ellie

if you were a different woman, one content with being an accessory to his life, things might have been different. you could have stayed home, basking in the luxury his fame granted, and accompanied him on his travels, but you were not that woman. you had your own life, your own career, your own dreams that you were truly dedicated to.

you were not just jude’s girlfriend, you were your own person.

the pattern was always the same, each time, another heated disagreement about your perceived lack of support for jude, his expectation of you being his constant cheerleader, and your refusal to drop everything to attend every single one of his games. it wasn’t that you didn’t care or support him, far from it, but you were determined to maintain your own identity, not just be an extension of your famous boyfriend.

“jude, please,” you begged, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and sadness. your eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were now clouded with pitful tears. “it’s not about that. i just need— i don’t know .. some time for myself?”

the plea hung in the air between you, a fragile hope that he might understand. the room was thick with tension, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall and jude’s heavy breathing. the scent of his sweat from the game still lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of the loss that had sparked this argument.

“some ‘you’ time?” jude echoed, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of annoyance. his brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he processed your words. “you hear how that sounds? bit selfish, yeah?”

his words were like a punch to your gut, fueled by the frustration and disappointment from his recent loss. the harsh light from the ceiling casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hardness of his jaw and the angry shine in his eyes. you could almost feel the heat of his anger radiating off him, making the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

you took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to ward off his words, and the cold reality of his misunderstanding was like a bucket of ice water over your head. you were not just jude’s girlfriend, and it seemed like he was struggling to understand that.

jobe watched this all unfold from a distance, his heart aching for you. he never truly got it, that you wanted to do your own thing while still supporting him, and jobe always felt like you could do better. you were a wonderful woman, absolutely beautiful, and dedicated to building a future for yourself, an independent woman. he admired your strength, your toughness, and your committed dedication to your own dreams. he wished jude could see it too, wished he could appreciate you for who you truly were, not just as his girlfriend but as an individual with her own aspirations and dreams.

and jobe, he was utterly fascinated by you.

it was more than admiration, it was an obsession that chewed at him, a relentless pull that tugged at the very fabric of his body. he watched you from the background, his gaze lingering on your every move, every gesture, every smile, with his heart pounding in his chest like a drum, matching the rhythm of his thoughts that were always, always about you.

your laughter was like a tune that sang in his ears long after it had faded. the way your eyes sparkled with life and hope, the way your lips curved into a smile that could outshine the sun, the way your body moved with a grace and confidence that was uniquely yours, it all left him breathless. he admired you for who you were, not just as jude’s girlfriend but as an independent woman who longed for freedom.

but with admiration came guilt, a heavy weight that settled in his heart, he knew it was wrong to have such feelings for his brother’s girlfriend. he cursed himself for it, tried to push away the thoughts, the fantasies, but they clung to him, refusing to let go.

he thought distance would help. he thought being in germany, thousands of miles away from you, would dull the ache, would silence the whispers of his heart, but he was wrong. the distance only boosted his longing for you. it was as if his mind had a mind of its own, painting images of you at the most unexpected moments.

and when he was alone, when the world around him fell silent, you were all he could think about.

you invaded his dreams, filled his thoughts, consumed him until there was nothing left but you, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. you were like a drug, mesmerizing and addictive, and he was absolutely obsessed with you.

he sat alone in the dim hotel room in berlin, the city lights oozing through the half-drawn curtains. the guilt sat heavy in his gut, twisting every time his mind drifted to you, his older brother’s girlfriend. his thoughts, always wild, and germany hadn’t helped, the distance only sharpened the hunger. his cock was already hard in his fist, thick and throbbing, pre-cum slicking his palm as he stroked slow and tight.

he closed his eyes, and you were there, standing in the doorway of his room like you’d just walked in. that short black dress you wore the last time he saw you, clinging to your tits and hips, nipples stiff against the fabric. he could almost smell your perfume, the sweetness, warmth, and with that hint of vanilla that always made his mouth water.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he muttered to the empty room, his voice a rough whisper that echoed off the cold, lonely walls. his hand moved faster, the rhythm unsteady and desperate, squeezing the head of his cock, thumb smearing the slick wetness. in his mind’s eye, you smiled at him, stepping closer in his fantasy, your figure glistening in the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. the fantasy snapped into something raw and filthy.

you dropped to your knees between his spread thighs, your dress pooling around you like a shadow. the image was so real he could almost feel the heat of your body against his skin. “you’ve been thinking about this the whole time you’ve been gone, haven’t you?” you said, your voice low and teasing, a tempting noise in the silence of the room. your fingers, so delicate yet firm, wrapped around his cock, replacing his own. the imagined touch was so realistic that he could almost feel the warmth of your hand, the perfect grip that stroked him with desire that made his heart pound in his chest.

“your brother’s girlfriend on her knees for you,” you continued, your words an evil whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “how guilty does that make you feel?” the question hung in the air, a mocking echo that tore at his mind even as his body gave in to the pleasure of your imagined touch.

