#declan rice

Your eyes glanced at the minutes marked on the scoreboard. Everything was over, signaled by the referee's whistle. You watched your boyfriend, the number ten of the English national team and midfielder. Your shirt had the same number as his, as he wished to see you in that exact place, as his girlfriend. The relationship was different from any you had ever had before, and he was certainly more than the man you had hoped for yourself.

"Darling, I need to take care of a few things before I talk to Jude." You heard Denise's voice, Jude's mother. You had been watching the national team's matches together, mainly because your relationship with Jude's family was incredible — his parents and younger brother had been extremely kind since you went public with your relationship. "But I wouldn't want to leave you alone." She said, looking at you with concern.

You knew this was a request from Real Madrid's number five. When Jude found out that your abusive ex-boyfriend would be one of the opponents on the other team, he just wanted to protect you, knowing those situations had been traumatic for your mental health. Your past relationship had been marked by insults and attacks that seemed designed to belittle you. But Jude was willing to support you in every way possible, hoping you would be ready for whatever came next in your relationship.

Bellingham had been against you going to the stadium that day, because he didn't want it to bring back painful memories from your past. But you had insisted — how could you not be there at such a crucial moment in the life of the man you loved?

"I'll be fine, don't worry." Your voice came out sweetly as you spoke to the older woman. "Jude is extremely worried, but I already told him I'd take care of myself." You said, reassuring your mother-in-law while gently placing your hand on her arm.

You knew that this was Jude's dream. Being by his side meant facing all those moments together, and you had worked hard on your mental health to remain as strong as you could be — no longer trapped by a painful past that sought to hold you back.

"So I'm going. The area to go onto the pitch is open now; go find him so I can feel at ease." The elder Bellingham said, picking up her bag from the seat where you had been sitting, then looking at you, wanting you to listen.

"Alright. When you're done, come find us, okay?" You said, tucking your phone into your shorts pocket and walking proudly in your champion's shirt. The white and red tones suited you, and the fabric was comfortable because it was larger than your body — your man's shirt.

You walked alone among the people, with pizzas being carried by the English national team staff for the families. It was time for the gathering among everyone, even with the players still on the pitch. The British team was still energized by the victory, and you looked for your boyfriend among all the players there, listening to the English fans singing around you, emotional about the qualification.

"Love..." The sound of Jude Bellingham's strong voice reached your ears after a few steps on the synthetic grass. You felt his hand on your waist as he pulled you to meet his chest with your back. The masculine scent and strong hands in the embrace made you feel safe. Of course you knew it was him — the only person capable of making you feel that way. "Are you alone?" He asked, alarmed, looking at the booth and finding it empty, quickly turning you around to look into his eyes.

"Your mother had to do a few things, but I said I was coming to see you." You looked into his brown eyes, seeing his furrowed brow, as you brought your hands to his face, holding both sides so your gazes would meet, trying to bring calm. "It's okay, darling. You're way too overprotective, Mr. Jude Bellingham." You said to him.

"No, Mrs. Bellingham." He said, making you blush with the word alluding to a marriage between the two of you. It was almost as if you could imagine those future moments, and your heart warmed knowing the Real Madrid player did too. "I'm worried, it's different." Then he winked at you, looking at your face from beneath his lashes. The way you loved each other was the sweetest of all. "I held myself back from punching that bastard when I saw him staring at you." His eyes then grew darker for a moment, as if he...

"I'm not a Bellingham yet." You replied, feeling him squeeze your waist, pulling you closer while the English national team players were all around. "My heart is with you now, Jude. He doesn't affect me. I have a good boy with me, and he protects me." The words came out of your mouth, making him let out a loud laugh, then giving you a soft kiss that made you taste a bit of those full lips.

"Not yet, but you will be." The Brit affirmed with a certainty that made you press your lips together. He always knew how to affect you, how to leave you speechless and, at the same time, hopelessly in love. "I can be a good boy, but I think I like being bad sometimes — when it suits me, of course." Then he pulled you into a firm kiss that left your legs weak. The public display of affection, without caring about comments: he loved you out loud for everyone, and that was all you could ask of the universe.

His hands still remained on your waist, but this time the squeeze brought warmth to your stomach — that sensation that came every time you were together. The kiss was led by the dark-haired man while you brought your hands to his neck, interlacing as your tongues dueled. But he would dominate — you knew he would, and he would win. He was addicted to seeing your reactions.

