I'm kale, like the vegetable, and i love music. acc is 18+ minors dni . you'll see me lurking in my own comments. Relatively new to the app so I'm still trying to find my way through. My requests are closed but not my asks so you're free to chat a little :] i also have guidlines in my masterlist!

You were moody today. He could tell by the way you avoided his eyes to how you’d only talk when acknowledged (by someone else) but not before plastering that scrunched smile that only he could tell was fake. It’s not like your reasons are invalid, if anything he was the one to blame for this but he doesn’t have time for your petty squabbling, you’re in public and you’re both adults. You know well enough that you should act like it.

At least that’s what he thought until he saw his old friend, the one that just completely bodied his team 14 hours prior to tonight is now standing next to his girlfriend, you’re talking with that pretty smile that was the death of him, easily would be the death of anyone else.

He looks like a lamppost, he observes the man dressed in all black; a complete contrast to his bright platinum hair slicked into its normal bun.

You looked more at ease now that you were talking to him, you both did. Compared to your stiffness to other people, you seem to warm up to him. You were so comfortable that you even let him stand by you with your arm pressed against his broader one.

Not as broad as mine, but you know I– Again, he catches himself. He should stop. That’s his friend too. The interaction unfolds, what should be friendly, is anything but to him. To him. He should look away, but he can’t.

This isn’t supposed to bother him. It wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he didn’t know that Erling used to pine for you. Grovel at your feet even. He remembers that boyish grin he makes every time you would interview them post game or before. People would point it out online, saying things such as you favor the Dortmund players or that you’re so critical but praise Erling like he was god and even thought it was funny at first knowing he himself made you see god.

It’s unfair that he suddenly wanted to show Erling his place, he isn’t even sure if he knows that you and Jude were a thing at all and maybe only now had he suddenly found the confidence in himself to finally talk to you; but that was never a priority in his brain when he boils catching sight of a hand that isn’t his resting on your back.

Jude set the shot glass down a little louder than normally, clinking against the marble of the table. He picks up another one, it’s his third…or fourth. Actually, He isn’t sure, he lost count and he doesn’t leave his place. He doesn’t move when Erling’s pinky taps on your back, his patience runs thinner by every inch that finger dips lower than where it’s welcome.

The only thing that breaks Jude from his reverie is when he catches your eye as you turn back for the shortest moment, droopy and paired with a lazy smirk. He didn’t care much until he realized what it implied; you’re tipsy, not enough to be too vulnerable, but enough to let yourself be reckless to do something you shouldn’t. You wink, solidifying his conclusion–you know what you’re doing.

Before he knows it, you’re back to entertaining his “friend” only this time you’re a lot more confident, talking louder, smiling wider, even grabbing his bicep as you slightly tilt your head back from laughing. It irks him, but he’ll play your game. He wonders if Erling knows he’s playing too. *

You’ve been avoiding him all night. Even at home– his home you mean (where you luckily had some appropriate clothes), dodging kisses and pretending like you don’t feel his stare at the back of your head just like he was doing now; seconds before Erling asks you to go dancing. A bit of a surprise since you thought he only approached you to ask where the toilet was and now you’re dancing? He had to lean down to your height to be audible over the music. The question hangs in the air–Should you? Probably not.

“Sure.” It comes out before you realize, but the acknowledgement in his face tells you that you indeed said it out loud.

You have to stop yourself from turning back too fast when you feel Erling’s palm rest lowly on your back, he says something you don’t listen to– he’s getting himself another drink(looking back, his intentions were obvious if he started drinking right after he asked where the restroom was). His attention shifted long enough for you to finally steal a glance at Jude, who’s shot glass threatened to crack between his fingers. He liked to pretend it was Erling’s pinky, grip tightening as he watches it brushes on your back. His stare follows as you take the initiative of walking Erling to where the people are drunk and dancing.

From anyone’s point of view, it seems like the next story on Hello! Magazine, awaits Erling, but contrary to how it appears, your mind was occupied completely and utterly of Jude. How much you hated him, how he looks like sitting with his legs spread, wondering how far you could press till he cracks. It’s all fair play though, he out of anyone should know.

