Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Used to interviewing the cocky, over confident Jude Bellingham, you’re in for a treat when you finally get to meet his cute younger brother that you’ve heard so much about.
Warnings- sad Jobe :(, not a single Dom/ Sub dynamic in sight, raw penetration, creampie, riding, face sitting, kinda public but not really, reader and Jude have a love hate relationship.
Word count- 6.4k
you were well known around the football world, one of the rising interviewers for the teams, always somehow knowing the correct questions to ask. you were used to working with teams like Real Madrid and Chelsea. so when you were asked to work for a Dormund game, who were you to deny? especially when one of their best players was one you’ve heard so much about, and one who’s brother you couldn’t stand for the life of you. The pre game interviews started about two hours beforehand. As you approached the pitch, you could hear the players laughing and talking among themselves, clearly enjoying the atmosphere before the big match. You smoothed down your jacket, ready to face the music- and the infamous Bellingham attitude. Your first interviewee was, of course, the man of the hour himself, Jobe Bellingham. You approach slowly, careful to not interrupt any conversations. Jobe was leaning against the goalpost, sharing a laugh with two of his teammates, his relaxed posture contrasting sharply with the high-stakes environment of a match day. As your shadow fell over the group, the chatter died down instantly. The players noticed your press badge first, then your face, recognition dawning in their eyes. “Hi” you say as you approach with the camera man behind you. Jobe immediately straightened up, wiping the smile off his face and replacing it with professional politeness. His teammates instantly recognized the vibe- this wasn't just any interviewer. This was you. The woman whose interviews were legendary across the football world. They exchanged knowing looks before politely scattering, leaving Jobe alone with you and the camera crew. "Hi,"
“How do you think you’ll do today?” You begin with a basic, easy question. Jobe shrugged, his expression relaxed despite the weight of expectations. "Confidence is high," he said, slipping into his practiced pre-match interview mode. "We've been training hard all week. The boys are feeling sharp, tactically where we need to be." “How do you handle high-pressure moments during a tight match?”Jobe tilted his head slightly, recognizing the shift in questioning. Easy questions were for the local press; you were digging deeper already. He ran a hand along his hair- a tell you'd noticed before. "Pressure is part of the game, isn't it?" he said smoothly. "You learn to block out the noise. Focus on the next action, not the scoreboard." You’re about to speak again when Kovač calls all players to the pitch. You give a polite smile and nod, “good luck.” Jobe returned the nod with a genuine smile, appreciating the professional courtesy. "Thanks," he said quickly before turning on his heel to jog toward the huddle forming around Kovač. As he sprinted off, the camera cut, and your cameraman lowered the equipment, giving you a thumbs up. "Solid start," he muttered. "Short, but clean." Your eyes stay on Jobe for a moment before you head off the sidelines. Jobe slid into place among his teammates, but not before stealing one last glance in your direction. He caught you watching him and held your gaze a beat too long- a subtle challenge in his dark eyes before Kovač's whistle cut through the air. You turned away first, cheeks slightly warm, and took your seat in the press box. The game was about to begin.
The game against Düsseldorf commences. The match kicks off with immediate intensity. Dortmund dominates possession, and Jobe is electric in the midfield- controlling tempo, breaking up plays, and linking perfectly with the attack. You watch from the press box, pen tapping rhythmically against your notebook. He's composed, ruthless, and clearly the heartbeat of the team. By the 30th minute, Dortmund leads 1-0. By the conclusion of the game, the score is 2-1, Dortmund winning. The final whistle blew, triggering absolute chaos in the stadium. Dortmund players mobbed each other in celebration, job security secured and the three points safely in the bag. Jobe, dripping with sweat, chest heaving, exchanged high-fives and shirt swaps before tapping his chest against his teammates. In the press box, your cameraman started packing up immediately. "Post-match interviews?" “Oh, yeah, let’s go” You descended the stairs of the press box, notebook in hand, camera crew trailing behind. The players were already being herded towards the mixed zone, journalists and microphones ready. As you approached, Jobe caught your eye, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You wait for him to approach instead of the other way around. Jobe ambled over, sweat still glistening on his forehead, shirt sticking to his chest. His teammates had already dispersed for their interviews, leaving him alone with you again. He leaned against the barrier, one arm resting on it lazily. "Told you we'd win," he said, voice hoarse from the match.
“I never quite doubted it.” Jobe chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, right," he replied, but there was no bite to his words. He looked at you for a moment, really looked, before speaking again. "So, what do you want to know? I'm all yours for the next five minutes." “Your team was tied for more than half the match, what changed in those last ten minutes?”"A mindset shift," Jobe answered immediately, wiping sweat from his temple. "We stopped trying to force the pretty football and went back to basics. High pressing, winning the second balls, trusting the rhythm." He tapped his chest. "We knew we had the quality to break them. Just needed patience." He leaned in slightly. "Not panicking under pressure changes everything." You laugh, “I guess you’re different from your brother in that way” “I’m different from my brother in a lot of ways” his grin doesn’t falter. That grin—you'd seen it before in clips, in photos, but up close it was something else entirely. It wasn't the arrogant Bellingham swagger the media loved to harp on. It was... amused. Like he was privy to a joke nobody else understood. "Is that so?" he countered, eyebrow lifting. Your cameraman shifted uncomfortably- this was getting personal fast. “So” you change the subject “is the team planning any celebration?” Jobe caught the smooth subject change immediately, respecting your professional pivot. "Definitely," he confirmed, wiping the last of the sweat from his forehead. "Team dinner. Loud music. Probably a few too many drinks." He tapped his chest again. "Keep morale high before the next stretch." He flashed that smile. "Standard routine."
Your laughter echoed through the mixed zone, and Jobe's grin widened- just for a second- before he checked himself. The cameraman gave you a pointed look, reminding you that the interview was technically over. Jobe straightened up, stepping back from the barrier. "Gotta go catch my teammates before they've cleared out," he said, giving you a polite nod. You turn back to the cameraman when Jobe leaves. “Cut all of that out” The cameraman paused, eyebrows shooting up. "The whole thing?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "That was your best interviewer bite yet. The audience is gonna love the brother dynamic—" But you were already moving, checking your notes. The laugh, the grin, the... whatever that moment between you two had been. You couldn't let it go on record. You glare at him. The cameraman held up his hands in surrender, backing off immediately. "Fine, fine," he muttered, starting to pack up the equipment. "But you're getting softer on these athletes, you know that? They show a hint of personality and suddenly interviews are state secrets.""I know," the cameraman shot back, tossing the SD card into the equipment bag. "But seriously, that smile from Jobe was priceless. You didn't even press him. You let him win that moment." He shook his head, already heading back to the studio. "I'm cutting it." “Thanks!” You shout as he walks away. He waved a hand over his head in acknowledgment without turning back, disappearing into the tunnel of stadium staff. You stood alone for a moment in the bustling mixed zone, clipboard pressed against your chest. The laughter with Jobe still echoed in your ears, fading as the noise of the post-match crowd rushed back in. Professional mask firmly back on. That night, you’re just about to be getting ready for bed when you get a message from Jude Bellingham.
Your phone buzzed against the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room. You almost ignored it- never expected anything from Jude outside of professional courtesy. But the name caught your eye. Jude Bellingham- "Heard you were interviewing my brother today. Heard you both had quite the back and forth " Your heart skipped. How did he even-? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You send back. The reply was instant: "Oh, come on. Don't play coy. Team chat was blowing up. Apparently, there was 'chemistry'." A laughing emoji followed. "Jobe's being weirdly quiet about it too, which tells me everything." You stared at the screen, phone suddenly feeling heavier. "Fucking hell." Jude Bellingham- "Team celebration tonight. Obviously you're invited." followed immediately by "And before you argue, Jobe explicitly told me to make sure you come. He was very specific." You stared at your phone. This was dangerous territory. You interviewed these brothers professionally, and suddenly you were getting personally recruited into a team party. By both of them. “Fine, whatever” you respond. Jude Bellingham- "Perfect. I'll send the address." The message was followed by a winky face emoji and a location pin. The party was at some upscale private villa in the Dortmund countryside- exclusive, secluded, and definitely not the kind of place you'd stumble into by accident.
You sighed, already knowing you'd regret this. I get ready quickly, putting on some simple dress, not bothering with makeup, instead settling for just fixing up my hair before leaving. The villa was exactly as described- opulent, secluded, and currently pulsating with music and laughter. You hesitated at the entrance, suddenly very aware of your simple black dress amidst the sea of designer labels. Then a strong hand clasped your shoulder from behind. "Took you long enough," “Hey, Jude” you recognize the voice as you turn around. Jude stood there, hands in his pockets, grinning that annoying Bellingham grin- the one the media called cocky. "Hey," he said, leaning against the wall. "Come on in. My brother's already nursing his ego." He stepped back to let you through the crowd of players, champagne flutes clinking. "He's by the bar, looking grumpy." “Why?” "Oh, he's just pissed he can't stop talking about you," Jude said with a laugh, leading you through the crowd. "You're like, his celebrity crush or something." He leaned in, voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "He's been moaning about how you're 'professional' and 'unreachable'." “I’m his celebrity crush?! Me?!” "Dude, you have no idea," Jude chuckled, shaking his head. "He's got this whole 'unobtainable' thing going on with you. Like you're some untouchable goddess or something." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "He probably jerks off to your interviews." “You’re disgusting” you elbow him in his gut.
Jude doubled over with a laugh, clutching his gut. "Love you too," he wheezed, still grinning. He straightened up, wiping mock tears from his eyes. "Anyway, there he is." He nodded toward the bar, where Jobe stood alone, swirling his drink, looking thoroughly miserable despite the party raging around him. "Go say hi, celebrity crush." You mutter a shut up before making my way over. Jobe didn't notice you immediately. He was leaning heavily against the bar, nursing a drink, looking unfairly gorgeous even while sulking. His suit jacket was discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, jaw tight. The moment you tapped his shoulder, he turned- expecting Jude-and froze instantly. You. His expression slammed blank, then melted into something painfully desperate. "You." “Me.” You smile. "You actually came," he breathed out, sounding genuinely stunned. He immediately set his drink down, turning his entire body to face you. His eyes swept over your simple dress and bare face, looking ridiculously relieved that you hadn't gone all-out. "Jude said you'd blow us off." Then he frowned, glancing toward the entrance. "Did he say something stupid to you?" “Mmm.. give or take.” He groaned, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up adorably. "Fucking hell... What did he say?" His voice dropped lower, almost protective. "Was it bad?" He looked genuinely concerned, like he might go punch Jude if you said yes. “You probably don’t wanna know”
"I definitely don't," he agreed quickly, looking like he already regretted asking. He shot a glare over your shoulder where Jude was currently laughing with some teammates. "I'm going to kill him later." He turned back to you, softening instantly. "Ignore him. Seriously. Just... glad you're actually here." He leaned back against the bar. "You look nice." “Thank you” you smile softly “you do too.”He ducked his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Thanks," he mumbled, suddenly looking shy despite the earlier confidence. He gestured toward the bustling room. "It's loud. I can find somewhere quieter if you want? Away from Jude and his big mouth." You genuinely laugh “yeah, sure”Jobe's face lit up, relieved you'd actually agreed to his offer. He caught a glance from Jude across the room- smirking and raising a glass mockingly. Jobe shot him a middle finger without even looking back, focused entirely on you. "Come on," he murmured, guiding you toward the back of the villa, through the crowd. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the muffled thump of the party faded. It was a guest room- big, airy, with French windows leading to a private balcony. Jobe turned to face you, suddenly looking a little nervous now that you were alone. "So," he started, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So?”"So, Jude clearly has no concept of boundaries," he groaned, collapsing onto the edge of the plush bed, looking up at you. "I am going to actually murder him." He dropped his head into his hands, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Please tell me he didn't say anything too mortifying." I pinch my lips to suppress a laugh. "You're laughing. Oh god," he groaned, his hand going straight to his face again. He looked up at you, a mix of panic and fascination in his eyes. "You're laughing. That's bad. That's so fucking bad," he repeated, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly. “Yeah, it was pretty bad” "I'm going to kill him," he muttered into his hands, his voice muffled. Then he slowly lowered his hands, looking up at you with a pained expression. "Do I even want to know?" He paused, his eyes flicking down your body briefly before snapping back up to your face. “Probably not” "Yeah," he agreed weakly, running a hand through his hair again. "I'm definitely going to kill him." He sighed heavily, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. Suddenly, he froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute," he said slowly, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at you. “Hm?”"He told you, didn't he?" Jobe asked, turning around fully on the bed, looking at you with a mixture of horror and resignation. "About the... crush thing." He stated it flatly, watching your reaction. When you didn't immediately deny it, he let out a long, tortured groan, flopping backward onto the mattress.
You smile as he falls backwards. "I hate him. I actually hate him," Jobe declared toward the ceiling, throwing an arm over his eyes. "My dignity is gone. My own brother sold me out." He peeked out from under his arm at your amused smile, looking absolutely pathetic. "Stop smiling. This is a tragedy. My reputation is ruined." “You’re being dramatic” "Am I?" He sat up abruptly, ruffling his hair in exasperation. "You're the one I've been pining over for months and now my brother has basically announced it to you. I am traumatized". He gestured wildly. "He even said you're... unreachable." “Obviously I’m not if I’m here with you” He froze at that, his wild gesturing halting mid-air. He blinked at you, the sarcastic defense dying on his tongue. "Right," he breathed out, the sudden realization knocking the wind out of his dramatics. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you earnestly. "Fair point." You go to sit next to him on the bed, placing your palm on his back. “If it makes you feel any better, I like you too.”The moment your hand touched his back, you felt him physically melt. His entire posture softened, the tension draining out of his shoulders instantly. He turned his head slowly, eyes wide and searching your face like he was checking he hadn't misheard you. "You..." he started, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, looking boyishly stunned. "You like me too?"