“too fucking guilty,” he groaned, the words a raw confession in the silence of the room. his hips jerked forcibly into the phantom touch, a desperate plea for more, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. the fantasy was too real, too intoxicating, with your tongue, in his mind’s eye, tracing a slow, painful path up the underside of his shaft. it was hot and wet, a deep difference to the cool air of the room. he could almost taste the salt of his own skin on your tongue as you took the head into your mouth.

the wet heat enveloping him, the motion that pulled a groan from his lips, the way your lips stretched around him in a perfect o. he felt every detail as if it were happening right there in that lonely hotel room, your hand pumped the base of his cock while you sucked him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with effort, and your eyes, locked on his with a spark of something raw and wild.

in the midsto f his fantasy, he reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper, pushing until your nose brushed against his stomach. “take it all,” he urged, his voice a ragged whisper in the quiet room. “please— choke on it.” you moaned around him in response, the vibration shooting straight to his balls and making him gasp.

spit ran down your chin in his mind’s eye, dripping onto your breasts and making the fabric of your dress cling even tighter. the wet sounds filled his ears, disgustingly beautiful and real, with the scent of sex hanging heavy in the air, a detail so real that he could almost taste it on his tongue.

jobe moved faster now, chasing the high that was just out of reach. his breath hitched, his heart pounded, and the room around him seemed to fade away. all that was left was you and the addictive fantasy that had consumed him.

you pulled off with a pop, lips shiny. “you want to fuck me while he’s not here? want to bend me over and fill me up so i go back to him leaking your cum?”

the words hit him like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that stole his breath. he hoisted you up with his undeniable strength, spinning you around in a swift, dizzying motion. your back was to him now, your body bent over in a pose that was as desperate as it was vulnerable. the dress you wore was shoved up to your waist in his rush, revealing the flawless plush of your bare ass, no panties, of course not. the realization sent a jolt of lust through him, shaking and undeniable.

his hand came down on your cheek with a thunderous slap, hard enough to leave a red, stinging mark. then he was lining himself up, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and with a few powerful thrusts, he drove himself deep inside you. your cunt was soaked, welcoming him into its soft depths, gripping him like a fist, hot, tight, and perfect, the sensation so intense it made his head spin.

“fuck— yes,” you gasped out, your voice ragged with pleasure. you pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that was as intoxicating as it was arousing. “come on, jobie, harder. use me.”

and he did. his hips snapped forward in a relentless rhythm, the slap of skin on skin echoing loudly in the quiet room, with one hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so he could growl in your ear. his voice was rough with need, each word highlighted by the force of his thrusts. “this pussy— it belongs to me when i’m inside it. not his, mine... oh god, please— say it.”

his whines filled the air between you, a challenge and a plea wrapped into one. the room was filled with the scent of his cologne and sweat, the atmosphere heavy with desire and anticipation. every sensation was heightened, every touch a spark that set his nerves on fire, the fantasy was consuming, a strong mix of pleasure and guilt that had him on the edge of heaven.

“yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking as he pounded into you. “only yours. fill me up, please— fuck, i can feel how thick you are.”

his hand reached around your body, fingers seeking out the sensitive bud of your clit. he began to rub tight circles, the rhythm matching the pace of his thrusts, the sensation sending shivers through you, a delicious shake that made your walls flutter around him. the scent of your juices, raw and intoxicating, mixed with the musk of his sweat. it filled his nose, a smell that drove him wild. he could taste the salt on your skin when he bit into the soft flesh of your shoulder, a sharp difference to the sweet defeat of your body.

you were the first to crumble from the pleasure, your body shaking as you cried out. your cunt pulsed around him, drenching his cock and thighs with your release. the sight and feel of it, so raw, and so real, it dragged him over the edge. he buried himself to the brim inside you, groaning your name like a secret chant as he pumped thick ropes of cum deep inside you, his hips jerking with each pulse, evidence to his pleasure.

then, as quickly as it had drowned him, the fantasy shattered. reality crashed back in, leaving him alone in the quiet hotel room. his fist was slick with his own release, his stomach streaked with evidence of his pleasure. his breath came in ragged gasps, each one echoing loudly in the silence of the room. the guilt crashed in heavier than before, thick and sour in his throat.

what the fuck is wrong with me?

his cock still twitched in his hand, sensitive and overwhelmed, but the image of you, bent over, your body glistening with sweat and dripping with his load, lingered behind his eyes. it was as if it belonged there, like a distant memory that insisted on staying.

he wiped his hand on the sheets, his chest tight with a mix of satisfaction and regret. he knew that the next time he closed his eyes, you’d be right there again, as real and irresistible as ever.

and jobe would let it happen. every single time.

you stood just off to the sideline, in your wool overcoat, phone screen lighting your gloved fingers. a chill creeped through your boots, but you shifted your weight, eyes never leaving the circle of players huddled around the benches. they leaned in, backs hunched, ripping open wrappers or spitting onto the grass.

but your gaze stayed locked in on erling.

he towered above them all, a mountain of muscle and bristling hair. even soaked through, his dark jersey clung to bulging shoulders and massive biceps. thick veins traveled down his forearms, as his damp hair poked out from beneath his sleeves.

his head snapped up, ice-blue eyes locking onto you, and the corner of his lip curled, just slightly enough to flash a hint of teeth.

his teammate’s gaze slid over, slow and deliberate, lingering on the way your coat hugged your hips before dragging back up to meet yours. erling’s growl vibrated low in his chest, a sound so deep it rattled the air between you.

the midfielder broke from the circle, his hair sticking to his bruised forehead. he strolled over like he held a mission, with one hip stuck out, and a smug grin settled onto his face. “you look freezing out here,” he murmured, voice low and rumbling just for you, though half the team glanced your way. he reached out, with his fingers brushing your sleeve, the contact unexpected.

heat rose along your spine as his gaze roamed intentionally over your face, lingering at your lips. behind him, a muffled snicker echoed through boots scraping against the wet grass. the midfielder leaned closer, breath warm on your cheek. “if you’re cold, i could lend you my jacket,” he offered, teeth flashing. “or maybe something else…”

then a sound ripped through the air, part growl, part crack of challenge, a cry so sudden that the entire team froze. you snapped your head toward the field’s edge. erling’s broad frame had tensed into a tightened spring. his mouth parted, revealing the sharp canines, with his knuckles flexed, and shredding the tape around them with a series of soft, dangerous snaps. every hair on your arms stood on end, his possession radiated from him like heat, and you could feel it in your bones.

he hated, absolutely despised, anyone attempting to claim you, especially in front of everyone. and now, with that low, animal roar echoing across the field, he was all teeth and muscle, ready to defend what was his.

the midfielder’s hand dropped away, and you saw, in the shake of his eyes, evidence of real fear. he tried to play it off with a nervous laugh, but erling didn’t even pretend to be fooled. he fixed the midfielder with a stare so cold it seemed to freeze the wet air around him, then turned it on you, his jaw set and eyebrows furrowed, not because he was angry at you, but because he needed you to see it, needed the reminder to reach you.