He promised himself that after the game, you would get to hangout. You were excited, you thought maybe you’d go out for dinner, do something intimate; just the two of you, but after a day’s rest (that you so generously granted him) he says he needs to attend a party, for old time’s sake.

You didn’t know how to react at first, should you be mad? You started to feel so, but thought to yourself; do you even have the right to? You shook that thought off your head. Of course you did! You let your insecurities go before settling on disappointment. Jude saw this, thought it’d be better if you spent what could’ve been your date together at the party. With his friends. Might as well bring his mum, she’s better company anyways.

Call it what you want, maybe It’s a bit childish how you hated the thought of sharing Jude to anyone, a bit possessive; but it’s hard having to arrive at a party together only to split up and socialize with other people so you can keep things hush, water down suspicion. You understand why he does it, you think it’s best too. But just for tonight, you hoped; you didn’t have to share him with the world. Alas, another day goes where you have to. Anyway, if he liked to do it so much then he shouldn’t mind if you share a little too.

The music changes once your heels click on the dance floor, the song’s slower. Erling’s stills, “I’m not good at this” Hands hover over your body, he didn’t know where to place them. He’s antsy, it’s cute–you won’t deny that; the drinks wear off when you’re nervous. Suddenly he’s aware that you’re dancing with him. You feel a little bad knowing you’re using him, regardless, he’s still a nice guy. Always thought he was a little sweet. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, watching him blush. Confidently, you push down the hands onto your hips before adding a firm pat to reassure him. “Keep it there.” You sound more serious then you’re supposed to, it makes Erling gulp. All his confidence may have just been the alcohol talking, and if he were being honest, he wished he drank a bit more.

Jude watched as you giggled–he scowled, you’ll have nothing to laugh about if you keep this up. If he was jealous when Erling put a hand on your back, he was livid when he watched you laugh with Erling, like you’re actually enjoying yourself. He’s not one to be insecure, he’d never even entertained the thought but that seemed to change when this jealousy turned into something worse. He couldn’t put it into words. It boils in him as your hips sway, you’re too close to each other, but he’s rooted where he stood. He’s mesmerized and enraged, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Minutes pass and Jude finds himself seated next to his friends, he figured he needed to let loose, maybe people were getting suspicious with how he’d only kept his attention to that girl dancing with Erling Haaland. Gio yells over the music, “did you order this?” his eyes shift to his friend, confusion replacing Jude’s then blank face. He almost said no before catching a group of girls giggling to themselves. Just as Gio was about to return them back, Jude tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be back.” He didn’t wait for a reply, already trekking his way to his next mission.

Erling’s let’s his limbs set loose, even if he’s just jumping to the music, you’re jumping with him. It’s dark, but it was lit enough that he could make out the shape of your jaw and the curves of your body, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed but it drew him in even more. He spins you, back resting on his front, hands are on your hips as you sway to the rhythm. For the first time tonight, Jude was the last thing on your mind.

But from where you stood, you felt eyes on you; consciously, you opened yours only to get a glimpse of something that made your blood cold. Hands were on him. Everywhere. He’s got his arms out with two girls wrapped on him like he was a tree. The music tunes out, the hands on your body disappear, and it’s red. You see red. It makes your fingers twitch. He catches your eye, how your movements slow until your whole body’s rigid, and thought to himself; I’ve won. He grins, satisfied with your reaction. But if anything, you’re the stubborn one in this relationship.

Erling’s voice is soft on your ear, polite as he is. “Are you okay?” You don’t look his way, you’re busy making sure Jude’s watching. You trail your eyes back to Erling with a smile that fooled anyone.

He’s upside down from your point of view, the outline of his jaw more prominent under the shadow. The stare you give makes his cheeks hot. He’s about to say something but the words get caught in his throat when the feeling of your hips grinding back at him registers in his brain. He short circuits, forgetting every word he’s known.

Jude’s smirk leaves as soon as it arrives, dropping and taken over by his wide eyes–ironically mirroring Erling’s expression who’s grip lands on your hips for leverage. Your eyes look blown under the light, big and innocent like you don’t know what you’re doing–but Erling knows, they both know you do. You’re close to his face, enough that he could see the remnants of gloss on your lips.