“Why’s that so crazy?”"Because!" He turned fully to face you, his hand covering yours on his back, pressing it against him like he needed the contact. "I've been hiding this stupid crush for so long, convinced you'd never feel the same way. Jude kept telling me I had no chance." His face flushed deeper. “So you let Jude convince you that you had no chance before you even met me.. wow.” You laugh. "Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds pathetic," he groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, completely defeated. He turned his face into your neck, breath hot against your skin. "I just assumed you were way out of my league. You're professional, busy, gorgeous... and I'm just Jude's little brother." He sighed, muffled against your shirt. Your teasing smile dropped “don’t say that” His head lifted immediately, sensing your shift in tone. He looked up at you, searching your face with those intense eyes. "Say what?" he asked softly, his thumb idly tracing circles on your hand that once resting on his back, now on his lap. His voice was gentle now, no trace of defensiveness left. "That I'm Jude's little brother? Or that you're out of my league?" “Both are stupid points” He nodded slowly, still looking up at you with that unguarded vulnerability. "Yeah," he murmured, his thumb still tracing circles on your hand. "They are." He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. "But you gotta admit... from my perspective, it's kind of a losing battle." He let out a shaky breath.
“Why?”"Because," he said simply, his voice dropping lower, more intense. "You're perfect. You're kind, smart, beautiful... You have your life together. You're everything I'm not." He looked down at their intertwined hands on his lap, his thumb still moving in small circles. “You’re a professional footballer, I’m pretty sure you have a lot together” "I mean football," he scoffed quietly, shaking his head. "That's just a job. That doesn't mean I have me together." He looked up at you, eyes serious. "I'm twenty. I'm chaotic. I'm Jude's little brother. You're... stable. Mature. You're the whole package." He squeezed your hand. "It's intimidating." “Stop calling yourself Jude’s little brother.” He blinked at you, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment he looked genuinely taken aback, like it had never occurred to him. "Jude doesn't help," he muttered defensively, but you saw the crack in his confidence. "He's always been 'the star.' I'm just... Jobe." He paused, studying your expression. You frown at him, “that’s not true” "It feels true," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to your hand still on his back. "Especially next to him. Everyone sees Jude first. I'm just the... afterthought. The little brother following the footsteps." He shrugged, trying to make it seem casual, but the insecurity was written all over his face. "It’s hard to compete with a phenomenon." You cup his face to cut him off.
He went completely still when you cupped his face, surprised by the sudden movement. His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and vulnerable, all that defensive energy disappearing instantly. He looked so young suddenly, all his usual confidence stripped away. "I sound pathetic," you shake your head. "No?" he whispered, turning his face slightly to press his cheek harder into your palm. His eyes searched yours, looking for any trace of mockery or pity, finding only sincerity. He closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing grounding him. "I just hate feeling like I'm living in his shadow constantly." He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “You’re not, at least not with me”That seemed to be the only thing he needed to hear. His shoulders dropped completely, the tension finally leaving his body. He leaned into your touch, pressing his face harder against your palm, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second. "Yeah?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He opened his eyes, looking at you with such raw hope it made your chest tight. “Yeah” you nod. It was like something clicked into place inside him. He didn't just look relieved- he looked absolutely stunned, like you'd handed him something he'd been searching for his entire life. His hand came up to cover yours on his face, holding it there. "So... when you say you like me too...?" He trailed off, needing confirmation, needing to make sure he wasn't misunderstanding. You snort a laugh “I meant it”
The sound of your laugh seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for his anxiety. His shoulders dropped, a genuine, relieved smile finally breaking across his face- bright and boyish. "Thank god," he breathed out, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. "Because I was about thirty seconds away from having a panic attack." “You feel better now, hm?” He nodded, but his eyes stayed fixed on yours, intense and questioning. His hand still covering yours on his face, keeping the contact deliberate. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quieter now. "But..." He hesitated, tongue darting out to wet his lips- a nervous habit. "Jude is going to murder me." “Why would he do that?” "Because I'm pining over you," he said flatly, rolling his eyes dramatically, though the vulnerability remained. "And he's my brother. He told me to get my head straight and stop chasing someone completely out of my league." He scoffed. "And now you've gone and made it worse by telling me I'm not crazy."“He’s the one to talk, have you seen his girlfriend?” He snorted, finally cracking a real smile. "Fair point," he admitted, shaking his head. "She's a literal supermodel. Like, runway supermodel. And he's... well, he's Jude." He shrugged, but there was no bitterness in it.
His eyes lit up at your laugh, something soft and tender replacing the frantic energy he'd been showing. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "You're really gonna let me do this?" he murmured, voice low and hopeful. His hand slid from yours to the back of your neck, fingertips brushing lightly through your hair. “Yeah,” you smile, “I am”He didn't hesitate. He closed the tiny gap between you, pressing his lips against yours softly but firmly. It wasn't a frantic kiss; it was relieved, like he'd been holding his breath for months and could finally exhale. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, holding you like you were something precious he was terrified to break, pouring months of pining into the moment. You’re the one to deepen the kiss, pulling him back with you onto the bed. He went willingly, his body following your lead as you both tumbled backward onto the plush mattress. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepened, his earlier nervousness replaced by something far more hungry. A low groan escaped him against your lips, his fingers tangling in your hair as he felt you take control- and god, he loved it. You roll the two of you over, straddling his lap but not breaking the kiss. He let out a surprised grunt as you flipped him over, but his hands immediately found your hips, gripping them tightly as you settled onto his lap. Even kissing you, his breath caught when he realized what had changed- now he was underneath you, vulnerable, exposed- yours. "F-fuck," he breathed against your lips, hips shifting slightly under yours.
His fingers dug into your hips, anchoring you both as your hips moved slowly against his, keeping the kiss going. His free hand wandered upward, trailing along your sides with shaking hesitation, as if he were terrified of pushing too far too fast. He broke the kiss abruptly, staring at you with wide, panicked eyes as his lower body trembled beneath you. "Hey," he whispered, voice strained. “Hmm?” "Can I...?" he trailed off, swallowing hard. His gaze flicked downward, then back up to your face, searching for permission- no, needy for it. "Can I touch you like that?" He hesitated, then added desperately, "Like, really touch you?" “You don’t have to ask” His hands didn't hesitate. They slid up your sides, thumbs brushing your ribcage as he inhaled sharply against your neck. His lips traced a path from your jaw to your collarbone, kissing everywhere he'd been dreaming about. A shaky breath escaped him as his hands reached your breasts, cupping them through your dress with trembling fingers. "Jesus," he muttered against your skin. He worshipped you. He didn't grope or rush- he handled you like you were absolute gold, his hands kneading your breasts slowly, thumbs circling through the fabric. He buried his face in your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses, completely losing himself. "You have no fucking idea," he breathed against your throat, hips rolling up desperately beneath you. “Need- more” you gasp. He didn't need telling twice. His hands immediately left your chest, frantically grabbing the hem of your dress to tug it upward. "Lift," he commanded breathlessly, helping you pull the fabric over your head and tossing it aside. The second your skin was bare, his hands were back on you, warm palms cupping your bare breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.
He groaned loudly, the sound vibrating against your chest as his thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples, watching them pebble instantly. He didn't just touch; he explored with a reverent desperation, leaning up to wrap his lips around one peak, his tongue swirling and teasing. His teeth grazed the hardened bud gently, his hands gripping your waist to keep you grounded as he sucked harder. “Jobe..”The sound of his name on your lips made him whimper against your breast, his whole body trembling beneath you. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and hazy with want. "I've got you," he promised, voice strained but steady. His hands slid down from your breasts, palms hot against your stomach, fingers tracing the line of your hips. “Stop teasing, asshole.” He let out a breathless laugh against your skin, finally done with the torture. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered, fingers hooking into your underwear and dragging them down in one swift motion. He tossed them aside without a second thought, his hands immediately gripping the backs of your thighs, urging you higher up his chest. "Sit," “Are you sure, I-“ "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he interrupted firmly, guiding your hips until you were straddling his face, core right above his mouth. He looked up at you with pure hunger, hands gripping your ass tightly. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," “o-oh fuck” you say when he pulls you down. He didn't give you a single second to adjust. His mouth sealed over your clit immediately, tongue flattening against the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucked hard. Your thighs trembled instantly around his head, your hands flying down to tangle in his hair as his tongue worked relentless, rhythmic circles against you. He groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves up your spine.
He feasted on you like you were his last meal and first love combined, tongue dipping inside to lap at your slick before returning to focus on your clit with meticulous, maddening precision. He alternated between sucking and licking, teasing and plundering, his fingers pressing into the globes of your ass to hold you steady as you bucked against his face. He felt your thighs start to shake violently, heard your gasp, and he knew. He didn't stop- didn't slow down even when your hips jerked against his face. He sucked harder, tongue flicking rapidly against your clit as your walls clenched around nothing. "That's it," he mumbled against you, the vibration making you cry out. You held the headboard as you finish on his face. He swallowed hard, refusing to let you go as you came hard against his face. His jaw flexed, his tongue continued working even as you sobbed into the headboard, your whole body trembling uncontrollably. He held you steady, his nose buried in your damp skin, tongue flickering deliberately against your still-sensitive clit- forcing you to feel every single aftershock. "Breathe," He tugs you down to straddle his waist again. Your thighs nearly gave out as he yanked you down, your core still pulsing and oversensitive from your orgasm. He watched your face intently, chest heaving, slick dripping between you. His hands gripped your waist firmly- not letting you retreat or pause. "Breathe," he repeated, his voice rough, commanding. His thumbs stroked your hips, feeling you tremble beneath his touch. “Need you” you whisper.
He never needed to hear it more. His eyes were dark with a hunger that made you tremble. "Then take it," he said, voice low. "Take what you need, I'm not leaving." His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping as he watched you, his hands guiding you closer. His abs flexed, hard as steel beneath your palm. He wasn't going anywhere. Your hands tug down his waistband. His hips bucked immediately as your fingers brushed his skin, helping you tug the fabric down in one clumsy, desperate motion. He kicked them off, leaving him completely bare beneath you- cock hard and leaking against his stomach, thighs trembling with restraint. His hands clamped onto your hips again, holding you still. "Look at me," he demanded, voice strained. "Please." Your gaze flicks up to his. Dark eyes, wide and desperate, pupils blown black with want. His jaw was clenched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he fought for control. You could see him shaking beneath you- not just from arousal, but from the effort of holding back, of not just flipping you over and fucking into you blind. "Fuck, you're so pretty like this," His hands gripped your hips harder, guiding you down until your slit brushed against his cockhead. He hissed, eyes rolling back slightly as you coated him in your slick. "Slide down," he breathed, voice breaking. "Don't rush. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." His thumb found your clit again, rubbing slow, gentle circles as encouragement. Your legs shook violently, struggling to sink down slowly. He didn't rush you, his thumb rubbing lazy, soothing circles against your clit to help you stretch. Every inch felt overwhelming- he was thick, leaking, and filling you perfectly. Your head dropped forward, nails digging into his shoulders as your body swallowed him inch by inch. "Good girl," he breathed, his voice wrecked.
"Take it," he gritted out as you slowed, hips not moving. "Take all of it," his hands guided you slowly, carefully, pushing you down. He met your gaze, his eyes intense and unwavering, encouraging you to push past the overwhelming fullness. His cockhead angled up slightly, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. Your breath hitched, your whole body shuddering as he hit that spot dead center. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to push back up. He held you still, fingers digging into your hips. "No," he groaned, "keep going." Your eyes were rolling back, walls clenching hard around him. He was so deep, so fucking deep- your belly pressing against his. “Jobe..” you whimper. "I've got you," he soothed immediately, hands stroking your back gently. His voice was rough with emotion, "You're doing so good, baby. Just a little more." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his hips lifting slightly to help you take the last inch. You finally sank all the way down, your hips settling flush against his, your body stretched completely full around him. A broken sob tore from your throat at the sheer intensity- he was buried so deep you could feel him in your stomach. His forehead dropped against yours, his arms wrapping securely around your waist to hold you together. "I know," "I know, I know," he whispered against your lips, pressing kisses to your damp forehead, your nose, your trembling mouth. One hand rubbed soothing circles up your spine while the other held your hip steady. "Just breathe. You took it all. You're doing so fucking good." He stayed perfectly still, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, his heart pounding against your chest.
