was how much he loved seeing you happy.

The eighth time came after one of the hardest days he’d had in a while. Exhausted and stressed, he came home expecting to collapse, but instead, he was greeted by the heavenly smell of his favorite meal cooking. You had surprised him, knowing full well that he’d be grumpy and starving after the long day. The house smelled like comfort, and you acted like it was no big deal, just something you casually did to make his day a little better. But to him, it meant everything. He kissed you as a way of saying thank you, feeling so grateful for how effortlessly you made his life better. You always knew exactly how to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

The ninth time was pure simplicity. He had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, another one in hand as he dried his hair. He walked into the living room and saw you lounging on the couch, reading a book and wearing his T-shirt. Something about you in his clothes, looking so relaxed and at home in his space, hit him hard. It was such a small thing, but it sent that familiar warmth surging through him, stronger than ever. The sight of you so comfortable in his world, in his shirt, made him realize — he could get used to this. In fact, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

And the tenth time was the epiphany. You two were out grocery shopping, preparing for a dinner party you were hosting for your friends over the weekend. As you wandered through the aisles, picking and choosing what you needed for the meal, Jude followed behind you, pushing the cart loaded with products. He watched you with soft admiration as you weighed your options, debating what dessert to serve. It struck him how perfectly domestic everything felt; how easy, how natural, and how real it was.

Everything he once feared, commitment, responsibilities, routine, was now something he craved with you. He loved the simplicity of it all, the way you moved through life together with such ease. This wasn’t just about being comfortable; it was about feeling truly at home with you. And then, it hit him. That feeling he had been experiencing all along, that warmth in his chest — it was love.

It was love that made him stare at you sorting candy like it was the most captivating thing in the world. Love that had him watching that awful crime show with you, just to hold you close. Love that kept him glued to your sleeping face at dawn. Love that made your laugh the best sound he had ever heard, and the way you made his coffee exactly how he liked it felt so special. Love that made him emotional when you adjusted his collar, and why watching you squeal over a random dog on the street made his heart melt. It was love that made your cooking the best thing he could ever come home to, and why seeing you in his clothes felt so right.

He loved you — deeply, more than he ever thought possible. And as he looked at you then, standing in the grocery aisle, he was sure of one thing: when you looked back at him, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that you loved him just as much.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jb5 #jb5 x reader #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football player x reader #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

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afterglowsainz · 9 months ago

Note

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham one shot #real madrid x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x y/n #football #football one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jb5 #jb10 #jude bellingham gif

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latin5mamii · 4 months ago

Text

warm.

warnings: long chapter but i think you like them

genre: fluff, cuddle session

summary:A cuddle session with your needy boyfriend is just more than enough.

author's note:I know i've been inactive these days but with school and everything it's just impossible😔...but here you go this fluffy and comforting one -shot that i hope you'll like! If you have any other fluff idea about Jude or any other player that i write for please let me know!🤍 ( i need to write fluff these days...)Plus please don't ask about the third pic please...

·　　•　　　·　　　.　　　　　　　　　·　　　.　°　　　★　.　　·　　　　　　•　·　　°　　　·☆.　*✷　✶°　　　*　　　°　•　　　✯　　　　　 •　*　　**　.　　　.°　　°　　°　　　.　　　　.*　.　　　　　　　　

“C’mere,” Jude murmured, his arms open wide, just for you.

You stood in the doorway, watching him sprawled out on the bed, his head propped up on one arm, the other patting the empty spot beside him. His eyes met yours, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without a word, you walked over, crawling under the covers next to him. Before you could fully settle in, he was already pulling you close. His arms wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you against his chest, your legs tangling under the blankets.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of him immediately soothing.

Jude chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good, because you’re always cold,” he teased, his fingers tracing slow patterns across your back. “You’re like a little human ice block.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your knee. “Rude.”

“Just being honest,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “But lucky for you, I’m always warm, so it works out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the kind where no words were needed. His fingers continued their lazy journey along your spine, the rhythm of his breathing steady and soothing.

After a few moments, you felt him shift beneath you, his hand sliding down to your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Missed you today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His words were soft, almost like an afterthought, but they made your heart swell. You smiled against his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

“I missed you too,” you murmured back, your voice quiet, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb the peaceful bubble that had formed around the two of you. You shifted a little, resting your head more comfortably against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It was a rhythm you had grown to love, one that never failed to calm you.

Jude’s arms tightened around you ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on just a little closer. His hand moved up to your hair, fingers threading through the soft strands in gentle strokes. You could feel the quiet affection in his touch—unhurried and patient, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

You melted at his touch, leaning into him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and lingering. There was something about the way Jude kissed you, like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered but the moment you were in.

His lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a series of gentle kisses that made your heart race just a little faster. You sighed contentedly, your fingers slipping into his curls, twirling the soft strands between your fingertips.

“You always do that,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

“Do what?” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That,” he breathed, his hand sliding down to your hip, his thumb gently tracing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “You play with my hair when you think I’m asleep.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers stilling for a moment before brushing another curl away from his forehead. “I like the way it feels,” you admitted, your voice quiet, almost shy.

Jude hummed, a deep sound of contentment vibrating through his chest. “I like when you do it,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin just below your jaw. “Feels nice.”

You smiled against his skin, your fingers continuing their gentle motions. Jude’s thumb sketched lazy circles on your hip, and you could feel his breathing slow, as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from him. Your fingers continued their slow dance through his hair, your mind wandering to how easy this felt, being wrapped up in him, his presence always so steady and reassuring.

After a while, Jude’s voice broke the silence again, this time softer, almost like he wasn’t fully awake. “Stay like this… don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss against his collarbone.

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, as if he wanted to keep you even closer than you already were. It was in moments like this that you realized how much he craved the quiet, the stillness.

“I mean it,” he murmured after a beat, his voice low and drowsy. “Don’t want to fall asleep if you’re not here.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth in your chest grow even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it never failed to tug at your heart. Jude had a way of making the simplest moments feel like they held the entire world. His need for you wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated softly, shifting slightly to tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, and his lips were curled into that soft, lazy smile you adored.

He blinked slowly, eyes barely open, but you could still see the glint of affection in them. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb resuming its slow, rhythmic circles on your hip. “Because if you did, I’d have to chase you down.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at the thought. “You? Chase someone down? You can barely get out of bed in the morning.”

Jude huffed, his sleepy smile widening into a grin. “I’d chase you for sure. Might take me a while, but I’d get there eventually.”

You giggled, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? How long do you think it’d take you?”

He squinted as if he were seriously considering the question, his fingers still idly tracing patterns along your back. “Depends on how fast you’re running. If you’re sprinting, maybe an hour. If you’re walking, I’d say… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? You think I’m that slow?” You gasped in mock offense, gently poking him in the side.

Jude’s body shook with quiet laughter as he caught your hand and pulled it to his chest, keeping it there. “Nah, it’s not that you’re slow, it’s just that I’d be really motivated. I’d catch you quicker than you think.”

“Oh, so you’d be fast for me?” you teased, your smile widening as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“For you? I’d be unstoppable,” he replied with a sleepy confidence, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Nothing could keep me from catching you.”

You felt a soft blush rise to your cheeks at his words, and you buried your face back into the crook of his neck to hide it. Jude always knew how to say the right thing, even when he was half-asleep. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his skin, your lips brushing against his collarbone.

“And you love it,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You smiled against his neck. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely,” he said with a lazy grin, and you could feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest. “You definitely love it.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Jude had a way of getting under your skin, but in the best possible way. He was right—you did love it. You loved the way he teased you, the way he made you laugh, the way he held you like you were something precious. It was all so easy with him, so natural.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, your voice muffled by his neck.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “I know. That’s why I get away with so much.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you admit it? You know you get away with stuff?”

Jude gave you an exaggeratedly innocent look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin. “Who, me? I’m an angel.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “An angel, huh? You’re more like a menace.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d wounded him. “A menace? That’s harsh. I’m deeply offended.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at the sight of him being so playful, so at ease. Moments like this, where it was just the two of you tangled up in each other, teasing and laughing, made you realize how lucky you were to have him. He made everything better, even the quiet moments.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a menace,” you conceded, resting your head back on his chest. “But you’re definitely not an angel either.”

“I’ll take that,” Jude murmured, his hand drifting back to your hair, his fingers resuming their gentle strokes. “As long as you’re here, you can call me whatever you want.”

You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need to fill the silence with more teasing or banter. Just being here with him was enough ,more than enough.

·　　•　　　·　　　.　　　　　　　　　·　　　.　°　　　★　.　　·　　　　　　•　·　　°　　　·☆.　*✷　✶°　　　*　　　°　•　　　✯　　　　　

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jude5bellingham · 1 year ago

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imsg ౨ৎ jude bellingham

notes : real lost today, salah injured, it's over for me guys. hope you enjoy these though 🤓

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goldfades · 2 months ago

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★ 'cause she's watching him with those eyes / and she's loving him with that body, i just know it / and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night / you know, i wish that i had jessie's girl / i wish that i had jessie's girl / where can i find a woman like that? ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 18k (a lot more than i expected...)

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a college student navigates her complicated feelings for her charming yet infuriating neighbor, joe burrow, while dating the seemingly perfect linebacker. after a series of missteps, flirtatious teasing, and an unexpected kiss, she finds herself caught in a whirlwind of tension, confusion, and unexpected sparks, all while trying to avoid the loud, chaotic presence of joe and his ever-constant parade of girls.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | unedited (sorry... i got lazy), NSFW (with lots... and lots... AND LOTS of plot), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids) praise, teasing, lots of kissing/foreplay, p in v, uhhh.. descriptions of big dick joe??? enemies to lovers, roommates, mentions of drinking/alcohol, cheating (not on reader), joe being an asshole, cocky joe, lots of fighting, heated arguments.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this has been in my drafts for a good 2 months and finally decided to finish it up on the sunday before american thanksgiving! so... yaya! please let me know your thoughts!

The muffled sound of Ja’Marr Chase’s bass-heavy playlist seeps through the thin walls of your apartment, rattling the picture frames you swore you hung up straight last week. The tiny LSU apartment complex, with its peeling beige paint and eternally broken elevator, has its charms—like the way the front door doesn’t lock unless you kick it just right or how the air conditioner only works when it’s below 70 degrees outside.

But Joe Burrow? He’s not one of those charms.

No, Joe Burrow is the bane of your existence, the human equivalent of a pothole on a road you have to take every day. His name alone makes your best friend, Ella, roll her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck in the back of her head. “Just ignore him,” she says every time you come storming through the door, ranting about whatever fresh annoyance he’s cooked up that day. “He only bothers you because you’re fun to mess with.”

Right. Like that’s supposed to make it better.

Living next door to Joe and Ja’Marr was tolerable at first. Sure, they were loud, occasionally messy, and probably violating a dozen lease terms, but it wasn’t personal. Then, you had one small misunderstanding—okay, so maybe you yelled at Joe for leaving his bike in front of your door after you tripped over it—and now it’s like he’s made it his life’s mission to drive you insane.

Sometimes, it’s harmless: an obnoxious smirk when you cross paths on the way to class or his sarcastic comments about how you always seem to be spilling coffee on your shirt. Other times, it’s borderline infuriating: stealing your parking spot, taking the last box of cinnamon rolls at the grocery store, or claiming the shared apartment complex grill for “official game day business” every single Saturday.

Still, there’s something annoyingly magnetic about him, even when you want to wring his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing at his own jokes. The stupid mop of curls he somehow manages to pull off. The effortless confidence that borders on cocky, though you’d never say it out loud because that’s exactly the kind of thing that would go straight to his head.

Ella always jokes that you two are like an old married couple, constantly bickering but secretly loving it. You disagree. Mostly because Joe already has enough people falling at his feet—like the swarm of girls in purple-and-gold jerseys who show up at the apartment complex every other week, giggling like they’re auditioning for a reality show.

You sigh, brushing a stray crumb off the countertop as Ella flops onto the couch behind you, textbook in hand. And if his stupid grin when he sees you on your balcony later tonight is any indication, he’s already got something planned.

You just don’t know it yet.

The parking lot outside your apartment complex is a war zone at 11 p.m., with far too many cars crammed into a space that was clearly designed with only half the residents in mind. You circle the lot for the third time, your headlights cutting through the dark like a searchlight on some hopeless mission. After eight grueling hours at the campus library helping undergrads figure out why their printers are possessed, your brain feels like oatmeal, and all you want is to collapse into your bed.

But, of course, tonight isn’t going to be that simple.

Because there he is. Joe freaking Burrow.

He’s in his Jeep—windows down, music playing softly, and, naturally, there’s a blonde perched in the passenger seat laughing at something he said. Of course, he found the last available spot. Except—it’s not his spot, because you saw it first. Your blinker’s been on since the beginning of time (or at least the last 30 seconds), and you refuse to back down now.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as he slowly starts to reverse into the spot, like he hasn’t noticed your very obvious claim to it. Heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and indignation, you tap your horn. Just once. Polite, but firm. He stops, glances in his rearview mirror, and then—of course—he smirks.

Oh, hell no.

You roll down your window and lean out. “Hey, Burrow! I was waiting for that spot.”

He leans his elbow casually against the window frame, his curls catching the faint glow of the streetlight. “Were you? Didn’t see your name on it.” His voice is slow, lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world to be a pain in your ass.

You glare at him, barely suppressing the urge to snap. “I was here first.”

“And I started reversing first,” he counters, raising an eyebrow like it’s a debate class and not a parking lot at nearly midnight. The blonde giggles beside him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Just let me have it. You look like you could use the exercise.”

Oh, he’s done it now.

“Excuse me?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you’re too far gone to care. “I’ve been on my feet for eight hours dealing with entitled freshmen, and if you think I’m about to let you—”

“Alright, alright,” Joe interrupts, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not trying to ruin your night.” He throws the Jeep into drive, and with a dramatic sigh, he pulls away, leaving the spot open for you. But not without one last parting comment. “Don’t scratch the paint when you park. Oh, wait—you’re really close to that pole—”

You park with excessive precision, throwing your car into park before leaning out the window to call after him. “I didn’t ask for your help, Joe!”

His laugh echoes across the parking lot, carefree and infuriating. You slam your door shut a little harder than necessary, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you trudge toward the building. Finally, peace.

Or so you think.

Because just as you reach the elevator, its ding announcing its arrival, you hear the telltale sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete and—because your luck is absolute trash—Joe freaking Burrow strolls in behind you, Blonde Giggles McGee still glued to his side.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says casually, stepping into the elevator with you like he didn’t just steal and relinquish a parking spot out of sheer pettiness. The blonde gives you a wide, vaguely clueless smile, her gum snapping between her teeth.

You press the button for the third floor with a pointed jab and cross your arms, leaning against the elevator wall as Joe and his date take their sweet time figuring out which floor they’re going to. The door finally slides shut, and the tension in the small space is unbearable.

“So,” the blonde says brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “you guys, like, live here? That’s so fun! Like, neighbors and stuff. Wow.”

Your lips press into a tight smile, trying to avoid eye contact with Joe, who you can feel grinning at you like this is the highlight of his week. “Yep. Fun,” you reply curtly, forcing the word out like it’s laced with acid.

Joe’s shoulders shake slightly, and you realize he’s laughing. He glances at you, and there’s that damn smirk again, like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it. “She’s real talkative tonight,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “Usually, she’s got more to say.”

You turn to him with a withering glare. “Don’t you have something else to do, Burrow?”

Before he can reply, the elevator lurches slightly as it comes to a stop on your floor. You step out quickly, muttering a polite “Good night” that is entirely devoid of warmth. Joe follows, his pace annoyingly casual as he throws one last look over his shoulder.

“See you around, neighbor,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You don’t look back.

The smell of cheap ramen hits you the moment you open the door to your apartment. It’s comforting, in a way—familiar, like Ella’s answer to every late-night craving or bad day. She’s in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove, barefoot and wearing the oversized LSU sweatshirt you’d bought together during freshman year.

“You’re late,” she says without looking up, her voice light with mock reproach. “Was the library on fire, or did you stop to fight Burrow in the parking lot again?”

You kick off your shoes with a sigh, tossing your bag onto the couch. “Option B. Obviously.”