It happened quickly, someone spilled liquid on you, mostly your shoes but also a little on your dress. It’s beer. You look up, both of you pulled away. Maybe you should’ve cared that you ruined it, the shoes that Jude bought you. Jude. Fuck. You look up, he’s already leaving sans the two girls he had all over him. Maybe you overdid it this time. Taking a quick glance at Erling, he’s occupied with the person apologizing to him, reassuring the man. He’ll be fine on his own, you think to yourself. When Erling picks his head up, you’re already gone.

You follow him amidst the sea of sweaty drunk people, shoving, and pushing. You think of what you want to say, apologize? That’s completely unfair. It’s not like you were gonna actually lean in and he shouldn’t have ditched you in the first place or canceled last second– And where does he think he’s going?

You curse this world for giving him long legs, walking two steps at a time. Everything just decides to be an inconvenience to you today. Your voice is dry with alcohol and the lack of use, but still you yell over the unnecessarily loud club music.

“Jude! Can you please– slow down! Asshole...” You say the last part in a normal tone only to realize you’ve said it loud enough for him to hear. There’s a cold breeze on your shoulders that tells you you’re at the exit, the door’s open and it’s quiet. Jude turns slowly, a more than displeased expression on his face.

“Me? I’m the asshole?” He scoffed.

“Yes. You ditched me!”

“And you seemed to find great company.”

A scowl disturbs your features, “You were doing the same thing!”

Before he responds, he pauses, Jude does something you both have been avoiding all night. He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. His voice is steady, “Look, I can tell you’re upset about tonight,”

“Wonder what gave that away–”

“Let me finish.” You cross your arms on your chest, mumbling to yourself. Jude takes a step in your direction, enclosing your figure on the wall but (as much as you’d hate to admit) it isn’t suffocating, he’s warm and the scent of his clothes are comforting. His fingers stroke your arm up and down till they reach the space between your neck and your shoulder. They linger for a moment before softly brushing the hair clinging to your skin.

“I know why you’re mad, okay? I get it baby.” You sigh when his head ducked to your height. His voice is so soft on your ear that you can’t help but sink into the wall, his body pressing flush on yours. Lips graze the shell of your ear, leaving a soft peck on the sensitive skin. Jude… dazed, you whine his name. “I know you can’t help it..” He continued, “I know you can’t because,” fingers stroke your throat. “Well ‘cause you’re a whore.”

As soon as your eyes open, there’s a grip that tightens at the sides of your throat, squeezing out a strangled noise from you. A whimper or a moan, You aren’t sure anymore. There’s a pause in the air, he waits for you to say something. You don’t–no, you can’t. The damp spot on your underwear strengthens his claim. Heat rushes to your cheeks, you want to tell him off at least, leave a snarky remark but embarrassment floods in your stomach and his hold on you is immovable. His eyes speak for himself, Look at me–it read, but you never had the strength to look away in the first place.

“You think I’m gonna let you off easy? You’re used to that aren’t you. ‘Cause I spoil you too much, isn’t that right?” His tone is sweet, his hand brushes your temple gently, but it isn’t real–the only thing you could register with a lack of air in your brain. Your body shudders when the stroke of his hand travels lower, the one on your neck slacking but he still keeps you between him and the wall. So close that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his knee taking place between your legs and pressing slowly, you gasp.

“Jude not– here.” You curse at yourself. It was supposed to come out firmly, a command, rather it sounded like a meek plea. Jude’s leg bumped against your clothed front like he was playing with you, your thighs tried to shut but it only made things worse. “Please we’re in public–” He paused his movement before scoffing at your words.

“Really? You didn’t seem to mind while you were fucking around with Erling. ‘In public’, for someone in the media, you could lie better than that.” You wince when you recall the events earlier tonight and how he spat your name out in disgust. “Maybe I should just keep you on a short leash so you don’t hump on people like a bitch.” The words are shameless, and the lack of a better term, fucking vile that it makes you squirm. You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why are you so bothered? Thought you liked this...? So open for everyone to see…” His hands massage low on your back, reclaiming what’s his. Jude’s tone was frustratingly cocky that you almost rolled your eyes if his knee didn’t come up and down again to get your attention, a surprised whimper escaped from you. “Hey, Don’t cry for me yet, I’ve barely started.”

