˚☽˚⁀➷｡

smut, oral and fingering (fem receives), dirty talk

masterlist , taglist

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Todays match was quite a thrill, all of Judes games were but the world cup was a million times bigger, alone with the sudden death that came with it. He ended up scoring 2 goals resulting in a win. You were both overjoyed at the fact he was still in it. You got to see him for a bit after, giving him a quick hug and kiss to congratulate him but like usual, you made it back to the hotel while he finished up with his team and interviews post game.

You knew you wouldn't be doing much the rest of the night so you got yourself ready for bed. You wore some boy shorts and a cropped tank top after you got out of the shower. You let your hair air dry while you did your skincare. Once you were all ready to wind down you sat on the hotel room bed on your phone, scrolling aimlessly as you waited for Jude to arrive back.

You finally hear the lock click and you immediately jump out of bed, Jude steps in the door and drops his bags so you can jump into his arms, which you do. "Eek! You did so good today baby." You praise, holding tightly around his neck. A grin tugged on his face, "Thank you sweetheart" He replies, disconnecting the hug to connect your lips. The kiss is deep, you can tell he's proud of his performance today he was just too humble to admit it. You hum into the kiss, already turned on by his sudden dominance. He walked you back towards the bed he makes you sit on the edge before he gets down onto his knees. He begins kissing from your ankle all the way up to your inner thighs, his chocolaty eyes watching your reaction as he does. The heat grew between your legs as you felt him get closer and closer to your pussy.

He moves slowly, pressing a kiss against your clothed pussy causing chills down your spine. He finally removes your pants, your slick already showing to him. "You're so beautiful you know." He says, his voice rich and smooth. You hum in response. He presses against your stomach, pushing you to lay your back against the bed, he lifts your legs over his shoulders, pressing quick kisses against your sensitive inner thigh before he finally latches against your clit. He swirls his tongue against the sensitive bud, eating like a starved man. He makes his way down to your entrance, licking a warm stripe all the way up before he starts licking at your inside. He lapped at you fully, taking everything you gave to him. Your walls fluttered against him, your back arched off the bed as your hips tried to catch more of the pleasure. "Jude." You say in a breathless moan. Your body was unable to fully grasp just how good you felt.

He makes his way back up to your clit, lightly nipping and sucking at you as he enters two of his fingers inside you slowly. A loud gasp escapes your mouth as you feel his fingers curve and pump inside of you. "Jude! Please!" You cry out. You felt the pleasure all the way in your core, you could feel him smirk against you as he heard the noises you were making out of nothing but pleasure. He doesn't stop, he leads you fully to your finish, he took absolutely everything you gave him, he didn't take any of it for granted. "Cum for me baby, make me win twice today. He says, coming up off your pussy and making his way onto the bed. He comes up beside you, his hand against your chin forcing you to look at him. He presses his lips against you in a slow kiss, making you stay focused on keeping the pace. You felt his fingers fully inside you, hitting the spot he knew you liked. His hand held on your neck with light pressure, not anything that was scary or hurtful - he just lingered there.

His pace picks up as he feels you clench against him harder, your euphoria creeping up your stomach quickly. You break the kiss as you feel it approach, your breath begins to escape from you. He makes sure you keep your eyes on him as he leads you to your finish.

Your body fully locks up as you release onto him, your breath creeped back into your lungs as you felt all your pleasure escape. Once it was finished, your body finally relaxed, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He pulled you in for another kiss, the taste of you still on his tongue.

pic from pinterest and isnt mine!

wonderwall

your so happy england beat mexico in wc, the sensitive you can stop crying of joy and jude consoles you.

taglist ( tw ) : established relationship, fem!reader, jude bellingham x reader, crying (from reader), pet names (baby etc), sensitive (crybaby in this case) reader, ooc? (idk jude personally but this doesn’t give ‘jude’ vibes)

a.n. WE are all happy that england beat mexico. 2 goals in 2 minutes my goat. england will win wc 🥹 hopefully norway vs england goes well . also wonderwall by oasis is so flipping peak. “maybeeeeee ypur gonna be the one that saves meeeee”

a sea of white shirts jump up from their seats, players crashing into one another as relieved laughter and triumphant shouts echoed around the stadium. jude disappeared beneath a pile of teammates before emerging again with the widest grin you’d ever seen, throwing an arm around one of them as they made their way towards the travelling england supporters.

the fans were already bouncing.

scarves spun above thousands of heads as the players lined up in front of them, applauding every corner of the stand.

then the opening chords of wonderwall rolled around the stadium.

almost instantly, the england fans took over.