“alright, settle down,” another teammate remarked, his voice a low rumble that cut through the tension. his eyes flicked between erling and the midfielder, a silent warning towards them. he didn’t want a brawl between players, definitely not here, and definitely not now.

his gaze landed on erling, holding it for a moment longer. “we’re a team,” he reminded them, his voice carrying an edge of control that was hard to ignore. his words stayed in the air, a reminder of their shared goal and hard work.

you’d seen this before, the way erling’s possessiveness cooked under his skin, the way it sometimes boiled over when he felt necessary. the first time, you’d been scared, but now, you understood it was just another layer of the animal he barely kept leashed. and, in a way you never admitted to anyone, you liked it, liked how the threat of violence always seemed to settle into an intense focus on you.

finally, erling exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping slightly as he released some of the tension trapped within him. his gaze softened as he looked at you, a silent promise lingering in his eyes. he wouldn’t let this go easily, but for now, he would respect his teammate’s demand.

the teammate nodded, a silent acknowledgment of erling’s self-restraint. he turned away, his footsteps crunching against the grass as he headed back towards the locker rooms. the tension in the air slowly began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of unease.

the rest of the team started drifting back to the locker rooms, but erling hung back, waiting for you, silent and unmoving. the second you hesitated, he closed the distance with a few long steps, and you felt the massive gravity of him, the heat radiating off his body, the way he loomed and blocked out the world behind him.

“mine,” he said, deep and fierce, with no room for argument. he didn’t need to elaborate nor did he want to.

the midfielder shot you one last look, half apology and half warning, before shrinking away, shoulders hunched. you wondered, briefly, if erling would remember this after the adrenaline wore off, or if the animal rage would fade, taken by the calmer, softer hybrid who traced your skin with many apologies after.

for now though, he was purely urging. his hands settled heavy and warm against your back, leading you towards the darkened tunnel, his breath a steady furnace in your ear. the field emptied behind you, but you didn’t glance back, all you could see was him, all you could taste was the anticipation, thick and sweet, shivering down your spine.

the locker room door slammed shut with a steel yell that rattled through your bones, trapping the thick and musky in the air around you. erling’s nails raked down your chest in one brutal sweep, fabric splitting open with a sharp rip that echoed off the tiles as cool air kissed your exposed skin. his mouth crashed against your throat, teeth sinking in hard enough to bruise and claim, the wet heat of his tongue lapping at the sting while his growl vibrated straight into your pulse.

“you’re my owner,” he hissed, the words seeping out from between clenched teeth. his voice was a low rumble, a growl that echoed in the silence of the locker room. his bear instincts were taking hold, tightening control over his body with a raw, uncontrollable force. “which means i belong to you and you belong to me, yeah?”

your shorts hit the floor in a rough shove, the fabric snapping against your thighs before his thick fingers gripped your hips and spun you toward the cold metal lockers. the chill crashed into your ass and the bottoms of your feet, a undeniable contrast to the furnace of his body pressing in from behind. his cock, fat, veined, the head already slick and drooling, slapped heavy against your thigh, leaving a hot smear of pre-cum as he settled it there, letting you feel every throbbing inch.

“first,” he snarled low against your ear, voice rough and filthy. “always first. gonna mark this hole before anyone else gets a taste.” one rough hand pinned your wrists above your head while the other spread your cheeks, the pad of his thumb dragging over your rim in a teasing circle that made your hole clench and flutter. the scent of his need, musky and salty, the primal urge filled your nose as he rutted forward, the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently, smearing more slick across your skin.

“fuck— he was just saying hi, buddy. it’s not—” your words were cut off as he bit down again, harder this time, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck. a gasp escaped your lips as he sucked a dark mark into your skin, visible evidence that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

his free hand landed on your ass with a sudden slap, the sting blooming hot. the sensation sent a jolt through you, mixing with the pleasure that was already building. erling’s hips rolled forward, the thick head of his cock pressing against you, stretching you in a way that made your breath hitch.

the burn of his intrusion mixed with the wet slide of his pre-cum, easing the way for him. every inch he gave dragged a fresh groan from his chest, a sound that echoed in the locker room. the heavy slap of his balls against you highlighted each thrust, the rhythm filling the room along with the wet sounds of skin on skin.

“i don’t care,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. the words vibrated against your skin, sending another shiver through you. “they know you’re my owner.” his statement was punctuated by another thrust, his cock sinking deeper inside you.

he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, slamming your stomach against the lockers. the metal shook under the impact, echoing in the silent room. the blunt head of him pressed against you, stretching you, forcing its way inside in a few brutal thrusts. he filled you so deeply that your breath caught in your throat, your walls clenching around his girth in an unsuccessful attempt to adjust to his size.

the wet slap of skin against skin echoed through the room as he began to move, his hips snapping forward with a force that drove him deeper inside you. the scent of your slick mixed with the musky smell of his cum already starting to leak out of him. it was a dizzying mix that filled the air, evidence to the raw, lustful act taking place.

“they touch what’s mine, and i’ll breed it out of you,” he growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that sent a shiver of fear and excitement through you. one sharp hand kept your wrists above your head, the cool metal of the lockers biting into your skin. his other hand gripped your hip with a force that was sure to leave a bruise, a physical reminder of his claim on you.

thick ropes of his cum pulsed deep inside you, hot and slick, stretching your walls as each spurt flooded your cunt until it leaked out in messy trails down your inner thighs. the wet squelch of his cock pumping through the overflow filled the locker room. he thrusted slow and deliberate with each roll of his hips, building that unbearable edge until your legs trembled, and your breath hitched in shaky gasps. then he slammed forward, hard, balls slapping wetly against you with every brutal thrust, the force rocking your body against the cold metal lockers.