Your hands press flatly on his chest, “Jude, can we just– let’s do it somewhere more private.” You do your best to coax the man with eyes he normally can’t just say no to, thinking that seemed to soften him just a little.

He takes a step back, enough that you can breathe your own air, albeit keeping you from sinking to your knees with his hands on your waist. He sighed, “You’re right.” *

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the mascara that you meticulously applied earlier although waterproof is probably running down your cheeks. Drool gathers around your lips, he thumbs under your jaws; a reminder to keep it slack. Jude’s torturously slow with his movements, making sure that you take all of him. You do your best to do the complete opposite and take him in eagerly, the head of his cock reaching the back of your throat causing both of you to moan. Jude, having none of it, sinks deeper in response, causing you to flinch your head back in a fit of coughs. He wipes your swollen lips of the liquid that gathered with a dumb grin on his stupid face, enjoying the sight of you on your knees.

You swallow back spit to clear your throat, holding onto his thigh so the strain on your knees wouldn’t hurt as much. Catching your breath, you glare at him, “Dick.”

He flashes a smile, “Yes, what did you think it was?” He looked completely unserious, relaxed even, bringing down one of his hands to his side. He tucks your chin between his fingers, “Come on, angel. The faster you get me off, the faster it is for you to get up off your knees.” Lightly, he slaps the head of his cock on your cheek. The pout you make is endearing, a glimpse of your usual adorable self that he’d nearly ruined by slotting himself between your lips. “Unless…you want to keep at it till someone walks in and sees the Fox sports journalist giving head to a Dortmund player? I can already see the tabloids– fuck.”

The sound is enough encouragement, Jude’s cock twitches as he watches you (all he ever does) your pink tongue licks a stripe up his length before you suckle on the tip, cheeks hollowing, sealed tight, taking your time. Your answer is clear, Jude doesn’t know whether to celebrate or crumble. His grunts are short and restricted, yet they echo in the wide restroom that you were dragged to on a whim, how you got here happened in flashes of red lights that disappeared when you heard the door shut, unsure if he locked it–you know you didn’t but it adds to the thrill, the thought makes your stomach swirl and your knees shut.

You’re kind enough to sink your mouth deep till you're half way. Slowly, you pick up the pace. The rise and fall of his chest accelerate, gasps turn into moans. His hips meet yours, although his movements were careful, he was desperate. It didn’t help his resolve when your eyes fluttered at him, all pretty even with you gagging on his dick. His hands absentmindedly found their way to the back of your hair, finally letting himself yield and start fucking your throat. You try your best to catch up even if you’re no longer moving in your own accord and just making sure to breathe through your nose. Just as his moans turn ragged, he pulls you off, leaving you gasping for air. He lends you a minute, tilting your chin up at him to meet his eye.

“All good?” he waits for you to nod–you do, still trying to breathe. He strokes your lips with his thumb, wiping it dry. You look up at him, eyes hazy and blown. “Get up.” He commands, tone stripped of all its grit. You’re a beat too slow that Jude forces you up your shaky knees himself. You have to hold onto him and lean into his body. He’s just as wobbly but he tries his best to be steady for you both.

You’re close enough that he could steal a chaste kiss. What was an intimate exchange turned greedy. You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but you’re not close enough, urging him to lean to your height, his palm traveling from your spine to the back of your head. He needs to feel your body and engrain the scent of your perfume on his. He flips you over, back now on the wall, hands greedy on your skin like he doesn’t know where to with your body. You nibble on his bottom lip a tad too hard that it makes him hiss. You kiss it better, sweet for a moment before swiping your tongue across it. He takes the hint and deepens the kiss and slips his tongue in exchange. You part, he leaves a peck on your forehead, drawing his lips to your cheek then to your neck

You’re getting impatient. Your body’s a lot more fidgety, writhing with every press into you. “Jude can you- I want-”

“Be quiet.” His tone was cold, still he kisses you dumb, he has the lips for it. It’s physical and intangible. He draws you in and lures your soul out, it makes your knees weak and turns you breathless. Your arms settle on his shoulders–they’re taught and big, your clothed cunt brushes against his dick—it makes you dizzy, sinking further into the wall.