~

~

~

“there are many things that i would like to say to you but don’t know how”

the players laughed, some draping their arms over each other’s shoulders as they swayed in front of the supporters. a few sang every word at the top of their lungs, others simply stood there, soaking it all in. jude threw his head back, singing along with a smile so bright it was impossible to look away from him.

“cause maybe, your gonna be the one that saves me.”

your vision blurred, mouthing the unofficial anthem as you watched jude lovingly.

you’d held it together through ninety minutes, through every chance, the 2 goals of jude in the first two minutes and every agonising minute of stoppage time but watching jude sing with the supporters, medal hanging around his neck, completely lost in the moment he’d worked his whole life for was your breaking point.

“and after all.”

a tear slipped down your cheek.

“oh no…” you whispered to yourself, laughing weakly, not now.

another tear followed. then another.

within seconds, your shoulders were shaking as happy sobs escaped you, your hand covering your mouth as you watched him smile towards the england fans.

“your my wonderwall.”

he looked so happy, a big toothy grin practically stuck on his face like every sacrifice, every injury, every hour spent away from home had been worth it.

then, as if he could feel you watching him, jude’s eyes lifted towards the family section and found you immediately, already crying. even from the other side of the barrier, he could tell.

your eyes were glassy, your nose had already gone pink, and you were frantically trying to wipe away tears before anyone noticed with a big happy smile.

he laughed to himself, nudging kane beside him before subtly pointing towards you.

“she’s crying already?” kane laughed.

jude only smiled, unable to take his eyes off you. “ ‘course she is.”’ not an ounce of embarrassment in his voice. only affection, pure and unmistakable affection. “my little crybaby.”

he stayed with the team long enough to applaud the supporters, clapping above his head before tapping the england badge over his heart. he blew a kiss towards the fans, took a few photos with the squad and accepted yet another crushing hug from one of the coaches.

but every few seconds, he looked back at you.

you were still standing there, still crying. still smiling.

he couldn’t get to you fast enough, obviously having to go through the media.

but the moment there was an opening, he jogged towards the barrier.

fans reached out for him as he passed, shouting his name, asking for high fives, congratulating him, but he apologised with a sheepish smile and pointed towards you instead. “sorry, guys, gotta see my girl.”

your heart melted before he’d even reached you. you’d always loved watching him interact with fans. but reading his mouth say that, like as though getting to you was the most important thing in the world, it made another tear roll down your cheek.

you were so happy that england beat mexico.

jude reached the barrier and immediately opened his arms. “come here, baby.”

you didn’t even think, practically stumbling into him.

he caught you with a laugh, wrapping both arms tightly around your waist before pulling you flush against him. the force of the hug almost knocked the air from your lungs. not that you minded. (getting crushed by jude is the dream)

he always hugged you like he hadn’t seen you in months. he wanted to make sure you were really there. to make sure that you were his love only.

you buried your face into his neck, clutching the back of his shirt as another sob escaped.

he just held you.

one hand rubbed slow, comforting circles across your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

“hey…” he murmured, pressing a kiss against your hair. “we won.”

you nodded against him. “i know.”

another kiss. “we’re through.”

another nod. “i know.”

he smiled, feeling your shoulders shake.

“then why’s my baby crying?”

you let out the tiniest laugh between sniffles.“because…” you paused, trying to steady your breathing. “because i’m so happy.” your voice cracking on the last word.

jude’s heart practically burst. he leaned back just enough to look at you.

your mascara had smudged. your eyelashes were clumped together from tears. your cheeks were bright pink and somehow he’d never thought you’d looked more beautiful.