That gets her attention. She turns, spoon in hand, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? It’s, like, midnight. You two are going to give each other aneurysms before graduation.”

You slump into one of the kitchen chairs, letting your forehead hit the table dramatically. “He stole my parking spot. Had the audacity to smirk about it, too. And then—get this—I got stuck in the elevator with him and some girl who wouldn’t stop talking about how ‘fun’ it is to have neighbors.” You lift your head to glare at Ella, who is now struggling to hold back a laugh. “I’m cursed. That man is my curse.”

Ella snorts, pouring the ramen into two mismatched bowls. “He’s not your curse. He’s just a guy with too much charm and not enough common sense. And clearly, you’re living rent-free in his head, which, honestly, is kind of impressive considering he’s got a playbook in there.”

You accept the bowl she slides across the table, your stomach growling despite your lingering irritation. “I don’t want to live in his head. I want him to stop being so… so Joe all the time.”

Ella sits across from you, propping her chin in her hand with a sly grin. “Are you sure? You seem to spend a lot of time talking about him.”

You glare at her over a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t start.”

But she’s already started, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s giving sexual tension.”

You nearly choke, coughing as you wave her off. “Nope. Absolutely not. There’s no tension. Only irritation. And rage. And an overwhelming desire to see him move to a different apartment complex.”

Ella laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Whatever you say, babe. But for the record, I think you secretly enjoy it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can form a retort, there’s a knock at the door. Both of you freeze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You expecting someone?” Ella whispers, her tone suddenly conspiratorial.

“No,” you whisper back, your heart sinking as a horrible suspicion creeps over you.

Ella gestures for you to check, and with a deep, resigned breath, you shuffle to the door, bowl still in hand. You crack it open just enough to see who’s on the other side, and—because the universe apparently hates you—there he is. Joe Burrow, in all his smug, infuriating glory, holding a box of cinnamon rolls.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says, his grin infuriatingly wide. “Figured I owed you something for stealing your spot.”

You stare at him, speechless, for a moment. Then, finally, you manage, “It’s 11:30 at night.”

He shrugs, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable time for a peace offering. “Better late than never, right?”

From behind you, Ella’s voice rings out, barely containing her amusement. “Is that Joe? Invite him in!”

You turn to glare at her, silently vowing revenge, but when you look back at Joe, he’s already stepping inside like he owns the place.

“Nice place,” he says, glancing around before holding up the box. “So… cinnamon roll?”

You sigh, shutting the door behind him. It’s going to be a long night.

Joe leans casually against the counter, still holding the box of cinnamon rolls like he’s been invited to stay for a late-night hangout. You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms. “So, what’s this about, really? Cinnamon rolls aren’t exactly your style.”

“Wow, judgmental much?” he says with a mock-wounded expression. “What if I just wanted to be neighborly?”

Ella snickers softly behind you, spooning up her ramen as she watches the exchange like it’s prime-time TV.

Joe grins, ignoring your skepticism. “Actually,” he says, setting the box on the counter with a little too much flourish, “I’m out of sugar. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

You blink at him, incredulous. “Sugar? You came over at almost midnight to borrow sugar?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the “p” for emphasis, completely unbothered by your glare.

Ella, ever the peacemaker—or enabler, depending on the situation—sets her bowl down and gets up to rummage through the cabinets. “We’ve got some,” she says reluctantly, pulling out a small bag. She walks over and places it in Joe’s outstretched hand, but not without narrowing her eyes at him. “You better bring this back, Burrow. Or at least repay us with something better than cinnamon rolls.”

“Noted,” he says with a charming smile, tucking the bag under his arm. He turns to you, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Thanks, neighbor. You’re a real lifesaver.”

You don’t bother replying, instead stepping aside so he can leave. He makes his way to the door, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and don’t forget to check your parking job in the morning,” he says with a wink before slipping out into the hallway.

The second the door clicks shut, you groan, slumping against the counter. Ella bursts into laughter, practically doubling over as she grabs her bowl again. “You two are ridiculous,” she says between bites.

“I’m moving out,” you mutter, dragging yourself to the couch. “I don’t care if it’s to a cardboard box in the quad. It’ll be quieter than this.”

You think that’s the end of it—Joe’s random sugar-borrowing adventure, Ella’s endless teasing—but of course, you’re wrong. Because a few hours later, just as you’re finally starting to drift off in the tiny bedroom you call your sanctuary, you hear it.

A muffled giggle. A low, rumbling voice you’d recognize anywhere. Then, unmistakably, the rhythmic creak of a bed frame against the wall.

Your eyes snap open, and for a moment, you pray you’re imagining things. Maybe it’s a nightmare—a cruel joke your overtired brain is playing on you. But then you hear it again, louder this time, followed by a very enthusiastic “Oh my God, Joey!”

You groan, grabbing your pillow and pressing it over your ears.

From the other side of the wall, Ella’s muffled voice reaches you through the darkness. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” you hiss, your voice barely audible through the pillow. “It’s him.”

She snorts, and you can hear her shifting in her bed. “Well, at least he’s getting good use out of that sugar.”

You let out a strangled laugh, torn between exhaustion and disbelief. “I swear, if this goes on all night—”

As if on cue, there’s another creak, louder this time, followed by more giggling and exaggerated moaning.

Ella sighs. “Thin walls, huh?”

“Apparently,” you mutter, rolling onto your side and glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended you.

The noises continue—giggles, muffled moans, the occasional thud that makes you wince. You bury your face in your pillow, silently cursing Joe Burrow and his audacity.

It’s going to be a very, very long night.

The next morning comes too soon. Despite the symphony of creaks, giggles, and thuds that plagued the night, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and cranky. The coffee pot sputters as you pour yourself a life-saving cup, muttering curses at your neighbor under your breath. Ella, still in her pajamas, watches you from the couch with an amused smirk.

“You look alive,” she teases, spooning cereal into her mouth. “Barely.”

“I hate him,” you say flatly, taking a long sip of coffee.

“Sure you do,” she singsongs.

You don’t dignify her with a response, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

As luck—or fate—would have it, the universe isn’t done with you yet. Because just as you’re locking your apartment door, you hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.

There she is. Last night’s Blonde of the Hour, strutting toward the elevator with a walk of shame so confident it might as well be a victory lap. She’s wearing Joe’s oversized LSU hoodie, paired with last night’s skirt and heels. Her hair is tousled, but she doesn’t seem to care.

And because the universe apparently has a sense of humor, she notices you at the same time you notice her.

“Morning!” she chirps, her voice way too chipper for someone who clearly didn’t sleep much.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing, nodding in acknowledgment. “Morning.”

The two of you step into the elevator together, the silence stretching awkwardly between you. You steal a glance at her from the corner of your eye, wondering if she has any idea that her night of “fun” ruined yours. But then she sighs and adjusts the sleeves of Joe’s hoodie, completely unbothered, and you realize she probably doesn’t care.

The doors slide open to the lobby, and you step out first, your pace brisk as you make a beeline for the exit. But as you push through the glass doors into the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collide with none other than Joe Burrow himself.

He’s leaning against his car, coffee cup in hand, looking far too put together for someone who should be as tired as you. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, then flick over to the blonde trailing behind.

“Morning, neighbor,” he says, his voice laced with amusement.

“Morning,” you reply dryly, brushing past him toward your car.

But of course, he can’t just let it go. “Sleep well?”

You stop dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely clueless or just messing with you.

“Thin walls,” you say pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Noted.”

The blonde, oblivious to the tension, giggles. “Joe, you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so fun!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead unlocking your car with more force than necessary. “Oh, we’re a blast,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into the driver’s seat.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of Joe in your rearview mirror, still leaning against his car, watching you leave. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, maybe, or curiosity—but you don’t have the energy to figure it out.

Later that afternoon, when you’re back in your apartment trying to catch up on work, Ella pops her head into the living room with a mischievous grin.

“Guess who I ran into at the coffee shop?”

You glance up warily. “Who?”

“Joe,” she says, plopping down on the couch. “He said he’s planning a little ‘building mixer’ this weekend. Invited everyone on the floor. Including us.”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to some Burrow-hosted mixer.”

“Oh, come on,” Ella says, nudging you with her foot. “It could be fun. Free food, free drinks… awkward encounters with your mortal enemy…”

You glare at her, but she just laughs. “You’re going,” she says firmly. “I already RSVP’d for us.”

And just like that, you realize your week is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Saturday night rolls around faster than you’d like, and with it comes the so-called “mixer” that Joe Burrow somehow convinced Ella you had to attend. You’d held onto the slim hope that it would be a small, quiet gathering of your neighbors in the building, with maybe some snacks, polite small talk, and an early exit for you.

Instead, you step off the elevator into what can only be described as chaos. The hallway is packed with people, the distant thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Someone’s yelling about finding the keg, and the faint scent of spilled beer and cologne wafts toward you.

“This is not a mixer,” you mutter to Ella as you both navigate your way through the crowd.

Ella, of course, looks thrilled. She’s dolled up in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her hair and makeup perfectly done. “Relax,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “It’s just a party. Have a drink, let loose. Who knows? You might even have fun.”

You highly doubt that, but before you can argue, she spots Ja’Marr Chase leaning against the doorway to Joe’s apartment and perks up immediately. “I’ll catch up with you later!” she says, already untangling herself from your arm and heading toward him.

“Ella!” you call after her, but she’s too busy tossing a flirty smile Ja’Marr’s way to notice.

Great. Now you’re alone in the middle of a party that feels like half of LSU showed up to, surrounded by strangers and sticky floors. You push your way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a drink and then find a corner to blend into until Ella decides it’s time to leave.

But, because the universe apparently loves messing with you, you hear his voice before you see him.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

You groan internally and turn to see Joe leaning against the counter, a Solo cup in hand and that ever-present smirk on his face. He’s dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.

“I’m only here because Ella dragged me,” you say, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Joe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Come on, admit it. You’re having the time of your life.”

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan. “Sticky floors and loud music are exactly my idea of fun.”

He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you could’ve just asked. No need to pretend Ella dragged you here.”

“I—” You stop yourself, realizing there’s no point in arguing. It’s exactly what he wants. Instead, you grab a bottle of water from the counter and turn to leave.

“Hey, hold up,” he says, stepping in front of you. “You’re not just gonna drink water all night, are you?”

“Yes, Joe, I am,” you say, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block you.

“At least let me get you a real drink,” he says, gesturing toward the makeshift bar someone set up on the other side of the room. “I make a mean rum and Coke.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, stepping aside, but not before adding, “But you’re missing out. My bartending skills are unmatched.”

You roll your eyes and head toward the living room, finding a spot near the wall where you can observe without being dragged into the chaos. You sip your water and watch as Joe works the room, effortlessly charming everyone he talks to.

About an hour later, you’re starting to regret not leaving when Ella abandoned you. You’ve been stuck making awkward small talk with strangers, and the music is only getting louder.

Then Ella appears out of nowhere, grabbing your arm with a giggle. “Come with me,” she says, pulling you toward the corner where Joe and some of his teammates are lounging on a worn-out sectional.

“Why?” you ask, resisting her tug.

“Because Ja’Marr wants to introduce me to his friends, and I don’t want to go alone!”

You sigh, reluctantly following her over. Ja’Marr greets Ella with a grin, and she practically melts under his attention. You, on the other hand, find yourself stuck sitting next to Joe, who looks far too pleased about the arrangement.

“Miss me already?” he asks, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.

“Not even a little,” you reply, glaring at him.

He chuckles, clearly unbothered. “You’re really bad at hiding how much you enjoy my company, you know that?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, one of his teammates interrupts. “Yo, Burrow, who’s this?”

“This,” Joe says, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “is my lovely neighbor.”

“Neighbor, huh?” the guy says, raising an eyebrow. “You two seem… close.”

You snort. “Not even remotely.”

Joe grins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you. “Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just shy.”

You shoot him a withering look, but he only laughs, clearly enjoying himself.

As the night drags on, Joe makes it his personal mission to annoy you. Every time you try to leave, he finds a way to pull you back into the conversation, teasing you relentlessly. His teammates, to their credit, seem amused by the dynamic, occasionally chiming in with their own jokes.

By the time Ella finally decides she’s ready to leave, you’re exhausted—physically and emotionally. You practically sprint for the door, eager to escape Joe’s smirk and the endless teasing.

As you step into the hallway, he calls after you, “See you around, neighbor!”

You don’t bother responding, instead dragging Ella toward the elevator. But as you press the button for your floor, you can’t help but feel like you haven’t seen the last of Joe Burrow tonight—or any night, for that matter.

The next week at LSU passes like any other, but somehow, Joe Burrow has managed to worm his way into your daily routine. It starts small—running into him at the mailboxes, hearing his muffled laughter through the thin walls at ungodly hours, and the occasional “good morning, neighbor!” shouted across the courtyard when you’re clearly not in the mood.

It’s maddening, really, the way he seems to delight in being everywhere you don’t want him to be. And yet, despite your annoyance, you can’t deny that his presence makes life just a little more… interesting.

FRIDAY NIGHT

Ella bursts through the apartment door, her face lit up with excitement. You’re sprawled on the couch, flipping through lecture notes and wishing the week would end already.

“Guess what!” she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the counter.

“Let me guess,” you say dryly. “Ja’Marr invited you to another party?”

“Close,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Ja’Marr and Joe are throwing a tailgate tomorrow before the game, and we’re invited.”

You groan, already dreading the idea of spending yet another afternoon dodging Joe’s incessant teasing. “I’m busy,” you lie.

“You’re coming,” Ella insists, plopping down next to you. “It’s practically a campus tradition, and besides, you could use a little fun.”

“Fun,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling being forced to socialize with half of LSU now?”

Ella rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Food, drinks, and—” she grins mischievously—“a chance to hang out with your favorite quarterback.”

You glare at her. “Joe Burrow is not my favorite anything.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing you. “Wear something cute. We’re leaving at noon.”

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

The tailgate is, unsurprisingly, a spectacle. Rows of tents stretch across the field, decked out in purple and gold, with grills smoking and music blasting. Students and alumni alike mill about, laughing and chatting as they gear up for the game.

You follow Ella through the crowd, clutching a plastic cup of soda and trying to blend in. She, of course, makes a beeline for Ja’Marr, who’s manning the grill with an ease that suggests he’s done this a thousand times.

And where there’s Ja’Marr, there’s Joe.

He spots you almost immediately, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he waves you over. “Hey, neighbor! Glad you could make it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, but he’s already stepping closer, his easy confidence making it impossible to ignore him.

“What, no hug?” he teases, holding his arms out dramatically.

“Not in this lifetime,” you reply, sidestepping him.

Ella, now fully engrossed in a conversation with Ja’Marr, leaves you to fend for yourself. You glance around, debating whether to make a run for it, but Joe blocks your path, clearly amused by your discomfort.

“You’re really bad at this whole socializing thing, aren’t you?” he says, leaning casually against the nearest table.

“Maybe I just don’t enjoy your company,” you retort, taking a sip of your drink.

He grins. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”

Before you can respond, one of his teammates calls his name, distracting him long enough for you to slip away. You find a quieter spot near the edge of the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade into the background.

But, of course, Joe finds you again.

“Thought you’d try to escape, huh?” he says, appearing at your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I wasn’t escaping,” you lie, crossing your arms.

“Sure you weren’t.” He pauses, glancing at the crowd. “Not a fan of tailgates?”

“Not a fan of crowds,” you admit.

He nods, surprisingly serious for once. “Fair enough. They’re not for everyone.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. It’s a rare moment of sincerity from someone who seems to live for getting under your skin.

And then, just as quickly, the moment passes.

“Still,” he says, his smirk returning, “you’ve got to admit, the food’s pretty good. Ja’Marr’s burgers? Best on campus.”

The party stretched well into the night, turning the once-bustling tailgate into a dimly lit, hazy scene of music, laughter, and scattered conversations. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated these kinds of events. The air was warm, the smell of grilled food and spilled beer thick, but for once, you weren’t faking a smile just to survive.

Instead, you were leaning against a folding chair near the makeshift DJ booth, chatting with a guy named Wes. He was a linebacker for LSU, though, by his own admission, mostly a benchwarmer. Shy, soft-spoken, and refreshingly normal, Wes wasn’t at all what you expected to find at a party like this.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to Mike’s cage?” he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.

