#jude bellingham

click here for part one!

inwhich! jude thinks your viagra joke is dumb, so he takes some, and you have to help him out afterwards.

frannytalks! i promise i’ll get better at smut one day. :’) also my requests are always open, don’t be afraid to ask, but if you do request please make sure it’s at least a little detailed. (especiallyyyy if it’s smut!) i hope you enjoy this. don’t forget to join my taglist(s) here!

TW: smut!

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

masterlist , taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Judeland ? Jarling ? Haaude ? idk what is the shipname tbh

it exploded on twt and im shook, guess im gonna turn into a football rpf artist.

inspired by @/crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington's tomtord animatic pork soda

pic from pinterest and isnt mine!

wonderwall

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

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

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

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

the fans were already bouncing.

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

then the opening chords of wonderwall rolled around the stadium.

almost instantly, the england fans took over.

~

~

~

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

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

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

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

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

“and after all.”

a tear slipped down your cheek.

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

another tear followed. then another.

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

“your my wonderwall.”

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

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

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

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

“she’s crying already?” kane laughed.

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

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

but every few seconds, he looked back at you.

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

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

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

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

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

you were so happy that england beat mexico.

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

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

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

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

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

he just held you.

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

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

you nodded against him. “i know.”

another kiss. “we’re through.”

another nod. “i know.”

he smiled, feeling your shoulders shake.

“then why’s my baby crying?”

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

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

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

“hi,” he said softly.

you sniffled. “hi.”

“there’s my favourite face.”

“i’m literally crying.”

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

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

he saw it instantly.

“no…”

you nodded.

“don’t.”

“i’m trying.”

“baby…”

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

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

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

“can’t.”

“why?”

“‘cause you’re cute.”

“i’m a mess.”

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

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

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

“you looked so happy,” you admitted quietly.

he frowned just slightly.“yeah?”

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

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

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

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

your eyes searched his, onlt finding admiration.

“my family,”

“my teammates,”

“and you.”

you blinked.“me?”

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

you looked at him.“baby…”

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

“you keep saying things.”

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

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

around you, the stadium was still alive.

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

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

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

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

you looked at him. “…no.”

he laughed. “thought so.”

“i’ve got more.”

“how many?”

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

he grinned. “perfect.”

“why?”

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

and (if possible) you cried even harder.

~~

“You love it.” Dipping his head down slightly to talk to you, Jude laughs at your mock disgust, smug with the knowledge that you actually enjoy it; that far-off sweaty look of exhaustion that appears both on his face after a match and in bed with his head against the pillows after you’d slept together, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head and his face scrunch up when you do that thing with your hips or your tongue, making him pant breathlessly as if he’d just ran a mile. “Shut up.” Approaching the lift, you give his shoulder a nudge. It finally felt like your nervous system was relaxing after the past couple of hours of being on edge, your breath getting caught in your throat every time he’d appeared on the big screen, with his brown eyes aglow with ambition. While waiting, you press your foot atop his; the red ballet flats you’d worn to match your England top making him smile, just as he does when he sees all your pink toiletries next to his on the bathroom countertop. 

“Go have a sniff.” He jokes, about to lift his arm up before you shove it back down, turning around to see if anyone was looking. In the eyes of everyone else, you were still a mystery: the nameless girl Jude Bellingham was dating, with a private Instagram account she would never dare put on public. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to show him off, because you did, almost every single day, but you didn’t want to open yourself up for public ridicule or debate; you’d rather live in your own little bubble of domestic bliss, with lectures in the mornings and brushing your teeth with Jude in the evenings.

“Stop it.” You laugh, making him grin further. The lift finally dings, and you both step aside to let the other people out; Jude smiles, ever the gentleman, your lovely boy. Once it's empty and you walk in, he’s already manically pressing the close button, finger jamming against the ‘G’ for ground floor like he’ll die if the doors don’t slide shut in the next couple of seconds. Laughing again, your fingers wrap around his forearm. “Chill out.”