“hi,” he said softly.

you sniffled. “hi.”

“there’s my favourite face.”

“i’m literally crying.”

“i know.” he smiled, brushing a tear away with his thumb.“still my favourite.”

you looked at him for a second before your lip wobbled all over again.

he saw it instantly.

“no…”

you nodded.

“don’t.”

“i’m trying.”

“baby…”

“i really am. you just did so well!” two more tears escaping as you spoke.

jude laughed so warmly that you couldn’t help laughing too.“there they are.”

you groaned, hiding your face back against his shoulder.“stop looking at me.”

“can’t.”

“why?”

“‘cause you’re cute.”

“i’m a mess.”

“you’re my mess. a cute mess too.” he kissed your temple, then your forehead and then the tip of your nose just to hear you giggle.

“see?” he whispered. “there’s my smile.”

you couldn’t help it, being around him always made everything feel lighter. like everything didn’t matter. just him and yoi.

“you looked so happy,” you admitted quietly.

he frowned just slightly.“yeah?”

“when you were singing. it was so cute.”

you glanced back towards the england supporters, who were somehow still belting out wonderwall even though the song had long ended.

“you looked like… i don’t know.” you searched for the words. “like little jude.”

his expression softened completely. he stared at you for a moment and then reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.“that’s because i was thinking about everyone who got me here.”

your eyes searched his, onlt finding admiration.

“my family,”

“my teammates,”

“and you.”

you blinked.“me?”

he smiled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “especially you.”

you looked at him.“baby…”

“you’ve been there after every loss.” his thumb traced lazy circles over your cheek. “every injury.” he kissed your forehead.“every bad headline.” another kiss landed on your temple “every time i’ve been doubting myself.” he rested his forehead against yours. “you’ve never doubted me.”

you couldn’t stop the tears this time and they spilled over before you even realised. “aww jude don’t say things like that when you know i cry easily..”

jude laughed quietly, shaking his head. “there’s my beautiful crybaby.”

you gave his chest the weakest little shove. “it’s your fault.”

“i know.”

“you keep saying things.”

“good.” he wrapped you back up in his arms before you could complain anymore. “because i’ve got a lifetime’s worth left to tell you.”

you melted into him all over again, your cheek pressed against his chest as his medal rested cool against your arm.

around you, the stadium was still alive.

the fans cheered until their voices cracked, children waved england flags from their parents’ shoulders, his teammates danced together in front of the supporters and camera flashes lit up the pitch yet somehow, wrapped safely in jude’s arms, it all faded into the background.

he absentmindedly played with your hair, running his fingers through it while swaying the two of you ever so slightly.

it was something he always did when you cried. he never rushed or teased you. he just let you feel.

after a minute, he tipped your chin up again. “all done?”

you looked at him. “…no.”

he laughed. “thought so.”

“i’ve got more.”

“how many?”

you considered it seriously. “…at least another ten minutes.”

he grinned. “perfect.”

“why?”

he kissed your forehead once more.“’cause that means i get to hold you for another ten minutes.”

and (if possible) you cried even harder.

~~

credits: @/truefuels on IG

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Shh

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You really shouldn't have teased Jude earlier. Now you're paying the price—with his family just one floor below.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.6k

Warnings! FLUFF! established relationship, NSFW / SMUT (18+), explicit sexual content, dirty talk, praise, possessive Jude, family downstairs, risk of getting caught, This chapter contains mature themes and explicit content intended for readers 18+.

You should have known better than to tease him at dinner.

Because now the joke's on you.

Now you're pinned beneath him on this too-small single bed—the same bed he's had since he was fourteen, apparently, with a mattress that creaks if you so much as breathe wrong—and his hand is over your mouth, his hips pressed tight against your ass, voice a ruined whisper against your ear.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Jude's breath is hot against the shell of your ear, as his palm presses firmer against your lips. "Running your foot up my leg under the table like that. Hm?"