You laughed. “I don’t know, it just never seemed like a big deal to me. It’s a tiger.”

His eyes widened in mock offense. “It’s not just a tiger. It’s our tiger.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I’ll check it out sometime,” you said, grinning at his enthusiasm.

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and instinctively, you glanced over. There, leaning against the bar table, was Joe.

His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on you and Wes.

The sight of his uncharacteristically cold expression sent a jolt through you. Was he annoyed? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t care about you, not really.

Wes was saying something about the tiger habitat, but your attention flickered back to Joe. His knuckles whitened around the edge of his red Solo cup, and he seemed to be muttering something to Ja’Marr, who only shrugged in response.

“Everything okay?” Wes asked, his brow furrowed as he followed your gaze.

You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”

Joe, however, was impossible to ignore. At one point, he stormed past your little corner of the party, brushing close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm against yours.

Wes had just finished telling a story about his first LSU practice, his nervous laughter making you smile, when Joe’s voice cut through the conversation like a jagged knife.

“Nice to see you making friends,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to raise the hairs on your neck.

You turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, his trademark smirk forced and strained. He wasn’t looking at you but at Wes, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Burrow,” Wes said, his voice even but noticeably quieter.

Joe stepped closer, ignoring you entirely as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Wesley Evans, right? Linebacker extraordinaire.” His words were light, almost teasing, but there was a strange undertone to them.

“Uh, yeah,” Wes said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though ‘extraordinaire’ might be a bit of a stretch.”

Joe chuckled, his laugh cold. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, someone’s got to keep the bench warm, right?”

The group went silent.

You froze, your stomach dropping as the words settled over the conversation like a wet blanket. Wes’s easygoing demeanor faltered for just a moment—just long enough for you to catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

But he recovered quickly, letting out a forced laugh. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.”

“Joe,” Ja’Marr said sharply, stepping forward. “That was uncalled for.”

Joe raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering. “What? I was just joking.”

“No, you weren’t,” Ja’Marr said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at Joe, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and confusion. What was his problem? You’d seen him tease people before, but this was something else. This was cruel.

Joe’s eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a brief second, something like regret flashed across his face. But just as quickly, he turned away, muttering, “Whatever,” before stalking off into the crowd.

The group stood in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said softly, turning to Wes.

He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

But you could see the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers tightened around the edge of his cup.

Ja’Marr sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not usually like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.

Ja’Marr shot you a look but said nothing. The group eventually dispersed, the easy energy of the night soured by the encounter.

And as you followed Ella home later, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head, trying to piece together why Joe Burrow seemed so determined to ruin the night—not just for you, but for Wes, too.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the faint buzz of crickets and distant party music filling the air as you and Ella navigated the dimly lit sidewalks. The night had been long, and your head was still spinning from Joe’s earlier outburst. You’d always known him to be annoying, maybe even a little infuriating, but tonight was different. There was a sharpness to him, an edge that left you unsettled.

Ella broke the silence first, her voice soft. “What do you think that was about? With Joe, I mean.”

You shrugged, kicking a loose pebble down the pavement. “Who knows? Maybe he ran out of people to torture and decided to branch out.”

Ella laughed lightly but didn’t press further. By the time you reached your apartment complex, the cool night air had started to seep into your skin, making you shiver. All you could think about was collapsing into bed and forgetting this day ever happened.

But, of course, Joe Burrow had other plans.

There he was, right in front of your door, pressed up against yet another blonde, her manicured nails tangled in his hair as they made out like the world was ending.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Ella nearly bumping into you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.

At the sound of your voice, Joe broke away from his hookup, turning to face you with a smirk that was equal parts shameless and infuriating.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Wes not invite you over for a post-party study session?”

Your jaw tightened. “Get out of the way, Burrow.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s the rush? You don’t want to hang out? I can introduce you to…uh…” He glanced at the girl beside him, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember her name.

The blonde giggled, clearly unbothered. “Stephanie,” she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Right. Stephanie,” Joe said, his grin widening.

Ella groaned softly beside you, crossing her arms. “Joe, move. We’re tired.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, stepping aside but not before leaning casually against the doorframe, effectively blocking your path again. “But seriously, where’s Wes? Thought you two were hitting it off. Or is he back on the bench already?”

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, finally losing the last shred of patience you had left.

Joe straightened up, clearly surprised by the sudden bite in your tone. “What? I’m just messing around.”

“No, you’re being a jerk,” you shot back. “First, you humiliate Wes at the party, and now you’re standing here, rubbing it in like it’s some kind of joke. What’s your problem?”

Stephanie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between you and Joe. “Uh, maybe we should—”

“Not now,” Joe cut her off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes locked on yours.

Stephanie’s mouth fell open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Just go,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.

For a moment, the three of you stood frozen, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, with an indignant huff, Stephanie grabbed her purse and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the pavement.

Ella’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply before turning back to you. “Happy now?”

“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re still here.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re acting like I committed some crime. I was just joking, okay? It’s not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.”

“Teasing?” you repeated, incredulous. “Joe, you embarrassed Wes in front of everyone tonight. And for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re the big man on campus?”

His jaw clenched, the cocky facade cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me,” you challenged, taking a step closer. “Why do you always have to be such an ass?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense. “Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention.”

Your breath caught, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the quiet hallway.

Ella let out a low whistle. “Well, that was…something.”

You stared after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something.”

“Did he just…?” Ella’s voice was barely a whisper beside you.

You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t like Joe to be vulnerable—hell, he practically lived to get under your skin. And yet, there it was, hanging in the air: the truth you never asked for, wrapped up in all his stupid teasing and annoying antics.

“Forget it,” you finally muttered, fumbling with your keys as you moved to unlock the door. “He’s just trying to mess with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Ella said slowly, following you inside. “Because, you know, the guy who just ditched a hot blonde to argue with you at midnight clearly doesn’t care.”

You shot her a glare, unwilling to entertain the idea. “I’m going to bed.”

Ella raised her hands in surrender, smirking knowingly as she headed for her room. “Okay, but don’t act surprised when he shows up tomorrow. He’s not exactly the type to let things go.”

“Goodnight, Ella,” you said firmly, shutting your bedroom door behind you.

But as you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t get his words out of your head. Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention. Was he serious? Or was this just another game to him, a way to throw you off-balance and make you question everything?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over, punching your pillow as if it was somehow Joe’s fault that you couldn’t sleep. Whatever his deal was, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.

But deep down, you knew it was too late. Because whether you liked it or not, Joe Burrow had already wormed his way into your thoughts—and no amount of denial was going to change that.

The next morning, you woke up to a series of loud knocks on your door, far too early for any sane person to be awake. Groaning, you pulled the covers over your head, but the knocking continued, persistent and unrelenting.

“Go away!” you yelled, but the noise didn’t stop.

With a huff, you threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, yanking open the door with every intention of giving whoever it was a piece of your mind.

But, of course, it was Joe.

He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t just woken you up at the crack of dawn, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Morning, neighbor.”

You stared at him, too stunned and too tired to muster a response.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, rubbing your eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

His smile widened, and he held up a to-go coffee cup, the LSU logo bright against the paper sleeve. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You blinked at the cup, then at him, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, still holding it out. “Just coffee. Truce?”

You hesitated, the words from last night still lingering between you. But, against your better judgment, you reached for the cup, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. “Fine. Truce. For now.”

His eyes gleamed, like he’d just won some kind of invisible battle. “I’ll take it.” He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way—I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand and the distinct feeling that, somehow, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Things between you and Wes have been going really well. You’ve been texting each other daily since that first meeting in the quad, and his messages always seem to bring a smile to your face. Some days, you talk about classes and the usual college chaos—complaining about professors who seem to thrive on assigning last-minute papers, laughing over campus gossip, or sharing music recommendations.

Other days, the conversations drift into deeper topics: family, future dreams, and the things you never thought you’d share with someone you’d barely known a few weeks ago. It's easy, effortless, and you feel like you've known him forever. There's a connection that grows stronger with each passing day, his texts becoming a constant you look forward to amid the swirl of college life.

When game days roll around, you make sure to watch, even if football has never been your thing. You learn enough of the basics to text him encouragement before each game and tease him when his team makes a stupid play. And every single time he wins, you get a photo of him in his jersey, sweaty and glowing with victory, his smile so wide you can feel it through the screen.

One crisp Saturday evening after a particularly big game—a win that had the entire stadium roaring and chanting for more—your phone buzzes. It’s Wes, as expected, but this time the message is different.

Wes: Big win tonight. You should come out to celebrate—party at the house. It'll be fun, promise.

You hesitate for a moment. Frat parties aren’t usually your scene, but the idea of seeing Wes in person after weeks of building up this text-based connection makes your heart beat a little faster. It feels like the right time to finally break out of the comfort of your phone screen. You don’t want to overthink it, so you respond quickly.

You: Okay, I’ll come! What time? Wes: Perfect. Starts at 9, but I’ll be there around 10. Meet me out front? I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.

You can’t help but laugh at that—his protective side has become more apparent lately, and you find it kind of endearing. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of anticipation. You try on half your wardrobe, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness that makes your stomach flutter. After way too much deliberation, you settle on something that’s cute but comfortable—a black crop top, jeans that fit just right, and your favorite sneakers. Casual, but you don’t want to come off like you’re trying too hard.

The party was in full swing by the time you and Wes went in, the familiar buzz of laughter and music filling the air. His arm rested loosely around your shoulders as you made your way through the packed house, a red solo cup already in his hand. It was a typical LSU post-game celebration—teammates hyped up from their win, students eager for a reason to cut loose, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Wes, ever the golden retriever type, was all smiles as he greeted his teammates. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you plastered on your own smile. Wes was great—sweet, thoughtful, and good-looking to boot—but there was something missing. Conversations with him always felt a little too polished, like he was sticking to a script.

Still, you weren’t going to let your wandering thoughts ruin the night. As he led you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen, you decided to let loose a little, leaning into his world for the evening.

You were two drinks in when you felt it—a shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing across the room, your eyes locked with Joe’s. He was leaning casually against the wall, his cup dangling from his fingers as he laughed at something Ja’Marr said. But his focus wasn’t on his teammate—it was on you.

That look.

You’d seen it before, the one that screamed I’m up to something. Your stomach twisted as his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

“What’s wrong?” Wes asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Wes didn’t notice your distraction, too busy rambling about the game. You nodded along, but your attention kept drifting back to Joe. He was still watching, and now he was moving.

Straight toward you.

“Wesley,” Joe said, his voice louder than necessary as he clapped a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Man of the hour! Hell of a game tonight.”

Wes beamed, his chest puffing out a little. “Thanks, Burrow. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Joe said smoothly, his grin sharpening. “You’re really making a name for yourself out there.” He paused, his tone dipping just enough to make the compliment feel off. “You’ve got a solid five minutes of playing time this season, right?”

Wes laughed, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Yeah, Coach says I’m improving every week.”

Joe nodded, his expression the picture of sincerity. “No doubt. You’re an inspiration, man. Really showing the bench how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to step in. Wes didn’t deserve to be Joe’s verbal punching bag, even if he was too oblivious to notice.

Then Joe shifted his focus.

“And this,” he said, gesturing toward you with his cup, “is the girl everyone’s been talking about?”

You stiffened, already bracing yourself.

“She’s great, right?” Wes said proudly, tightening his arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” Joe said, his eyes locking on yours. “Smart, pretty, patient.” His lips twitched as he added, “Definitely one of a kind.”

The room felt hotter, smaller. You knew what he was doing, and you refused to let him win.

“Wow, Joe,” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “That’s almost a compliment. Are you feeling okay?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy.”

Wes chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the tension simmering between the two of you. But the people around you weren’t as oblivious. Conversations around the kitchen began to quiet, heads subtly turning in your direction.

Joe leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Though I gotta say, Wes, you’ve got your hands full. She seems like the type to keep you on your toes. Always ready with a snappy comeback.”

You took a step forward, your jaw tightening. “Maybe because some people deserve it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re talking about me,” Joe said, his smirk widening. “But hey, you’ve got to admit, I keep things interesting.”

“Interesting?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You mean infuriating.”

By now, you were toe-to-toe, the space between you charged with unspoken words and something else you refused to acknowledge.

Joe’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he smiled again, softer this time. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you were certain everyone in the room could see the way your cheeks flushed, the way your chest rose and fell faster than it should have.

Joe straightened, patting Wes on the back. “You’ve got a good one here, man. Don’t screw it up.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd with that stupid smirk still on his face.

Wes turned to you, oblivious as ever. “Man, Joe’s great, isn’t he?”

You didn’t answer, too busy trying to calm the storm raging inside you. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Joe Burrow had just gotten under your skin again. And this time, you weren’t sure you could shake him off.

The days blur together after the party, each one bleeding into the next with a heavy quiet you can’t shake. Joe hasn’t teased you, hasn’t made any more snide comments in passing. It’s almost like he’s disappeared entirely, and the silence he’s left behind feels suffocating.

But it's not the kind of peace you wanted—it's the kind that echoes, that bounces around inside your skull, replaying the things he said over and over again until you can’t ignore them anymore. You try to focus on Wes, try to let his easygoing, good-natured attitude soothe the irritation that keeps curling under your skin, but the more you think about Joe’s words, the more they fester. Suddenly, everything about Wes feels too soft, too careful. He’s kind, yes, but there's a blandness to it, a safe predictability that only makes you itch for something sharper.

Then, days later, you find yourself in the apartment lobby, bundled up against the late autumn chill, glaring at a maintenance form on the wall. The hot water’s been out for days, and you’re halfway through filling out a complaint when you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is—the shift in the air is enough.

"Wow, fancy meeting you here," comes Joe’s voice, smooth and mocking, with just enough bite to make your spine stiffen. You don’t turn around, don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you keep writing, the pen pressing hard enough against the paper that it almost tears.

"Cold water bothering you too?" he continues when you don’t respond, his tone amused. You can feel him looming behind you, a little too close, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.

"Just trying to get it fixed," you reply curtly, finally turning around and catching the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. You’re not in the mood for whatever game he’s about to play, but of course, he’s not about to let you off that easy. His gaze slides from the form in your hand back up to your face, one eyebrow quirking up in that infuriating way that always makes you want to wipe the smugness off his face.

"Surprised you’re handling it yourself," Joe drawls, his eyes bright with something almost like delight. "Thought you'd get your little boyfriend to do it for you."

Your fingers tighten around the pen, and you force yourself to take a breath, ignoring the way your pulse quickens. "Not everything revolves around Wes," you shoot back, but your voice wavers just enough to make Joe’s smirk widen. His eyes flick over your face, and you hate the way he seems to read every expression, every crack in the mask you’re struggling to hold up.

"Really?" he says, the word heavy with skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a show. "Could’ve fooled me. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, huh? I bet you’re the perfect, supportive girlfriend." His voice drips with sarcasm, and something inside you snaps.

"Shut up, Joe," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. You turn back to the form, determined to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he leans in closer, his breath warm on your ear.

"Why?" he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting, like he’s got all the time in the world. "Hit a nerve?"

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, he did hit a nerve. And he knows it.

"Come on," he pushes, a note of genuine curiosity in his tone now. "Don’t you ever get tired of it? Playing nice, doing everything right, sticking with someone who’s… I dunno, safe?"

You spin around, eyes blazing, and Joe’s face lights up with triumph. "You don’t know anything about him," you snap, but there’s a waver in your voice that makes Joe’s eyes narrow with interest. "Wes is kind, and he’s decent, and he actually cares about people, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."

Joe’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it only grows wider, almost wolfish, and you hate that it sends a thrill through you, a charge that leaves your heart racing. "Yeah," he says, his tone almost pitying, "he’s safe. Boring. He’s exactly the kind of guy who’d never get in your way, never challenge you, never push back. And you’re happy with that? Really?"

You glare at him, your blood boiling, but you can’t look away. Because some part of you—the part you’ve been trying to silence for days—knows he’s right, and it makes you want to scream. "What the hell is your problem, Joe?" you demand, your voice shaking with anger. "Why do you even care? What does it matter to you if I’m with him or not?"

