sweet angel princess

the shiny new rock on your finger shone beautifully under the dazzling lights in the theatre, your cheeks hurting with how much you’d been smiling since jack had popped the question.

while he didn’t win the oscar, he got the real prize when you said yes, your shriek of excitement making him all the more happier as he spun you around in his arms, lovingly kissing you before setting you back down onto the floor.

your heeled feet clacked against the flooring as he rushed you out, giggles making your chest vibrate as you snuck out some back door of the theatre to evade the pushy paparazzi, like two teenagers afraid to be caught.

“we should probably stay ya’know,” you smiled, looking back over your shoulder at the closing swing door, the streetlight above you and jack shining down onto you both, the scene like something out of a movie.

“they’ll be fine without us baby, we can sneak away for a bit no?” he hummed, those dashing dimples of his that first drew you in showing prominently, making your knees buckle, your feet already moving after his before your mind could catch up.

he held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, wiggling his brows in the dorky manner you’ve grown accustomed to, only sparking an even wider smile to grace your features as you slid into the backseat, jack following right after, closing the door behind himself.

“jack…” you finally spoke, batting your lashes as you watched him, your cheeks warming at the manner in which his eyes traced your facial features, the love in his gaze evident, but the raw need he had for you hard to ignore too.

“mhm honey?” he clears his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he leans his head onto his hand, propped up by his elbow.

“what are we doing here?” you smiled, whispering in response, your pupils moving from side to side, almost as if to check if anyone was around.

“can’t a guy want some alone time with his soon to be wife?” he charmingly says, causing you to roll your eyes, biting back a smile as your hands rest in your lap, the metal of the band of your engagement ring cool against your skin, the chill making you smile to yourself.

“god you’re beautiful baby, how on earth did a fella like me get so lucky?” he mumbles, swiftly reaching forward in the limited space of the backseat, his large hand wrapping around your waist to tug you into his lap, your polka dot adorned designer piece all fluffed out around you as you sat in your dear lover’s lap.

you bit back a giggle at his sugar talking; that damned tongue of his. “just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself now could you?” you hummed, bottom lip wedged between your pearly whites, your manicured hands sliding up his suit adorned shoulders, lazily tugging his suit jacket off, moving your hands right to the nape of his neck, running them through his slick backed hair, that little stubborn curl that always flopped down onto his forehead making you hum in content.

“damn right i couldn’t,” he laughs, sliding his one hand from your waist up to jaw, cupping your chin softly before pressing his lips to yours, your mouths moving languidly against one another’s, his hand that was still settled on your waist tugging you closer, the tent in his slacks pressing all hot and needy against your own centre, his incredible size already reducing your mind to a mess.

the kiss grew desperate quickly, his tongue running across your bottom lip to ask for permission, passionately frenching as soon as you parted your lips, allowing him to claim your hot, wet mouth with his.

“mhm, you think it’s a-a good idea to have sex here baby?” you breathily spoke between kisses, his hand on your waist sliding to the hem of your dress, his calloused hands sliding across the supple skin of your thigh right up to your hip, using his leverage to tug you back and forth across his bulge, your speech broken as your mind got all fuzzy.

he continued to kiss you with a hunger you haven’t quite seen before, whimpering, fucking whimpering into your mouth as you began to roll your hips on your own accord, “you kiddin’? honey it’s a horrible idea but i couldn’t give a rats ass right now with how beautiful you look on top o’ me; most gorgeous woman in the world,” he murmured into your lips, moving his kisses down your jaw, taking your earlobe between his teeth before trailing his lips down the hollow of your throat, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses to the unmarked skin there.

you smiled softly as you tilted your head up, eye’s fluttering shut as his hand snuck down the front of your underwear, his index and middle finger slowly but steadily moving over your throbbing clit, down to your already gushing entrance, his kisses faltering against your neck as he pulled away, moaning at how wet you were.

“this all f’me pretty?” he smiled, running his two fingers through your wetness, nodding as you whined when he pulled away, his hand trailing from your underwear and out from under your dress, your arousal glistening on the tips of his fingers, his eyes blown black with lust.

“good god,” he muttered under his breath, tentatively slipping his fingers pass the threshold of his lips, tasting your sweet, sweet essence on his tongue, groaning around his digits.

the image was obscene, something straight out of a porno, your lips parting in response; your handsome fiancée, earnestly groaning and trying to savour your addictive taste on his tongue, his eyes closed in pleasure, his dick hard as fuckin rock!

“god baby you taste amazing, y’gotta-“ he paused, his mind a pussy-drunken mess, breathless as he slipped his saliva coated fingers into your awaiting mouth, your kiss bitten lips immediately wrapping around his lengthy fingers, keeping your sultry eyes on him as you began to bob your head, sucking his digits clean of your arousal and his saliva almost as if you were sucking his heavy cock.