"Looks like you found some idiot to take care of you, didn't you, slut?" The voice reached you, making your spine freeze and your body go still. You both turned, finding those malicious eyes that took pleasure in saying cruel things to you. The ice-cold sensation almost completely consumed you — if not for the point of light that was Jude's hands bringing you back to the surface. Those that touched you with possessiveness, but also with the tenderness of everything that had been built together. Then he stepped forward.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Jude's voice was firm as he gently moved you behind his back. You knew he wanted to protect you, and with the barrier he was creating, you felt as if you were coming back to your senses. You knew it wasn't because he didn't think you were strong, but because he always wanted to be there to protect you.

"Exactly what you heard. Think you're better just because of a match?" The words came out venomous from that man, and for a moment you wondered how you had ever seen anything good in that being. That could never have been love — it didn't compare to the way Jude loved you and what you shared. You saw eyes slowly turning toward where you were, and you already imagined what could unfold in that moment. You needed to stop it before it affected the player's career.

"You have no idea how much I held myself back from beating the shit out of you during the whole match. Looks like you just gave me the final reason." Those were the words you heard before seeing your man's agile movements as he lunged at the other. The two rolled quickly while some shouts were heard around. You tried to call Jude's name as you watched him throw punches at the other.

The commotion was big as some teammates stepped in to separate them. You quickly approached your boyfriend, seeing him being held back while he moved his jaw as if it were sore. "Take my wife's name out of your mouth." The words came out of him, and you didn't feel afraid as you watched him glare with hatred at the other man — it was a different feeling.

"Jude, calm down, please." You asked as you watched him avert his eyes to yours, as if he felt your words deeply, as if he was afraid he had scared you. You knew then that you needed to get him out of there right away. You gave a look to Jude's teammates who were holding him, signaling that you would take him with you — you needed to leave as quickly as possible.

You took the man's strong hand, ignoring the bruises for the moment. The punches must have been strong, causing light scratches; you would take care of that later. You walked quickly until you could find the exit as fast as possible to the locker room, where you could find a medical kit for the players. He followed you in silence, as if afraid of saying something that would make you abandon him in that moment.

However, you were stopped by the elder Bellingham's voice, who placed her hand on your arm. That made you see something again in front of you, as you were lost in your thoughts about how to bring your man back. "Jude? What happened to you?" Denise said, looking at her son worriedly, seeing his gaze different from his natural kindness and the bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

"Let me take him, Mrs. Bellingham." You said, looking into the woman's eyes, who parted her lips as if trying to say more words. "I just need you to please keep everyone as far away from the locker room as possible. Trust me." The words came out as she looked at her son, swallowing hard while the player nodded, giving authorization for the action. She agreed — there was nothing else to do but trust you.

YOU WALKED THROUGH THE CORRIDORS, seeing the area emptier than usual. Most people were with their families, and the area had few people who cast glances in your direction, but there was nothing to be done — it wasn't the time to worry about what others thought. You opened the door, motioning for him to enter first, watching him walk in.

"Sit down." You asked, feeling your heart calmer after finally finding silence in the place. You locked the door right after entering. There was no time to lose. "Do you know where the first aid kit is?" You asked, watching him sit down as you saw him raise his hand pointing to the top of the cabinet on the left side of the room. Then you quickly grabbed it, approaching Jude with firm steps. He needed this from you now. His gaze was still down, not looking up at you. "Look at me, Jude Bellingham." You demanded, watching him shake his head, trying to hide from what he might find.

"I don't want to see that you're afraid of me." His voice came out rough, with a bitter edge — not because of the bruises on his face, but strained, as if the words didn't want to be said, but there was no choice in their utterance.

"Jude..." You replied softly, and with your hand on his chin, you lifted it, seeing his eyes narrowed, still holding the fury from before, but with something more — something bordering on the desperation of fear of losing you. "How could I be afraid of you? There's no way I could look at you with anything other than love." The answer came directly from your lips, with the truth that couldn't be hidden — the truth of what existed between you. There was nothing to judge in the actions of the man who loved you.

"I never wanted you to see me like this." The dark-haired man replied, closing his eyes and biting his lips for a moment, as if holding words inside. "But when I saw that bastard talking about you like that..." The Real Madrid midfielder ran his hands through his hair, pulling at his scalp, trying to hold the fury inside.

"It would be impossible for me to reprimand you for wanting to protect me, Jude." You said calmly as you watched him stand up and walk around the room, then approaching you again, standing in front of your body, looking at you with those deep eyes that made you feel like you were lost — but as if you never wanted to be found.

"Tell me you're not afraid of me, looking into my eyes." He said as if he needed to be certain of your words, this time deeply, as he felt desire taking over his body, as if it needed to be expressed. You felt your body warm, with the sensation returning, as if your stomach became hot and you needed to press your legs together, because he didn't cause you fear — it was something else, the opposite of all that.