For a moment, something flickers in Joe’s eyes, something you can’t quite read, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "I don’t care," he says, too quickly, his voice a little too smooth. "I just think it’s funny, that’s all. Watching you pretend like he’s enough for you."

You step closer without realizing it, your fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," you insist, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Joe’s gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you feel a jolt of something hot and dangerous twist in your stomach.

"Don’t I?" he murmurs, and suddenly, you’re standing toe-to-toe, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. He’s so close, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his smirk softens just enough to be dangerous.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

There’s a beat, a moment suspended in time where it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, Joe’s expression shifts, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leans back, breaking the spell. He claps you on the shoulder, his touch light but lingering.

"Good talk," he says, his tone infuriatingly cheerful as he pushes past you towards the elevator, leaving you standing there, breathless and rattled.

"Have fun with Wes," he throws over his shoulder, and the door slides shut behind him before you can find the words to reply. You’re left staring at the closed elevator doors, your chest heaving and your hands still trembling around the pen, the echoes of Joe’s taunting voice ricocheting in your mind.

And for the first time in days, the silence feels even louder.

The days drag by, and every one of them feels heavier, weighed down by Joe's words. They hang over you, echoing whenever you try to ignore them, seeping into your thoughts when you're with Wes. The way he holds your hand, the way he smiles politely at your jokes, the way he never raises his voice or teases you too hard—it’s all safe. It’s what you thought you wanted. But now, thanks to Joe, it’s all starting to feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.

As if to make matters worse, Joe's been louder, more present, and more irritating than ever. He’s upped his game, bringing a new girl home almost every night, the kind who giggle just a little too loud in the stairwell, whose heels click sharply against the tile floors, waking you and Ella up in the middle of the night. You hear them laughing through the paper-thin walls, their voices carrying long after you wish they’d shut up. Ella throws a pillow at the wall one night, groaning in frustration, but you just lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, the annoyance mixing with something else—something you refuse to name.

And then Wes’s birthday sneaks up on you, like a storm you’d been pretending not to see on the horizon. Everyone's talking about it—the party of the semester, hosted at his parents’ mansion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. You know it’s a big deal. Wes’s parents are the kind who throw events instead of parties, the kind where everyone’s wearing their best, and you’d feel out of place if you weren’t on Wes’s arm. You spend way too long picking out your dress, ignoring Ella’s teasing smile as you change twice and then settle on something classy, something you think Wes’s parents will approve of.

The mansion is even more extravagant than you expected. Tall, stately, and glowing with warm light spilling from every window. A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, and there’s enough champagne to drown in. It’s a perfect picture of Southern elegance, the kind of party where everyone’s on their best behavior and no one dares spill a drink on the white marble floors.

You’re almost able to relax, standing with Wes as he introduces you to old friends and relatives, his arm around your waist like you’re some kind of prize. But then, from across the room, you catch sight of someone familiar stepping through the grand double doors, and the air goes still.

Joe. And he’s not alone.

On his arm is a girl who looks like she’s stepped straight out of a beauty magazine—perfect curls cascading down her back, a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and a pageant smile that could light up the whole room. She’s everything you’re not: polished, pristine, and undeniably beautiful. And Joe’s leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her laugh, the sound light and carefree, echoing above the music.

Your heart sinks. You should have known he’d be here. You should have known he’d show up with someone like her.

The moment he walks in, it’s like the temperature drops. You feel him scan the room, his gaze sliding over the crowd until it lands on you. There’s a flicker of recognition, a half-smile that tugs at his lips, and for a second, you swear he’s going to make a beeline for you, but then he turns to his date, all easy charm and confidence.

You look away quickly, swallowing down the hot, bitter twinge of jealousy that rises in your chest. Beside you, Wes is oblivious, laughing with some cousin or another, completely unaware of the storm that’s building in your mind.

The party moves on, but you can't shake the weight in your chest. Every time you turn around, Joe is there—always in your peripheral, laughing with his date or effortlessly sliding into conversations with people he’s never met, commanding attention without even trying. And it’s driving you mad. You hate that he’s here, hate the way his presence seems to seep into every corner of the room, hate that you can’t stop looking for him, even when you don’t mean to.

Wes’s parents announce dinner, and you find yourself at a long table, perfectly set with silverware that you don’t even know how to use properly. Wes is on your left, chatting away, and you force yourself to smile and nod at the right moments, though your gaze keeps drifting over his shoulder. Joe is at the far end of the table, but his eyes meet yours—bright and full of something that feels like a challenge. He raises his glass in your direction, and you don’t miss the way his date practically glows under his attention, leaning into his side.

You grit your teeth, focusing on Wes, who’s completely unaware of the way your stomach is twisting. He’s sweet, attentive, a perfect gentleman, and you wish you could ignore the itch under your skin, the restlessness that grows with each passing minute. But it’s there, burning hotter every time you catch sight of Joe, laughing too loud or leaning in too close to whisper in his date's ear.

By the time dessert is served, you’re practically vibrating with frustration, and Wes’s voice is starting to blur into the background. He’s telling some long-winded story about his summer at the family lake house, but all you can think about is how easy it would be to just walk over to the other end of the table and—

“Hey, you alright?” Wes’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you force yourself to focus on him, pasting on a smile that feels hollow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, reaching for your glass of champagne and taking a sip that burns all the way down. He seems satisfied, squeezing your hand gently under the table, but his touch feels distant, almost suffocating.

And when you glance back at Joe, he’s watching you, his smile sharper than you remember. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like he’s waiting for something, like he knows exactly what kind of game he’s playing. His date is still chattering away, oblivious to the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, like a tether he can’t quite cut loose.

You look away, your face heating, and try to drown out the feeling with another sip of champagne. But it's no use. The night has only just begun, and you already know—it’s going to be a long one.

You escape upstairs, the noise of the party fading as you climb the grand, spiraling staircase. It’s quieter up here, with the muted sound of conversation and laughter drifting up from below, and you can finally breathe a little easier. You’re not even sure what you’re doing—just that you need a break from the suffocating conversation, the polished smiles, and the feeling of being watched. Wes is deep in conversation with a teammate, and it was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. You tell yourself you're only going to the bathroom, but you don’t even bother finding one. You just wander down the hall, hoping to collect yourself, to calm the thudding in your chest.

But then, of course, you see him.

Joe, leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the hallway, like he’s been waiting for you. There’s no sign of his date—she’s probably downstairs, lost in the crowd—but Joe’s here, and he looks too damn comfortable, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He gives you that infuriating half-smirk the second your eyes meet, like he’s been expecting you. Like he knows you’re going to stop.

“Lost?” he drawls, his voice a low, lazy tease, and you freeze, every muscle in your body going tense.

“No,” you snap, hating the way your heart skips when he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer. “Just getting some air.”

“From Wes?” he asks, eyebrows raising, and you can hear the taunt in his tone, the way he draws out the name like it’s a joke. “Or from this whole perfect little party of his?”

“None of your business,” you shoot back, but he’s closer now, and you hate how your breath catches, how the air between you feels thick and electric. He’s looking at you like he’s stripping away all the layers you’ve put up—the polite smiles, the careful charm—and seeing straight through to the part of you that’s restless and hungry for a fight.

“You know, I can’t tell if you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “Or if you’re just playing the role of ‘good girlfriend’ to make everyone happy.”

“Shut up, Joe,” you warn, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be, and he notices. Of course he notices. He takes another step, and suddenly he’s way too close, the heat of him radiating into the space between you, making it harder to breathe.

“Or is it that Wes is just…too boring for you?” he presses, and something snaps. You step forward, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, anger flaring white-hot in your chest.

“Why do you care?” you demand, your voice rising. “Why do you always have to ruin everything? You can’t stand seeing me happy, can you? You always have to get in the way—”

“Oh, please,” he cuts you off, his voice sharp with irritation. “Don’t act like I’m the one ruining things. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me. You’re the one who’s pretending this perfect little relationship is enough for you.”

You don’t even think. You just react, stepping closer, your chest heaving with the force of your anger, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You don’t know anything about me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. “You don’t know what I want or what I need, so stop pretending like you have me all figured out!”

He’s laughing now, a low, mocking sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you want to hit him, to scream, to do something to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But then he’s had enough. Suddenly, he moves, quick as a flash, and before you can even blink, he’s grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder in one swift, effortless motion.

“Put me down!” you shout, struggling against him, but he just tightens his grip, carrying you down the hall like you’re some kind of rag doll. Your fists beat uselessly against his back, and you’re half-cursing, half-panicking as he ignores you, kicking open the nearest door and stepping inside.

The door slams shut behind him, and you barely register the darkened room—a guest bedroom, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtains—before he’s setting you down, pressing you up against the wall with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You’re too stunned to move, your back hitting the cold plaster, and suddenly his body is pinning you there, his hands on either side of your face, caging you in.

“Finally shut you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the way his breath brushes your cheek, hot and fast. His eyes are dark, burning with something you’ve never seen before, and the space between you feels like it’s crackling, alive with an energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race.

“Why do you have to be such a—” you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. His mouth is inches from yours, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.

“Go on,” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it. Tell me what you really think.”

You’re breathing hard, your anger warring with something hotter, something that’s been building between you for months, and you can’t stop yourself. “You’re an asshole,” you spit, your hands coming up to shove at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He just leans in, his nose brushing against yours, the air between you thick and suffocating.

“And you,” he says softly, his voice almost gentle, “are a liar.”

You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s him closing the distance or you surging up to meet him—but suddenly his mouth is on yours, hard and desperate, and you’re kissing him back like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. The kiss is furious, full of all the things you can’t say, all the frustration and the longing and the anger that’s been building up for so long it feels like it’s going to explode. His hands are in your hair, his grip almost painful, and you’re clinging to him, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth as he presses you harder against the wall.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers against your lips, his breath ragged, and you shake your head, too far gone to think, to lie, to do anything but pull him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Shut up,” you breathe, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, like he’s savoring the taste of your surrender. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and you know you should stop, you know this is wrong, but you can’t, not when his hands are sliding down your sides, not when his body is pressing into yours, not when he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

And then, suddenly, it’s too much. You push him away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps, and he lets you go, stepping back with a grin that’s all arrogance and triumph. Your lips feel swollen, your face flushed, and you hate that you can’t stop looking at him, that you want more even though you know you shouldn’t.

“See?” he says softly, his voice maddeningly smug. “I do know you.”

The words barely have time to leave his mouth before you’re on him again, shoving him away from you, your hands hitting his chest with more force than you intend. He stumbles back a step, a flash of surprise crossing his face before his eyes harden, that infuriating grin vanishing. You’re both breathing hard, the air between you heavy with everything unspoken, with all the sharp words that have been building up since the day you met.

“You don’t know anything!” you snap, your voice cracking, and he just laughs, a short, humorless sound that makes your blood boil.

“You keep saying that,” he shoots back, his voice low and dangerous, “but here you are. Every time, it’s the same thing. You want me to stop? Then say it. Tell me to leave.”

You open your mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to go to hell and stay out of your life, but the words won’t come. They catch in your throat, tangled up with the truth you can’t face, and he sees it. He always sees it. His gaze softens, something like understanding flickering in those dark eyes, and it pisses you off more than anything.

“See?” he murmurs, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You can’t. Because you don’t want me to.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, but it’s too late—he’s already crowding into your space, his hand curling around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. You hate him for the way he’s looking at you, like he’s unraveling you with a single glance, like he knows exactly how to break you down, and before you can stop yourself, you’re surging up, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him again, harder this time, angrier.

His arms come around you instantly, pulling you closer, and you hate that it feels good, that it feels right, even as you’re pushing against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the kiss desperate and furious, and you’re drowning in it, in the heat of him, in the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

Then the door swings open, and you both jerk apart, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven pants. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you see Ja’Marr standing there, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He looks at you, then at Joe, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Really, Joe?” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “In the middle of Wes’s birthday party? Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Calm down,” Joe says coolly, like he’s not the least bit bothered, his gaze still fixed on you, as if daring you to run. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” Ja’Marr scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Talking, right. Because making out with your teammate’s girl is totally a normal conversation.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and you step back, smoothing down your clothes like you can erase what just happened. “This—this was nothing,” you stammer, trying to ignore the way Joe’s lips curl into a smirk at your flustered tone. “We’re done here.”

Joe just gives you a lazy, almost triumphant smile, like he’s won some unspoken battle, and turns to Ja’Marr with a shrug. “She’s got a mind of her own, you know,” he says, and you want to punch him, to scream, but Ja’Marr just shakes his head, looking equal parts disappointed and resigned.

“Whatever,” Ja’Marr mutters, grabbing Joe’s arm and pulling him out into the hallway. “You need to get your act together. Wes is going to notice if you keep pulling this crap.”

Joe’s eyes flick to you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he lets Ja’Marr drag him away. The door clicks shut behind them, and you’re left alone in the darkened room, your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control. You know you should follow them, that you should go back downstairs and pretend like nothing happened, but your knees feel weak, and it takes you a long moment to gather yourself, to steady your breathing.

By the time you make your way back down to the party, your face feels numb, and you’ve forced on the brightest smile you can muster. Joe is already back in the thick of things, his arm slung casually around his date’s waist, laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You want to be angry, to hate him for making it look so easy, but then Wes catches sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he excuses himself from his conversation.

“Hey, there you are!” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You try to smile, but it feels fake, like your skin doesn’t fit right anymore. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Just needed a minute,” you say, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears. You’re about to say something else, anything to fill the awkward silence, when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.

Joe’s watching you, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and that’s when you realize—his lips are still stained with the faintest trace of your lipstick, a dark, telltale smear at the corner of his mouth.

Wes follows your gaze, and his smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Joe, what’s on your—”

But Joe cuts in smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening as if he finds the whole thing hilarious. “Guess I got a little carried away,” he says, his voice dripping with mock innocence, and you feel the ground sway beneath you as Wes’s arm tightens around your shoulders, his confusion shifting to suspicion.

“What’s he talking about?” Wes asks, his eyes narrowing, and you open your mouth to respond, to deny, to do something—but nothing comes out. Your voice has abandoned you, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Joe’s smirk deepens and he lifts his drink in a mocking toast, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Good party,” Joe says casually, his tone almost friendly. “Really enjoyed myself.”

You don’t remember what happens next—just the blur of faces, the noise of the party swelling around you, and the hollow ache settling deep in your chest as Joe turns away, laughing with someone else, like he hasn’t just blown everything to pieces.

Wes's smile is strained when he pulls you aside, away from the music and the crowd. There’s a tightness around his eyes you haven’t seen before, something almost defeated, and for the first time that night, you feel a genuine pang of guilt. This is the part you were dreading—the confrontation, the disappointment in his eyes. But instead of yelling, instead of demanding an explanation, he just looks... tired.

“Hey,” he starts softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t wanna make a scene, okay? But I think... I think maybe you should go.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. There’s no anger in his voice, just resignation, like he already knows the answer before you can even try to lie. You can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.

“Wes, I—” you begin, but he holds up a hand, a weak, defeated smile pulling at his lips.

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, and there’s something achingly kind in his voice, which somehow makes it hurt more. “I think we both know this... isn’t what you want. Not really.”

You feel relief flood your chest so suddenly that it’s almost nauseating, and that’s how you know he’s right. Because instead of being devastated, instead of scrambling to explain yourself, you just feel lighter. Like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying has finally been lifted.

You reach out to touch his arm, but he steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he says quietly, and you let your hand drop, nodding numbly. There’s nothing left to say. You don’t try to apologize; you don’t try to make excuses. You just turn and leave, the buzz of the party fading behind you as you slip out the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a slap.

The walk back to the apartment feels like a blur, your mind whirling with everything that just happened, everything you don’t want to think about. You don’t know if it’s the relief of being free from something you never truly wanted, or the shame of how it all went down, but by the time you reach your building, your hands are trembling and your breath is hitching.

You let yourself into the apartment, your eyes already burning with unshed tears, and you find Ella curled up on the couch, half-asleep in front of the TV. The moment she sees your face, though, she sits up, worry creasing her brow.

“Whoa, what happened?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep, but you don’t even know where to begin.

“Everything,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and then it all spills out. You tell her everything—about Joe, about the kiss, about Wes’s sad, tired smile and the way he let you go without a fight. You’re talking so fast you’re stumbling over your words, your emotions a chaotic tangle of regret and relief and frustration, and by the time you’re finished, you feel completely wrung out.