“god, erling— you’re so big—” the words stumbled from your lips in a breathless whimper, a beg and a praise all at once. you were swaying on the edge, the world blurred as your hybrid molded his cock shape into your body.

your moans echoed off the walls, weak and desperate, blending with his low, animal grunts as he drove into you. the stretch of his cock burned so good, filling you again and again, the heat of his release coating your insides and dripping out to smear across your skin. you felt the wetness of his mouth, marking you with teeth and tongue, the scent of his musk overwhelming as he rutted deeper.

“fuck, this pussy’s mine,” he growled against your ear, each word proved with a punishing snap of his hips that made your tits bounce and your juices splash. “only mine— gonna breed this hole till you’re dripping for days., yeah?” his grip tightened, one hand sliding down to pinch your nipple hard, twisting just enough to send sparks through your core while he edged you again with those painful, slow grinds. the slap of skin on skin, the inappropriate squelch of his cum-coated cock, all of it crashed together as he unloaded another thick load, marking you inside and out with every dominating thrust.

your senses were on overwhelmed, every feeling drowned with pleasure and pain. the cool metal of the lockers against your back providing coolness to the heat radiating from him. his scent, rough and possessive, filled the air around you.

each thrust was a promise, each growl an argument to his claim, that you were his, completely. and as he filled you once more, marking you inside and out, there was no room for debate.

by the time he finally sets you down, your legs trembled, the sparks of pleasure still rippling through your body.

erling’s eyes lock onto yours, gleaming with a satisfaction that sends a shiver down your spine. his gaze is intense and unblinking, as if he’s trying to save this moment into his memory. his fingers, still slick with your combined arousal, breezily tuck himself away. the sight of him, so composed after such a rough act, sends another wave of heat pulsing through you.

his voice is low when he finally breaks the silence. “you understand now,” he says, each word heavy with meaning. his tone dominating, like it’s not a question but a statement of fact.

“no one else.”

“oh my, i’m so sorry— i didn’t realize i had lost control.” his words tumbled out, leaving you in a soft giggle, the sound echoing lightly in the locker room. erling was on his knees on the cold tile floor, his broad shoulders hunched. his lips were set in a frown as he looked up at you, his usually intense eyes softened with a hint of regret. for someone so physically challenging, he truly was a spring of emotion.

“it’s okay, erling,” you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. you reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a sweet motion. “but maybe for next time, could you be a bit gentler? i look like i just got ran over by a truck.” the words were light-hearted, but there was a seriousness to them. you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering against his warm skin.

his lips parted in surprise at your words, his eyes widening slightly. a moment later, his expression shifted into one of delight.

“next time?”

club friendlies might not have been the same as high-stakes matches, but to jobe, they always held an importance.

the bathroom was a routine, a place where he prepared himself mentally and physically for the game on the field. steam oozed from the hot shower, filling the room with a thick, warm fog that blurred up the space, the mirror was unusable, its reflective surface ruined by droplets that clung to the cool glass. water ran down the tiles, creating indents that traced along the lines in a unique pattern.

jobe stood before the mirror, his figure a hazy outline in the fogged-up glass. he moved with slowness, each action a part of his pre-game routine. his skincare routine was his act of self-care, each product carefully selected for its benefits. he applied them with perfection, his fingers tracing familiar paths across his face. the scent of his cleanser filling his nose, a blend of citrus and herbs that was as strong as it was soothing.

next came the brushing of his teeth, a quick but thorough process. the minty freshness of his toothpaste was a familiar taste, one that promised the start of his day. he rinsed and spat, watching as the white foam swirled down the drain.

finally, he emerged from the bathroom, his skin glowing from his detailed care and his mind focused on the day ahead. his body felt alive with anticipation, every muscle ready for action. his routine was complete, and he was ready to face whatever the day would bring.

moving in together had been a significant step in your relationship, a leap of faith that had brought you both closer than ever before. jobe’s transfer to germany hadn’t been an unexpected twist in the story of your lives, but you hadn’t hesitated to join him, packing up your life and moving halfway across the world to be by his side.

the shared apartment in the heart of the city had become your peace, a shelter settled in the unfamiliarity of a new country. the walls echoed with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the comforting hum of your connected lives. the scent of jobe’s cologne mixed with your perfume, creating a unique smell that was as much a part of the apartment as the furniture.

there had been arguments, of course, no couple was immune to them. disagreements over small things like who left the dishes in the sink or whose turn it was to do laundry, but each disagreement, each heated exchange of words, only seemed to strengthen your relationship.

jobe would always return after these arguments of simpleness, chocolates and flowers clutched in his large hands as apology offerings. his eyes would be soft, regret replacing the earlier frustration. his temporary bursts of immaturity replaced by sincere apologies and promises to do better.

“i’m sorry, my love.” he would say, his voice low and sincere. “i’ll try harder next time.” and you knew he meant it, could see it in the honest look in his eyes, feel it in the way his hand squeezed yours.

these moments of negativity were sweet reminders, reminders of the love that carried you together despite the occasional disagreements. they were evidence to your shared commitment to make things work, to grow together, and to explore the unpredictable journey of love hand in hand.

the rhythm of your shared life had become treasured moments to him. his workouts and meal prep were often fulfilled in the environment of the training building, but every so often, you would surprise him with a homemade meal. each dish was proof of love, packed in a whimsical lunch box with a sweet note tucked inside. it was a simple gesture, yet it never failed to light a warm glow in his heart.

the scent of simmering spices ghosted through the apartment, pulling him from his thoughts. “are you making me lunch?” jobe’s voice rumbled from behind you, his words laced with surprise and delight. his large hands found their way around your waist, his fingers gently squeezing your skin in playfulness. the suddenness of his presence startled you, causing you to jump slightly.