You begin to move your hips on him. He groaned, his face burying in your neck as you started to move. The friction was insane- too much, too fast. He wasn't ready for this kind of movement. "No, no, slow... fuck, slow down," he managed, hands gripping your hips to control your pace. His jaw was clenched hard enough to break a tooth. "Breathe through it, please." You smile lazily and slow down. That lazy, fucked-out smile made his chest ache. He let out a ragged breath, finally able to relax his grip on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin soothingly. "There she is," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead. "That's it. Just like that." He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours as you set the pace. Each slow, deliberate roll of your hips sent waves of pleasure through him- not too fast, not too rough, just... perfect. His hands slid from your hips to your waist, gently guiding you, helping you find that rhythm. "Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows. Your pace was driving him insane. Slow, deep rolls that made his toes curl and his vision blur. Each time you lifted up, you dragged yourself down the thick length of him, milking him on the way back down. His hands gripped your waist tighter, not to stop you, but to feel every movement. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. Your pace stayed deliberate and torturous, milking him perfectly. Every time you rolled your hips, your walls squeezed around his shaft, dragging a broken, strangled moan from his throat. His jaw hung slack, his abs contracting violently as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. He wasn't rushing you- he was letting you use him exactly how you needed. "So good,"
“I’m so close” you whimper. "Don't stop," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "Keep going, baby. Just like that." He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles in time with your slow rolls. The dual stimulation was too much, the coil in your belly snapping tighter instantly. "Let go. Come on me. Fuck, I've got you." You collapse against him as you cum around him. He groaned hard as your walls clamped down like a vice, milking him hard. Your entire body convulsed, your clit screaming as the orgasm ripped through you. He took your weight easily, arms wrapping around your trembling frame, holding you steady as you came hard- your walls pulsing around him relentlessly. "That's it—" he hissed through clenched teeth, head snapping back. "Good girl... just let it happen," he choked out, feeling you clench violently around him. He held you together as your body trembled through the aftershocks, your slick soaking him completely. He pressed kisses into your damp hair, grinding his hips shallowly to help you ride it out, his own control hanging by a thread. "Got you." “Inside, Jobe” you whisper. He cracked immediately. That soft, desperate plea shattered whatever self-control he had left. "I've got you, baby. I've got you." His hands locked hard onto your hips, thrusting deep and burying himself fully. He came with a broken groan, flooding you with thick, hot pulses, his face burying in your neck. "I got you... I got you." He shuddered violently against you, his hips rocking shallowly as he emptied every drop inside you. His breath came in ragged, broken gasps against your neck, his hold on you tightening until you could barely breathe. You could feel him pulsing deep within you, filling you completely as he came down, his heart hammering wildly against your chest. "Jesus," he choked out. You laugh softly as you just lay against him, his arms coming up to wrap around you.
He tucked your face immediately into his neck, holding you with absolute gentleness. You were completely boneless, limp and melted against him, still trembling from your orgasm. His big hand rubbed slow, rhythmic circles up your spine, pressing soft kisses to your hairline. "I've got you," he whispered, keeping you tucked safely against his chest. "Easy, baby." You peak your eyes open and smile at his fucked out expression. He was completely wrecked—hair a messy dark halo against the pillow, lips swollen and bitten red, eyes heavy and unfocused as they struggled to stay open. Seeing that lazy, satisfied smile on your face made his chest ache, and a tired, crooked grin tugged at his mouth. "Don't look at me like that," he rasped, voice shot to hell. “Can’t help it” He let out a breathless laugh, his chest rumbling softly against yours. His hand came up to brush the damp hair away from your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with infinite tenderness. He looked utterly ruined- cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. "You fucking destroyed me," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Jobe?” He groaned softly, his eyes still half-closed, looking absolutely fucked. His thumb continued stroking your cheek, hesitating before pulling back. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice utterly shot. "What is it?" He didn't even have the strength to look at you properly- still blinking stupidly like a confused puppy, his body completely drained. "Speak slowly. Fuck." You smile softly at how he was acting but then you clear your throat, “never compare yourself to your dork brother ever again.”
The one where Erling Haaland’s sister can’t get away from Jude Bellinghams charm, even when she can’t stand him.
Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, creampie, meanish dom! Jude, super cute fluff at the end
Word count- 3.6k
Being the little sister of Erling Haaland came with forced proximity of Jude Bellingham. They were the best of friends and always around each other. Like your older brother, you played soccer as well. Though, because of gender gap, you never necessarily went pro. Now it was the World Cup and Norway and England were playing against each other. Of course, you sat in a family section with your brother’s jersey on. The match was intense, both teams were neck and neck. Jude played like a beast, scoring two goals for England. He was all over the field, his strong physique and excellent gameplay made him stand out. Everyone around you was cheering for England, your parents included. You huffed and sat back into your seat as the whistle blew for halftime “unbelievable” you mutter as you stand, shaking your head at your parents for the difference of support they were giving each team. Your mother just laughed softly, reaching over to pat your knee, clearly unbothered by your annoyance. "Oh, come on, sweetie. Jude is practically family. You know we have to cheer for him too." Your dad chuckled, adjusting his glasses as he watched the players walk off the tunnel. "He's playing incredible football tonight." “Okay, well, Erling is family” you walk away, getting air while the match was paused.
Your mom called after you, "Don't wander too far, sweetheart!" but you were already halfway down the concourse. The stadium buzzed with energy even during halftime- vendors hawking snacks, fans dissecting plays, kids running around with face paint. You pulled at the collar of your Erling Haaland jersey, the bright neon red feeling like a neon sign pointing at your annoyance. You walk in the crowd when two young girls recognize you. Two girls, probably around twelve or thirteen, immediately stopped squealing and practically jumped in front of you, clutching programs and flags. "Oh my god! You're Erling Haaland's sister!" one exclaimed excitedly, pointing at your jersey. "We literally love you!" The second girl bounced on her heels. "Can we please get a picture?" As much as you wanted to be bad as being known as ‘Erling Haaland’s sister’, you agreed. The girls grinned widely, handing you their phones so you could take a picture with each of them individually. "You're so pretty!" one gushed, while the other chattered excitedly about how talented Erling was (and by extension, how cool you must be).
After that interaction, you go closer to where the teams would be, showing the security the badge that was proof of relation. The security guard gave you a warm smile, having seen your face before- you were practically furniture in these family zones. He stepped aside, letting you through the restricted area. The tunnel hummed with activity; players warming up, coaches barking instructions, entourages moving with purpose. You could see the English side prepping, Jude laughing with teammates, his charisma practically radiating off him. When he saw you, his smile faltered in confusion. "Oi, what are you doing down here?" Jude called out, jogging over with that cheeky grin of his. He looked different up close- the sweat already glistening on his neck, jersey clinging to his chest. "Doesn't Erling usually keep you chained to the family section?" He noticed your Haaland jersey and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. Jude snorted, that cocky smile returning. "Yeah, but that's already in the bag, isn't it?" He shot an arrogant look back at the pitch before turning his attention to you. Something flickered in his eyes, a curiosity that didn't belong with siblings."You're wearing that." He gestured at your jersey, his voice dropping lower.
“My brother’s Jersey?” Jude nodded, that intensity in his gaze not wavering. "It suits you, actually." He reached out, fingers brushing the fabric near your collarbone before he caught himself and pulled back. "Not that I care or anything." He quickly added, clearing his throat. “Whatever, don’t celebrate the win early.”"Wouldn't dream of it," Jude called after you, that familiar arrogant laughter echoing down the tunnel as you walked away. "Watch the backline, yeah?" You made your way back toward the family section as the stadium buzzed, signaling the end of halftime. Sliding back into your seat, your dad glanced over. "Find your air?" “No” you lean back in the seat. Your dad just chuckled, knowing better than to pry when you were in a mood like this. "Well, sit tight. Second half is starting." The referee blew the whistle, and the players surged back onto the pitch. Jude was immediately in the thick of it, his presence commanding. Erling, however, looked fired up, clearly having gotten an earful from the coach at halftime. When Erling managed a goal, you’re the loudest to cheer. Your cheer caught Jude's attention. He glanced over at you, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the game with renewed vigor. The match became increasingly intense, both teams pushing hard for victory. With each passing minute, the score remained tied - 2-2.
Just moments before the whistle blew for a call of extra time, Erling made another goal. The stadium absolutely erupted. You leaped out of your seat, screaming louder than anyone else in the family section, your hands waving wildly as Erling pointed to the sky in celebration. Norway had taken the lead in the dying minutes of the match. Your parents were cheering too, though slightly more contained than you were. It looked like Norway was about to steal the win. The whistle blew, solidifying the win for Norway. The stadium exploded in Norwegian cheers. Your dad slapped his hands together. "That's my boy!" Your mom was clapping loudly, nodding approvingly. Erling was mobbed by teammates, doing his signature celebration- kneeling, arms out, like a Viking conquering territory. You were practically vibrating with pride. Then Jude's expression darkened. He looked furious. On your way to find your brother, a hand tugs you aside into an empty corner. You were pulled into a secluded corner of the stadium corridor, away from the celebratory chaos. Before you could react, Jude's hands were on your waist, pushing you against the wall. His face was inches from yours, breathing heavily from the game and anger. "You think this is funny?" “I think I told you not to celebrate early.”
Jude's jaw clenched, eyes darkening as they dropped to your lips. "You were the loudest one cheering." His thumb traced the edge of your waistband unconsciously. "I've been watching you the entire second half, you know. Made it bloody impossible to focus." The roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum. His forehead nearly touched yours. “A pity.” Jude let out a dark chuckle, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. "Yeah, a pity your brother scored the winner." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave, his warm breath fanning over your cheek. "Cost me the game, that loud mouth of yours." His eyes bored into yours, competitive arrogance shifting into something more dangerous. “Maybe don’t let some girl get in your head like that.” Jude smirked dangerously, that familiar arrogance mixing with pure dominance. "Sweetheart, I've had you in my head since we were kids. That's not exactly new territory." He tapped your nose with his index finger. "And considering I literally got distracted by your screaming, I'd say you're a significant problem." He crowded you further against the wall. “I can’t do this right now” you say softly, placing hands on his chest to push him away. Jude caught your hands easily, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before letting you push him back. He recognized the boundary- that you needed your brother moment right now, not this complicated whatever between them. "Go celebrate your brother," he murmured, stepping back with that annoyingly arrogant smirk. "We're settling this later." He tapped your chin. "Absolutely later."
Days later, you had a match of your own. Of course, nothing serious, but it was to you. It was a women's amateur league match- the kind that mattered immensely to you even if there weren't thousands in the stands. You played striker, aggressively competitive, inheriting that Haaland obsession with scoring. Your parents were in the stands, naturally supportive. But sitting right beside them was Jude, wearing an England tracksuit, looking entirely too comfortable. He had refused to miss your match. The moment you see him, irritation floods over your senses. He caught your eye and winked, leaning back in his seat like he owned the place. Your mom whispered something about him being "sweet," and your dad just shrugged- he'd known Jude since you were kids, after all. The whistle blew, and you kicked off. You played like a woman possessed, channeling all that irritation into every sprint, every strike. Despite that, the defense on your team lacked, allowing goals from the other team to get through. You were furious- not just at your defense, but at the situation entirely. Two goals down by halftime. Your teammates were scrambling, losing morale. From the stands, Jude watched with narrowed eyes, occasionally muttering critiques to your dad. Your mom looked concerned. Erling had texted you earlier asking how it was going, but you hadn't replied. Too annoyed. Too distracted.
During halftime, you storm off the field, furious. The coach tried to pull you aside for a pep talk, but you brushed him off, storming towards the tunnel instead. You were kicking at imaginary balls, muttering curses under your breath when Jude appeared suddenly, blocking your path with his tall frame. “Oh fuck off” you mumble. Jude raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the hostility. "Sore loser?" he called out, amused. His eyes scanned the field, watching your teammates exchange frustrated looks. "Your defense is literally sleeping, love. You can't score if you're constantly running back to save goals." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the scene with studied detachment. “Oh yeah, thanks, I totally didn’t fucking notice.” "I'm just pointing out the obvious," he said calmly, not rising to your anger. "You're too busy being frustrated to play effectively." He tilted his head, studying you critically. "Remember when you used to be the one motivating your team?" “Fuck off” you say one last time before players were called to the field. You stormed past him, shoulders stiff. Jude watched you disappear into the tunnel, that smug grin faltering. Something shifted on his face- annoyance, maybe even a flicker of concern he quickly suppressed. He adjusted his collar, composing himself. The second half kicked off. You played harder, more aggressively, scoring one goal through sheer force of will. But the score remained ugly.
You curse under your breath in frustration. With fifteen minutes left, your team was still down by two. The frustration was eating at you- you'd trained for months for this season, and now it might be ruined by weak defending. You missed a clear chance, hitting the post, and you lost it, screaming at the referee for a non-call that was clearly not a foul. Your coach started yelling for you to calm down. The final whistle blew, sealing your team’s loss. 3-1. You kicked the nearest water bottle across the field, breathing heavily. Your teammates were dejected, but you were livid. You'd scored, yes, but it wasn't enough. It never felt like enough when you lost. Jude appeared again at the tunnel entrance, not saying anything this time, just watching. You don’t say anything to him, just pushing past him. But for some reason a few nights ago goes through your head and you stop in your tracks, chest heaving. You paused mid-step, your chest heaving, hands clenched into fists. Something stirred inside you- maybe it was the memory of his words from a few nights ago, or maybe it was just the raw emotion boiling over. You spun around, locking eyes with Jude. For a moment, neither of you spoke. “Do you still want-“
You barely started the question before Jude was moving, closing the distance between you in three long strides. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you flush against him. "Yes," he answered before you could finish, voice rough, lips hovering over yours. "Still want exactly what you're thinking about."Your teammates were showering, the stands emptying. I run my hands through my hair “you know where I live” I say before walking away to the locker room. Jude stood there for a moment, heart racing, adjusting himself discreetly. He watched you disappear into the locker room, your words hanging in the air. Your teammates emerged behind him, still dejected, but Jude barely noticed them. When you got home, you walked into your house silently. You kicked your sneakers off by the door, tossing your bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. The house was quiet- your parents were likely out for dinner, giving you space after the rough match. You felt exhausted, emotionally drained, and still vibrating with that unresolved tension. Less than twenty minutes later, a key turned in the lock.