Ella listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief to sympathy as you pour your heart out. When you finally go quiet, she just sighs and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and you don’t realize how much you needed to hear that until the tears start falling. She doesn’t tell you that you screwed up, she doesn’t lecture you about Joe, she just holds you while you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back until the tears run dry.

By the time you pull away, your throat is raw, and you’re exhausted. Ella doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look that says she understands, that she’s on your side no matter what, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

But then, just as you’re wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself, you hear it—a loud burst of laughter echoing through the thin wall you share with Joe’s apartment. It’s followed by the high-pitched giggle of a girl, and your stomach twists. Of course. Of course.

Ella catches the look on your face and scowls. “He’s such an ass,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You want me to go bang on the wall and tell them to shut up?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

You don’t even believe yourself, but you can’t deal with Joe right now, not after everything. So you go to your room, shut the door, and try to block out the noise. You tell yourself you don’t care. You tell yourself it’s over. But sleep doesn’t come easily, and all you can hear is Joe’s voice in your head, his mocking words echoing long after the sounds from next door have finally gone quiet.

Over the next few days, you try to fall back into a routine, but everything feels off-kilter. Wes doesn’t text you, and you don’t reach out, letting the silence stretch between you until it feels like a mutual understanding—something that was always going to happen. Ella hovers, supportive but careful not to push, and you appreciate that. You just need space, time to sort through everything.

Joe, however, is a different story.

You barely see him around the complex, but when you do, it’s impossible to ignore him. He’s still bringing home girls—more than ever, it seems—and they’re always loud, obnoxiously so, like he’s doing it on purpose, like he’s rubbing it in your face. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of proving a point, of showing you that he doesn’t care, that he never cared, and the worst part is... you don’t know if you care either. Or maybe you care too much.

One night, after a particularly sleepless stretch of listening to laughter and footsteps pounding through the walls, Ella finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles smudged beneath your eyes.

“He’s doing this on purpose, you know,” she says bluntly, her tone halfway between irritation and pity. “He’s trying to get to you.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, rolling over to face the wall. “It’s working.”

Wes’s birthday party fades into memory, and a few weeks pass. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care when you don’t have to face the fallout. You focus on classes, avoid places where you might run into Joe, and try to ignore the way your heart sinks every time you hear his voice next door.

Then, one Friday night, there’s a knock on your door. You’re half expecting Ella’s latest Tinder date or a package, but instead, you find Joe leaning against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. There’s something almost hesitant about the way he looks at you, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it catches you off guard.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you hate how defensive you sound, how you can’t help but put a wall between you.

Joe’s eyes flicker, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing down the hallway before he looks back at you. “Can we talk?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s asking because he wants to or because he thinks he has to. “Please?”

You hesitate, every part of you screaming to slam the door in his face, to tell him to go to hell. “Talk?” you echo, as though the very idea is laughable. “What’s there to talk about, Joe?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his hands still deep in his pockets. “I just—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For once, he doesn’t look cocky or composed. He looks tired. “I screwed up, okay? I know that. And I just… I want to make things right.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Now you care about making things right? Weeks later? Where was this when you were busy humiliating me in front of everyone at Wes’s party?”

Joe flinches, and the sight of it sends a small, mean thrill through you. You want him to feel every ounce of the anger and hurt that’s been simmering inside you since that night.

“I was drunk,” he mutters, like it’s an excuse. “You know I didn’t mean half the shit I said.”

“Oh, so you only mean half of it?” Your voice rises despite yourself, and you take a step closer. “Which half, Joe? The part where you said Wes was too good for me? Or the part where you implied I’m some kind of charity case?”

Joe groans, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what I meant! You’re twisting it—”

“I’m twisting it?” Your laugh is sharp, humorless. “No, Joe. I’m finally calling you out on your crap. You think you can just waltz in here, throw out a half-assed apology, and I’m supposed to forget how you treated me? Newsflash: I’m done being your punching bag.”

“Punching bag?” His voice spikes, and you can see his patience starting to fray. “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t care about you? That I’d say that stuff to hurt you on purpose?”

“Then why did you say it?” you snap, stepping closer until you’re almost toe to toe. “Why, Joe? If you care so much, why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m not enough?”

He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep his temper in check. But then he snaps, his voice loud enough to make you flinch. “Because you drive me crazy, alright? You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s like I can’t think straight when I’m around you!”

You’re stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with something electric, something you can’t name but can feel in every nerve of your body.

Joe’s eyes are blazing, his chest heaving as he takes a step closer. “You think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel like this about you? I didn’t, okay? But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “Joe…”

He shakes his head, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m sorry, alright? For all of it. I just—I didn’t know how to deal with this, with you.”

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone. Joe’s hands are on your arms, his grip firm but not rough, and you’re looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

Joe doesn’t step back. He doesn’t let the anger rise again. He stays close, his hands still resting on your arms, his grip grounding and firm. His gaze softens, something vulnerable breaking through the tension in his voice.

“You think I like being the guy who gets under your skin?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no bite to it now. Only honesty. “You think I enjoy pissing you off just for fun?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift, the rawness in his tone. “Don’t you?”

Joe lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “No. That’s just the only way you ever seem to notice me.” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitches. “If I’m not in your face, annoying the hell out of you, it’s like I don’t even exist to you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. He’s too quick, too honest, and you don’t have a defense ready for the truth.

“That’s why I invite them over,” he continues, and there’s no cockiness in the admission. Just exhaustion. “Those girls, the loud music, the stupid games—it’s not because I want them. It’s because I’m trying to get you to see me. To pay attention. Even if it’s just so you can yell at me.”

Your stomach twists, a lump forming in your throat. You want to stay mad, to cling to your anger like a shield, but it’s slipping through your fingers. Joe doesn’t stop; he steps closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care when I do. So much more than I should.”

Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Joe watches you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his hesitation palpable. And then, before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

It’s not rough or demanding like you might have expected. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. His hands slide from your arms to your waist, anchoring you gently, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds back.

For a moment, you freeze, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming need to lean into him. But then your walls crack, and you kiss him back, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing is unsteady, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper. Without a word, he steps forward, his hands tightening around your waist as he gently pushes you through the door.

You don’t resist. You can’t.

He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then sweeps you off your feet in one swift, effortless motion. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom.

“Joe…” you begin, but he silences you with a look—a look so tender, so unlike the Joe you thought you knew, that your words die on your lips.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, the anger and frustration from moments ago have evaporated, replaced by something else entirely. Something that hums between you like a live wire.

He hovers over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of your head. His eyes search yours, silently asking for permission, for understanding. And when you nod, so small and uncertain, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, more sure of himself.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently as he trails his lips down your jaw, your neck, every touch making your pulse race. He’s careful, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile moment you’re sharing.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—Joe Burrow isn’t the selfish, cocky guy you thought he was. Maybe, behind all the bravado, he’s just a boy who wanted you to see him. And now, you finally do.

Joe’s lips trail along the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, electric path in their wake. He takes his time, his breath hot against your skin, and every deliberate touch makes your pulse thunder louder in your ears.

His hands glide over your waist, fingers pressing lightly, almost teasing as they trace the hem of your shirt. You feel his smile against your neck when you squirm slightly beneath him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “No more yelling? No smart remarks?”

You swallow hard, trying to find some semblance of control, but the way his hands move, the way his lips hover so close yet don’t quite touch, leaves you breathless. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say to you right now,” you shoot back, though your voice wavers.

Joe chuckles, lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his thumb brushing over the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. “You’ve always got something to say to me. Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off.”

You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted, your resolve crumbling as he dips his head again, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I like it when you get all fired up,” he whispers, his tone teasing. “But I think I like this quiet side of you even more.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way your body betrays you, leaning into him despite yourself. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Joe smirks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and you shiver at the contact. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone smug, “but you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You want to retort, to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but before you can, he shifts his weight, his lips capturing yours again. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, and you feel the teasing edge in his movements as he kisses you until you forget whatever comeback you had planned.

His fingers inch higher, tracing light patterns on your stomach, deliberately avoiding the places where you want him most. It’s infuriating, how easily he has you unraveling, and when he pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, you let out an exasperated groan.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, tugging at his shirt in frustration.

Joe leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips curling into a playful grin. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

He shifts again, his hands sliding up to frame your face as he kisses you once more. His lips are soft but insistent, drawing you in until all you can focus on is him—his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his skin, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.

“Say the word,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but laced with a challenge. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. But the word never comes. Instead, you pull him down again, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and longing that’s been building between you for weeks.

Joe groans softly, his hands sliding down your sides, his teasing touch giving way to something more intentional. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone smug but laced with something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.

Joe's lips find yours again, the kiss deepening as his teasing facade begins to slip. His hands roam your body with more purpose now, fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Still hate me?” he whispers, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves back slowly, before pulling off your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours.

You bite back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you pull him closer, your nails grazing the back of his neck, and the quiet groan he lets out is enough to make your pulse race.

The leggings are long forgotten now, leaving you exposed in your underwear. Joe chuckles softly, his breath fanning against your lips as he trails kisses along your jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue follows, soothing the faint sting, and the combination has your hands fisting in his shirt.

“You’re not as tough as you act, you know,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His hands slide beneath your shirt, his palms warm against your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up slowly. “I think you like this way more than you’re letting on.”

“You talk too much,” you manage to gasp, but your retort loses its bite when his thumb grazes just beneath your ribs, sending a rush of heat through your body.

Joe pulls back just enough to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He takes a moment to look at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with something you can’t quite name, and for a second, the teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard.

Your breath hitches, and you feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. Before you can overthink it, his lips are on you again, softer this time but no less insistent. His hands trace slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra, and you arch into his touch without meaning to.

Joe grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s more like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing lower as he presses kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and then to the edge of the fabric.

He pauses, glancing up at you as his fingers toy with the clasp, his expression both playful and questioning. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says again, his tone softer now, without the usual cockiness.

But stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, you pull him down to you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that answers his unspoken question.

Joe groans against your mouth, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising ease, and you feel the shift in his demeanor as his teasing gives way to something more raw, more urgent. His lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and every deliberate touch has your body humming with anticipation.

“Still hate me?” he asks again, his voice rough and teasing, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you.

You reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. “Shut up, Joe,” you whisper, your voice breathless but firm, and for once, he listens.

Joe's smirk returns, but it’s softer now, laced with something warmer than his usual arrogance. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and full of disbelief, as if he can’t quite believe where the night has led. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets his lips and hands do the talking, his touch reverent but still filled with that undeniable fire that seems to burn between you.

He slowly pulls away, looking up at you with a small smirk before he gets up. Before you could start questioning him, he takes off his shirt and sweats swiftly, your eyes widening at his body.

Joe’s smirk deepens as he catches the way your eyes widen, lingering on his toned frame. His confidence seems to grow with every second you stay silent, your gaze betraying the sharp tongue you usually use to deflect him. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to drink him in.

“You’re staring,” he teases, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes burn with something more primal. “I knew you liked looking at me, but this is a new level.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks gives you away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, trying to sound dismissive, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.

Joe chuckles, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. “Too late for that,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’ve already done it for me.”

Before you can fire back, he trails his hand down your side, fingers skimming over your waist and hip with maddening slowness. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your chest, each one softer than the last, as if he’s savoring the way you shiver beneath his touch.

You can feel his hardened bulge against your stomach, and you're just about done with his teasing. You need him, now. “Joe,” you whined as he pulls back with a smirk.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he says, his voice low and raw. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours again, his kiss stealing whatever snarky comeback you might have had. His hands move with purpose, sliding over every inch of bare skin, and the slow, deliberate way he touches you has your body aching for more.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, the words a quiet challenge. But you don’t. You can’t.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with all the frustration and longing you’ve been holding back for weeks. Joe groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as his teasing slips away entirely, replaced by something deeper, more desperate.

“God, you’re impossible,” he mutters, his voice laced with both exasperation and awe. But his actions betray the truth—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He finally pulls away, breathless as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and lust. “I'm gonna fuck you, alright?” he mutters before leaning closer. “And for all those times you pissed me off, and annoyed me, I'll forget about all of that if I can just... hear you.”

You're caught off by the request and you almost think he's joking, but you're mistaken. He's dead serious. All you could was nod slowly in response and Joe leans away, pleased.

Joe’s control starts to slip, and it’s evident in the way his kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. His hands tremble slightly as they trail over your body, mapping out every curve like he’s afraid this moment will disappear. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his breathing uneven.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice raw, the cocky edge completely gone. “You’ve been driving me insane for months.”

Then finally, he slowly peels off his briefs, and his large, hardened cock falls out.

Joe lets out a small groan as his head falls back, relief in his expression. His pink tip is already leaking with pre-cum. You practically faint at the sight, you couldn't help but let out a whimper. His hands find his cock before he slowly begins to pump it, his eyes finding yours again.

He spreads your legs open before leaning in, his lips finding yours as his hands lead his cock to your cunt. His forehead falls against yours as he slowly begins to insert himself, a heavenly groan leaving his lips at the feeling of your warm, tight walls.

You felt like you were being split in half, in the best way possible. You can't even describe how good his cock felt, he wasn't even a quarter inside of you, but you still felt like you were filled to the brim.

“O-oh, fuck, Joey,” you moaned as your swollen lips form an O, your head falling back onto the plush pillows. Now you understood why the girls in his apartment were so loud—they definitely weren't exaggerating.

His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if he wasn't inside of you already. His lips crash against yours again, the kiss filled with desperation, like he’s trying to pour every suppressed emotion into it. It’s intoxicating, the way his need for you feels almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clutching at his shoulders, wanting to be as close as possible.

He bottoms you out slowly, and he tries to give you a second to adjust—he really, really tried. He just couldn't. He slowly started thrusting in and out of you, and before you could even process the change in speed, he was rocking his hips against yours like the world depended on it.

The bed was creaking loudly underneath the two of you, the only sounds that could be heard was your loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, and the sound of skin against skin.

His cock was dizzying, to say the least. It hit all the spots you swore nobody had ever reached, making you question all your previous partners. You couldn't even form a singular thought about anything else except for Joe's huge cock and the way he was making you feel.

“Joe!” You manage to gasp as he begins to pound into you impossibly harder, but he cuts you off with another kiss, groaning softly against your lips.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice husky and edged with desperation. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp as his hands spread your legs wider, pinning you to the mattress.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, his kisses growing more frantic, more needy. His hands are everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. The way he touches you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, leaves you utterly undone.

His words make your head spin, and you can’t find a response. You're too caught up in the way he was pounding into you, like a fucking animal.

But Joe doesn’t seem to care; he’s too caught up in you, his hips moving faster and faster until you're practically crying out loud. His hands roam your body as if he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. There’s no pretense now, no games—just raw, unfiltered desire.

You begin to feel the knot in your stomach begin to form, tight and persistent. You begin to grip his shoulders even tighter, your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned.

“O-oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum, please.” You began rambling as your legs wrapped around his waist, his hips not faltering one bit—if anything, he began going faster.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He grunted out, his own impending orgasm. “Cum for me, baby.”

That was all you needed. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your whole body spasming as you cried out in utter pleasure. The orgasm washed over you perfectly as Joe's hips began to falter, and a few moments later, his cum spilled into you.

You both lie there, tangled in the sheets, your breathing ragged and your hearts racing as the room settles into a heavy, satisfied silence. Joe’s arm is draped lazily across your stomach, his fingers tracing light, absentminded patterns on your skin. The intimacy feels different now—softer, quieter, as if the storm that had built between you for so long had finally passed.

He exhales deeply, his chest still rising and falling against your side. “Well,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “that was... long overdue.”

You glance over at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile despite yourself. “You think?” you reply dryly, the lingering warmth of the moment making it hard to muster the sharp edge your tone usually carries with him.

Joe turns his head to look at you, his hair mussed and sticking out in every direction, his cheeks still flushed. There’s that cocky grin of his, but it’s softer now, tinged with something you don’t think you’ve seen before—contentment, maybe. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling lightly. “So overdue I’m almost mad at us for waiting this long.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. His grin widens as he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over you. His gaze flicks across your face, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “But hey,” he says, his voice taking on a playful tone, “now that I’ve finally got you right where I want you, I think it’s time to make this official.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head at him. “Official?”