“jobe!” you exclaimed, faking annoyance as you turned to face him. his eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched your attempt to maintain an annoyed expression. “you scared me,” you scolded, though the softness in your eyes betrayed your words.

his laughter echoed through the room, a sound that wrapped around you, comfortingly. “i didn’t mean to,” he apologized, his voice still laced with amusement. his hands remained on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles on your skin as he watched you return to your task.

he pressed soft kisses against your shoulder, his eyes watching your hands as they worked. in moments like these, he felt an overwhelming sense of thankfulness. thankful for you, for your care, for the love that you poured into every small action.

he remembered the lonely nights, when he had yearned for his own attention, aching for a single moment of the audience’s undivided focus. the frustration of always being compared to his older brother, the, “better” footballer, was a pill that he had swallowed too many times. the hurtful comments that seemed to forget that he was his own person, not just a shadow of his brother, had left aches on his heart.

but you had never made him feel that way. you saw him, jobe, not as an extension of his family or a second place version of his brother, but as an individual with his own strengths and imperfections.

his thoughts were broken by the feel of your hand in his curls, the gentle tug pulling him back to the present. the scent of your skin, the warmth of your touch, it was all so real and comforting. “don’t space out on me now, jobe. do you want tomatoes or not?” you asked, pointing the knife towards the ripe red vegetable. the playful threat in your voice made him chuckle, the sound echoing off the kitchen walls.

his laughter filled the room again, a sweet and wholesome sound that seemed to breathe life into every corner of the apartment. his eyes sparkled with affection as he looked at you, your hair slightly messy, and flour smudged on your cheek. “i’ll eat them today, yeah. thank you, my love.” his voice was soft, filled with joy and love for you.

he watched as you sliced the tomatoes effortlessly, your movements swift. he couldn’t help but reach out to you, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

the kitchen was filled with the comforting scent of home-cooked food and the soft hum of your voice as you continued to prepare the meal. the warmth of your shared love seemed to slip into every room, making the apartment feel more like a home than any place he had ever lived in before.

and at that moment, jobe knew that he wouldn’t trade this simple, domestic life, for anything else in the world.

from the moment his soft eyes met yours, something shifted within him. it was as if a part of him realized true love, enticed by the warmth of your gaze. he knew with certainty that you were the one he was meant to share his life with, the one who would stand by his side through all the victories and failures alike. the one he would proudly call his wife.

your presence in his life brought newly found ideas within him. you were not just another face in the crowd of admirers, you were his heart in the crowd of fame and fortune. your laughter was his favorite sound, your smile his most treasured sight. and when he held you close, your heartbeat against his chest was the most soothing memory.

the day he held his son for the first time, he felt an overwhelming rise of love and protectiveness. his tiny fingers wrapped around jude’s finger, a grip so delicate yet so firm. it was a moment embedded into his heart, a moment that marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life, his fatherhood.

from then on, every decision he made, every step he took was lead by purpose, to provide the best for you and your son. his life was no longer just about football and fame, it was about bedtime stories and morning cuddles, about teaching his son to kick a ball and watching his eyes light up with joy. it was about you and him, and the beautiful family you had created together.

days like these served as reminders of just how fortunate jude was. on one of his rare days off, with no interviews to attend, no cleats sinking into soggy grass, he chose a restaurant he had been eager to try with you both. it wasn’t anything overly fancy, he had heard that this place served the best baked beans and eggs in town, and he was eager to share the experience with you.

the restaurant echoed with the soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of silverware against plates. the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces traveled through the air, mixing with the faint scent of clean fabrics and smoke. you enjoyed your meal, the flavors savory on your tongue, as you watched your son with a fond smile.

his face was smeared with pieces of his dinner, evidence to his playful eating. his laughter echoed in your ears, a cheerful tune that filled the room with warmth. he was singing to his father, his small hands clapping as he swayed in his chair. jude watched him with a loving smile, his eyes soft with adoration. it was a sight that filled your heart with a joy so deep, you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

as you reached for the check, your fingers brushed against the bills of the tip money. you tucked it safely into the leather folder, your mind already shifting to the tasks that awaited you at home. but before you could gather your belongings and usher your family towards the exit, a flash of color caught your son’s eye.

he darted towards a claw machine nestled in a corner of the restaurant, his small feet tapping against the tiled floor. his eyes sparkled with excitement as he pressed his face against the glass, his breath fogging up the surface. the machine was filled with an array of colorful toys, their plastic bodies gleaming under the bright lights.

“look, mama!” he called out to you, his voice bubbling with anticipation. “ducks!”

you exchanged a glance with jude, a silent conversation passing between you. with a nod of agreement, jude rose from his seat and followed your son towards the machine, his hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. you watched them, a soft smile playing on your lips as you drowned in the simple joy of these precious moments.

claw machines were infamous for being rigged, for swallowing up money without giving out any prizes. but as your son pressed his small hands against the glass, his gaze fixed on the tiny ducks inside, jude made a silent promise to win him one.