He shifts your leg up on his hip, the other following naturally. You breathe heavily, his hands are impetuous on your body while he hikes up your dress roughly, settling for the fabric to hug your ribs. He pushes the flimsy material of your knickers, groaning as he sees you clench on nothing when the cool air meets your throbbing cunt, shiny with arousal. Fuck, baby. He mutters, voice above a whisper, you can’t tell if he meant to say it out loud.

He strokes himself on your clit, rubbing with his cock, goading needy little moans out of you. You feel like crying when his tip finally stretches your hole. You’re loud enough that Jude has to silence you with his lips as he fully fits the head of his cock in. He catches your whimper in his open mouth, gasping together when he places you higher on the wall, pushing deeper. You’re tight with the lack of prepping, but you’re wet. So deliciously wet. Taking him in like butter on a hot knife. He presses his face against your neck, grunting and breathing heavily. You’re left in an even more muddled state, spilling incoherencies, trying and failing to hold in your noises. You’ve completely given up on the silence, fuck it.

A grip on your face stills you, it’s then when you recognize the familiar callous hand covering your mouth–your noises. You don’t have enough time to tell him off, you couldn’t if you tried. His eyes burn on your skin, the warmth in your neck gone, you feel the tightness of his muscles in every buck of his hips, slapping against your skin. His stare is heavy on you– that alone flushes your cheeks. You push his hand away, instead tucking your head in his neck to muffle yourself , holding on for dear life while he thrusts faster and faster still.

  Your alternative catches your noises, poorly at that. Your eyes are shut, meeting his movements as you focus on the heat building in your stomach. He’s driving into your pussy like he’s trying to fuck you into the wall. Each word that tries to escape is garbled in your pipes, strangled and aching for release.

“You gonna come? Already?” He mocks you. “Come on, let me see my dumb girl.” Your grip softens around him, Jude maneuvers your face with his hand before fixing his palm to rest on your throat like he does although now looser. “What a mess…” You’re close, he can tell. Your stomach tenses, clenching onto him as if you’re dreading the second that he’ll pull out. He laughs, unsure of why but he tightens his grip, one that’s become so familiar on your neck that it’s grounding. The lack of air and the heaping pleasure turns your brain into a puddle, everything around you clouds, your own voice and the muffled music louder than it was, bouncing off the walls.

It’s when you open your eyes that your stomach drops, it’s a second that slips as soon as it passes. Your legs shake, thighs tensing around Jude. The same eyes you spent looking at the entire night stares back at you, wide and struck. Erling stands there, tense in his spot, taller than the space between the open door, music leaks in, almost blending with your high moans but the sound bleeds into his brain. He can’t describe what he felt strongest; jealousy, shock, or the tightness in his slacks. For now he swallows his own spit, the picture of your writhing body ingraining itself in every memory he has of you. Ruined. You’re completely ruined.

“Oh my–Erling–”

Jude smirks, “No, It’s Jude.” He teased, loud enough that all three of you could hear.

“N–no, I mean– It’s– Fuck. Oh god!”

“Yeah, that one works too.” It’s embarrassing how slippery you are inside, Jude rocking in and out of you like a piston with the stamina of an athlete.

Erling’s planted on the floor, it feels like he’s holding in a breath that’s stuck in his lungs. He should look away, but he can’t.

“Go ahead,” He whispers between thrusts, holding you against the wall. This time his words are close, only for you to hear. You have no choice, unable to utter a word, gasping, forced to take it. “Come for me while you look at him.”

It’s pathetic how you follow, eyes fixed towards the door when your orgasm crests in an explosion that leaves you shaking and trembling, legs wrapping tighter around Jude’s waist. Ultimately, you fail the task at hand, eyes nearly rolling back when your mind goes blank, the sensation tingles all the way to your satin shoes, throbbing and pulsing. His grunts turn into gasps, nails digging into your thighs when he climbs his own high, finally spilling into you.