You’re leaning against a kitchen counter when Jude walks in. Jude stepped inside, locking the door behind him. He didn't say a word, just closed the distance between you in a few long strides. He stopped in front of you, his tall frame blocking out the rest of the kitchen. His eyes were intense, focused solely on you. “Could you have taken any longer?” "Not really," he murmured, his voice low, almost distracted. His gaze swept over you- your messy hair, damp sweatshirt, the exhaustion etched into your features. The tension between you was palpable, thick and suffocating. “You look like shit," he remarked, his thumb tracing the edge of your counter as he lingered just inches away from you. “God, I really fucking hate you” "Yeah?" Jude's hand moved from the counter to your hip, gripping you firmly. "Then why did you send me the address?" His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his eyes- dark, hungry, and undeniably certain. "Hate me on my dick instead." He pulled you against him hard. “Fuck you” you say before kissing him. Jude didn't respond with words- he kissed you back instead, hard and aggressive, all the pent-up frustration and desire pouring into the movement. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you onto the counter effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, filled with biting lips and clashing teeth. “Bed” you manage to say.
He didn't argue- he picked you up, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, his lips trailing down your neck, biting at your collarbone. He fumbled with your clothes, stripping them off with impatient tugs. When he pushed you onto the bed, he was already undressed, hovering over you. "Still hate me?" “Yeah, I really do” you groan. He laughed darkly against your mouth, that arrogant smirk pressing against your lips. "Good," he muttered, pushing inside you without warning, swallowing your sharp gasp. "Keep hating me. Scream it if you have to." He set a punishing rhythm immediately, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip tight enough to bruise. “F-fuck” you whine as you let your head fall back against the pillows. "There it is," Jude mocked softly, watching your face contort with pleasure despite your hatred. He leaned down, biting at your breasts, marking them with hickeys and bites. "You hate me so much, you're fucking whimpering." He slammed deeper, making you cry out. You wiggle your hands from his grasp to wrap around him. You wrap your arms around his neck, your breathing ragged. He doesn't notice- he's too focused on you. You're his. He looks at you, eyes dark and satisfied. "You're a mess." He's not even sweating, while you're disheveled. The power imbalance is glaring.
“Jude” you whimper. The way you said his name- breathy, desperate- made something in him crack. He slowed his pace, rolling his hips instead, going deeper, grinding against that spot inside you that made you see stars. His forehead dropped to yours, nose brushing against yours. "What?" he breathed against your lips, voice wrecked. "Tell me what you need." “M’gonna- Jude, please-“ "Go on," he murmured against your mouth, catching your desperate cry immediately. He didn't stop, hitting that spot perfectly, grinding deep enough to ruin you. "Let go. Be a good girl." He kissed your forehead, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, back arching, eyes rolling back. "I've got you." Your orgasm crashes over you, your nails scraping into his back. Jude hissed as your nails dug into him, the sudden intensity sending a shock of pleasure through him. He came immediately, overwhelmed by the sensation of your body clamping down on him as you came apart. He buried his face in your neck, muffling his loud groan against your shoulder as he filled you up. You let out a breath, holding him tight as he collapses against you. Jude buried his face in your neck, his breathing ragged and heavy against your skin. He kept his weight on you for a long moment, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, completely spent. The room was silent except for your shared breathing slowly evening out. One of his hands found your waist, thumb stroking your skin gently. "You okay?"
“Perfect” you whisper. He hummed softly, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Good." His voice was softer now, almost tender. He slowly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss. He rolled off to the side but kept you close, pulling you against his chest. “Thank you,” you cuddle into his side “for being at the game.” He kissed the top of your head, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder. "Always," he murmured, the arrogance gone for now. He pulled the duvet over both of you, holding you tighter against his chest. "You played your heart out. The loss wasn't on you." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “M’sorry, for the other day, I shouldn’t have said anything to distract you.” He was quiet for a moment, his fingers stilling against your skin. "Don't apologize," he said finally, his voice a low rumble. "You didn't distract me. I was an idiot for getting so worked up." He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Forget about it, yeah?" His arms tightened around you slightly. You peak up at him. You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His dark eyes meet yours, softer now than you've seen them in days. There's no judgment there, just a quiet understanding and something else you can't quite place. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, his expression thoughtful."Don't look at me like that," he murmurs, but he doesn't pull away.
“I’m not looking at you like anything” "Liar," Jude murmured, though there was no bite to it. He tapped the tip of your nose with his thumb, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You're looking at me like you actually like me." He brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his expression turning serious. "Which we both know is a problem." “Whys that a problem?” He went quiet, his jaw tightening slightly. His hand paused on your hair, fingers curling in the strands. "Because," he started slowly, "we've played this game before. Sex doesn't equal something more." He looked away, unable to meet your eyes. "I'm not—" He stopped, exhaling sharply. “But you can be” That made him look back at you sharply, his expression surprised and almost... scared? "Don't say stuff like that," he muttered, but his arms tightened around you instead of pushing you away. "I'm not relationship material, you know this. I'm grumpy and arrogant and-" “and you haven’t missed a single match of mine since we were teenagers, you were the first person to check on me after the game, Jude, you’re here because I was upset.” Jude's breath caught. He stared at you, all his defenses crumbling under your words. His hand moved to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone gently.
"That doesn't mean-“ he started, but you could see the walls cracking. "I don't know how to do the other thing," he admitted quietly, uncharacteristically vulnerable. "The soft stuff. The morning chats." “We could try?” He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally let out a shaky breath. "We could try," he repeated softly, testing the words. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist. "But if I fuck it up..." He trailed off, thumb stroking your cheek. "You tell me. Immediately." “I can do that” "Good," he murmured, pulling you impossibly closer till you were practically on top of him. His lips brushed against yours—different from before. Slower, softer. No teeth, no aggression. Just Jude. "Now stop being cute. I'm trying to be distant and unavailable here." He buried his face back in your neck, but didn't loosen his grip one bit. “Yeah, you’re horrible at it” "Shut up," he grumbled, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "I'm working on it. You're distracting." He kept kissing your neck, his hands moving to squeeze your hips possessively. "You're supposed to think I'm an asshole, not melt into me like this." “Go to sleep, idiot”He let out a soft huff, burying his face deeper into your neck. "Love you too," he mumbled sarcastically, though his arms tightened around you. "G'night, brat." He kissed your shoulder one last time before his breathing evened out, pulling you securely into his chest as he drifted off. “I love you more” you whisper before drifting off with him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The one where even after back to back wins for the World Cup, Jude still finds time to play the game with some friends on the beach… and maybe play with one particularly alone after.
Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, Jude is def injured, subby Jude, lmk if I missed any!
Word count- 5.0k
Birds squawk on the beach as the sun setting casts an orange hue around the team playing soccer. You in particular, were pretty much the only girl in the game. Sure, there were girls in the group but most were swimming or tanning. Jude was meant to join the game after the World Cup game, but after reports from how many hits he took in the game, no one got their hopes up. That was, of course, until the familiar face walks onto the beach. “Ah” you say as he approaches, pausing your effort on the game temporarily. your hands go to your hips. “And Paul McCartney arrives” you tease, partially breathless from all the running. He chuckles softly, running his hand against his slightly sweaty hair. "Well well, if it isn't the only girl who can actually keep up with us lot." He smirks, unzipping his hoodie as he approaches you. “I think you might’ve taken too many blows during that match” you tap your temple before tossing him the soccer ball. He catches the ball effortlessly, trapping it against his chest with a practiced ease, though he definitely favors his left side slightly- the evidence of a brutal World Cup final. "Oi, watch the disrespect. I played ninety minutes of hell, I'll have you know." He taps the ball back against his foot, grinning. "Give me some credit." “Oh, you’ve got all the credit, tough guy, c’mon, show us if you have any spark left.” You take a step back.
He drops the hoodie onto the sand, rolling his shoulders back with a dramatic groan before stepping onto the makeshift pitch. "Don't you worry about my spark, love." He flashes that signature competitive grin, eyes locking onto yours. "I've got plenty left in the tank." Without warning, he nutmegs the nearest defender- Trent- and starts dribbling straight toward you. “We need to invest in a whistle” you shake your head at him, but you keep up with him nonetheless. He laughs, immediately dodging around another guy with effortless footwork, clearly enjoying that you’re matching his energy despite him having played a World Cup quarterfinal less than an hour ago. "Behave. You lot already try to boss me around enough." He pulls a quick step-over, purely trying to throw you off balance. "Keep up, love." “God, I hate the British” you tease before managing to steal the ball from him. He lets out a loud, offended laugh, stumbling dramatically as you cleanly nick the ball away. "Oi! That is absolutely disrespectful!" He spins around immediately, chasing you down with that competitive stubbornness, ignoring the ache in his ribs. "I literally just played the biggest match of my career, have some bloody mercy."
“Never, I can’t go easy on a professional. It’s usually supposed to be the pros going easy on the locals” You snicker as kick move the ball down the beach. "You cheeky little brat!" He chases after you, completely abandoning any complaints about his exhaustion. "That logic is absolute rubbish and you know it." He tries to poke the ball away, laughing despite himself. "I am physically wrecked, you are bullying a national hero!" He slides in, trying to tackle you legally. "Show some mercy!" You groan when he steals the ball back. He springs back to his feet, cradling the ball like a precious gem, victory grin spreading across his face. "Now who's laughing, love?" He pulls back, taking a powerful shot straight for the make-shift goal- a bunch of towels. "Goal!" “Lucky goal” you snicker. "Lucky?" He places a hand over his chest, wounded. "I have Ballon d'Or ambitions and you call that lucky?" He starts juggling the ball with casual elegance, spinning it on his fingertip. "That was pure class. Pure artistry." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, completely ignoring the way his ribs protested the sudden movement.
“Yeah, alright, maybe take a break there hotshot” "I am taking a break," he argues immediately, though he leans forward, resting his hands on his knees to finally catch his breath. The adrenaline was clearly wearing off. "This is... recovery. Light cardio." He winces slightly, pressing a hand against his left side. "Alright, maybe a tiny break." He drops onto the sand, grabbing his hoodie. You snicker and sit next to him. He shifts to make room for you on the sand, not looking up from where he's staring at the golden horizon. The cocky bravado fades, replaced by something quieter. His posture relaxes just a fraction. "You're annoyingly competitive, you know that?" A small smirk appears. "I'm supposed to be the one humbling locals." “You usually do” you shrug. "Exactly." He shakes his head, finally looking at you properly. His eyes are warm despite the sweat and sand. "Everywhere I go, people step aside. Bow down to the England boy. The Madrid boy." He shrugs, touching the bruising on his ribs. "And then I come here and get bullied by some girl who thinks she's untouchable." He laughs softly.
“And here you are, getting one goal against me and suddenly you think you’re hot shit.” I nudge him then smile, “seriously though, two goals back to back is crazy in the World Cup, you did good.” The praise catches him off guard, that familiar modesty flickering through. He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he does when he's genuinely embarrassed. "Yeah, well... it was the moment, wasn't it?" He glances at the water reflecting the twilight. "Still feels mad, to be honest. Everyone back home going absolutely mental." “Don’t get too excited, you still have semi finals and finals.” He drops his head back with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. "Please. Do not remind me. I am physically in shambles and my brain is already frying thinking about Messi." He looks at you sideways. "Way to kill the vibe, love. I was enjoying the praise for five seconds." He kicks at the sand softly. “I think you’ve got a good shot” You sigh and lay back in the sand “I’m rooting for you, at least” He raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at you lying back in the sand. The twilight makes your face sharp and soft at the same time. "You're actually being nice now?" He looks genuinely bewildered. "The last ten minutes you've been absolutely brutal. I'm getting mixed signals here." He shakes his head, turning back to the horizon.
“Two winning goals in back to back games is insane” I repeat honestly. He finally cracks a genuine smile, leaning back on his hands and looking out at the darkening water. The ego is there, obviously, but it's laced with genuine disbelief at his own reality. "It's completely mental. I keep pinching myself." He glances down at you, watching the waves reflect in your eyes. You smile softly before sitting back up. He watches you sit up, his expression softening as he takes in your profile. The competitive edge from earlier is completely gone, replaced by something more relaxed and almost vulnerable. "You know what's crazy?" He pauses, waiting until you look at him before continuing. “Hm?” I look at him. "Even after scoring two in the World Cup, the only person who's given me a proper run for my money today was you." He bumps his shoulder against yours, a playful nudge. "And I'm literally exhausted, bruised, and probably should be icing my ribs right now." He grins. “Here” You stand and offer your hand to him. He takes your hand immediately, letting you pull him to his feet. He stumbles slightly into you, not because he needs the help- because he's Jude Bellingham, and he could probably do backflips right now if necessary- but because he likes the contact. "What, are you suddenly being nice to me?"
“I have ice packs back at my apartment”His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he lets out a low laugh. "You're inviting me back to your place to ice my ribs?" He steps closer, his hand still in yours. The playful banter is back, but there's an underlying current of something more intense. "Should I be worried?" “Maybe you should be” He grins widely, his teeth white against his chocolate skin. "I like a bit of danger." He squeezes your hand before letting go to bend down and grab his hoodie. When he stands back up, he's pulled it on, the hood up and casting shadows over his face. "Lead the way, love." You lead him to your nearby apartment. He follows easily, his competitive swagger settling down into something more relaxed as you head upstairs. The moment you unlock the door, he steps inside with that effortless familiarity, sliding his hoodie off and tossing it onto your couch. He immediately drops down, looking absolutely wrecked- World Cup quarterfinal exhaustion finally hitting him properly. "I'm officially demanding that ice pack." You go into your freezer. Instead of handing it to him, you push him back on the couch.