“papa, duck! duck!” your son’s voice rang out, his laughter bubbling up like a sweet tune.

jude couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and warm, echoing the joy in his son’s eyes. he shook his head in amusement, his fingers quickly fishing out a crumpled dollar from his pocket. “alright buddy,” he said, his voice a gentle warning of caution. “just one chance, okay?” his words were an attempt to soften the blow of disappointment.

you stood a little distance away, your coat wrapped snugly around you, the chill having had just begun to pour in with the evening. a warm smile bloomed on your face, your heart growing with love as you watched the moment of your little family happen before you.

your son nodded eagerly in response to jude’s words, his small body practically vibrating with excitement. his feet danced around, as his eyes never left the colorful ducks trapped behind the glass barrier.

the machine buzzed to life with mechanical sounds that filled the air around them. the plan was simple, jude would operate the joystick with ease, while your son would press the button at just the right moment to hopefully snag one of those teasing colorful ducks.

the air seemed to thicken with tension as jude’s hand closed around the joystick, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. your son stood on his tiptoes, his small hands clenched into fists of hope, his breath hitching in his chest as he waited for the perfect moment to press the button.

the sweet moment, however, was cut short.

the claw dropped towards its target, only to miss by a hair.

your heart clenched as you watched your son’s face fall. his bright eyes clouded over with the hurt of defeat, the vibrant colors of the ducks now a deep contrast to his dimmed excitement. his small hands fell away from the glass, his shoulders drooping under the weight of his smashed hopes.

“no duck...” his voice was barely a whisper, a small echo in the area of the bustling restaurant. the words hung in the air, proof of his disappointment.

you watched as jude knelt down beside him, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on your son’s back. his lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed in thought. you could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about their next move.

you were about to suggest a comfort prize when jude beat you to it. he reached into his pocket and pulled out another crumpled dollar bill. “okay, just one more,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. he offered your son a grin, a spark of determination lighting up his eyes. “this machine’s a bit cheeky, no?”

his words were met with a small nod from your son, his tears momentarily forgotten as he looked up at jude with revived hope. jude handed him the dollar bill, his son excitedly taking the money.

you couldn’t fault jude for indulging your son. after all, you had a sneaking suspicion that jude wouldn’t mind having a duck of his own. but for now, the joy in your son’s eyes was all the reward he needed.

raising your phone, you framed the scene before you, jude, your son, and the claw machine. the camera shutter clicked, capturing the moment in time. the love jude had for your son was undeniable, even through the digital screen. it was a love that was pure and real, a love that shined brightly in his eyes and softened his features. you beamed down at your phone, the image warming your heart.

looking up, you watched as your little boy, his face scrunched in concentration, reached out with a determined push. his small fingers, chubby and unsteady, hit the button with a force that drowned his size. your smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he jumped up and down. his small body vibrated with excitement, his joy spreading as the claw descended. it moved with care, the claw’s grip closing around not one, but two ducks.

a gasp escaped your lips, your heart swelling in your chest as you watched the claw lift its prizes. the ducks dangled, and you held your breath, your eyes wide as you watched the claw move towards the tunnel.

“nice job, buddy!” jude’s voice rang out, breaking the silence that had fallen over you. his voice was filled with genuine pride, his eyes sparkling with excitement. his hand came down on your son’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze .

“yay! duck! duck!” your son’s cry echoed through the restaurant. his voice was high and clear, a noise of pure joy in the buzzing establishment. his small hands reached out to claim his prizes, his fingers closing around the plastic toys with a victorious squeeze.

his laughter filled the air, a sweet sound that had you grinning from ear to ear. you watched as he held up his prizes, his eyes shining with pride and excitement. the ducks were clutched tightly in his hands, their presence evident of his victory.

the sight of your son’s joy warmed your heart, a feeling of contentment washing over you. you couldn’t help but reach out to ruffle his hair, your fingers brushing against the soft strands. his laughter echoed in your ears, a sweet sound that you would cherish forever.

he scampered back to you, his small face alight with the glow of victory, his tiny hands clutching his won prizes. the sight of his joy filled your heart, as jude was quick to follow, his eyes flooded with amusement, the corners wrinkling in a way that made your heart flutter. “time to head home,” he announced, his voice a comforting sound that echoed, as he extended his hand towards you, his fingers warm and inviting.

“here papa, your duck.” your son’s voice was filled with pride as he lifted the blue plastic toy towards his father. jude’s grin widened, a sparkle reaching his eyes at the sight of the gift from his boy. he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately, his fingers disappearing into the soft curls. “thanks buddy, we can match now.”

the journey to the car was quick, surrounded by the soft night sounds, highlighted by the distant hum of the city. the air was cool against your skin, carrying the faint scent of rain, as the world slowed, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the distant noise of traffic.

jude’s hand was warm in yours, his fingers interlacing with yours in a familiar pattern. his thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a silent promise of comfort and support. his other arm cradled your sleeping son, his small body nestled against his father’s chest, one hand still clutching the duck he had won with such determination.

the soft glow from the streetlights painted them in a warm light, allowing shadows that settled on the pavement. jude’s face was softened by fatherhood, his eyes tender as he looked down at your son. his lips were curved in a gentle smile, clear proof to the joy he found in his family.

your phone was out before you knew it, the camera app open and ready. you framed them in the screen, capturing this moment of peaceful slumber against the beautiful mood of the city night. the click of the shutter was soft, almost lost in the quiet of the night. but it echoed in your heart, a reminder of this moment, and this feeling.

“another one for the scrapbook?” jude’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper as not to disturb your son. his eyes met yours, twinkling with amusement and love.

you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “someday,” you replied, your voice filled with promise. “someday he’ll see how much we loved these moments.”

jude’s smile widened, his grip on your hand tightening. “can’t wait,” he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation and warmth.

you snatch a squeaky toy from the pile by the couch and send it skipping across the floor. he lunges, powerful thighs driving him forward, muscles rolling beneath his fur as he pounces. the toy shrieks under his grip but his hips buck with each lunge, a low whine threading through his teeth, and when he spins back toward you his eyes are glassy and wild, chest heaving, gaze fixed on you with something close to desperation.