“y’re gonna be death of me y’know that?” he smiled, his tone of voice conveying just how much he needed you, the corners of your lips quirking as you smiled around his digits, sliding them out from between your lips, a string of saliva connecting you to his fingertips, revealing the raunchy behaviour you’d just partook in.

“now i’d usually love to be smothered by that pretty pussy o’yours but i gotta be inside you baby, need to feel you wrapped tight around me before i lose it,” he frantically spoke, moving his hand, the one with the digits that had just been between your plump lips, to settle loosely at the base of your throat, his touch sending goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.

he used the leverage he held by your neck to bring you close once more, capturing your lips in another messy kiss as his other hand worked to undo his slacks, your hands moving to rip the front of his shirt open, buttons flying with the sheer force you held, your hunger for each other conveyed through your frantic movements.

you trailed your nails down his chest, jack hissing against your lips at the feeling, all suave as he continued kissing you like your life depended on it, all whilst swiftly bunching your dress at your waist, revealing your soaked pretty pink underwear.

you whispered against his lips, his unoccupied hand moving your sticky underwear to the side, getting ready to slide his dick between your awaiting folds when you stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

he immediately stopped, on high alert now, pulling back with furrowed brows, “you wanna stop baby? did i do somethin’ wrong?” he eagerly asked, an apology on the tip of his tongue in case he did.

you shook your head, quelling his worries instantly, “no no nothin’s wrong, jus wanna put it in by myself, can i?” you asked cheekily, the windows all fogged up, surely giving you away to anyone that would pass by.

he smirked that cocky smile you loved, raising his brows suggestively as he watched you look down all lovingly at his throbbing cock, “course’ you can—y’don’t gotta ask y’know? it’s yours—can do whatever you want with it,” he hums, already showing signs of being pussy drunk.

you giggled at his word choice, mumbling a soft “dork” under your breath before running your thumb over the angry, red tip, pre-cum oozing from the head, using your thumb to spread it over his entire length, almost drooling at the sight of his veiny cock.

“fuckkk,” he hissed, biting down onto his knuckles as you teased him, lifting your hips slightly to run his tip through your sopping folds, brows creasing at the centre whenever it would catch onto your swollen clit, humming constantly as you essentially humped his needy cock.

“honey please-need to be inside you b’fore he gets all antsy,” he grumbles, pausing your movements as you snorted, “he?” you smiled, tilting your head at his silliness, surging forward to press your lips to his before he could talk again, sinking down onto his dick at the same time.

you both gasped into the kiss, feeling him in your tummy as he bottomed out, eagerly moving your hips once you grew accustomed to his size, something you had to do each time you’d make love to one another. he was a girthy fellow.

“god you feel amazing,” he groaned, his lips just pressed to yours, not even kissing anymore just touching, and that was all he needed, he just needed to be close to his girl whilst your pussy sucked the life out of him, riding him like there was no tomorrow.

his hands moved to tug the front of your dress down, your breasts spilling from the fabric, pulling away from your lips to all but make out with your voluptuous tits, moving from sucking to biting at your hardened nipples, paying the same amount of love and attention to the other one as your hips continued rolling down into his, the faint hair above his manhood deliciously rubbing against your clit.

the car smelt of raw sex and desperation, a sheen of sweat coating your once pristine figures, pinup curls all messy now due to the humidity in the car. the sight was absolutely filthy and you loved it.

jack pathetically whimpered again once you began rolling your hips in a particular fashion, spelling his surname out with each roll of your hips, thighs burning at the effort.

“can’t—fuck baby i ain’t gonna last—can’t wait to make you my wife; gosh mrs. castello you’re killin me here,” he breathed heavily, sneaking his right hand down to play with your swollen little pearl, flicking and pinching the bundle of nerves till you were crying, your tits bouncing with each laboured breath you took in, wanting so badly to scream out his name.

you were already on that sweet uphill journey to your climax when he called you mrs. castello, his hand toying with your needy clit only egging you on further, “jack-mhm so close baby, love you so fuckin’ much,” you cried out, blabbering as you moved your one hand from his shoulder to his jaw, his moans bordering on pornographic, getting louder and louder with his roll of your hips; pressing your index and middle fingers to his lips, jack immediately parting them to allow your digits into his hot, wet mouth, shutting him up effectively as he immediately sucked on your digits, groaning around them as you began bouncing on his cock.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you chased your orgasm with vigour, the combination of jacks lips around your fingers, his dick pummelling into you with each hop of your hips, his own hips thrusting up into you, the thrill of fucking in public—god it made your head all fuzzy, the tips of your ears burning, that coil in your belly snapping as he continued messily playing with your clit.

he moaned around your digits, your pussy squeezing the life out of his dick as your thighs spasmed; “oh god,” you cried, cumming around his thick cock, moaning like a bitch in heat as jack continued thrusting up into you, “shit shit shit baby-“ he stammered out wondering you slipped your fingers from his lips, his thrusts growing sloppy at the feel of your cunt squeezing and releasing him, throbbing around his length, the sensation sending his mind reeling as he came inside you, his fingers still slowly messing with your spent bundle of nerves, his cum spurring out in thick ropes as he fucked it up into you.