Joe nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. “Yup. A real date. No fighting, no yelling, no storming off. Just you, me, and a public setting where we try very hard not to tear each other’s clothes off.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, is that so?”

“That’s so,” he replies with a grin, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze softening. “Come on, let me take you out. I’ll even behave. Swear.”

You arch a skeptical brow, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Behave? You? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Guess you’ll just have to say yes and find out,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound reluctant but failing miserably. “One date. But if you embarrass me, it’s the last one.”

Joe’s grin is blinding as he flops back down beside you, pulling you against his chest. “Deal,” he says, his voice full of triumph. “You won’t regret it. Best date of your life, guaranteed.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he counters, his tone smug as his hand tightens around yours.

Maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#jb5 #nfl fic #nfl football #nfl lb #nfl imagine #joe burrow bengals #cincinnati bengals #joeyb #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x oc

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dorabellingham · 27 days ago

Text

Let's have a baby

warning: breedking but fluff

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when out of nowhere he decides to try to convince you to have a child with him

request: yes! (adapted)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Jude was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out on the coffee table as he watched a game on TV. You were next to him, a fashion magazine in your hands, occasionally exchanging glances with the screen to feign interest in the football. It was a quiet afternoon, but Jude seemed restless, fiddling with his phone and stealing glances in your direction. After a while, he let out a theatrical sigh, putting the phone aside.

—Have you noticed how everyone our age is starting to have kids?

You looked up from the magazine and arched an eyebrow.

—Everyone? Like who?

—Oh, I don’t know, my friends from Birmingham... some guys from the national team... even that influencer you like. —He made a broad gesture, as if he wanted to encompass the world. —It seems to be in fashion now.

You laughed, shaking your head.

—Babies aren’t a fad, Jude. They’re... babies. It’s hard work, you know?

Jude leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees, with a smile on the corner of his mouth.

—But it must be amazing, right? Having a mini you or a mini me running around the house…

You let out a nervous laugh, closing the magazine.

—Are you telling me you want a baby, honey?

He paused dramatically, pretending to think.

—I’m not saying I want one now, but… it wouldn’t be bad, right?

You were silent for a moment, watching the way he looked at you, with a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel a mix of nervousness and affection.

—Jude, we barely managed to organize the house after the move. Do you really think a baby would be a good idea now?

He came closer, holding your hand with both of his.

—I know it wouldn’t be easy. But, honey, just imagine… a baby with your hair and my eyes. Or with your smile.

You couldn’t help but smile shyly, even though you were trying to look serious.

—What if the baby get stubborn? Or your habit of leaving things lying around?

—Or your habit of falling asleep in the middle of the movie?

Jude replied, laughing.

You laughed together, but Jude seemed determined to keep the subject alive.

—Seriously, Y/n. I’ve always thought about it, you know? Ever since I started playing professionally. Having someone to teach, to take to games... someone to call our own.

You stayed quiet, thinking. Bellingham had a persuasive way about him, but you knew he was being sincere. Still, the thought of having a baby seemed so distant to you, with college, travel plans and the whole life you still had ahead of you.

—Jude, I know you’d be an amazing father, but... isn’t it too soon? We’re still learning to live together, to deal with life here in Madrid...

—I know. —He squeezed your hand lightly, with a soft smile. —I’m not saying it has to be now. It’s just... something for us to think about.

You sighed, but you couldn't help the warmth you felt in your chest as you imagined the scene he described. A mini Jude running around the house, with the same messy hair and that charming smile. It was a sweet thought, but still scary.

—Okay, babe. We'll think about it. But just think about it, for now, okay?

He leaned in to kiss your lips quickly, with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

—But I think we could start trying, right? Just to have practice.

—Jude Bellingham!

You said laughing as you stared at the boy in front of you.

—What, sweetie? —He said, feigning false innocence as he leaned his body over yours. —I know you like this idea as much as I do.

—Of course I do, babe, but where's the "let's think about it calmly" part?

You said, trying to stand firm with your position on the subject, but your husband's body was already on top of yours.

—Y/n, imagine our little baby here... —Jude said as he lifted your shirt and caressed your belly with his fingertips. —You're going to be the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world, babe.

You couldn't take it anymore, he talked so passionately about having a baby, the way he caressed your belly so delicately and how those brown eyes shone at you with a mischievous smile on his face.

—Then make me pregnant, Jude.

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 4 months ago

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hiiiiiii,

Can I request a Jude Bellingham imagine where you’re in the Bellingham documentary for his YouTube and it shows you behind the scenes watching his games and stuff and just being a cute couple 💓.

Thank Youuuuuu💓✨

a/n: sorry for the delay, I don't know why but it took me a while to write it. I hope you like it. Request me whatever you want!

THE ONE

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: none, just that English is not my first language.

summary: It’s her turn to step into the spotlight of Jude’s documentary, where unseen moments reveal the depth of their connection, exposing a side of their relationship and how much they mean for each other to the public.

The camera lens focuses, the soft hum of equipment fills the room, and she sits on their cozy, cream-colored couch. Her hands are folded nervously on her lap, her leg bouncing ever so slightly as she adjust her position, trying to find the perfect balance between comfort and confidence. Her hair falls softly around her face, and she tucks a strand behind her ear, looking up at the camera with a genuine smile. A nervous chuckle escapes her as she glances toward the crew and to him.

Jude stands just out of the frame, leaning against the wall, giving her a reassuring nod, his warm smile reaching his eyes. He mouths, "You got this," and she exhales deeply, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. His presence is comforting, just like it always is.

"Hi, I'm...well, Jude's girlfriend," she says. "But, more than that, I’m just me—someone who tries to support him, love him, and keep him grounded." Her voice is gentle, but there’s a quiet strength in it, one that suggests she's much more than just his partner.

The interviewer asks the first question, something light to ease her in. "How did you two meet?"

She smiles wider and looks down for a moment, as if reliving the memory. “We actually met through mutual friends. Super normal. I didn’t know much about football back then, but of course I was fully aware of who he was. In person, he was even more handsome and charming, so it wasn’t a surprise that I was attracted to him straight away.” She laughs at herself. “Because of that, I spent most of the night ignoring him since I was dying of embarrassment and it wasn’t until I spilled a drink on his shirt that I was able to look him in the eye to apologize, but Jude just laughed. From then on, we spent the whole night talking, even over text afterward. We got along pretty quickly, but we took things slow. I think that’s what made it work… just letting everything happen naturally.”

As she speaks, the screen fades into footage of the two of them, candid moments from Jude's life. There's a clip of them walking hand in hand, Jude glancing over at her, his face lighting up in a way that's impossible to fake. Another video shows them sitting on a couch, laughing at something on TV. Jude’s arm is casually draped around her shoulders, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her arm. The chemistry is effortless, easy.

Back in the interview, she’s asked about how their relationship has evolved with Jude’s career skyrocketing.

"Honestly, it’s been crazy," she admits. "His schedule is intense, and sometimes we’re apart for long stretches. But we’ve always made it a priority to stay connected. We FaceTime all the time, even if it’s just to say goodnight. And when he’s home, we make sure to enjoy the little things—going on walks, cooking together, just spending time. Those are the moments that matter most."

Suddenly, Jude’s voice breaks in from off-camera, clearly teasing her. “Yeah, well burning food doesn’t count as cooking, love.”

She laughs, shaking her head, the sound of his voice immediately softening her expression. “He’s talking about his abilities,” she replies with a grin. The off-screen laughter from the crew adds to the playful atmosphere.

The next part of the interview focuses on her relationship with Jude’s family, something that’s been a big part of his life. Clips play of her with Jude’s younger brother, Jobe, during a family dinner. They’re joking around, Jobe and her teasing Jude and him complaining about their alliance. Another clip shows her talking to Jobe who’s clearly comfortable with her, and at one point, she playfully nudges him, making everyone laugh. Then, she’s shown with Jude’s parents, Denise and Mark, during a relaxed family gathering. She’s sitting next to Denise, the two of them talking and laughing as if they’ve known each other forever. The bond is clear—she fits into the family seamlessly, not as an outsider, but as someone who belongs.

"Jobe is like a little brother to me," she says with a smile when asked about him. "He’s such a good kid, and we’re always joking around. It’s just easy with him. And Jude’s parents... they’re honestly the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Denise is like a second mom to me. She’s always checking in, making sure I’m okay, especially when Jude’s away. And Mark, well... he’s the kind of dad who always has a story to tell and advice to give, whether you ask for it or not,” she adds with a laugh. “I couldn’t be luckier.”

Cut to a heartwarming montage of family moments: Jude’s girlfriend and Jobe playing video games, both of them laughing uncontrollably as Jude looks on from the side, shaking his head. Another clip shows her helping Denise in the kitchen, the two of them sharing a peaceful, easy rapport, with Mark chiming in from the dining room, to help them.

“They are awesome.”

The screen cuts to a new video clip of Jude talking directly to the camera in a different segment of the documentary. He’s sitting outside on a patio, the sun glinting off his face as he reflects.

"My mom told me pretty early on that she thought she was the one," Jude says, nodding slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "She said she just knew. And I trust my mom’s instincts more than anyone else’s. Honestly, I think I knew too, but hearing it from her made me super sure."

The scene shifts again, showing a playful clip of Jude and her from one of their trips. They’re by the beach, Jude holding the camera as they walk barefoot in the sand. He’s joking, trying to push her toward the water while she protests, laughing and running away. They tease each other endlessly, but the affection is obvious. Every touch, every glance, speaks volumes.

Back in the interview, Jude’s voice is heard once more, this time in a more serious tone. “She’s my rock,” he says. “People always ask me how I stay grounded, how I handle everything, and it’s her. She’s the one who keeps me steady when things get overwhelming.”

Her eyes soften as she listens to the interviewer words. "He said that?” She asks, blushing a little as the one holding the camera nods. “Well, I think we’re a team. We support each other through everything. When he's having a tough day, I’m there for him. And when I'm struggling, he’s always the first to lift me up."

The interviewer gives a knowing nod, then shifts the tone to something more playful. "Now, we’ve seen some fun clips of you two together, but who’s the bigger tease in the relationship?"

Her eyes widen slightly as she chuckles. "Oh, I know he’s going to say it’s him, but i’s definitely me. I love to tease him. He gets this little furrowed brow, and I just can’t help myself."

Another video plays, this time a candid clip of them in the living room. Jude is trying to explain some football tactic using salt shakers and a pepper grinder as players, while she watches him with an amused smile. Suddenly, she moves one of the shakers, to condiment her food, completely messing up his demonstration, and bursts into laughter when he groans dramatically, head in his hands.

Back in the interview, she shrugs innocently. "He takes it well, though. He’s a good sport about it."

Jude’s voice cuts in again. "Barely."

She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. "See? Always listening in."

The documentary closes with one last video—Jude and her sitting on the couch, his arm around her once more as they scroll through pictures on his phone. They’re laughing, teasing each other about the awkward photos, and then he pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. It’s a simple, intimate moment, but it says everything.

As the video is about to finish, she’s seen asleep in his arms and Jude’s voice comes through one last time. He looks at the camera with a smirk and whispers “Yeah... she’s the one.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham comfort #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham angst #jb5 #hey jude #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude victor willliam bellingham #judeswifey

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 3 months ago

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Hi Bianca

Can you write smut cockwarming Jude all-night long turn into lazy morning sex with him, please

Wood Morning

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — In which Jude gives you a good morning.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 4.9k

Warnings! Fluff, they're so in love, NSFW! SMUT (18+), Jude is hornyyy unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), morning sex, soft sex, established relationship

The first thing he notices is the warmth—your warmth.

The heat of your skin presses against his chest, leg draped lazily over his. You're nestled in front of him, the perfect little spoon. His arm curls around you protectively, fingers resting just above the dip of your waist where your skin felt like silk beneath his touch.

All night long, you had been pressed against him, body bare, skin to skin, your softness molding into his.

Even in sleep, you fit perfectly against him, your bodies intertwined as if they had been made to stay like this. The gentle rise and fall of your breathing against his chest lulls him, gently waking him up.

The second thing he notices, is your smell.

It's not perfume, or even that fresh-shower-clean smell you usually wake up with in the morning. This was something altogether sweeter, softer. The scent of skin and sweat and sleep. It's a familiar smell, one he has grown to love; one that belongs only to you.

He inhales deeply and groans, his eyes fluttering open. The room is bathed in the light of early dawn, and he can just make out the dark outline of your back against his chest.

He lets out a slow breath, not wanting to disturb you, not yet. Your hair is a mess against the pillow, strands tangled from the way you’d tossed and turned in his arms, but it suits you somehow—wild and unrestrained, like the night you’d shared.

It had been one of those days, long and emotional, and all you wanted when you came home was to be loved. So, you had sex—hard and rough and just enough to take the edge off the night. And then you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

He lazily smirks at the thought, the edges of the night flashing in his sleep muddled mind—the way you screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, your thighs wrapped around him so tightly, and the way he’d pushed your legs to your chest, watching your eyes go wide with the force of your orgasm. He remembered the sound of your little whimpers, muffled by the pillow, as he continued to pound into you, and the way your body responded, shuddering and shivering beneath his—and he lets out a content sigh.

Now, he's awake.

And that's when he notices the third thing.

His cock is hard.

Painfully so.

And it's inside you, balls deep.

He freezes, heart pounding, his mind racing through the haze of confusion to try and make sense of it. It takes him a second or two to remember what happened. He's not sure when he slipped in throughout the night, but judging by the way he feels right now, his cock has been buried inside you for a while.

He groans at the realization, shifting slightly against you and almost immediately pulls back with a wince. Fuck, you are so tight. Damn.

But he doesn’t pull out. He’s not sure he can pull out, to be honest. Not now that he's fully awake and feeling—the warmth of you, your slick walls tightening around him, and the softness of your butt pressed up against his thigh. He's also not sure he wants to pull out because… well, it feels too good.

So, he stays where he is, still and unmoving, his cock pulsing inside you, willing himself to calm down, to relax, to just breathe.

Calm down Jude, he thinks to himself, forcing his breathing to slow and calm, trying to focus on the sound of the world waking up outside and not the feel of your wetness around his cock or the way he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat against him.

It’s going to work. It’s going to be okay. He just needs to—

Oh. Fuck.

You shift.

The movement is slight, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough to make his hips jerk involuntarily and he lets out a strangled noise. Shit. Shit.

He presses his fingers into your hip to try and keep himself still, his heart thundering in his ears, breath catching in his throat. It doesn’t help. Your body is so soft and warm, the movement of your hips making his cock slide deeper inside of you and he lets out another strangled noise.

He tries again. Okay, okay, deep breaths, focus on the breathing.

This time it works. He manages to calm himself down, enough to not move, to not press harder inside of you. He starts thinking of something else—dirty dishes, dog shit, vomit, missing a penalty, anything—to trying to distract himself, and he begins to breathe easier—until you shift again.

This time, he loses control.

He slides in and out of you in a slow, sloppy grind that has him moaning, trying to keep himself from being loud. His hands roam over you in an attempt to get a hold of himself, but they only seem to make things worse; the palm of his hand sliding against your stomach, fingers running along the curve of your hip, making him push deeper inside you.

He hisses at the feeling, his hips working on their own. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips mouthing against your skin as his hips exercise a mind of their own.

It's not the first time he's done this, waking you up with his cock inside you. With how busy you schedules get sometimes, the only time you guys have together is in the morning. But you're usually asleep so it had become a sort of ritual—him waking you up with his tongue, or his fingers, or, as of a month ago, his cock.

But it never fails to blow his mind.

The thought of how this must look, him pressed up behind you, slowly fucking you awake, makes him groan out loud and thrust harder. The way your body responds, tensing and clenching and relaxing against him.

You're so wet.

He groans again, his pace quickening, breath hot against your skin. His fingers dig into your hip, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and he bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to sting.

Your hips twitch, and his cock slides out, almost all the way to the tip. He gasps, the feeling too good, too hot and warm, and he instinctively thrusts forward, burying himself inside you again. He lets out another noise, louder this time, the sound echoing through the room. Shit, shit.