He falls back instantly without resistance, trusting you enough to let you manhandle him. He hits the cushions with a soft thump, legs sprawling open comfortably, clearly exhausted. "Oi. Bossy." He looks up at you with lazy amusement, absolutely not fighting it. "This feels dangerously like you're taking advantage of my injured state." “Am not” You shake your head. "Mhm." He watches you wrap the pack with a rag, his eyes tracking your movements with that intensity that makes people talk about him. He winces slightly as he shifts, his left side clearly tender. "You could just hand it to me, you know. Be polite. Be a proper host." “A polite and proper host helps” you say, moving to stand between his legs. He swallows hard as you position yourself between his legs, his eyes darkening slightly. "Right..." He murmurs softly, watching your hands carefully. You press the ice pack gently against his ribs, and he sucks in a sharp breath, more from the cold than any pain. "Jesus..." “Sorry” I whisper, adjusting the touch to be lighter. "Don't be." He exhales slowly, his hands instinctively reaching up to rest on your hips, steadier than they have any right to be given he just played 90 minutes of brutal football. The ice pack presses against his bruised ribs, and his breathing hitches. "You're surprisingly gentle for someone who was nutmegging me ten minutes ago."
“You’re just easy to nutmeg, here, hold it here” You grab his wrist and press it to hold the ice pack. He snorts at that, but his hand obediently presses the ice pack exactly where you guide it- which happens to be right against his left ribs, a particularly nasty bruise forming there from a particularly enthusiastic tackle in the second half. His other hand stays on your hip, thumb making small circles. "Easy to nutmeg?" He echoes incredulously. "I carried England to the semis."“And you got one lucky shot against me, congratulations” He narrows his eyes at you, mouth curving into a grin. "That wasn't lucky." The tone is a little quieter now, more genuine, as he focuses on pressing the ice pack against the bruise you've found. A small wince escapes him when it's particularly cold. "That's... oh shit." His jaw tightens for a split second before he recovers. “You okay?” "Fine. I'm fine." He exhales sharply, trying to sound casual. "Just cold. You'd think you'd notice the ice is cold." His hand on your hip loosens, his body going rigid in a way that screams he's definitely not okay. The banter cuts off, replaced by a strained silence as he watches your expression. “Here” you take the ice pack for him again. He lets you take the ice pack without protest, his hand falling away from his ribs. His eyes follow your movements closely as you press the cold pack against his bruised side more gently this time. A soft hiss escapes him when it touches the tender spot directly. "Fuck..."
“You doing okay?” "I'm good." He lies through his teeth, but his body language tells a different story. His jaw clenches slightly as you press the ice pack harder against his ribs, and he lets out a slow breath. "I just... fuck, that actually hurts." You take the ice pack away “what do you need then, hm?”He exhales, his shoulders finally dropping an inch as the sharp pressure leaves his ribs. He leans his head back against the couch, looking up at you with a mix of exhaustion and genuine defeat. "Honestly?" He pauses, pressing his fingers lightly against his side. "Painkillers. And a nap. Not necessarily in that order." He offers you a tired, crooked grin. “Yeah, I’ve got you” I get up to go to my medicine cabinet, I come back with ibuprofen. He accepts the pills and the glass of water you hand him without complaint, swallowing them dry before actually taking a drink. He sinks deeper into the couch cushions, looking like he's finally letting the adrenaline crash. "You're terrifyingly efficient," he murmurs, watching you set the glass down. "I feel like I should be paying you for this service." “Tempting to accept but no thanks”
He lets out a soft laugh, but it dissolves into a tired sigh. His eyes are already half-closed, body melting into the cushions. "Then what *do* you want?" The question comes out lower, slower, like he's too exhausted to filter it. He shifts, making space on the couch. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at you properly. “Nothing, Jude.” "That's not-“ He pauses, frustrated. His hand lifts from the couch cushion, fingers brushing against your wrist weakly. "That's not how this works. You drag me back here, you're being all nice and... whatever this is." He tugs your wrist gently, not enough to pull you down, just enough to test. "Come here." “What?” "You heard me." He's not looking at you now, eyes fixed on some point past your shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable. "You're hovering. It's annoying." But his hand on your wrist stays firm, contradicting the complaint. The exhaustion has cracked something open in him—the invincible facade slipping. "Just... sit. Please." The last word comes out small. When you hesitate, he tugs you into his lap.
Without warning, he tugs you firmly onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist instinctively. A sharp intake of breath escapes him as he pulls you down, his ribs protesting the sudden movement. Despite the pain, he doesn't loosen his hold, instead leaning his head against your shoulder. You sigh and wrap your arms around him. His breathing hitches, something shifting in his chest. You feel it- a sharp intake, then a long, controlled exhale. His grip on your waist doesn't loosen, but he doesn't say anything either. His chin rests at your collarbone, his dark hair brushing against your neck. Then he speaks, voice barely audible. "I'm not good at this." “Good at what?” "Being... looked after." He says it quietly, his face buried against your shoulder so you can feel his stubble graze your skin. "Being... vulnerable. I don't do this." His arms tighten around your waist. "On the pitch? I know exactly what to do. Here? With someone actually giving a damn?" He shakes his head slightly. "I’m useless." “No you’re not” you shake your head. He lets out a small huff of breath against your neck, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Yes, I am." He argues softly, though there's no fight in it, just exhaustion. "Five minutes ago I was arguing with you about nutmegging me. Now I'm practically clinging to you because my ribs hurt." “Well, I don’t mind”
He goes completely still against you, burying his face properly into your neck. That simple admission hits harder than any tackle in the final- he's used to people wanting something from him. Goals, fame, performance. Not just... this. "Don't encourage me," he mutters softly against your skin, arms locking tighter around your waist. "I will absolutely abuse this." “Yeah? How?” "By staying right here." He confirms immediately, as if he's worried you'll move away if he doesn't claim the spot quickly enough. His next breath is slower, less tense, like he's actually relaxing into your hug. "I'm supposed to be this big, tough footballer..." His hands creep up your shirt, though, it’s not quite clear if he meant to. His hands are definitely not where they should be. They start at your waist, fingers splayed over your skin, then slowly- so slowly you might not notice if you weren't paying attention- they creep upwards. His thumbs brush the underside of your breasts, a fleeting, accidental touch that makes his breath hitch.
“Jude..” "What?" The question comes out muffled against your neck, but there's a definite smirk in his voice. His thumbs brush against your skin again, this time more intentionally. "I'm just... adjusting." He lies. But his hands don't move back down to your waist. “Liar” He lets out a low chuckle, his warm breath tickling your neck. "Maybe." His thumbs slowly trace small circles on your skin, inching closer to your breasts with each pass. "But you're not stopping me." “I never said I wanted to” He freezes for a second, processing that. Then his hands move higher, cupping your chest through your shirt. "So you're just going to sit here and let me feel you up because my ribs hurt?" He asks incredulously, squeezing gently. "That's ridiculous." “You’re the one who asked how to repay me” "That wasn't-" He starts to argue, but then his thumbs find your nipples through the fabric, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. He groans softly, his head tilting back to rest on the couch. "Fuck..." His hands move without his permission, kneading your breasts gently. Your lips capture his.
He melts instantly, abandoning any dignity he had left. His mouth opens against yours, soft and desperate, letting you take complete control. The argument dissolves entirely, replaced by a slow, hungry kiss. His hands stay under your shirt, fingers kneading your breasts with absolute reverence, proving that yes, he absolutely intends to repay you like this. You’re careful not to touch and hurting or tender parts of his body. He whimpers against your mouth as you carefully avoid his bruised ribs, your touch gentle and soothing everywhere else. It only makes him kiss you harder, trying to convey his gratitude and need all at once. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples roughly. He pulls back just long enough to mutter, "Touch me," he demands quietly, nipping at your bottom lip. "Not here." He gestures vaguely at his torso with his chin, indicating his bruises. "Somewhere else. Please." The last word is barely audible, but it's there- proof that under all the bluster, he's begging. “With my hands or mouth?” "Both." He says immediately, then amends, "But mouth first. Please." His face flushes with embarrassment and need. "My ribs are fucking killing me. I can't-“ He cuts himself off, swallows hard. "I can't take any pressure there."
“I’ve got you” you say before dropping to your knees between his legs. He stares down at you, wide-eyed and breathless, watching you settle between his spread legs on the floor. His hands immediately leave your chest to grip the back of the couch, his knuckles turning white as he braces himself. "You don't have to-" he starts, but his voice cracks halfway through. He looks utterly wrecked, torn between his desire and his pain. You begin to untie his sweatpants. His hips buck automatically, a silent plea, as your fingers work the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Fuck," he gasps, head falling back against the couch. His abs clench as you tug the fabric down, his cock springing free- hard, thick, and leaking slightly at the tip. He's already so worked up from just touching your chest. “Adorable” you mutter before wrapping your mouth around him. He nearly jumps out of his skin, a strangled cry escaping him. "Holy-“ The word dies in his throat as your hot mouth engulfs him, his whole body convulsing. His head slams back against the couch cushion, stomach muscles clenching hard. The contrast between his brutal performance on the pitch and this complete submission is staggering.
The sight wrecks him completely. He stares down at you with blown-out pupils, mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as he watches you take him deeper. When your throat tightens around the head of his cock, his hips jerk involuntarily, his hands flying from the couch to thread into your hair- gently, like he's terrified of hurting you. "Holy... fuck..." You work your throat, eager to taste him. He makes a strangled sound that's half pleasure, half panic. "Wait-“ he gasps, trying to pull back, but his hips betray him, pushing forward slightly. "You're going to make me-" He cuts off with a choked moan as your tongue works against the underside of his shaft, your throat clenching perfectly. His fingers tighten gently in your hair. He lasts maybe two more minutes before he's utterly overcome, his body shaking and convulsing as he comes down your throat with a muffled cry. His hands grip your hair tightly as he holds you in place, his cock pulsing as it fills your mouth with his warm release. You sit back on the heels of your feet and peak up at him before sticking your tongue out, proving to have swallowed it all.
He stares at you with absolute disbelief, chest heaving, his softening cock still out and glistening with your spit and his cum. "Fucking hell," he whispers hoarsely, looking completely ruined. "How are you so good at that?" You laugh softly, “I think what you meant to say was ‘thank you’”His ears turn red, a flush spreading across his chest. "I didn't say—" he starts, but stops when he sees your expression. He swallows hard, looking down at your mouth- still glistening, still pink from his cock. "Thank you," he mutters begrudgingly, the words sounding like they physically hurt him to say. You smile softly “do you feel better or worse?”"Better," he admits gruffly, shifting slightly on the couch. He winces as his ribs protest, but the pain is duller now, less sharp. "Definitely better." He meets your gaze, looking a little vulnerable for once. "Can you-" He pauses, swallows. “What do you need, hm?” He looks down at his hands, which are still clenched in his lap. "I can't..." He trails off, frustration crossing his features. "My ribs are still fucking killing me, and I want to—" He gestures vaguely at you with his chin. "...return the favor. But I don't think I can lie down or lean forward without screaming." He looks genuinely bothered by this. “You don’t have to return anything” you shake your head.
"I want to." The protest is immediate, stubborn, and completely Jude. He hates feeling indebted, hates feeling like he's taking without giving. "You literally just made me cum down your throat and I'm lying here useless." He sighs, frustrated by his own body. "It’s not fair." His fingers twitch in his lap, itching to touch you. “What do you wanna do then, hm?” He looks up at you, a slow, dangerous idea forming in his eyes. The pain is still there, but it's being overridden by something else entirely. "Can you—" He winces as he shifts again, trying to think through the fog. "Could you maybe... straddle my lap? Face me." He indicates his seated position. You nod and do as he asked. "Like this," he murmurs, his big hands settling on your hips carefully, like he's worried about jostling his ribs. Once you're settled, he lets out a slow breath, his forehead dropping to rest against your chest. "This is okay," “do you want me to ride you?” He nods against your chest, his voice muffled. "Yeah," he admits softly. "If you're comfortable with that." His hands squeeze your hips gently, encouraging you to move. "I can't really do much else right now, but I want you to feel good too."
“You’re adorable” you peck his lips before standing to tug off your shorts and crawl back into his lap. He watches, rapt, as you stand up and strip off your shorts. The look on his face is pure hunger, his pupils blown wide again as he takes in the sight of you. When you crawl back into his lap, he lets out a low, needy sound, his hands immediately going to your bare hips. "You're so fucking pretty," You smile and press your lips to his before sinking down on him. He groans into your mouth, one hand tangling in your hair while the other grips your hip tightly. The sensation of you sliding down his length makes his eyes roll back in his head. "Fuck," he breathes out, the word stretching into a long moan as you begin to move slowly. “Tell me if it hurts” you place your hands on his shoulders. "Doesn't," he lies immediately, immediately regretting it as your weight shifts slightly, sending a jolt through his bruised ribs. He hisses through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. "Doesn't- shit." He swallows hard, trying to adjust without making you stop. His head falls back against the couch, exposing his throat. You still your hips, deciding to press your mouth to his throat instead after noticing his wince. "Mmmph," he groans softly, his hands sliding from your hips to your back as you shift your attention to his neck. He freezes, completely still to avoid causing himself more pain, but the feeling of your mouth on his neck makes up for it. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your back.
You attempt to get off of his lap out of the fear of hurting him. He instantly grabs your hips tightly, stopping you. "No," he says firmly, his voice low and urgent. "Don't stop. Please." His thumbs rub small circles on your hips, his grip relaxing slightly but not letting go. "I'll handle the pain. You feel too good to stop." “Are you sure?” "Positive," he breathes, tilting his head back to give you better access to his neck. His jaw is set, bruised ribs definitely aching from holding himself still, but he doesn't care. "Just-“ He guides your hips slowly, one hand still on your lower back, the other bracing against the couch for support. "More gentle. Shorter strokes.""You're not hurting me," he interrupts, but his voice wavers slightly with another small wince. He shifts carefully, angling you both so less weight is on his ribs. "I've played full matches with worse." His hands guide your hips down in a slow roll, letting you feel him inside you without putting pressure on his injury. "See? We're fine." A moan escapes your mouth. That sound breaks him completely. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you into a slow, deep rhythm that keeps his ribs from hurting while absolutely wrecking you. "There you go..." he whispers against your mouth, praising you instantly. "Good girl. Just let me handle it." He rolls his hips upward gently, hitting perfectly deep. "Sounds fucking gorgeous."