“oh my god—“ you breathlessly spoke, your hips still lazily rolling into his, forehead moving to rest against his, smiling as you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“that-that was awesome darlin, god i love you so so much-” he huffed, letting out a “whoo!” which only made you laugh against his lips, shaking your head as he whispered sweet praises to you.

unbeknownst to the both of you, the paps had received a tip from one of the theatre’s staff, the lot of them swarming in the direction of the car in hopes of getting something juicy on the new up and coming star, jack castello.

just as you were coming down from your high, ready to tug your clothes back on, loud voices boomed from outside, flashes going off all around the car. jacks head perked up with an urgency that made him dizzy, the high from his orgasm vanishing in an instant, his eyes going wide, face stark white as he realised what was happening; his first hollywood scandal—being caught having sex with his fiancée in the backseat of his car outside of the oscar’s.

“oh dear,” you huffed, scrunching your face in embarrassment at the predicament you’d caught yourself in, looking over your shoulder at the invasive vultures outside, covering your face as you kept your bare chest facing him, jack’s softening dick still inside.

“god baby i am so screwed,” he groaned, mumbling a “fuck” under his breath as he unconsciously made sure you were covered from prying eyes, blindly reaching for his discarded suit jacket to tug over your shoulders, all the while preparing himself for the scandal that would no doubt be front page news.

come monday, avis would definitely wring his neck out.

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“Lay it on me again,” you say, gesturing at Jack.

It’s late, too late, but this is important. Or so you’d insisted an hour and a half ago when he was pacing back and forth fretting over tomorrow’s screen test. 

“I dunno, sweetheart,” Jack sighs. “Maybe this one just isn’t gonna be mine. That’s fine, I’ll live–”

“Jack Castello,” you say firmly. He pauses, glancing at you, script in-hand. You point at the chair kitty-corner to yours at the dining room table. “Sit down and run ‘em by me again. This’ll be the one, I can feel it.”

Jack sighs, then reluctantly sits down. 

“The food’s gonna be done soon,” he says. 

“You’d better get goin’, then, Castello.”

Jack can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. You know him down to his core. You know him inside and out; so well, in fact that it almost frightens him at times. He looks you over, then looks down at his script. 

“You look beautiful tonight, Mrs. Holloway.”

“Emphasis on beautiful,” you remark, glancing at him. Jack blinks. “You’re in love. You’re lusting for me. Try again.”

“You look…Beautiful tonight, Mrs. Holloway–”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” you say sharply, delivering your line with dramatic emphasis. “I feel like a lady of the night in this hideous dress.”

“He chose it for you?” Jack asks, jealousy tinging his voice. You resist the urge to smirk. This go is already so much better than the other tries he’s had this evening. 

“Is it that obvious, Mr. Sullivan?”

“I can–”

“Stand up, move towards me. Do what you’ll be doing tomorrow,” you tell Jack. He hurries to his feet and takes a small step towards you. 

“I can tell that it isn’t you. It dims your shine.”

You let out a clipped laugh. 

“I lost my shine years ago.”

“Don’t say that, Mrs. Holloway.” Jack tucks two fingers beneath your chin and tilts your head up so that you are looking at him. You enjoy challenging him in this way – pushing him, daring him to always be better than what he thinks he can be. And lord, the way he’s looking at you…It makes you press your trembling thighs together. 

“You shine your light on me each and every time we’re together,” Jack breathes. You nod slightly, silently letting him know that his delivery was satisfactory.

“Have some shame, Mr. Sullivan–”

“–Please, call me Tony when it’s just the two of us–”

“–My husband is in the other room–”

“To hell with your husband,” Jack says, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging your body flush against his suddenly. You resist the urge to bite your lip. “I won’t let him stand between us any longer.”

You attempt to pull away half-heartedly. 

“Let me go.”

“I won’t,” Jack says, holding you tighter. “You’ll hear me, Mrs. Holloway.”

You push at his chest weakly, and Jack glances at your lips before kissing you deeply. You run your free hand, the hand that isn’t holding the script, over the back of his neck as you kiss him back. You know immediately that this is more than acting, that he certainly won’t be kissing his acting partner with this much passion tomorrow morning. He pulls back, and you look at him breathlessly. 

“You must come to your senses, Mr. Sullivan,” you say. Jack shakes his head. “You make that impossible,” he says. He traces your hip with his fingers. “How can I–?”

“Emphasis on ‘impossible’,” you whisper, smiling softly. Jack’s jaw clenches briefly before he re-focuses. 