He can’t take it anymore. He knows he should probably wake you up by now but he’s not sure if he can stop moving at this point.

You have him so close to the edge of sanity and his body is screaming for release. If you woke up now and started grinding on him he would cum in seconds. The feeling is too good.

He lets out another moan, his hand coming up to curl around your chest, pulling you tighter to him. He rocks back and forth slowly, not sure how much longer he can take it.

His voice breaks on a groan, "Please—" The sound barely passes his lips before he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven against your skin, each exhale grazing like fire against you. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, the grip just shy of bruising, as if holding you any less might let this all slip away. His hips move almost involuntarily, pressing forward, slow and deep, sliding in and out, and it’s almost too much. Too fucking much.

His mind blurs in the white heat of it, every nerve frayed and ready to burst. He’s close, so achingly close he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin. He's so close. He can—Oh.

You let out a little whimper, body tensing against his, and he stills.

“Don’t stop,” you murmur, voice hoarse, thick with sleep and want. The words pull him back, body and soul, a command and a plea all in one. “Please…don’t stop.”

He lets out a groan, hips jerking forward involuntarily at your words. "I won't baby," he bites out, grinding forward again. Your moan is immediate, hips twitching back in time with his. Fuck, yes. "Not stopping," he gasps. "Can't stop. Fuck." His arms wrap around you again, one hand slipping between your thighs, fingers curling around your clit.

You let out another whimper, head tossing against the pillow, and he picks up the pace. His hand on your thigh flexes, holding you just where he wants you, guiding your hips to meet his with a demanding rhythm.

"That's it," he breathes, his voice strained and husky, almost a plea. "Right there…fuck, keep doing that." And when you do, moving in perfect time with his thrusts, his entire body shudders, cock throbbing inside you and he can barely breathe.

You whine, your hands fisting the sheets, head throwing back against him, and he grunts, his hand moving faster between your thighs. His lips graze along your shoulder, biting down on the soft skin there, and you let out a cry. "you feel so good, baby," he bites out against your skin. "You feel so fucking good. Fuck. Fuck." His body moves against you in a slow grind, his cock pressing in deep, the drag of his body against yours making you feel full and wanted.

"Jude," you whine, his name barely passing your lips.

He hums in response, lips against your shoulder. "Hmmm…" The sound turns to a groan as his hips slow down, grinding in deep, and you let out a whine, confused.

"No no no, don't stop," you gasp, rolling your hips down in a desperate attempt to keep the momentum. But his hands find your waist, his grip firm as he stills you, forcing you to stay put even as every nerve in your body screams for release. "Please Jude," you whimper, voice barely above a whisper, thick with need. "I'm so close."

He chuckles at your desperation, the sound hoarse and breathless, as he slowly pulls out of you, the wet drag of him making you shiver.

"Not yet baby," he murmurs, shifting your body on the bed until you're lying on your back, slipping between your thighs, his eyes drifting down the length of your body. "I want to taste you when you cum," he breaths, and your body shivers again at his words.

You can see the promise in his eyes and it almost makes you cum right there, watching him stare down at you, want and need and lust etched into every line of his face. But then he's moving, body sliding down yours, lips kissing softly down your throat, over the curve of your shoulder, down the dip of your chest.

"Shit," you bite out, the feeling of his lips on your skin almost enough to push you over the edge. Your fingers hug the nape of his neck, holding him to you and he chuckles against your skin, moving further south.

His mouth kisses across your stomach, the trail of his mouth making you clench your thighs around him in anticipation. "Oh fuck," you groan as his lips press against the crease of your thigh, "don't stop." His lips move down until he's kissing the skin of your inner thigh, hot and wet and teasing. You whimper, hips arching up, but he pulls away.

"Shh, baby," he croons, kissing down the other thigh, the sound making you shiver and squirm beneath him. "Be patient."

You let out another little whine at his words, desperate to feel his mouth on you already.

And he knows it. He knows how crazy he can drive you with it. That's why he's taking his time, savoring the sight of you beneath him, squirming in pleasure.

"Jude," you groan, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please." You sound like you’re begging and you are. You would beg him if that’s what it took. You want his mouth so badly, his tongue on you, sucking, licking, fucking you with his mouth.

He chuckles again, the sound a low hum against your thigh that makes you clench. "Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing." He kisses across your thigh again, lips ghosting over your skin, hot and wet, and you feel like you’re going to combust. His mouth is so close.

When he finally moves up to hover over your pussy, you let out a grateful moan. "Oh thank—"

Your words cut off in a surprised squeak as his mouth places a kiss directly on your clit. Your hands grab his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your hips arch up wildly, desperately, in an involuntary move to get away from him, surprisingly sensitive.

But he grabs your thighs with a chuckle, keeping you pinned down and in place. "Don't move," he growls, and before you can even respond, his mouth is on you again, licking, kissing, sucking, making you gasp and writhe and moan beneath him.

He tongues you hungrily, like a man possessed, mouth moving over you, licking and sucking at you like he needs it to survive. His tongue laves over your clit, the wet heat of him enough to send shivers down your body.

"Fuck," you cry out, head thrashing against the pillow as your fingers dig into his shoulders. "Oh god, Jude, it's too much. I'm going to—" Your words trail off with a gasp as he moves his mouth lower, lips closing around your opening. Your hips jerk, desperate and wild, and you cry out again.

"Baby, oh god—" The words die in a moan as he pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you with his mouth in a slow thrust. Your body seizes, fingers digging into the sheets, and he groans against you.

"You like that?" he says against you, voice muffled and thick and it makes you whimper. You nod frantically, head rolling against the pillow as he starts fucking you again with his mouth, tongue sliding in and out of you slowly. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, your entire body tightening.

"Oh god yes, please don’t stop," you whine, desperate and high. "Don't stop, don't stop."

He chuckles against you, lips curling around your swollen clit. You can feel your orgasm building in you, hot and quick and powerful.

It starts with your toes, curling against the sheets, every nerve firing to life in a rush of white-hot pleasure. Your entire body tenses, head arching back, legs locking around his head in a desperate bid to get him closer, harder. "Jude!" you cry out, voice loud in the room, body shuddering through your orgasm.

He stays with you the whole way through it, mouth never leaving you until you’ve cum, until every muscle in your body has relaxed and your breathing slows. Then he moves up your body, kissing and licking at the sheen of sweat on your skin until he reaches your mouth.

He kisses you softly, hands cradling your face as he presses his lips against yours. "You taste so good," he sighs, eyes soft, and you let out another moan.

You smile back up at him, body lax and sated against his.

Your hands reach for him, fingers trailing down his back, over the muscles that flex beneath his skin. His body is warm and solid against yours, grounding you as you feel the last waves of pleasure slowly ebb away, leaving a tingling satisfaction in their wake.

He leans into your touch, a soft, almost reverent look in his eyes as he watches you, like he’s savoring every second.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice a little raspy, still breathless from your orgasm. He smiles, that soft, lazy grin you’ve come to adore, and you smile back up at him.

Your thighs clench around him and your hands slip around to his front, fingers brushing against his cock. He moans at the touch, hips jerking into your hand. He's still hard. "I want you inside me again," you breathe out, moving your hands over him in a long stroke. "Please, Jude. I need it." He lets out a strained noise, eyes closing for a second, and you let out little moan.

His hands slip down to cup your hips, fingers tightening around you as he thrusts into your hand. "Shit baby," he grinds out. "You're going to make me cum like this if you continue."

You love being able to get him to this point. It makes you feel good, knowing you can turn him on, knowing you can drive him to the brink of sanity.

You lean forward, brushing your lips along his jawline, feeling the scratch of his stubble beneath the soft press of your mouth. Your breath is warm against his skin as you trail down the curve of his neck, and he shivers, a low, guttural moan escaping him. The sound sends a thrill through you, desire pooling like molten heat in your stomach.

“Let me ride you,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, every word caressing his skin. “I want to make you come.”

He lets out another sound, eyes flashing open, pupils blown out in lust. "Yes, fuck," he groans, the word barely leaving his lips before he moves with a surprising, almost frantic speed. He shifts beneath you, and you feel the heat of his hands gripping your waist, guiding you until you're straddling him.

You wince at the shift in position, just now noticing how sore you are from last night and your thighs tremble slightly as you straddle him. His hands tighten on your waist at the sound and he looks up at you in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes searching.

You smile down at him, feeling a rush of love at the concern in his expression. “Yeah,” you say brushing him off, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead. There's no way you're telling him anything right now. Knowing Jude, he'll pull a stop on the whole thing, never wanting to hurt you. But you're too far gone. You need him inside you.“just moved too fast.”

His eyes stay on yours for a few seconds not seeming to buy your excuse before he nods. “Okay,” he says, and then his hands are on your hips again, guiding you up until his cock is rubbing against you. You moan at the feeling, body shivering with pleasure. “Take your time baby. Go as slow as you need.”

You let out a moan, one hand moving up his chest until you've grabbed a fistful of his sheets. You take a shaky breath, one hand trailing up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, steady and solid, while yours thunders wildly. You grab a fistful of his sheets, anchoring yourself, and your other hand wraps around his length, guiding him until his tip presses where you’re already so sensitive, sending a tremor of pleasure through your body.

You groan at the feeling. He feels so good.

He's so hot, his length pressed against your clit, thick and heavy and solid. You press him down until you feel his head start to stretch you, and it makes your breath catch. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching against him.

“Take it, baby,” he grinds out, his hips flexing up as he tries to thrust inside you. "Take that fucking cock for me, sweetheart"

His words make you whimper as you start pushing down, inching him inside you with a slow, agonizing drag. He fits so beautifully. The stretch is delicious, so full, so good. You feel every inch of him, his head slipping past the resistance of your opening, the slight burn of you stretching to accommodate him. You shudder with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathes head falling back against the pillow, the word catching in his throat as your body takes him in. His hands slip down to grab your ass, pulling you into him as you sit, and you gasp at the full feeling. You're so full of him it almost hurts. “Holy shit, baby, that’s—“ he trails off with a groan.

Your eyes close for a second, the feeling of him buried inside you enough to make your brain short circuit.

Oh god.

Your eyes flutter open again to find his on yours, pupils blown out, his hands white-knuckled where they grip the sheets. His entire body is tense, his muscles coiled tight in an effort to control himself.

You feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

Oh god.

You want to move.

And you do. Your hips roll down in a small circle, pressing him deeper inside you as your thighs clench and unclench. His hands are back on your waist and he lets out a gasping moan that sends a thrill through your chest. “Shit baby,” he rasps, his voice breathless and strained, eyes closing in a grimace of pleasure. “You feel so fucking good.” You lean down and press your mouth against his neck as you roll your hips down again, his cock dragging in and out of you in a slick slide. His fingers tighten on you, hips jerking up as he moans again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your hips start moving faster now, the pace picking up as you rock down on him. He lets out another groan, eyes flying open again, pupils blown out. “Baby,” he gasps, hands tightening on your ass. “God, baby.”

“Jude,” you moan back at him, hands trailing up to curl around his shoulders.

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” he grunts, hands digging into your ass as he pulls you down harder onto him. You gasp, the force of his thrust sending a rush of pleasure through you.

You arch against him, head throwing back, and he immediately lifts his head off the pillow to lick at the soft skin of your neck. “Oh god, oh god,” you gasp. His mouth trails down your neck, over your chest, until his lips close around one of your nipples. You let out a high-pitched whine, body arching down until you’re almost laid out on top of him. His mouth on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple, his cock deep inside you and you feel yourself getting close again.

You can feel your it coming on like a tidal wave—hot and fast and strong. You try to ride it out, thighs tensing, toes curling, muscles tightening as your entire body convulses. Your nails dig into his shoulders hard enough to sting as you let out a scream. “Jude!”

You’re dimly aware of him still moving beneath you, hips rocking up in fast hard thrusts, cock dragging in and out, over and over and over, drawing out your orgasm, until you’re gasping for air, the waves of your orgasm crashing down on you in a rush of pleasure.

Your body is slick with sweat as your back arches again, your body trembling as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

The world is white hot and bright and all you can feel is the wet drag of his cock inside you, the way his hips jerk up hard and fast, and the hot wetness of his mouth against your nipple.

You shudder and convulse against him until you’ve cum down to the last shudder. You collapse against him, arms curling around his neck weakly, muscles trembling with exertion.

“Holy shit, babe,” you murmur weakly, body lax against his. “Oh god.” Your arms curl around him, pulling him closer, and you shiver as he continues moving against you.

He’s close, you can tell from the way he’s moving, his hips jerking wildly. He’s almost there.

He buries his face against the crook of your neck, licking at your skin, and you moan weakly. His lips are hot and slick on your skin as he mouths against you. He breathes in the scent of your skin, filling his lungs with you. “Shit, princess,” he gasps out against you, hands curling around your waist. “You’re going to make me fucking cum.”

His words send a thrill through you and you manage to lift your head off his shoulder to smile at him. You brush your lips against his cheekbone, kissing over the sharp jut of his nose, his chin. “Do it,” you whisper, mouth trailing down to find his lips again. “Cum for me.”

Your mouth pressing against his does him in.

He lets out a groan against your lips, hips jerking upwards again and again as he cums. You feel him shudder and tense against you, cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself out. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him as he gasps and groans into your mouth.

Your lips stay on his the whole time, kissing him softly through his orgasm, taking everything he gives you.

His thrusts finally start slowing as his orgasm subsides and he relaxes against the bed, his entire body lax as his breathing slows.

You stay pressed against him, smiling as your lips move over his jaw, down the curve of his cheek. He smells like you, like your sweat and sex and love. Your nose nuzzles into the crook of his neck as you pepper kisses against his skin.

The room is quiet around you as his breath slows, your bodies sated and spent. You stay like that, wrapped in each other, the only sound your breathing, your heartbeat.

“Hey,” you say softly, smiling as you kiss the crook of his neck again.

“Hey,” he responds, his lips curving up into a smile. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You smile again, reaching up to massage his collarbone. “Of course not,” you say, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “You never hurt me, baby.”

He smiles back at you, his eyes soft. “Good.” He pulls you in tighter and you snuggle against him. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too,” you say back.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck again, lips moving over your skin. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin and you smile back, snuggling against him.

Neither of you want to move yet. You both know as soon as one of you moves, the moment will be broken and it'll be back to reality.

It’s not time for that yet.

It’s not time to get up. It's not time for him to go to training. It's not time for you to meet with your professor to discuss your thesis. It’s not time yet for the day to start.

So, you lay there and enjoy the feeling, savoring the moment, the taste and smell of him against you.

“You have a few hours before you have to leave,” he murmurs against you. “Let’s have breakfast together.”

“Okay,” you smile back at him. “Sounds good.”

He smiles and kisses the crook of your neck before slowly pulling out of you, groaning slightly. You do the same, wincing a little at the soreness between your thighs.

“Oh shit,” you mutter, sitting up on your elbows, eyeing your legs. “I don’t think I can get up just yet.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “You don't say."

He chuckles, a low, warm sound, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You don’t say.” His tone is playful, laced with affection, and it makes your cheeks heat up despite the lingering fatigue.

“Shut up,” you murmur back at him, unable to suppress a small smile that breaks through your discomfort. “It’s your fault. You did this to me."

His laughter is immediate and rich, filling the room, “And you enjoyed every second of it,” he points out, leaning down to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes still shining with amusement.

You do laugh now, your lips curling up, despite yourself. “That’s not the point,” you manage to say through your giggles, pushing him away with a playful little swat.

He chuckles again and scoots to the edge of the bed, leaning back on his forearms to look at you. He’s not bothered by his nudity at all and it makes you blush, his chest and thighs and stomach all smooth and toned muscle, his skin flushed and warm and inviting. Damn. He looks good.

Your blush deepens as you meet his eyes.

“Come on, I’ll help you get up,” he says.

“No, I got it.” You’re blushing too much now, trying to get away with him helping you because it means less chance of his hands on your naked body and your ability to handle that right now is non-existent. He chuckles again anyway.

“Nope, I don't think so,” he says, his voice amused before he's scooting forward to wrap his arms around your waist.

You let out a squeal, trying to wiggle away. “No, no, no—" you gasp, struggling as he pulls you up against him. You end up pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you in an effort to hold you in place. You wince again at the soreness between your legs.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, eyes soft as he studies your face. “You alright?”