"I would never be afraid of you. Maybe I need to prove it to you." You said, pulling him into a kiss that made Bellingham bring his hands to your hips, pulling you quickly after the initial daze. He knew what you both needed. His full lips being consumed in a kiss that poured out the fire that existed in your relationship.

Your tongues lost in each other's mouths, searching for a secret that only you two could find. His hands were quick as he squeezed your ass over your shorts, making you moan. Your phone was quickly taken from your pocket and placed on the cushion of the bench.

You wanted everything he could give you. His hands were agile, lifting your shirt while caressing your breasts under your bra. Jude's lips left marks on your neck while you held back the sounds trying to escape your body. You heard a grunt in response — he didn't want that, he wanted to hear you, to know you were his. "Don't hold back your sounds from me. I need to know you're mine." Bellingham affirmed, making you nod in response. Your own hands were quick, lifting and removing his national team shirt. The chest in front of you made you give kisses while he himself closed his eyes, feeling your love.

Jude's fingers were agile, going to your shorts to remove them. Your panties were soaked as you felt him run his hands over your lips and finger you, his fingers entering slowly. Your legs intertwined around the tall man's waist as he held you, both of you against the locker. "Fuck." You heard the curse leave Bellingham's lips as he watched your reactions to the contact he was providing, knowing how to hit that spot with his fingers that he knew so well how to find, feeling your walls contract. It was as if he imagined what it would be like to have you around him, like the other times.

"Jude... I need." You said, throwing your head back in a soft but needy moan. You knew what you needed, and he knew it too: to feel that you were one, just one with each other.

"I know, baby." The player said, pulling you to his lips in a deep kiss while holding back your moans with his own mouth, swallowing yours. "Fuck, I need to taste you a little, love." You watched him kneel in front of you, placing you seated on the bench where he had been sitting earlier. Your pussy contracted in the emptiness after he removed his fingers from inside you. But it all happened quickly as he slid his tongue and fingers inside you. Your clit being found made you throw your head back, feeling that your orgasm was near.

Everything with him was too intense, in a way that made you squeeze your legs that he held over his shoulders. When your orgasm reached you, the moans with Bellingham's name were almost shouted through the football locker room. You wanted to give, and he wanted to receive everything he could from you. When your eyes met, he was licking his own fingers with your essence spread on his face, and they were so dark with desire that it made you want to feel him inside you — to feel everything he would give you and the connection that existed.

Jude moved quickly, his lips meeting yours, making you taste yourself. He said you were his favorite sweet. Then your bodies were aligned after the rest of the clothes were removed. His large member teasing your entrance made you want even more of it all — it wasn't just desire, it was more: it was love, but also reclamation.

Your hands intertwined like a promise as he introduced his member, letting out moans at how tight it was, your walls being warm, and he felt he could die right there in that moment. "Fuck, I want you for the rest of my life." He said the phrase as he began to penetrate your body, while you felt lost between his words and the imagination of what you lived and what you would live.

"Jude..." The sound of your voice saying his name came out broken as your lips met his again. The sound of the phone ringing reminded you for a few minutes that the world was waiting outside, that there would be headlines, tabloids — but you just wanted to lose yourselves in each other in that moment, in your mouths, in your bodies.

Between the line of reality and desire, between being good or being bad, nothing mattered as long as you could be together, your hands intertwined like your mouths and bodies. He penetrated your body while holding you firmly, waiting for you to reach orgasm. He loved the way you opened your lips in a silent moan and your back arched while your legs tightened around Bellingham's waist, waiting to receive everything he had to give you. He watched as you let go of everything you had for him in return. Your hands scratched his back with marks that you knew would still be there tomorrow, and his on your waist and ass. Jude came right after, his lips parting and his eyes closing. You just needed to feel each other, glued to one another, breath lost between hot kisses.

"I love that you're a good boy, Jude Bellingham." You said to him, bringing your hand to his neck, pulling him closer to you. "But I love your bad side too." The words made him smile in the most mischievous way, but sweet — the way only given to you.

"In every version, I'm yours." He said, looking into your eyes, confirming that eternal connection. "And you're mine." Then he brought his lips to yours again in a reclamation that he would always be there and that you would be each other's. The phone rang again — the world was outside those walls, the news, gossip, the world calling them. But what mattered was there, as long as they were side by side.

Hello angels, so today we got some unfortunate news with England's defeat in the World Cup. I really wanted them to win, but I bring you a one-shot from my husband Jude Bellingham.

It's the first time I'm writing about him so please be kind, I did my best. I hope you liked it.

I want to thank everyone who read and I ask for feedback because it's very welcome and encourages me to keep writing. I also accept requests!