“You make that impossible,” he says. “I can hardly think when I’m with you.”

You hesitate, glancing at your next line. 

“Neither can I,” you say, looking back up at him.

“Don’t think, then,” Jack says. He caresses your cheek and looks you over. “Just let me have you.”

He leans in and kisses you deeply once again. You melt into his touch, pulling him close by the back of his neck. Jack pulls away with a grin. 

“Better?” he asks excitedly. You smile, taking the script from him and tossing his and your copies aside before wrapping your arms around him. 

“Much better,” you tell him. You lean up and nip at his bottom lip. “You’re going to be fantastic, Castello.” “You really think so, sweetheart?”

“Mm. I know so.”

He exhales softly, smiling still, and kisses you for real. You tug at his slicked back curls and sigh as he begins to kiss down your throat. 

“You’re my favorite actor, Jack,” you breathe, letting your head tilt back to give him more room. He hums softly, laving his teeth over your jaw. You let out a shaky sigh, gripping his broad shoulders. Dinner is sizzling in the oven, you can hear it, but what’s a few more minutes? 

“What would I do without ya, sweetheart?” he asks, tugging up your dress slowly. He grips your thighs, then, and you hook one of your legs over his hip. 

“You’d probably be mighty bored,” you tease breathlessly. “Just you and your right hand all day, every day…”

“S’not what I meant,” Jack chuckles, reaching around to unbutton your dress. You smile.

“Mm. What did you mean?” you ask, even though you already know. Jack cups your cheek and kisses you again, gently this time. 

“I mean that I love you,” he says. 

“Oh, Jack. I know that,” you tell him, mussing his hair. “Don’t be a sap.”

“Can’t help it,” he says, pulling your dress up over your head and tossing it aside. “You turn me to mush, Mrs. Castello.”

Your smile widens, and you kiss him again as he hoists you up and sets you down on the table, which is already set for dinner. You gasp softly when your backside touches the wood. 

“Here–?’’

“Here,” Jack insists, reaching down to pull his hard, aching cock free from the confines of his trousers. You spread your legs immediately, revealing the wet spot at the center of your undergarments, and Jack lets out a soft grunt at the sight. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, grinning. “You need it just as much as I do.”

You smile back at him, humming as you scoot your hips to the edge of the table. He lets his leaky tip nudge against your core, and you inhale sharply as he wraps his arms around you.

“I won’t deny it,” you say, shaking your head. He tugs your underwear to the side, then nudges his tip against your entrance. You sigh, leaning your head against him. “Jack…”

“Mm?”

“Don’t tease me, my love…”

“It’s so much fun, though,” he says. He chuckles, then thrusts in suddenly. You gasp, eyes widening before fluttering shut. He always feels delicious; so thick and long and warm. He fills you to the brim and then some, and when he does, he’s mindful of how you are feeling. Not many men are as considerate as Jack is these days. 

You grip his shoulders tightly, clinging to him as he sets an intense pace for the two of you. The dining table creaks and squeals with the movements, and Jack grunts. His curls are falling into his flushed face, and when you run your hands along his arms, you feel the tensed muscles there. 

“You’ve b-been lifting again,” you breathe. Jack smiles. 

“You can tell?” he asks. You squeeze his arms playfully. 

“As if you throwin’ me around like a ragdoll wasn’t evidence enough,” you say.

“I haven’t–”

“I didn’t forget about yesterday morning,” you smirk. “Or the afternoon before.”

Jack kisses you deeply. He really loves you, your husband. He’s a good man, an honest man. He’s kind and talented and considerate, and he’s always been such a good fuck, even before he got big and buff for all these break-out movie roles. The truth of the matter is that Jack’s got a giant cock. There’s no way around it. You feel lucky each and every time you get to have him.

Jack suddenly swipes his arm across the dining table, shoving plates and silverware aside to make room for you to lie back. A plate falls off the table and shatters against the hardwood, but you pay it no mind as you slump back against the table. Your breasts bounce, your lips part, and your core clenches. Jack presses on the backs of your knees, bending your legs up, up, up, and his cock hits a spot so deep inside of you that it makes your body jolt with excitement. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim. He plows into you as he presses your knees towards your head, gritting his teeth in concentration. “Right there! Right there, Jack! Oh, god, yes!”

Jack lets out a soft grunt. The scent of burning food is beginning to fill the kitchen, but you know he’s almost there. He’s got this look on his face, one of pure focus and lust, and you scratch your nails down his arms as he chases his climax. 

“Come in me,” you breathe. Jack moans at your words. “Fill me, Jack. Oh, god, I want it…I want you!”

“R-Real…Mmm…Real l-ladylike, Mrs. Castello…” Jack teases softly, breathlessly. You chuckle as you clench around him.

“I-I’m sorry, would you rather I m-made you pull out?”