You whimper against his hand, and he groans low in his throat.

"Sh, baby. They're gonna hear us," he murmurs against your skin, and the bastard sounds amused.

His hand spans your waist, thumb pressing into the soft dip above your hipbone. He's behind you, chest flush to your back, and you can feel the rumble of his laugh trapped in his ribcage where it presses into your spine. The mattress groans beneath your combined weight. They've got the telly on downstairs, but neither of you want to risk. As much as you enjoy the slight danger, it would be too embarrassing for both of you.

He noses along your jaw, and his lips brush the spot just below your ear that he knows makes you crazy.

"Couldn't even wait till we got home," he murmurs, and you can hear the grin in it. "Just had to have my cock in you, huh?"

His hand slides from your mouth to grip your chin instead, tilting your head back against his shoulder. His eyes are dark in the low light of his childhood bedroom, hal-lidded with pleasure. He presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

"Answer me," he says, soft and firm, his thumb dragging across your lower lip.

You blink up at him, dazed. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, wanted to get fucked," you manage, voice barely a breath. "Wanted you."

"That's right," he says, and his hand slides from your chin to wrap loosely around the front of your throat, barely adding pressure. "Couldn't even be good for me at dinner, could you? Had me so hard I couldn't think."

His pace quickens, each one punching a soft sound out of you, ones that you can't swallow back no matter how hard you try. The mattress springs groan in time with his movements, and your eyes fly to the door.

"Jude—"

"I know." His forehead drops to the back of your shoulder, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts through his nose. "I know, baby. But you're gonna have to be so quiet for me. Can you do that?"

You nod, but the truth is you're not sure you can. Not when he's fucking you this good.

His hand tightens slightly around your throat—just enough to make your pulse hammer against his palm—and he shifts his weight. The new angle hits that spot deep inside that only he's ever managed to, and the sound that escapes you is embarrassing.

"Shh, shh, shh," he soothes, but his hips don't stop. If anything, he goes deeper, rolling into you with a slow grinds that have your toes curling. "God, you're so tight. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?"

You do. The stretch of him, the heat of him, the way his stomach flexes against your lower back with every thrust. Your hand shoots back to grip his thigh, nails biting into the muscle there as you try to push him away, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Uh uh—" He catches your wrist, pins it behind your back, and his voice drops even lower. "Don't run from it. Take it." Your face presses into the pillow, and you bite down on the fabric to muffle the moan that builds in your chest. He lets out a breathless laugh behind you. "That's it. Bite the pillow if you have to." His free hand smooths down your spine, "Good girl."

The mattress betrays you both again with a sharp creak, and you both freeze. His hips still, buried deep. From downstairs, you can faintly hear chatter.

Jude's mouth finds your ear. "They're right there," he whispers, rolling his hips slow. "And you're soaking my cock like this." You clench around him involuntarily, and his whole body shudders. "Oh, you like that, don't you? Dirty girl. Like knowing they could walk up those stairs any second." You shake your head against the pillow, but your body tells a different story.

"Liar," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your neck.

His hand releases your wrist, and immediately his fingers find your hip, gripping tight as he starts moving again. Slow, deep thrusts that make sure you feel every inch of him pulling out before sliding back in.

"Baby, please," you breathe into the pillow, and your voice cracks on it.

"Please what?" Jude's voice is a rasp against the nape of your neck, and you can feel his patience fraying at the edges, the controlled rhythm of his hips stuttering just slightly. "Use your words."

"More," you whimper. "Need more."

Jude makes a sound behind you and his hips snap forward hard enough to shove you up the mattress. Your hand slaps against the headboard, "Gonna be the death of me," he moans into your shoulder, "Want it harder?" he asks, though his gentle tone betrays his intentions. "Tell me. Tell me what you need, sweet girl."

"You. Just—more. Please, Jude."

His hand flexes on your hip. "Since you asked so nicely." Then he gives you what you want.

He doesn't hold back after that.