“I wanna kiss you.” Whispering through gritted teeth, he gives it one last push before the stoic voice comes over the speakers to say that the doors are closing. The voices fade, and the metal clunks, and you’re both left alone for only half a second before he grabs at your face to plant your lips onto his; tongue already desperately in your mouth, you can taste the mint gum he’d been chewing on for most of the match. “Missed you.” “I was right there.” It’s hard to talk in between all the kisses, the feverish pecks on your face and down the remainder of your neck as if he was making up for lost time. Teasingly, just to hear you squeak with surprise, he darts his tongue out under your jaw, right where you spray that expensive perfume he’d bought you for Christmas.

Puppy eyes

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary: You were just trying to make sure he was okay, doctor au

Tw: Hospital, a non specified fracture, medical talk soccer, cussing,

He was just about to score a goal when some idiot, I mean a respectable player from the other team, absolutely tackled him, how was this even allowed? Did none see how fucking harsh this man was with Bellingham?

Oh fuck, he was coming, he was coming to where I was, he was sitting down, like a puppy someone just kicked, can I legally kill a soccer player? I'm so fucking mad my blood is boiling and at this point I don't think I can calm down.

Until I approach him, carefully examining his face, his eyes, making sure that he passes the eye exams, making sure there is no sign of confusion, of vertigo, of dyslalia, anything that might make him feel hurt, I hate when they hurt one of these guys, but I hate even more when they hurt Jude.

-"How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"- I say, in an attempt at a professional question that sounds more like a worried cry.

-"I think I, I am okay, it's just my knee hurts, it hurts a lot."- Sure, it's where they kicked him, those brutes.

-"On a scale of 1 to 10 how would you classify your pain?"- I managed to sound more professional this time. -"10 being the worst pain you've ever experienced and 1 being close to nothing."-

-"We need to take this guy for a radiography, he's positive for the McMurray test, pain on the wrist at exploration at distal ends of the radius and ulna."- I ordered to my colleague and told the technical director, while we took him to more specialized care on the medical transport vehicle provided for instances like this, my anger returned.

-"No puede ser que estos malditos idiotas no se fijen en el daño que les hacen, míralo, me da cosa, todo lastimado, pobrecito."- I told my driver friend Pedro, who saw the altercation and also spoke Spanish, I didn't know that Bellingham spoke it too, and was deeply offended by me calling him poor thing and saying I felt bad to see him all hurt.

-"No necesito lástima, gracias."- he said with a sarcastic tone, saying he didn't need any pity, god am I stupid, obviously he spoke Spanish.

Pedro conveniently didn't answer me, or actually just turned deaf, as he put music on and seemed to completely ignore us in the back of the car.

-"No digo que des lástima, dije que me da lástima, mírate, tienes una condición física excelente para que un bruto venga a golpearte porque se le da la gana, pues no."- I defended myself, telling him he wasn't the one who portrayed pity but I was the one that felt bad for him, I mean talking about his excellent body condition might be overstepping but I stood by my statement that a brute had no business hitting him like that.

The next day I realized that he had actually followed me online, ever since then I had been assigned as his doctor, I went where he went, I treated him every time he was hurt.

We slowly formed a bond that was very close to being friends, close friends actually, we started talking every day and sending each other texts about everything and anything.

-"Jude I need to talk to you."- I said in a serious tone one day when he and I were alone, we were talking about everything and anything and the moment of truth had to come out. -"I don't think I can be your doctor anymore."- I almost whispered, it was a harsh truth.

A lethal and honest piece of myself that I had no choice but to share with him, not because I didn't want to treat him, but because I was dangerously close to overstepping a line I couldn't cross.

-"Hey, think about it,"- he said with his puppy eyes, those puppy eyes said more than any word in the world, no matter what language it was in. -"if the problem is monetary I will take personal care of anything."-

I smiled, he was so sweet, too sweet, and that's why I couldn't stay here.

-"I,"- this was going to be harder than I thought as my mouth went completely dry and I felt my heart pound and my skin start to sweat. -"I, it's just, I'm having unprofessional feelings, romantic feelings for you and,"-

I refused to look at him in the eye, if I looked and he was disgusted or anything unpleasant I would, I would.

He grabbed my hand, he looked almost excited, playful even.

-"So unprofessional feelings huh?"- he looked happy, why did he look happy and relaxed and scared at the same time, how could he look all those things and still be breathtakingly beautiful.

-"That's too bad because, I have unprofessional feelings for you too, romantic unprofessional feelings."- he said as he stole a kiss from my lips, as playful as he always was with me.