Jack shakes his head, his curls messy and unruly as he pounds you. His orgasm is rising, rising, rising – coming to a head like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“N-No,” he sighs. “No, no–”

“Thank me,” you say, touching his cheek as he leans over you. “F-For takin’ all’a you.”

Jack’s eyes meet yours, and in a flash, he’s coming. 

“Thank you!” Jack exclaims, gasping. His seed spills into you, fills you up in an instant, and you moan at the feeling. “Oh, man…Sweetheart…Atta girl…”

Your eyes flutter and your head falls back. When it does, Jack takes the opportunity to lean down and nip at your throat hungrily. You run your fingers through his hair, sighing as his hips begin to slow. You kiss him, your lips working against his desperately. 

“You’re so good t’me, Mr. Castello,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to keep him close. His cock is buried deep inside of you, and you clench around him just to make him squirm. Your nose nudges his. “You’re a real gentleman, y’know that?”

Jack chuckles, then kisses you again. 

“Only the best for my woman,” he says. 

It’s then that you realize smoke is beginning to fill the kitchen. You pat his cheek. 

“Get out of me before we set off the alarm,” you tell him. Jack releases your thighs, then kisses your cheek and pulls out. He turns to the side and clicks off the oven. He tucks his cock away, then reaches for the oven mitts. You hum, watching him with a smile as your breathing evens out. 

How in the world did you get so lucky?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Then the fans started up with “Hey Jude” and you had to look away quickly, blinking hard. The pride you feel swells up so huge it doesn’t fit in your chest, it spills over into these stupid tears every single time you hear the song, no matter how many times you see him do something like this.

“He looks exhausted,” Denise says quietly, her arm still hooked through yours, squeezing a little.

“I know. Bless him. I don’t know how he’s still standing out there. He gave that absolutely everything.”

You take some deep breaths with his parents, gushing over his performance as usual and wait for him to finish with everything else he has to do after the final whistle.

Soon enough, you watch him walk over showered and changed into the usual post-match tracksuits, his hood half up already like he’s already trying to shut the world out. Even from a distance you can see the heaviness in his shoulders, the way he’s moving a bit stiffer than usual, his tall frame carrying the weight of a country for ninety-plus minutes. He looks happy though. So, so happy. His dark eyes scan the stands until they find you three, and you can see the sparkle in them as soon as he spots you. 

He hugs his mum first, extra tight, murmuring something that makes her laugh and pat his back. All week she’d been saying watch your language, watch your tackles, watch your face so he wouldn’t get booked. You could see how proud she was of him, her eyes closing when they hugged. It almost made your heart burst. 

Then his dad, the two of them clapping each other on the shoulder like they always do, that quiet father-son thing that always makes your chest warm. Mark kisses his cheek, and your smile mirrors Jude’s bashful one. Only after that does he turn to you.

“There she is,” he says, voice a little rough from the game, his accent coming through even stronger when he’s tired. He smiles down at you, exhausted but sweet, and you stand up to meet him.

You cup his cheek, thumb brushing his sharp cheekbone, your other arm sliding round his broad back. He’s warm, solid, still carrying the smell of the grass mixed with fresh shower gel. “I’m so proud of you, Jude. That looked so tough out there.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft and quick. He’s never one for big PDA with the cameras hovering, but he never lets you feel unloved. Then his hand comes up, gentle as anything, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear. His eyes go all soft as he looks at you, the intense match-day fire dialled right down just for you. “Thank you, baby. Yeah… it was hard. Proper hard. But we got there. It was rough though, I’m shattered.”

You sit back down and he drops straight onto the seat next to you, no hesitation. His head finds your shoulder immediately, heavy and trusting, like he’s been waiting for this exact spot the whole night. You slide your hand up to scratch lightly at the back of his neck, the way he likes, and feel him let out a long breath, sinking further into you. The relief in his body is so obvious it makes your heart twist.

His mum and dad chat lightly for a minute — something about the referee, how proud they are, the usual post-match debrief — and Jude mumbles along, half in it, half gone. His hand finds yours in your lap, fingers threading together lazily.

After a bit he turns his head, lips brushing your ear as he lowers his voice. “Are you gonna come visit me tonight?”

You snort, playfully nudging his head away. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, babe.”

He laughs then, loud and bright, teeth flashing, his eyes lighting up with the loving mischief that always gets you. “What? I can’t get cuddles from my girl? After that?”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting your own smile. “Cuddles?”

His lip twitches, smirk spreading slow and dangerous. “Cuddles,” he repeats, all innocent like. “And a couple of kisses. Just three or four…”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. He’s dead on his feet, shoulders slumped, yet still managing to look at you like that. You ignore the heat pooling in your stomach from the way he's looking at you and try to think logically. The semi-finals are midweek. “You’re gonna cramp up at some point and whatever idea you’ve got of cuddles and kisses is gonna be straight out the window.”