“mommy.” his voice squeaks out rough, barely a whisper. “play with me.”

heat crawls up your neck as you reach out and ruffle his ears, fingers sinking into the soft warmth of it. “alright, pup.” you pull your shirt over your head and let it drop. the cool air moves across your bare skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. you settle onto the edge of the bed, the sheets soft and comforting beneath you, and extend one finger toward him. “come here. mommy’s got what you need.”

he goes still as his nose twitches, pulling in the scent of you, safe and sweet, hanging in the air between you. his tail strikes the wall once, then twice, and three times. then a growl builds low in his chest and he drops to his knees, planting his palms on the carpet, and begins to crawl.

each movement is slow and purposeful, the bedside lamp displaying shadows across the mass of his shoulders, the flex of his forearms, and the swaying of his tail dragging the floor. his eyes never leave yours and when he reaches you he stops, with his breath spilling hot against your inner thighs, looking up from beneath his lashes, his pupils blown wide, lips parted, a small whimper escaping before he can swallow it back.

you thread your fingers through his ears and draw him in.

his tongue drags a long, wet stripe up your slit and the sound that leaves you is sudden and breathless. he laps at you with greed, the rough flat of his tongue dragging across your clit while his nose presses into your folds, inhaling you in deeply. sweet slick coats his chin, as he buries his face between your thighs, thrusting his tongue inside you in sloppy, the wet sounds of it filling the room, and bouncing off the walls. his hands lock onto your hips, the tips of his claws pressing just enough to sting, and he forces you harder onto his mouth.

“enough, puppy.” your voice is a low murmur. his eyes, glassy and wild, race up to meet yours. the room is filled with the scent of him, musky and raw, and the sound of his heavy panting. his tongue lolls out, pink and wet, and he whines, a low, needy sound that vibrates through the air between you.

he rushes up to kiss you, his movements awkward and desperate. the taste of yourself on his tongue is dizzying and intoxicating. his pre-cum grinds against your belly through the thin fabric of his shorts, a hard line of heat that makes your breath delay. with a rough tug, he yanks his shorts down, freeing himself. his cock springs free, flushed and throbbing.

you move to straddle him, your thighs place against his hips. the soft glow of the lamp catches on the sheen of sweat across his chest, turning his skin golden. his ears press warm against your head, the soft fur tickling your skin. up close, the scent of him is overwhelming, earthy, and desperate.

your hand wraps around his cock, guiding him to your entrance. he whines again, a high-pitched sound that sends a shiver down your spine. his tail thumps against the mattress in a frantic beat.

“mommy— ” the word is torn from him, raw and pleading. “please. let me in. i need to feel you.”

slowly, you sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch until you’re fully seated on his lap. he groans from deep within his chest, his hips jerking upward instinctively. “fuck— y-you’re so tight.” his voice breaks on the last word. “am i your good boy? tell me i’m being a good boy.”

the words spark something low in your belly. you grind down on him, feeling him twitch inside you. “yes,” you breathe into his ear. “good boy. mommy’s good boy. now fuck me like you mean it.”

jude obeys immediately, his hips snapping up to meet yours. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with his low growls and your own breathless curses. his tongue drags hot and sloppy across your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

his tail brushes frantic thumps against your calves, his ears fluttering against your skin. the knot at the base of his cock swells at your entrance, pressing forcefully with each thrust. heat blooms at the base of your spine, your clit grinding against his pubic bone with every roll of your hips.

“deeper.” your fingers grip his curls, pulling his head up to meet your gaze. his eyes are glassy and desperate. “knot me. fill mommy up.”

a broken whine tears from his throat as he nods, pushing forward. the swelling knot strained you, connecting you together in a stretch that burns and aches and satisfies all at once. he grinds in short, relentless pulses, and then the heat of him floods you. thick ropes of cum spill deep inside you, triggering your own orgasm. your walls clench and release in waves, milking every twitch of his cock.

his ears press flat against his head, burying his face in your neck. “mommy, ’m coming so hard— don’t let go—”

you hold him tight, arms locked around his shoulders as his tail slows to lazy sweeps across your legs. his cum leaks out around his knot, tracing slow paths down the inside of your thighs. the air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex and the faint sweetness of his shampoo.

you stroke his hair as his breathing evens out, the knot pulsing softly inside you, keeping you connected. outside, something shifts in the dark, a car passing, but inside there is only the quiet, and his weight against you.

“you saw it?” his voice is still rough from ninety minutes of shouting across the field. “every second,” you tell him.

then he crosses the room and puts both arms around you, still damp, still warm, pressing his face into the side of your neck. you feel his heartbeat against your skin, still going hard. feeling the coolness of the air, his broad frame towers over you, the post match fire turning into something hotter and more possessive.

“every practice,” he says, his voice is muffled. “every single one.”

he grabs your face in both hands, his palms still hot, tipping your head back to look at you, with his chest still heaving.

“you were there,” he says, quieter now, like he’s just remembering it. “i kept looking up and you were just—” he shakes his head. his thumbs move along your jaw.

he kisses you slowly at first, almost careful, his fingers sliding back into your hair. then he makes a low sound against your mouth and pulls you in harder, and you feel the full weight of him, the heat still radiating off his skin, the locker door cold at your back.

“fuck, baby, you don’t know what it did to me seeing you out there clapping like that,” he growls, his voice low and rough. his hands are already under your shirt, palms hot and damp from the ball, sliding up to cup your tits. “all that training, all those late nights, i did it for this. just for you.” he yanks your shirt off, mouth crashing onto yours, tongue demanding and wet. you taste the salt of his sweat, feeling the hardness of his cock straining against his shorts as he grinds into your hip.

he drops to his knees without warning, dominance taking over, tugging your pants and panties down in one impatient pull. the cool air hits your bare skin, but his breath is warming. “spread for me. let me taste how proud you are of me.” his tongue drags through your folds, slow and filthy, lapping at your clit like he’s starving. you moan, fingers twisting in his curly hair, the wet sounds of his mouth filling the empty room. he groans against your pussy, the vibration shooting straight through you. “so fucking sweet. been thinking about this the whole match— how i’d get you dripping on my tongue.”