“S-shit, Jude-“ He smirks against your mouth, clearly satisfied that he's reducing you to a stuttering mess despite being injured. "I've got you," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep that slow, devastating rhythm. He rolls his hips upward again, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. "Let go for me, yeah? I want to hear you." Tears prick at your eyes as you near release. Seeing those tears start to form in your eyes is the hottest fucking thing Jude has ever seen. He knows he's found the right spot, the right rhythm, and he's not stopping until you're completely shattered. "Come on, sweetheart," you clench harshly around him as you reach your orgasm. He lets out a strangled, guttural groan as you tighten around him, his body going rigid. The sensation of your release is the final straw; he can't hold back any longer. With one last, powerful surge of his hips- ignoring the sharp flash of pain in his ribs- he comes deep inside you with a muffled cry. You collapse against him, careful to not hurt his side. He catches you instantly, his arms wrapping securely around your waist to support your trembling weight. You bury your face in his neck, being incredibly mindful of his bruised ribs, while his hands stroke your spine soothingly. "I've got you," he murmurs softly, pressing gentle kisses to your temple. "Easy, sweetheart. Breathe."
You sit up slowly to take a good look at him. His hands slide to your hips to help steady you, his touch gentle despite the lingering trembling in his own fingers. He looks completely wrecked-hair messy, lips swollen, sweat glistening on his chest- but his eyes are soft as they scan your face. "You okay?" he asks quietly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" Your eyes go soft and a mellow smile creeps on your lips, “I should be the one asking you that.” He shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, trying to play it off. "I'm fine," he insists, even though his ribs are still aching sharply from the rougher movements. He forces a small smile, reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "Worth it," he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s an immediate request, delivered with absolutely zero hesitation. Jude looks dead serious, clutching your hand between his. "Official role. Good luck charm. You sit with the families, you wear my jersey, and you watch me play." He presses a kiss to your knuckles. "I need you there. Semi-finals are huge." He squeezes your fingers. "Please?"
The one where their friendship gets to have a bit too much tension.
warnings- smut, p in v, unprotected, creampie, pet names, they're both just neady lil freaks.
Word count- 2.0k
I knocked on his door after a nightmare. “Can I stay?”I whisper just loud enough for him to hear. He lifts the blanket wordlessly. I crawl in, instantly noticing how he’s shirtless, warm, and too close. We lie facing each other in silence. His thumb grazes my hip. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs. I nod. He pulls me closer against him, his breath against my throat. I tilt my chin just enough but then he pauses, lips barely grazing mine. “Not like this,” he breathes. At that moment, I wanted to scream. “Why not?” I whisper with furrowed brows. His jaw tightens, eyes darkening as his thumb traces my lower lip, slow, deliberate. “Because you’re scared. And you’ll regret it in the morning.” He pulls me closer, chest to chest, heart to heart. A single breath between our mouths. “But I’m trying, baby. I swear to God, I’m trying.” I silently turn onto my back to stare at the ceiling. He watches me, the rise and fall of my chest under the thin fabric of my shirt. His hand stays on my hip, thumb circling slow, possessive. The silence stretches, thick with everything you’re not saying. He rolls onto his side, propped on one elbow, looking down at me like I’m a problem he can’t solve. “Talk to me.” “You know what I want.” I mumble but I don’t push, if he didn’t want it, he didn’t want it. We’d been friends for years but things had changed recently, more flirting, more lingering touches, we both knew it.
His eyes snap to mine. He knows exactly what I want. He can see it in my eyes, feel it in the way I’m so carefully not pushing. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. “And what if I don’t give it to you?” “Then nothing” I say with a sigh. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He stares at me for a long moment, the weight of years of friendship and months of tension pressing down. Then, without warning, he’s over me, caging me in between his arms, his body a hard line against mine. “Don’t fucking shrug it off.” “What else am I supposed to do? You don’t want me.” I say before I can even think twice. That sentence stops him cold. He stares down at me, his expression going terrifyingly serious, absolutely crushing at that assumption. “Bullshit.” He dips his head, his nose brushing mine, voice dropping to a whisper. “I have wanted you for years, don’t mistake me stopping you for me not wanting you.” “Then why are you stopping me?” His eyes burn into mine, his forearm braced beside my head, his body weight pressing me into the mattress. “Because you had a nightmare. You’re shaking, you’re upset, and you’re vulnerable.” He grits his teeth, his jaw working. He leans down, his lips hovering a breath from mine. “I am not taking advantage of that.” “Why don’t you want to make me feel better?” A pout slips onto my lips.
The sight of that pout almost breaks his resolve. He lets out a low, ragged groan, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. “Don’t do that.” He lifts his head slightly, eyes dark and frustrated. “I do want to make you feel better. But sex isn’t a fix for a nightmare.” “Why can’t it be when we’ve both been thinking about it?” A muscle in his jaw jumps. He’s being too careful, too measured. His hand releases my hip, sliding up to rest near my collarbone. “Becuase I’m not gonna be the reason you wake up in the morning with a knot in your stomach.” He meets my gaze, unblinking, stubborn. “I can’t do that to you. Not you.” My heart skips a beat at his words. “If… in the morning I still want it, will you..?” His eyes flash with something intense. He swallows hard, his thumb brushing my collarbone. He leans back beside me with a soft expression. “If you still want it in the morning, I’ll give it to you. Over and over until you forget your own name.” His voice is a low, promise filled rumble. “But right now…” “Okay, okay.” I sigh, settling with cuddling into his side. He immediately wraps an arm around me, pulling me flush against his side. His other hand rests on my hip possessively as he settles back against his pillow, his jaw tightening.
The next morning, I woke up first. I’m nestled entirely into his side. He’s asleep on his back, shirtless, one arm thrown heavy and protective over my waist. The nightmare feels miles away now, leaving only the comfort of his steady breathing and the familiar scent of him. Morning light filters through the curtains, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the messy hair. He shifts slightly in his sleep. I smile softly when his eyes flutter open. His eyes blink open slowly, heavy lashes lifting before they immediately find my face. He registers the morning light, the lack of shaking, the soft smile I’m giving him. His expression instantly softens, morning warmth replacing the protective tension from last night. “Mornin’ princess.” His voice is rough with sleep. “Hi,” I whisper. He watches me closely, his thumb starting to move in slow circles on my hip again. The movement is deliberate, checking if you’re still the same girl from last night or if the morning has brought clarity and maybe regret. “How are you feeling?” His voice is gentle but cautious. “Like I haven’t changed my mind.” His expression shifts immediately, heat flashing in his eyes. He swallows visibly, his hand pausing on my hip. “Still want me?” His voice drops lower, less sleepy now, more… intentional. “If you want-” He cuts me off instantly. “Don’t finish that sentence.” His hand slides up to my jaw, cradling my face, eyes burning. “I have wanted you for years. I am not hesitating.” He leans down, nose brushing mine. “This isn’t a pity fuck. This is me finally getting my girl.”
I smile before pressing my lips to his. He groans into the kiss, his hand moving to tangle in my hair as he deepens it instantly. Years of restraint and built up tension pour into that one kiss, his body shifting so he's hovering over me, one leg between mine. The kiss is hot, messy, years in the making. “Will, please,” I whisper. Every bone in my body screamed to be as loud as I wanted but we weren’t alone, his family was either in their rooms or just downstairs. His mouth trails to my jaw, pressing hot, wet kisses there as he silences me with a hand on my hip. His voice drops to a dark rasp against my ear. “I know, baby. I know” He shifts, wedging a thigh between mine to give me friction, grinding slow and deliberate. “Gotta be quiet for me, Yeah?” “Mhm” I nod fast. He smirks against my skin, rewarding my obedience with a slow roll of his hips, the pressure of his thigh dragging perfectly against me. His hand slides up under my shirt, calloused palm resting flat against my stomach. “Good girl.” He bites gently at my pulse point, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “Keep those pretty noises swallowed, princess.” One of his hands slide into my sleep shorts. His fingers find me already wet and ready. He groans softly against my neck, adding another finger slowly. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing in slow circles as he kisses me to muffle any sounds I might make. “Shh…” He whispers between kisses.
“I can’t- Will, I can’t with the teasing, please, I’ve needed you for too long.” That breaks him completely. Years of friendship and months of flirting snap. He kisses me hard, swallowing my sounds instantly. “I know. I know, baby.” He hooks his fingers in my shorts and panties, sliding them down my legs in one smooth motion. “I’ve got you. No more teasing.” He tugs his own sweatpants down. “Just- go slow” I contradict my own previous words. He pauses immediately, respecting the plea in my eyes despite the desperation radiating off of me. He leans down, kissing me deeply, slow and reassuring. One hand coming up to sup my jaw. “I will.” He pushes forward slowly, inch by inch, his breath hitching in my ear. “Breathe for me, princess. Gonna take care of you.” I press a hand to my mouth. He takes that as permission, sinking deeper into me with agonizing slowness. His forehead drops to my shoulder, teeth grazing my collarbone as a low groan vibrates against my skin. His hips don’t start moving yet, just staying impossibly deep, adjusting to how fucking good he thought I felt. “Fuck.” The word escapes as a breath. “You’re.. tight.” I can’t respond, scared that moans would slip out.
He feels the tension in my body, hears the muffled sounds coming from my mouth. Understanding washes over him and he starts moving. SLow, deep rolls of his hips that hit me perfectly, his mouth covering mine to silence any noises. His hands grip my hips, pulling me onto him with each thrust. “Shhh… quiet, princess.” My back arches into him. The movement presses me tighter against him, my back arching perfectly to take him deeper. He groans against my mouth, hips picking up the pace slightly. One hand leaves my hip to wrap around my throat gently, tilting my head back for a deeper kiss as he hits that spot inside of me that makes my eyes roll back. “So fucking good.” He moans, his hips stuttering. It was incomprehensible how close I already was, the feeling of my best friend on top of me being too overwhelming. He’s careful, noticing the way I’m gripping his shoulders, the slight shake in my breath. He pauses, his forehead resting against mine. “I’m not… I’m not gonna leave.” He speaks, voice rough, intimate. “I’m still here, same Will.” “Will,” I manage to get out, “M’gonna-” He knows immediately what I mean, his mouth covering mine to swallow the cry. His hand slides from my hip to my lower stomach, pressing down just right as he hits that spot rhythmically. He keeps his movements slow and deep, talking me through it against my lips. “Let go for me. Just let go, princess. Come on.” His eyes lock onto mine.
I hold him close and tight as my orgasm overwhelms my senses. He holds me through every second, his arms wrapping securely around me to ground me as I fall apart. He swallows every single noise, his hips rolling slow and deep to work me through it, extending the pleasure until I’m trembling beneath him. He kisses my temple, my cheek, finally my slack mouth. “I got you. There it is…” He whispers. “You can-” A whimper cuts me off, “inside.” That is the only permission he needs. A guttural groan tears from his throat, his forehead dropping against my shoulder as he buries himself to the hilt. His hips snap sharply, his rhythm faltering as he comes, spilling hot and deep inside me. His fingers dig into my hips, holding me impossibly close as he rides it out.”Fuck… Princess.” I laugh softly as he collapses against me. I try to even my breathing as I wrap my arms around him. He melts into me, burying his face in my neck as he tries to catch his breath. His entire weight pressing me comfortably into the mattress. He presses a soft, open mouthed kiss against my pulse point, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. He laughs quietly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Don’t start laughing.” He mumbles. “I love you so much.” I sigh, smile still on my face. He stills completely. That confession hits him differently, he knows how I feel, he’s felt it too, but hearing it out loud while he’s inside me, while his family is downstairs… his jaw tightens. He doesn’t say it back immediately, not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he’s trying to remember how to breathe.
“What?” I noticed his expression. He catches my expression immediately, realizing I misread his silence. “No, no… don’t look at me like that.” He kisses my forehead firmly, burying his face in my neck. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years. That wasn’t hesitation, I just forgot how to breathe.” I laugh. “Let’s go back to sleep.” He nods with sleepy eyes. “Yes ma’am.”
Hey guys! I’m active on another account if any of you are interested in kpop! It’s @kooky-shooky-07 !! I would write on this one but the two fandoms just don’t really clash well! :)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Most people age up the character and I think that's fine if the actor is an adult like people do with Jacaerys or Aemond that are supposed to be sixteen or something, but Harry and Ewan are full adults
but Elliot was a kid when he played that role... you can't age him up. I always feel weird when I see Lucerys smut...
Ugh idk who wrote this but you get me. Like sure, an adult playing a teenager? Age them up, whatever. BUT a sixteen year old player a fourteen year old?? Like guys pls. He doesn’t even look grown, he looks like a child. Idk it just grosses me out so bad :(((
HOTD writers pmo so bad because how are you going to be writing smut about Lucerys (first of all, ew, that’s a child) THEN PROCEED TO GO “minors dni, must be 18+ to read” girl the boy you’re writing about is FOURTEEN wdym you must be 18+ 😭😭 writing for him is so weirddddd like fourteen?! Are you kidding me rn?!
Can you write like the smuttyist smut ever in life about Jack Hugh’s pleaseee
It was always you
Jack Hughes x Fem! reader
Summary- Jacks new girlfriend is a little overly jealous of reader. But then, turns out, reader has to break the news to Jack that she caught his girlfriend kissing another man.
Warnings- Smut, raw dawggin, creampie, mentions of jacks injury, cheating (don't do that), technically not public sex but very exposed.
Word count- 3.2k
Jack Hughes was injured.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to feel bad, a little bit of both, I guess.