“Can I not enjoy my recovery with my girlfriend? Is that against the law now?” He huffs dramatically, but his hands are already stroking up your sides, warm and familiar.

You huff at him, already giving in. “You’re so spoilt.”

He grins wider, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You can never say no to me.”

And it’s true. You can’t say no to him. Not when he looks at you like that. Cuddles. Right. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself being led by Jude back to his room in the team hotel in Miami. They’d just had a squad dinner, winding down after the match. As soon as players started to retreat he’d texted you and met you in the lobby. Other England camps weren’t like this in the past, you were so grateful the rules had been changed to let you see him, even if he should be resting.

He’d showered again, you could already tell by the cologne and body wash mix you could smell as you followed him down the quiet corridor. His hand was warm around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles every few steps. He still moved a little stiff from the game, the beautiful body of his carrying the bruises and the exhaustion, but there was this restless energy in him too, the win still buzzing under his skin.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, he didn’t stop talking. He kicked his slides off, flopping back onto the bed as he kept going, voice low and rough but nonstop the way it always gets when he’s over-excited.

“...and then after the equaliser, I swear the pitch felt like it was moving, the humidity was mad out there. But the lads were buzzing, it was so loud on the pitch. Harry pulled me over after and was saying something about the run we’re on now, and I was just thinking the whole time about that last chance, how I nearly messed up the touch but it just fell right. Then extra time, my legs were gone but you just dig deep, don’t you? Mum’s texts were killing me the whole week about watching my face and my language, I nearly got booked just for breathing heavy at the ref at one point—”

He laughed at himself, running a hand over his damp hair, eyes bright even though his shoulders were sinking deeper into the pillows. You perched on the edge of the bed, watching him, the usual warmth spreading in your chest.

He reached out and tugged you closer by the wrist, still mid-story. “—and then I was like, nah, we’re not losing this one. You get me babe? And then I was like—”

“Jude, take a breath, love. I was there and watching the whole thing,” you chuckle, adjusting to lie next to him on the bed. His arm slipped under your head straight away, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb moved slowly across your cheek, warm and a little rough.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he murmured, half-laughing at himself again, voice dropping lower. “I’m just… excited. I don’t know. We left everything out there and…”

He trailed off for a second, eyes half-closed, but his fingers kept moving, tracing your jaw, then down the side of your neck, like he couldn’t quite settle even though his body was heavy with tiredness. Up close like this you could see every little detail: the faint sheen of sweat still at his hairline from how warm it was in Miami, the way his chest rose and fell a bit quicker than normal, a fresh bruise along his jaw starting to darken. You breathed in his warm skin scent that always made your stomach flip.

He shifted closer, leg hooking over yours casually, voice going soft and a little rough with emotion. “It’s mad innit? One minute you’re out there thinking your legs are done, next minute the ball drops and it just… happens. And now we’re in the semis. Semis, babe.”

His grin came back, tired but bright, the one that always made your heart do stupid things. He pressed his forehead to yours for a second, breathing you in like he needed it more than air. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you were up there. Makes it all feel different.”

“I love you,” you whisper softly, thumb brushing his cheek, “and I’m so proud of you.”

“How proud?” he beamed, raising an eyebrow, a playful spark lighting up his exhausted face.

“Very proud. Like… prouder than you can even imagine. I think I’ve cried at nearly every game—”

Jude giggles, almost giddy, the sound low and warm in his chest. He loved praise, especially from you, it always turned him soft and a little cocky at the same time. “I know, my little crybaby,” he cooed, voice teasing and fond as he leaned in, pressing little kisses all over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each one gentle and sweet, like he was savouring being close after the chaos of the match.

“Shut up,” you laugh quietly, trying to sound stern but failing completely. “You need to calm down, baby. You have to sleep.”

“My body’s tired,” he mumbles against your skin, kissing your cheek again, then lingering lower near your jaw, “but the adrenaline is just making me wired, man.”

You stroke his side, up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, feeling the solid warmth of him under your palm, the faint tremor of leftover energy in his muscles. His tall frame was heavy against you, one leg tangled with yours, but his hands kept wandering. Sliding under the hem of your top to rest against your lower back, thumb tracing lazy circles there. 

After a moment he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s looking down at you properly. The lamp on the bedside table casts a soft glow over his face, his beautiful brown eyes and pink lips slightly parted. He looks unfairly good for someone who just played extra time in a stadium that felt more like a sauna.

“So…” he starts, a smirk creeping back in. “About those kisses I was promised.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting a smile again. “I don’t remember promising anything.”

“Oi, don’t lie to me..” He leans in closer, nose brushing yours, breath warm against your mouth. “I distinctly remember talking about three or four. Minimum.” His hand slides higher under your top, palm flat and warm against your ribs, thumb stroking just under the curve of your breast. “Come on, baby. I earned them, didn’t I? Scored two, dragged us to the semis… least you can do is give your man some proper kisses.”