His grip shifts—both hands now, one on your hip and the other pressing flat between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he pounds into you. The sound of skin meeting skin is obscene in the quiet of this room. The headboard taps against the wall a little too loudly for comfort, and he slows just enough to slide a hand up, pressing his palm flat against the wall above you to cushion the impact.

"Can't have that," he breathes, more to himself than to you.

But he doesn't slow down. He just adjusts, angling your hips up so he can sink even deeper, and the new position has your face pressing sideways into the pillow, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. His hand finds your hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the root, and he tugs—gentle but firm—tilting your head back.

"Look at me," he says, and it's not a request. Your eyes open, hazy and unfocused, and you find him above you—this man who commands a stadium of thousands, now reduced to gritted teeth and trembling thighs.

"There she is," he murmurs, and his expression is almost pained. "My good girl. Taking everything I give you." His thumb traces down your cheek, wiping at a tear you didn't realize had slipped free. The tenderness of it hits you harder than anything else tonight, and your bottom lip trembles. "Hey," he whispers, softening for just a moment. His hips slow to a deep, grinding roll that makes your breath catch. "You okay?"

You nod, but your voice comes out wrecked. "Don't stop."

Something shifts in his expression at that. His jaw works, and he presses his forehead to your temple, breath warm and uneven against your neck.

"Never," he promises. "Never gonna stop."

His hips pick up again, and you feel a knot tightening low in your belly, building with every drag of him against that spot. Your hand grips the fitted sheet, twisting the fabric in your fist so you can have something to hold onto.

"Jude—" His name comes out cracked and desperate, swallowed by the pillow.

"I know, baby. I feel you," he rasps against your temple. "Feel you squeezing me. Gonna cum for me?"

You can't answer him. You can't do anything except cling to the sheets and try to remember how to breathe. Your body does the talking for you—clenching around him in fluttering waves that bring him closer to the edge too.

"There it is," he barely holds back his moans now. "There she goes. Give it to me. Let go, baby. I've got you." His hand slides from your hair to wrap around your front, pulling you flush against his chest, changing the angle again. His other hand finds yours, fingers lacing together against the mattress, pinning you there. Your back arches, and the knot snaps.

Your mouth opens against the pillow, but no sound comes out. Just a silent, trembling cry that wracks your whole body as your warmwet walls milk him for all he's got.

Jude's breath breaks apart against your neck. "Oh fuck—oh, fuck—" And he's following behind you, burying himself as deep as he can, his hips stuttering through the last few thrusts as he spills into the condom. His hand squeezes yours so hard his knuckles crack, and his whole body goes rigid against your back, trembling, a choked-off moan swallowed by the skin of your shoulder where he bites down to muffle himself.

The silence that follows is deafening. Jude's weight settles against you, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder. His hand hasn't let go of yours. His fingers are still laced through yours against the pillow.

"I love you," he breathes against your shoulder, and it comes out so quiet you almost miss it.

You squeeze his hand back. "I love you too."

childhood friend jude who you know through the food you shared during school lunch breaks and brought morning snacks he claimed jobe didn’t want; through unserious banter and friendly fights; big hugs and long cuddles; constant sleepovers and night whispers.

childhood friend jude who, since little, has been known for being clingy when it comes to you—always choosing you to be on his team, always pleading you with an appearance at his games, always spending his free time with you. and when parents started being stricter with sleepovers as you grew, facetime calls would do.

You only meant to spend the morning doing absolutely nothing. Your boyfriend, however, has other plans—and apparently no shame whatsoever when it comes to making out with his girlfriend on his parents' sofa.

WARNINGS ◦ sfw content ◦ slow morning makeout with jude there i said it ◦ established relationship bc i'm a lonely bih ◦ detailed descriptions of making out ><

2,892 ━━━━━ drabble jude bellingham x reader

۶ৎ 𝓩 , this is my official ballblr debut... please be kind 😔 i've been spending way too much time on wc twitter lately and those people know how to appreciate fine men, so if this exists... blame them 😝😝

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