You nod at him, the movement slow. His arms tighten around you and he lifts you up, cradling you in his arms as if you weigh nothing. You squeal again, trying to grab onto him, and he chuckles at your reaction, head dipping down to press a soft kiss against your temple.

“Don’t drop me,” you demand.

“I won’t.” His voice is amused, eyes sparkling with the promise. “I promise. I’ll never let you fall.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out at his words, his face pressed against yours as he carries you through the room.

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham #jude x you #jb5

578 notes · View notes

rmadridcore · 2 months ago

Text

In His Hands

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: A teasing selfie leads to a night of raw passion, leaving you and Jude craving each other even more.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: A bit delayed, sorry, trying to get through my requests as fast as I can 🫂 hope you like it anon 🤍

The smell of fried onions mingled with the rhythm of the faint music playing softly in the background. The kitchen was alive with the warm crackle of oil in the pan, where golden cubes of onion sizzled and popped under your careful watch. Swaying your hips lightly to the beat, you chopped ingredients with precision, sneaking glances at the pan to ensure nothing burned. These moments had become your little sanctuary, a pocket of peace before Jude came home from training. Cooking, dancing, and letting the simplicity of the evening settle in — it was your way of unwinding.

The oversized white shirt you’d swiped from Jude’s wardrobe hung loosely on your frame, now peppered with tiny spots of oil that had jumped from the pan. It didn’t matter though; there was something inherently comforting about being wrapped up in his shirt, smelling faintly of him, even when he wasn’t there. Or so you thought.

Completely unaware of the faint creak of the door and the muffled sound of footsteps closing in, you focused on shredding a carrot with one hand while the other stirred the onions.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you into a firm, warm embrace. You yelped, the carrot nearly slipping from your grasp as you stiffened in surprise.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jude’s voice rumbled against your ear, playful and low, his breath warm on your neck.

Your head instinctively tilted back, resting on his shoulder as your startled laugh bubbled out. “You scared me half to death,” you huffed, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“Oh, didn’t mean to,” he murmured, his tone laced with mock innocence. His lips grazed the shell of your ear before traveling down to your cheek and then to the curve of your neck, pressing soft kisses against your skin. “But look at you… you’re too irresistible in my T-shirt. So stunning,” he added, his voice husky and sweet, sending a flush of warmth creeping up your neck and cheeks.

You tried to keep your focus, though the slow drag of his lips against your neck was making that increasingly difficult. His arms tightened around your waist as his chin came to rest on your shoulder, his gaze dropping to the shredded carrot.

“What’s all this?” he asked, plucking a strand of carrot and popping it into his mouth.

“Dinner,” you replied, smacking his hand away when he reached for another. “For you. But I’m starting to think you don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, I don’t deserve it?” he teased, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “What’d I do this time?” His voice was dripping with mischief, the smirk audible even without seeing his face.

“You’re always up to something,” you retorted, fighting a smile as you reached for the wooden spoon to stir the onions. But before you could, Jude snatched your hand, spinning you around effortlessly. Now trapped between his body and the kitchen counter, you were met with his playful yet intense gaze.

“Jude, the onions—”

Your protest was cut short as his lips crashed against yours, a kiss so fierce and sudden it stole the air from your lungs. His hands roamed down to grip your waist, then lower to your ass, pulling you flush against him. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as his tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss with an urgency that made your knees weak.

His lips were warm and soft, but his kiss was dominant, full of intent and meaning, as if he had something to prove. It wasn’t just affection — it was a statement. And in that moment, nothing else mattered, not the onions sizzling in the pan, not the carrots on the counter. Only him.

The heat from the pan was nothing compared to the fire spreading through your body as Jude’s lips traveled from your mouth down to your neck, his touch growing more demanding with every second. You barely registered the soft thunk of your head hitting the cabinet as he grabbed your thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing his hardness firmly between your legs. The sensation had you gasping softly, the sound spurring him on as he began sucking gently on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

For a moment, the world dissolved into nothing but the feel of him — the weight of his body pinning you to the counter, his breath warm against your skin, his lips working their way over your neck. But then reality snapped back in the form of a loud, angry hiss from the pan. The smell hit you next, the burnt onions now a scorched mess in the pan.

“Jude, look at what you’ve done,” you scolded, pushing him away reluctantly, grabbing the wooden spoon instinctively even though there was no salvaging the charred remains.

Jude didn’t even try to hide his amusement, his chuckle low and smug as he reached over, turning off the stove with a casual flick of his wrist. “I really don’t give a fuck about the onions right now,” he said, taking the spoon from your hand and setting it on the counter. His smirk was still firmly in place as he turned to face you, a familiar glint in his eyes that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

His hands came up to cradle your face, and for a moment, the gentle touch had you thinking this was going to be sweet and tender. But the dark intent in his gaze told a completely different story. “You really think I’m going to let you get away with what you did to me earlier today?” he teased, his tone dripping with mock sternness.

You blinked up at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Both of his hands slid to your neck, holding you just firm enough to keep your eyes locked on his. His lips descended again, pressing against yours with deliberate intent before moving to kiss your cheek, then the other, then your nose, and finally your forehead.

“The picture,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “The one you sent me today.”

The realization hit you like a freight train. You’d completely forgotten about the cheeky mirror selfie you’d sent earlier — black lingerie, the perfect angle, sent on a whim when your package arrived. You’d assumed he was too busy to even check his phone, let alone respond. Apparently, you were wrong.

“You think that’s funny?” he continued, his lips returning to your neck, the kisses wetter and sloppier now as his voice dipped into something needier. “You think it’s okay to torture me like that?”

Your lips parted, an apology or explanation forming on the tip of your tongue, but Jude wasn’t about to give you the chance. He turned you swiftly, this time trapping you between himself and the kitchen island. His body pressed into yours with unrelenting intensity, his hands firm on your hips.

“I’ve been hard all day because of you,” he said, his voice thick with frustration and heat. “Do you have any idea how painful it’s been? I couldn’t even sneak away for ten minutes to take care of myself. Do you know what that was like?”

The image popped into your head unbidden, Jude, trying and failing to hide his boner during training like some awkward teenager, and you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up.

Jude narrowed his eyes at you, though there was no mistaking the playful glint in his expression. “Is that funny to you?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense, though the adoration was impossible to miss. “I should tease you back right now, make you suffer like I did all day. But I can’t.” His hands slid under your, his, shirt, his touch setting your skin alight. “I want you too much. I’ve been thinking about you all damn day.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, the kiss deeper, more demanding than before. He pulled back just long enough to tug the shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as they took you in. His gaze lingered for a beat before his head dropped to your bare chest, his lips brushing against your skin as a groan escaped him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice muffled and full of want.

The air in the kitchen felt thick with tension, the heat between you and Jude intensifying with every passing second. You reached for his head, desperate to bring his lips back to yours, but Jude had other plans. His mouth latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before gently biting it. The sudden sensation made you yelp as his other hand began its descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” Jude murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with awe. His teeth grazed your nipple, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. The hand inside your panties began stroking your folds, his touch teasing and maddeningly gentle.

“You’re already soaking, pretty girl,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze sent shivers down your spine as his thumb found your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. “You’ve been driving me crazy, angel. I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.”

His breath was hot against your neck as he dipped his head, inhaling your scent deeply. “Your scent burned my nose all day…” he groaned, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

With deliberate slowness, Jude peeled your shorts and panties down, letting them pool around your ankles. You wiggled your feet to free yourself, anticipation building as his hands roamed your now bare skin.

“And every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you, spread out for me,” he confessed, his voice thick with need. His fingers returned to your slick heat, roughly teasing your entrance while his other hand braced against the kitchen island for support.

He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your naked form. “You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. So beautiful,” he said, his thick accent dripping with desire.

Before you could respond, his mouth found your earlobe, sucking and nibbling gently. The sensation sent a fresh wave of heat through your body, your back arching against the counter as your hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly.

“Are you going to be good for me, love? Gonna give me what I want?” His tone was teasing, but the dominance behind it was unmistakable.

You nodded breathlessly, letting out a soft hum as your eyes fluttered shut. “Please…” you groaned, your hips moving on their own, grinding against the knee he had pressed firmly against your aching core.

“God, you’re impossible,” Jude tutted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. With swift movements, he spun you around, bending you over the cool marble of the counter. The sensation made you gasp, the coldness contrasting deliciously with your overheated skin.

“You’re absolutely stunning, baby. Just gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice filled with adoration as he ran his hands over your curves. The sight of you bent over, so ready and exposed for him, had him groaning softly.

His hand came down to massage the soft flesh of your ass, his touch firm but careful. “You remember, right?” he asked, his voice serious for a moment. “If you want to slow down, say yellow. If it’s too much, say red, and I’ll stop, okay?”

You nodded quickly, his care making you feel even more at ease. The way he always checked in before pushing any boundary filled you with a sense of safety you cherished deeply.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hands continuing their exploration. His fingers teased your dripping folds again, making your thighs instinctively clench together in need.

“Jude,” you whined, the desperation in your voice clear.

He wasn’t having it. Sliding his knee between your legs, he wedged them apart, ensuring you couldn’t close them again. “I’ll pretend you didn’t do that,” he said with a mock scolding tone, squeezing your ass hard enough to make you groan.

“You’re flawless,” he murmured, his hands caressing your skin. “And you’re all mine.”

The weight of his words sent a thrill through you, your body trembling with anticipation as his touch became more deliberate. You could sense what was coming next — the suspense only making your thighs quiver as you waited.

Jude’s hand massaged your ass, his movements slow and intentional. The tension was almost unbearable as you felt him lift his hand slightly, preparing for the first strike. It wasn’t the first time he’d spanked you, but the deliberate nature of it now, the way he had you bent over and completely at his mercy, made it feel entirely different.

Your breath hitched as the anticipation built, every nerve ending alight as you braced yourself for what was to come.

“You enjoyed teasing me with that picture, didn’t you?” Jude murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb stroking in a way that had your heart racing.

“No,” you panted, the lie spilling from your lips without hesitation. The truth was that you loved teasing him, loved the idea of him unraveling because of you. But now, with his touch setting every nerve on fire, you couldn’t risk the honesty — not when the anticipation of what was coming next was already driving you mad.

Jude’s other hand flattened against the small of your back, pressing you into the counter until you were completely at his mercy. The cool marble beneath you contrasted with the heat building between your legs.

“Please, Jude,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation as you tried to press your thighs together again, seeking relief. Before you could, Jude’s palm cracked against your ass, the sound reverberating through the kitchen and leaving a sharp sting in its wake. The shock stole your breath, the sudden sensation sending pleasure rippling through you.

“Still good, baby?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough as he ran his hand soothingly over the heated skin.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as you nodded.

“There’s my good girl.” He bent down to press a kiss to the small of your back, the tenderness making your stomach flutter before he delivered another sharp slap to the same spot, pulling a sharp cry from your lips.

“Fuck!” you gasped, the sting bleeding into a delicious ache that had your thighs trembling. The duality of pain and pleasure ignited something primal, each spank stoking the fire inside you.

Jude alternated between cheeks, leaving your skin glowing red as he worked you over, pausing after each strike to murmur praise or check in with you. His deep voice was like a balm, grounding you even as his actions unraveled every last shred of control. By the time he finished, tears pricked at your eyes, your entire body alight with need as you whimpered, begging for more.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl,” he praised, his large hands kneading your tender flesh, the contrast of his gentle touch making you shiver. “So perfect, so beautiful.”

He straightened, one hand sliding to cup your throat as he pulled you upright, your back flush against his chest. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your sore skin, and it made you whimper with need.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as your hand reached up to cover his where it rested on your neck.

Jude’s eyes darkened as he spun you around, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. You melted into him, your hands fumbling between your bodies to push his sweatpants down. He helped you, one hand wrapped protectively around your throat, the other tugging his briefs over his hips. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy against your stomach as he groaned into your mouth.

“God, I want you,” you moaned, he turned you around in his grip to bend you over the counter once more.

Jude wasted no time, his hands gripping your hips as he slid his cock through your soaked folds. The friction made you both cry out, his deep groan reverberating through your chest.

“Please,” you repeated, desperate, and Jude finally gave in, pressing the tip inside you with a low curse.

The stretch was exquisite, every inch of him filling you perfectly as he gripped your thigh. His pace was relentless from the start, his thrusts hard, rough and precise, each one hitting the spot inside you that made your vision blur.

“So perfect,” he growled, his voice strained, “You always squeeze me just right.”

Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the slick surface of the counter as Jude’s hand found your shoulder, holding you steady as he moved. The other hand slid between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had you crying out his name.

“Jude!” you sobbed, your head falling forward as your body trembled.

“Look at you,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss your spine as his pace quickened. “You’re mine, baby. You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, repeating the words like a mantra as he drove you closer to the edge. “Always yours.”

Your breathing became erratic, each gasp shallower than the last as the pressure in your core coiled impossibly tight. “I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice high and breathless. Your eyes rolled back, bliss overtaking your senses, your mind blank except for his name. It repeated in your head like a prayer, Jude, Jude, Jude — a chant you couldn’t stop, as if he had consumed every inch of your being.

“Cum for me, angel,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “Wanna feel you let go around me.” His own body trembled against yours, every muscle tensed like live wires ready to snap. Jude was holding on by a thread, his balls aching for release, but his focus remained solely on you. He needed to feel you shatter first, to hear your cries of pleasure as you unraveled around him.

The intensity of his thrusts stole the air from your lungs, and you bit down hard on your lip to stifle the scream threatening to spill out. The sharp sting of teeth meeting flesh grounded you for a fleeting moment before the tidal wave of your orgasm crashed over you. Your entire body tensed, toes curling, fingers digging into the counter as waves of ecstasy pulsed through you.

“Jude!” you cried, the sound ripping from your throat as your walls clenched tightly around him. The pleasure was overwhelming, spreading from your core to every nerve ending until you were shaking, gasping for air, lost in the storm of sensation.

Jude cursed under his breath, his grip on your thigh tightening painfully as your climax pushed him over the edge. His forehead dropped to the back of your neck, his hot breath mingling with the sheen of sweat on your skin. A deep groan rumbled through his chest as his release hit, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you. The warmth of him filling you sent another shiver through your already trembling body, and you let out a soft sigh, resting your head against the cool marble.

He held you close as the aftershocks rippled through both of you, his arms wrapping tightly around your middle as if to keep you grounded. His chest heaved against your back, his lips brushing over your shoulder in a tender kiss. “God,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “I’ve never cum that hard in my life.”

You chuckled weakly, still catching your breath, the corners of your lips tugging into a tired but content smile. “If this is what I get, I’ll be sending you selfies in lingerie every day.”

Jude’s laugh was soft but filled with affection, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he nuzzled into your skin. “Careful, my love. Next time, I might not be so generous.” His words carried a teasing edge, but his voice was warm, the smirk evident even without seeing his face.

Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, his body aching at the loss of your warmth. He groaned softly, his hands lingering on your hips before stepping back. “Stay there, let me take care of you.” His tone was gentle, almost reverent, as he disappeared momentarily, returning with a damp cloth to clean you up.

Every movement was tender, his touch soft as he tended to you, whispering quiet reassurances. “I love you so much,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple once he was done, his breath warm against your skin. His words were spoken like a secret, meant only for you.

After you were both dressed again, Jude pulled you into his arms, his chin resting atop your head as his hands traced lazy circles on your back. You leaned into him, your fingers brushing against his shoulders, savoring the quiet intimacy between you.

It was only then that he glanced around the kitchen, finally noticing the chaos left behind. The pan with the burned onion still sat on the stove, the half-shredded carrot nearby, various ingredients scattered haphazardly across the counter, utensils lay abandoned in a messy heap.

“We’re ordering in tonight, aren’t we?” Jude said, a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

You laughed along with him, shaking your head. “You ruined my therapeutic cooking session, you know.” Though your words carried a mock reprimand, your tone was light, the memory of the evening softening any lingering annoyance.

Jude smirked, pulling you closer, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “If it means having you like this, I’d ruin every meal we ever try to make.” You rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest playfully, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. As you nestled back into his arms, you knew one thing for certain — you’d definitely be sending him that selfie again.

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