He’s grinning again now, all cheeky and tired and completely devastating to your self-control . Before you can answer he dips his head and presses one slow kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another just below your ear, lingering there like he knows exactly what it does to you. 

“You’ve just wasted two kisses…and you look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

He groans in joking frustration, eyebrows furrowing to give you a little puppy dog look that always gets him out of trouble. “I just want cuddles and kisses before i sleep-”

He stops as you tilt your head at him, giving him another look.

“I swear, I swear! Baby, please…”

The pleading look on his face already has your stomach flipping, mouth a little dry. He’s so unfairly gorgeous like this. Tired eyes, messy damp curls,his toned body stretched out next to you, still radiating heat from the match. The way his tracksuit top has ridden up to show a sliver of toned stomach… it’s ridiculous how much you want him even when he’s half-dead on his feet.

“Fine,” you say, trying to sound stern but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to, “but you need to try and sleep too…”

He shifts slightly so you’re fully facing each other, one hand moving to your lower back, his leg still draped heavy over yours. “I can fall asleep kissing you.”

The kisses start off sweet and slow. Gentle presses of his lips against yours, his hand stroking your lower back under your top. His other hand in your hair, fingers loose and tired. Then they deepen.

Jude lets out a quiet, relieved sigh into your mouth as his lips part wider, tongue sliding in slow and warm. The kisses turn sloppy fast. Wet, lazy, unhurried in an exhausted way that somehow makes it hotter. His tongue moves heavy and deep, tangling with yours in long, messy strokes, licking into your mouth like he’s too tired to do anything but feel you. Every so often he sucks softly on your tongue or your bottom lip, pulling it between his before going back in deeper, slower, wetter. You can taste the faint mint from his post-dinner toothpaste mixed with the warm, familiar taste that’s just him. His breaths are heavier now, little groans vibrating against your lips as the kisses grow filthier. Your tongues sliding slow and slick, mouths open and messy, spit-slick lips catching every time you pull apart for air only to dive right back in.

He’s genuinely exhausted, you feel it in the heavy weight of his body against yours, the way his movements stay soft and sleepy even as they get more desperate. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, holding you there as he kisses you like he’s trying to melt into you. Deep, lazy swirls of his tongue, slow sucks, the occasional sleepy grind of his hips against your thigh. He’s half-asleep and completely turned on at the same time, and it’s doing dangerous things to you.

Your hand slides under his top to rest on his ribs, and the soft, needy sound he makes against your tongue makes you shiver hard in his arms.

“M’so hard for you,” he whispers against your lips, breathing heavily. He presses his hips forward, grinding slowly so you can feel exactly how turned on he is, the thick, heavy outline of his cock straining against his joggers.

“You need me to help you, baby?” you murmur, letting your hand trail down his stomach until your palm cups the hard bulge. He’s so warm, so fucking hard already, twitching eagerly under your touch.

Jude’s breath hitches, hips jerking up into your hand as he lets out a soft, desperate whimper. “Please…”

“But you’re so tired, Jude.” You stroke him slowly through the fabric, teasing, because you love when he gets like this…all soft, sleepy, and whiny for you.

“Baby—” he whines, the sound high and needy, forehead pressed to yours. His hand moves down to squeeze your ass, fingers digging in just a little. “M’never too tired for you… fuck, please touch me properly. I need it. Need you so bad..”

You push his joggers down just enough to free him and wrap your fingers around him. Jude’s whole body shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you start stroking him. You start slow, firm pulls from base to tip, thumb swirling over the slick head every time. He’s so thick and hot in your hand, veins pulsing, leaking steadily now. You’re transfixed by the sight of him.

“Fuck… yes, just like that,” he whimpers, voice all sleepy. His head tips back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open as soft, desperate little sounds keep falling out of him. “Your hand feels so good, baby… don’t stop, please. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.”

You twist your wrist on the upstroke and he jolts, hips bucking lazily into your fist, chasing the pleasure even though his body is heavy with exhaustion. Every whimper is quieter, needier. He’s almost submissive in the way he lets you take control, thighs trembling, fingers clutching at your waist like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

You lift his shirt higher so you can see his toned stomach, selfishly maybe, but he looked so pretty. You keep going, stroking him faster, tighter, watching the way his abs clench and his chest rises and falls quicker. “So pretty Jude,” you whisper, and Jude lets out a broken whine, biting his bottom lip.

“Baby… I— fuck, I’m so close already,” he pants, voice cracking. “Your hand is gonna make me come if you keep— ah—”

You slide down his body before he can finish, taking him into your mouth in one slow, wet glide. Jude’s back arches off the bed with a loud, guttural moan, one hand flying to your hair, holding on tight as his fingers tremble.