Jack was an asshole, everyone knew that. Especially me, I’d practically grown up with him. I never liked him, or course, but he was always there. Our mothers were inseparable, so I found myself at the lake house every spring break and summer since I was a kid.
Coming with that, was being stuck in the presence of Jack. I didn’t know what I did but all of his (many, many, many) girlfriends he’d bring to the lake house hated me. Every. Single. One. Maybe I was intimidating, or maybe they thought I was ugly. Who knows? They couldn’t be jealous because despite being in the same house as Jack, I spent my time bound at the hip with his older brother, Quinn.
The reaction I had to Jack’s injury replayed in my head. The smile on my lips when he goes head first into the boards perfectly explained the relationship we had. But the smile dropping when he didn’t stand up explained our parent’s relationship. I couldn’t sleep that night, nerves getting to me. Not for Jack, he has a hard head so I knew he’d be fine, but for his mom.
He’d gotten his surgery shortly after, Ellen assuring that everything was alright. I didn’t get this reassurance directly but through my mother. All was well, he was back to being an asshole, even more than usual without his hockey. Thus, all of the nervousness leaving as fast as it developed.
But as spring break rolled around, I dreaded the thought of my mom begging me to go to the lake house. I gave in Every. Damn. Time.
Which brought me here, slowly walking out of my front door. My two bags were over my shoulder as I dragged my feet across the pavement. I hear banging on the side of the car, my eyes look up.
“Hurry up, sunshine, we don’t got all day”
Jack fucking Hughes. I roll my eyes at his mean smile from the drivers seat. I fight the urge of flipping him off as I pass the window to put my bags in the trunk.
I flop down in the backseat, between my mother and Luke. I figured Quinn would be in the front seat but no, it was yet another unfamiliar girl. The drive was long, long, and even longer. When we arrived I was asleep on my mom’s shoulder. She shakes me off her shoulder to wake me. I sit up and rub my eyes. Once my hands drop my eyes catch Jack’s in the rearview mirror.
That’s weird.
Before I can say anything, Luke tosses me my bags and I get out of the car.
As pretty as i remember it. The lake house, I mean, the view had always been beautiful. I snapped out of my thoughts as I hear my name called and the second I look over, I’m wrapped up in arms and lifted off of my feet.
“Oh, y/n! I’ve missed you.”
This must be what heaven feels like- wait… no- hell. Definitely hell. No.. air- I’m let go.
“Jesus”
I rub my ribs as I’m sat down.
“Sorry”
A very smiley Quinn Hughes says from in front of me.
I haul myself inside and up to the room that was designated to me. This place was huge, everyone had their own room and there was still space for a quest room. I guess my family and I weren’t quite considered guests anymore. I’m greeted by the boys parents before I make it up the stairs.
Bored. Bored. Bored.
I change out of my sweats and into a more presentable outfit of a loose baby tee and some denim shorts. I braid my hair quickly and put sunglasses on the top of my head, full intention on convincing my mom to take photos for my instagram.
I take the last step off of the stairs, greeted with a scoff from the girl I didn’t even know the name of. I look her up and down before walking right past her. But not before I caught the eye of Jack behind her, his arms around her waist. I ignore it, walking outside to my mother.
My mom pushed me to stand on the dock, posing as she took photos, the golden glow of the setting sun shining against my skin. She has me sit down at the end, toes in the water as I look to the side. The side towards the house. The side towards the house that I could see an obviously pissed girl sitting next to Jack by the pool.
Weird…
I stand to take my phone back, interrupted by a heavy weight pushing against me and the next thing I knew, I was in the lake. I resurface to see my mom taking photos while giggling. I look to my side to see Quinn. I scoff playfully and splash him before hoisting myself back on the dock.
“You’re going to be the one doing my laundry”
I point down to my soaked outside and Quinn just laughs before following me back onto the dock. I thank my mom before taking my phone back and scurrying back inside.
I change quickly back into a comfortable outfit before returning outside. Quinn was stationed at the grill, Jack and what’s her face at the pool, and Luke in a deep conversation with our parents.
I sit down and open my phone, my eyes catching a notification.
“Quinn Hughes and his longtime best friend: Dating?”
I almost laugh as I click the notification. Amelia Blake. Huh? Oh. My eyes snap up from my phone, landing on Jacks girlfriend. I look back down at my phone. “Amelia Blake posted, two images attached.” I open the notification and my eyes widen at photos of Quinn hugging me earlier. No fucking way.
It is so on.
I stand to my feet, as I approach the pair, I realize she’s on a live video. Oh yes, yes, yes. Trevor must’ve rubbed off on Jack. So unfortunate.
“Hello everyone” she smiles “I’m at my amazing boyfriend’s lake house!” She tilts the phone towards Jack who forces a smile. Embarrassing. “I see rumors spreading off of the photos I’ve posted, and I’d just like to say-“
I cut her off before she can finish.
“Lying bitch”
And with a shove, she’s in the pool. Jacks eyes widen and he looks back at me. Something tells me he hadn’t seen the photos yet. I turn backwards as she reemerges. I don’t catch her words but I do catch that she is pissed. I walk back inside, sure that eyes were on me.
I don’t leave my room until Quinn knocks, telling me dinner was ready. I’m still mad, can’t deny that. I look up from my phone.
“You saw what she did, right? I didn’t start anything.”
He laughs and nods. Laughs? I didn’t find it funny. He shouldn’t either, I mean, just lowered his chances of getting a girlfriend.
“Don’t be pissed, our parents are on your side.”
“Oh”
And with that I follow him down to the dinner table which was already set. I sit between my mom and Ellen. Lucky me, Jack and Amelia were right across from me. Her once curled hair was now straight, her makeup melted off. Was anything real about this girl? She was pissed, livid, really. She was sitting in an oversized hoodie and shorts, jacks hoodie. Jacks New Jersey devils hoodie.
I take a bite of the food, if Quinn wasn’t a hockey player, I was sure he’d be a chef. I look up at Amelia.
“You’re sporting a team he’s not even playing for right now”
Ow, that’s what goes through my head when my leg is kicked under the table. My eyes narrow on an obviously guilty Luke as he looks away. But my gaze snaps back to Amelia.
“At least I’m dating someone who’s even capable of being successful.” She pauses “Well, at least I’m dating someone at all, you couldn’t even if you tried.”
My eyebrows raise, everyone was quiet.
“Really? Because you have all the fans thinking I’m dating a captain.”
Quinn covers his mouth, keeping composed instead of laughing. It would fuel the fire, so he held it in. Amelia scoffs and stands, storming off. I cross my arms and lean back, my eyes snapping to Jack. He was eating quietly, weird…
“Geez, Jack” his dad laughs, “where do you find these girls?”
“Sorry”
He mutters, eyes on me, before standing up himself and following after her. My eyes go to Quinn to make sure he heard that and he just shrugs. His dad’s word prove Quinn’s words from earlier, I’m so glad they were on my side.
The next morning, I’m greeted at the bottom of the stairs by a golden retriever. Oh, wait no, that’s just an overly energetic Trever Zegras.
“Hey Trev”
I give him a fist bump as I pass him. I’m wearing a white sundress today, my hair still braided from yesterday. I sit at the island counter with Trevor, catching up. Then my phone chimes, “Amelia Blake tweeted”. I’m about to sit the phone back down when another notification pops up, “You were mentioned in Amelia Blake’s post.”
I look at Trevor before I open the notification.
“@y/n.username is the definition of slut. I mean, not only is she flirting with the brothers but also their friends? How desperate.”
Trevor gasps and I look back at Amelia who’s sitting on the couch, tangled in Jack’s arms. He was quiet, too quiet. Did he know she posted that? He probably encouraged her. I shrug it off and tell Trevor it’s okay.
Then my mom announces the bright idea to go shopping in town.
And now I’m in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car, trying my best to avoid Amelia. I stay with Quinn the whole trip, if he didn’t care about the stupid rumor then neither did I. We all walk along the strip of shops together. Amelia practically drags the group into a makeup store and clothing store. I’m looking at bathing suits with the newly joined Dixie, which Trevor abandoned to go explore the store with Quinn.
I look up at the makeup section. Jack looked miserable, not that I cared or anything. Okay I sound like I’m in denial, maybe I care a little bit. Amelia was distracted and so I tell Dixie I’ll be right back. I walk next to Jack.
“Are you going to talk about what’s going on, or what?”
Jack looks down at me and sighs.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, I already apologized.”
So it’s about me? Why is this about me?
“You’re upset over me..?”
“She’s jealous because she saw some fan saying we’d be cute together.” He looks back up “you can go back to whatever you were doing.”
Right, that makes sense. No the fuck it does not. I backtrack and go back to Dixie.
I’m pretty silent for the rest of the trip. It ends with us eating lunch at a local cafe. I talk with Dixie about the whole time while eating. I pay to mind when Amelia excuses herself, Jack busies himself by talking to his brothers and Trevor. I excuse myself a little later to use the restroom.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see on the way to the bathroom but it was not Amelia kissing another guy. And I’m the slut? Makes total sense. When my anger fades from her, I can’t shake the aching feeling when I realize I have to tell Jack. I pull out my phone and snap a photo before going to the bathroom and back to the table.
Amelia is already back when I sit down. I contemplate posting the photo to ruin her reputation but then I remind myself of Jack who would be more than likely hurt. So I wait it out, I wait until we’re back home and everyone’s asleep.
I’m still thinking about whether or not to tell him as I sit by the pool with my feet in the water. I’m wearing a new bikini that I bought from the shop, deep red. I hear the door open and close but I don’t care to look back. Only do I look when then person sits next to me. Jack. I take a deep breath before speaking.
“This isn’t meant to hurt you but-“ I open my phone and scroll through the photos, showing him the one I took.
He shakes his head. He just shakes his head.
“Figured.”
“Excuse me?”
“No ones that jealous unless they’re reflecting”
He leans back on the palm of his hands and I go quiet, looking away. I set my phone down before speaking again.
“Why haven’t you been the typical asshole like you always are?”
“Mom told me you were worried,” he looks at me “when I got injured. I didn’t know you cared.”
My mouth opens but it closes before I can get anything out.
“I was only an asshole because I thought you hated me.”
“Oh”
“And besides, I was pretty pissed she posted that photo of you and Quinn. She did it because she was jealous. Shes so getting booted out of this house first thing in the morning.”
I hold in my laugh, as I look down at my lap. Jacks sits up and I speak.
“How do you really feel about me?” I look up at him “If you were only an asshole because you thought I hated you.”
He thinks for a moment before speaking,
“I had a crush on you when we were little.”
He admits.
“I guess being mean helped it but it never really went away. I guess admitting that, Amelia has every right no be jealous.”
“Not when she kissed that rando.”
I didn’t know what else to say. How could I when I just found out that a boy I thought hated me my whole life actually liked me? What? He shrugs and we just look at each other for a moment. I clear my throat and look away.
“Wanna make her even more jealous?”
Jack asks abruptly and I look at him like he’s grown two heads.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me kiss you.”
My eyes widen.
“Excuse me?”
Then he bursts out laughing.
“For a photo, I mean, she’d be pissed. Then you can post the one you showed me, ruin her reputation.”
Sweet, sweet revenge.
“Fine”
His lips were even sweeter.
He grabs my phone, not disconnecting our lips as he takes the photo. He only does when he looks at the screen.
“Good?”
He asks me and I nod, literally speechless. He tosses my phone aside on a lawn chair.
“So what-“
“Shut up.”
I cut him off and press my lips to his once again. I can feel his shit eating grin against my lips and his hands tangle in my hair. All my rational thoughts? Out the fucking window. I move and straddle his hips. He pulls away, the smile still on his face,
“Here?”
I don’t respond but instead I kiss him again. He doesn’t protest again when my hands slide under his shirt. He pulls it off, disconnecting our lips for only a moment. My eyes look down at his chest and torso. I’d seen it a million times but it was different this time. My eyes linger on a scar just above his collar bone, from the surgery.
I pepper kisses along it, careful to not put real pressure. The second I pull away, he pulls me back up to kiss his lips. His hands wander to the string of my bikini top, pausing.
“Positive?”
“Jack, please”
That’s all he needs before pulling the string, the top falling off of me. He wastes no time, craning his down to run his tongue along my chest.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this.”
He mumbles before taking one of my nipples into his mouth, his hand cupping the other. He stays like that for a moment before switching. I practically melt into his touch, my hands tangling into his hair.
He pulls away, looking up at me as if asking me if I want to keep going. My answer is me reaching down and tugging his swim shorts down. A smirk plays on his lips as he helps me pull them down. His hands are fast to untie my bikini bottoms the second his shorts are down.
A week ago I would’ve laughed in someone’s face if they simply told me I’d be kissing Jack. But now? Now I was lining him up to me. I gnaw at my lip as we keep our eyes on each other, his hands grip my hips to pull me down onto him.
I hold his shoulders, carful to not touch the injury. I gasp as he bottoms out inside.
“Holy fuck-“
“I know, I’ve got you.”
and he wasn’t lying. He pulls my hips up and down on him, I didn’t even have to move myself. He throws his head back and holds himself up with one palm when I start moving myself.
He was big. Well, the biggest I’ve had. I roll my hips as I move up at down. The sight on his mouth slightly ajar and he watches me nearly throws me over the edge. That would’ve been embarrassing, surely he’d picked on me for it.
His fingers gripped harshly on my hip. The feeling of his dick dragging against my walls has me gasping his name. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, burying my head into his non injured shoulder. His dick twitches as he moans softly.
“Where-“
“Inside”
I gasp,
“I’m on birth control.”
He knew that, I just wanted to remind him. He doesn’t protest to the idea, a few more bounces and he does just what I suggested. The feeling of his warm cum sends me completely over the edge, my juices mixing with his.