“yes,” you gasp out, your hips bucking against his hand. “don’t stop, jobe. please.”

your thighs shake around jode’s head, the heat of his tongue dragging merciless circles over your swollen clit while two thick fingers plunge deep, curling to reach that throbbing spot inside you. the wet sounds of his mouth fill the locker room, mixing with his scent. your own arousal coats his chin, dripping down to soak the bench beneath you as your hips jerk forward, chasing every filthy lap.

“fuck, jobe, baby p-please don’t stop,” you gasp, voice cracking as your fingers twist into his damp hair, yanking him closer. he growls against your cunt, the vibration shooting straight through your core, and sucks your clit harder, teeth grazing just enough to make your vision blur.

his dark eyes flick up, hungry and feral. “this pretty pussy’s squeezing my fingers like it’s asking for my cock,” he rasps, voice muffled against your folds. “soaking my face, begging to be filled.”

your walls flutter and clench, the pressure building until your back arches hard against the cold metal. he doesn’t ease up, his fingers pumping faster, and his tongue flicking in tight strokes, until the orgasm rips through you in pulsing waves. your thighs clamp around his ears, a cry tearing from your throat as fresh slick gushes over his tongue. he drinks it down with greedy laps, fingers slowing but never stopping their deep, curling thrusts, egding every last shiver from your trembling body.

jobe rises, wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand, a wicked smirk curling his lips. he fists the back of your neck and drags you into a bruising kiss, tongues tangling so you taste your own tangy sweetness mixed with his. the flavor floods your senses, heat starting fresh between your legs.

he stands and spins you, the roughness of the bench scraping your palms as he bends you over it. his shorts rasp down your ass cheeks, fabric whispering against sweat-slick skin before his cock springs free, thick and veined, with his swollen head slick with precum that smears hot across your thigh. he slaps it against your dripping slit, once, then twice, the wet smack echoing off the locker room tiles, the sharp sting of contact making your clit throb. “so wet, baby. so perfect for me.”

jobe pushes in slow, the blunt head stretching your entrance wide, the burn blooming deep as inch after inch fills you, your walls fluttering and gripping every ridge. the fullness punches the air from your lungs, your vision sparking white at the edges while the musky smell of his sweat and your arousal floods your nose. “god, this pussy’s gripping me like she missed me. you’re mine, please say it.” his hips snap forward, deep and steady, one hand clamping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other sliding around to circle your swollen clit with rough fingers.

“yours— m’ yours.” whimpers came from your throat, as the slap of skin on skin rings out, wet and filthy, your moans tangling with his grunts as the bench creaks beneath you.

sweat drips from his chest onto your back, hot trails sliding down your spine, the sharp salt taste of it hitting your tongue when you lick your lips. he picks up speed, pounding harder, the wet squelch of his cock driving into your soaked cunt filling the air with every thrust. “fuck, you feel incredible. all that cheering, you always show up for me.” his fingers work faster, pinching your clit just shy of pain, the pressure building tight and hot in your core while his cock drags relentless against that spot inside you.

jobe’s voice cracks, the dominant edge fading into desperate need. “please, baby— cum on my cock. i need it. need to feel you squeeze me. ah— g-god, i love you.” he leans over you, teeth grazing your ear, breath hot and ragged, his free hand fisting your hair to yank your head back. the sound of his cock squelching into you grows frantic, the scent of sex thick and overwhelming, your inner walls clenching tighter around him with every thrust.

your body shakes, thighs trembling around his hips as your orgasm crashes through you in relentless pulses. your cunt clenches tight, gripping his thick shaft like a fist, milking every inch while hot slick floods out and coats his balls. the wet slap of skin echoes off the concrete walls, mixing with the sweetness of love that hangs heavy in the air. your nipples scrape against the rough material of the bench, sending shivers straight to your core.

he growls low, hips jerking in broken thrusts. “fuck— yes, just like that. squeeze that pretty pussy around me. please— milk every drop.” his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, yanking you back onto him as he slams quicker. the bench creaks under the force, your knees scraping the edge while his cock pulses deep inside. thick ropes of cum surge into you, hot and heavy, overflowing in sticky ropes that trickle down your inner thighs and drip onto the floor below.

his mouth finds your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark, tongue quieting the sting as his hands roam frantically over your damp skin. he can’t stop touching, can’t stop grinding, pushing his release deeper while the distant roar of the stadium crowd fades beneath the wet sounds of your joined bodies and the frantic beat of your hearts. the taste of him lingers on your tongue from earlier kisses, sweet and addictive, as the last vibration rips through you both.

the bench beneath you both creaks, it scrapes against your bare skin, a big contrast to the slick heat of his body against yours. squeaking and groaning under the pressure of your movements, the rhythm that mixes the pounding of your hearts. the world outside the small room fades into insignificance, the stadium long forgotten.

his love coats your skin, evidence of the passion that has just unfolded between you. it’s the way his fingers draw lazy patterns on your sweat coated back, the way his breath goes hot and ragged against your neck, and the way his lips press soft kisses to your shoulder. it’s the way he murmurs your name, like whispers that send shivers down your spine.

the taste of him dances on your tongue, a mix of salt and desire that you can’t help but want to savor. his scent fills you, musky and overpowering, paired with the sweetness of sweat and sex. his body is a furnace against yours, radiating heat that seeps into your body. his heart pounding against your back, a steady rhythm that matches the pulsing ache between your thighs. his arms wrap around you, holding you close as if he fears you might slip away.

the room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the occasional creak of the bench beneath you, and the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusts his hold on you.

jobe has won matches before, but he has never looked at a trophy the way he looks at you.