I stop moving as just sit with him inside for a moment, my head resting on his shoulder. He sits up and wraps his arms around me.
“I’m so fucking stupid, it was always you.”
“Can’t disagree with that”
I smile lazily as I sit up. He rolls his eyes playfully before pulling both of us to stand up. He adjusts his shorts before grabbing a towel to wrap around me. He grabs my bikini before pulling me inside and up to my room.
We shower.
We dress.
We lay down.
We. I just fucked the guy I despised my whole life? Did I regret it? Fuck no.
I lay in his arms in the bed, scrolling through my phone when I remember the whole reason we were in that situation. I go onto instagram and post the photo on my story with the caption “She thought I had the wrong brother” I tag Jack then post.
I mute my phone before nestling into an already sleeping Jacks chest, falling asleep myself.
warnings: smut of course ;) | oral (m!receiving) | sub!luke | unprotected sex (guys pls wrap it before you tap it) | slight corruption/innocence kink?? | severe lack of proper aftercare | kind of a dark ending idk i’m a fiend
author’s note: this is my first time writing smut i’m so sorry in advance if it sucks LOL!! but i miss you guys I’ve been so MIA im sorry but i just wanted to write this to get back into the writing groove before i continued on w the next chapter of too sweet!! anyways i’m horny for luke bye
NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT!
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who blushes a deep shade of red after telling you that he was a virgin. the two of you had taken a break from studying for your upcoming quiz, and you couldn’t help but want to pry into his personal life! other than being in the same class, you didn’t really know anything about him at all.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who averts your gaze as you express your disbelief, wondering how a gorgeous hockey player like him could possibly be a virgin. though you stopped yourself and smiled softly when you saw him getting embarrassed—he was so adorable.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who nearly dies on the spot when you look up at him with doe eyes and whisper, “i can teach you.”
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who hesitantly places his hands on your hips as you straddle him, your hands finding place on his broad shoulders. he can feel a chill run down his spine when you rub your hands along shoulders and down his arms, your acrylic nails scratching his skin soothingly.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who sighs in content when you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck, like your lips were made to be on him.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a small, almost inaudible whimper when you start to roll your hips against his, still lapping at his neck, leaving a trail purple marks all over. you’ll smirk when you feel his grip on your hips tighten, “s’okay lu,” your breath is hot against the shell of his ear when you whisper, “i’ll take care of you.”
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who’s slender fingers move upwards from your hips when you tell him that he can touch you. his cold digits dancing under your shirt along your waist and stomach, spreading goosebumps along your skin as they travel.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who looks at you with lust filled eyes, almost begging without words. he’s precious, and you can’t help but pull him in for a proper kiss.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who can feel himself getting impossibly hard while you drag your clothed cunt against his erection, all while dancing your tongue against his, saliva practically pooling out of his mouth. he just couldn’t get enough.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who sucks in a breath when you break the kiss to remove your t-shirt, saliva stringing from your mouths and you lift the fabric over your head, revealing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. god, its like you were plotting for this to happen. as he gazed at your chest with his mouth agape, you helped him to pull off his own shirt, revealing his tone body that he had built over the years.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who follows your lead as you guide him to lay down against your pink pillows. he’ll watch you intensely, not moving a muscle as you kiss and lick down his chest, inching closer and closer to the waistband of his sweats. “tell me to stop and i will.” he hears you say but he shakes his head, urging you to keep going.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who whimpers when you pull down the waistband of his grey sweats and start kissing and palming him through his boxers. you’ll look up to the most heavenly sight; his cheeks flushed, purple bruises littered everywhere, and his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he awaits your next moves.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who feels like prey under your touch. you’ll pull both his sweatpants and boxers off fully, taking a moment to admire his cock, so pink and pretty as it stands ready for your touch. “you’re so pretty lukey.” you whisper as you reach out for it, making eye contact as you kiss his tip, before experimentally giving a few kitten licks, wanting him to get used to the sensation at first.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a strangled groan when you take him into your mouth, tongue flat against the underside of his cock while one hand is rested at the base. your free hand reaches to trace along his abs, feeling the way his stomach caves when you suck a bit harder. you’ll bob your head up and down, listening to the sweet moans that pour out of his mouth as if it was music to your eyes.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who tries his very best to form a coherent sentence amidst getting the best head of his life, “fuck…feels so good.” he cries, reaching his hands out to brush through your hair. you notice the way his breaths gets shorter, and his hips slightly jerking up to meet you halfway and you pull off.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who looks at you like he might start tearing up, beginning to ask why you stopped, but you’ll shush him by pressing a finger to his lips before wiggling yourself out of your shorts. “can i fuck you lukey?” he could’ve cum right then and there.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who almost salivates when you straddle him yet again, dragging the tip of his length along your cunt. you whimper when you rub his tip against your wet folds. “stop teasing me…” he whines and you can’t help but let out a small laugh at his already fucked out expression. “i’ll give you what you need, baby.” you coo before finally lining him up with your entrance and sinking down, manicured hands placed onto his chest for support as you struggle to take his length. hell, you could clearly see that he was big but it was another thing to feel him stretch out your insides. “fuck lu…so big.” you finally sink down all the way, feeling full like you never have before.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who bites his lip, concealing his moans when you begin to roll your hips, lifting up and down ever so slightly. you lean down to pepper kisses over the marks you had left beforehand, whispering sweet nothings as he wraps his arms around your back, practically engulfing you. “more…” his voice is deep as he begs and you begin to grind harder and faster, the position giving perfect friction to your swollen clit.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who just can’t help but thrust up to meet you halfway, large hands sliding along your spine, down to grip your ass, helping you move up and down faster.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who feels like he’s in heaven when you whimper in his ear, moaning how he’s being so good to you, “does it feel good? huh lukey?” you lift your head slightly to look him in the eyes and he nods quickly, “so good…”
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who can feel his orgasm inching closer and closer, “stop…m’gonna cum..” he whines when you grind down harder at his words. “s’okay. want you to come inside.” you lick at his ear and he can feel the heat growing in his abdomen, letting out an animalistic groan at your words.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who has one hand gripping your hair and one gripping your ass as he thrusts up into you, “m’sorry…” he says as he bucks his hips up into you and your eyes roll to the back of your head at his speed, feeling the pressure inside you snap as your orgasm washes over you, pussy practically convulsing around him. “mm fuck!” you cry out as he continues his movements, chasing his own orgasm.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who bites down on your shoulder when he cums, hips stuttering as he fills you up. “baby baby…” you moan before pulling him in for a heated kiss, still grinding your hips as you ride out your orgasms.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a shaky breath when you pull off of him, watching his cum drip down your legs. “did so good baby.” you whisper, grabbing your tshirt you hard discarded earlier and using it to wipe the cum off of your bodies. “did so good, you can sleep now pretty boy.” you place a kiss on his forehead before pulling your blankets over you.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who peeks over after you’ve fallen asleep, quietly getting up to put his clothes on and grab his things. he slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to your dresser, reaching behind a few of your books and grabs his phone. he stops the recording that he had going before looking back to make sure you were still asleep.
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who doesn’t feel bad when he quietly leaves your dorm, almost immediately opening imessage.
luke
shit was too easy
ethan
fucking told you lmao
she’s looks innocent but she’s a freak
luke
right? she even let me nut inside
ethan
wait whatt
she didn’t let me :(
⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who you never hear from again after that night.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Best friend Quinn doing a favour for reader and helping her take spicy pics for her only fans when she convinces him to get involved for some photos/videos by letting her suck his fingers or filming while she begs for him to touch her and play with her pussy (leads to smut)
Just me, okay?
A/n: this is also for the person who requested the number 13 for my drafts (unfortunately but also fortunately was not Nico Hischier, so sorry)
Warnings- smut, finger sucking, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), recording, daddy kink but only for the fans, raw dawgin but he pulls out
Summary- in the request but a teeny tiny bit different
Word count- 1.3k
Quinn’s sitting on the other side of my couch with my feet resting on his lap. His focus was on the tv that played highlights of his most recent game. The gears in my head were turning as I scrolled through my new subscribers on my only fans. I huff and puff realizing that I hadn’t posted anything in a hot second. Quinn’s eyes flicker to me and his brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” I explain to him and he sighs, “I can leave if you want?”
My eyes light up as a thought comes to my head, I was a genius. “Can’t you help me?” Quinns face flushes and I think for a moment that maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. Quinn and I had been friends since he got to Vancouver but we’ve never even shared so much of a peck on the lips. “Well- uhm, I mean… you don’t have to? I just-“ “I’ll help” he laughs, “What do you want me to do?”
My mouth gapes but then I close it, “Uhm, first help me pick out something to wear?” He leans back against the couch and nods. I get up and go to my bedroom just a few steps into the hallways that sprung from my living room. “Okay I have three choices.” I mutter before slipping into my room. I rummage through my drawers and find three sets of lingerie. A dark red, a dark green, and a blue. I figured I’d save the one he’d like the best for last.
I walk out of my bedroom with the green lace, it was close to sheer, you could clearly see anything if you looked hard enough. Quinn looks up, his face turning dark red, “I wanna see all of them before I choose” “yes sir” I turn back and change into the dark red one piece that had cutouts in just the right spots for access. The second I walk out Quinn hastily reaches for a pillow to place on his lap. I giggle and he clears his throat, “last one?” I nod and go into my room to change into the blue one, a blue that was almost the exact shade of his team colors. It too had cutouts, the top was sheer and the bottoms had a slit. Again, for easy access.
He groans at the sight but tries to cover it up with a clearing of his throat, “I like this one the best.” “Thought so” I smile and plop right down on the couch next to him and hold out my phone with it switched on video. He stands up and puts the camera right in front of my face, making me move to sit on my knees. Before he got the chance to ask, I pull his hand and stuff two fingers in my mouth. He takes this as his queue to begin recording. The second I hear the video start I begin to move my head back and forth, making seductive sounds around his fingers.
My eyes droop but I manage to look up, not at the camera but at Quinn. I stick my tongue out and pull his hand away, making sure I got the trail of spit connecting the two of us on camera. “Touch me, daddy…” I whisper, fluttering my eyes lashes at him. He has to bite his tongue to hold back any sound that threatened to escape and give away his anonymous position. His hand moves down to my throat, squeezing softly which earned a whine out of me.
Quinn slowly drops to his knees, spreading my knees apart. He makes sure to get all the good angles on the camera. His wet finds trail up my leg and he looks up at me to make sure it was still okay that he was the one doing it. I nod, my jaw slacking the second I feel his fingers poke at my entrance. I don’t mask my moans as he forces his thick fingers into my hole.
I’d never had another person help me with any of my videos. In reality, the whole concept was just for extra money, I hardly ever slept around with anyone. Quinn was the only exception, but he was a close friend anyways. My back arches off the couch when he begins to move his finger back and forth. He angles the camera so you could see the pleasure on my face as well as his fingers stretching me out.
The urge to moan out his name strained in my throat, his fingers pulling me over the edge. My legs shake and I moan loudly, “I’m cumming, daddy!” His fingers are soon coated in my cum. Quinn sat back on his knees, switching the video off before licking his fingers clean. “Quinn…” I whine when I see his dirty actions.
While I was catching my breath I failed to notice Quinn setting my phone up on the coffee table, recording the whole couch. I jump slightly and look down when I feel Quinn spread my legs again. "Tell me if you want me to stop" he days softly before dipping his head in between my legs. I throw my head back, my hands rushing to grasp Quinn’s hair.
His tongue moved strategically through my folds. He licked and slurped like he was a starved man. His skills plus the lingering past orgasm quickly catch up to me. “Quinn- I’m close again-“ his movements don’t stop. My back arches causing my cunt to press harder into his face as I cum all over his mouth. He pulls back, licking the juices from his lips, not wanting to let any go to waste.
“Lay down for me.” Without another word, I do. I never thought of Quinn this way but now that I felt it, I didn’t think I’ve ever felt anything better than him. He pulls off his shirt, followed quickly by his pants. He crawls on top of me, peppering kisses along my shoulders and collar bone sweetly. He checks the camera to make sure it was set up right. Once he got the confirmation, he looked up at me.
“Is this still okay? We can stop if you don’t want to go this far-“ “please,” I interrupt him, “I need you so bad Quinn.” He smiles goofily at my words and lets out a quiet, “okay.” Before spitting in his hand and reaching down to use it as lube. He lines himself up, slowly pushing in. I gasp and throw my head back.
Quinn smirks and once’s he’s bottomed out, he begins thrusting right away. He lifts my legs to rest on his shoulders, creating a new position to reach deeper. Quinn’s hands fall from my legs to rest next to my head, nearly folding me in half but providing me with something to hold onto. “You’re so fucking wet” I moan, trying to find the words to respond, “all for you.”
These words seem to be Quinn’s breaking point, his thrusts begin to be sloppy but harsher. “Fuck-“ he moans out, throwing his head back. The mere sight pushes me into my third orgasm of the night. My juices come out in squirts, soaking all the way up to his mid abs. The feeling causes Quinn to break. His abs twitch and he pulls out and jerks his cock harshly, releasing his load onto my stomach.
He reaches over to stop the video. His head turns to me and he smiles, “send this to only me, okay?” I smile and nod, “I will, can I post the other one?” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That’s what I was here for.” He sets my phone down and stands up, not bothering to redress quite yet.
I had an idea of what he was doing as he left, so I stay quiet. My suspicions are confirmed when he returns with a damp rag. He approaches and takes his spot back above me, wiping up the mess he made. The second he finishes, he tosses the rag somewhere that I didn’t care about before plopping down on top of me. I laugh and wrap my arms around him as we cuddle.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
2087
vaporwave
amandla
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
origamiaround
gracieabrams