“Oh my god— your mouth, fuck—” He’s losing it completely now, sleepy whimpers turning into desperate, broken sounds as you bob your head, tongue swirling around him, sucking him deep. “So warm… so fucking good. Baby, please— I can’t— you’re gonna make me come down your throat if you keep sucking like that.”

His hips twitch up gently, like he’s trying so hard to be good and not fuck your mouth, but his control is slipping. Whiny, breathy moans fill the room as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing along the underside. Jude’s thighs shake, hand tightening in your hair, voice hoarse.

“Baby… slow, please, I’m so sensitive— fuck, I love your mouth so much…”

You slow down and look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are glassy, half-lidded with exhaustion and pure bliss, lips parted, chest heaving. The sight of you between his legs like this seems to ruin him even more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moans, voice cracking, thumb stroking your cheek gently. “My beautiful girl.”

He keeps watching you with that dazed, adoring look, hips rocking up in tiny, helpless movements as you suck him slow and deep. You swirl your tongue around the head, then take him all the way again, relaxing your throat until your nose brushes his stomach. Jude’s whole body trembles.

“Fuck— baby, look at you,” he whispers, voice hoarse and reverent. “Taking me so well… even when I’m this tired. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

His praise comes out soft and broken, each word punctuated by a shaky breath or a little whimper. You can feel how close he is, the way his cock throbs heavier on your tongue, the constant little twitches of his thighs, the way his fingers keep flexing in your hair like he’s fighting not to lose it. But he stays so good for you, letting you control everything, just moaning and whining softly every time you swallow around him or suck a little harder.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that…” he pants, eyes fluttering. “Your mouth is too good, love. Too warm and wet and— shit—”

You pull off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock as you stroke him slowly with your hand instead. Jude lets out a wrecked, needy sound at the loss, hips chasing your mouth for a second before he catches himself. Before you can say anything, he’s tugging at you weakly, desperate.

“Too far away… come back up here, please.”

You crawl back up his body and he immediately pulls you in, kissing you deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your top, squeezing your waist, your hips, like he needs to feel all of you at the same time. The kiss goes on and on, lazy and filthy, tongues sliding slow while he whimpers softly into your mouth every time you stroke him.

You keep working your hand over his cock, slow and slick, and Jude’s hips rock up to meet every stroke, his breathing getting shakier. He breaks the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

“You don’t want to come yet?” you whisper against his lips, still stroking him lazily.

He shakes his head, eyes fluttering. “Wanna be closer to you baby, wanna make you feel good.. wanna.. wanna— fuck.”

His sentence cuts off into a broken moan. For a long moment he just kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other slides down your body. His palm smooths over your stomach, then lower, teasing along the waistband of your shorts like he’s giving you time to feel the anticipation. His fingers finally slip under the fabric, pushing your shorts and panties down your thighs in one clumsy but eager movement. He helps kick them the rest of the way off, big hands gentle on your skin the whole time.

Once they’re gone he settles between your spread legs, still kissing you slow and deep. His fingers drag through your folds and he curses softly against your mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck…” He circles your clit slowly, almost lazily, but the way his breath catches tells you how much it affects him. “All this for me? After I played like shit for half the game?”

You laugh breathlessly, rolling your hips against his hand, and he smiles a tired, crooked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. His fingers keep moving, slow circles on your clit, then dipping inside you just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He’s still so hard against your thigh, twitching every time you moan.

Jude buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking softly while his fingers work you open. “Need to be inside you,” he mumbles against your skin. “Please, baby. Wanna feel you around me. Wanna make you come first… then you can ride me slow while I hold you. I just— I need you close. So fucking close.”

He curls his fingers just right and you arch into him, moaning his name. Jude whimpers in response, pressing his cock against your hip like he can’t help it. 

“Please, baby,” he breathes against your neck, voice hoarse and shaky. “I need to be inside you. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod, pulling him up for another deep kiss as he lines himself up. “If you get tired just say, Jude,” you whisper against his lips. He looked so exhausted — eyes heavy, shoulders slumped — and part of you still felt a pang of guilt that he was going to be the one putting in all the effort tonight.

“You’re such an angel,” he whispers softly, pecking your forehead with heartbreaking tenderness, then leaning down for another deep kiss. “As if I could ever be too tired to fuck you.”

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick, and you both moan into each other’s mouths as he starts pushing in. He’s so slow and careful, even though you can feel how badly he wants to bury himself.

“Fuck… so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Inch by inch he sinks into you, stretching you open until he’s fully seated, hips flush against yours. The sound he makes is relief mixed with pleasure, a long, broken moan that vibrates through his chest.

For a moment he just stays there, buried deep, breathing hard against your lips. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, desperate for the full body contact. You can feel how tired he is, the way his muscles are trembling from the long match and the effort it’s taking just to hold himself up. “You feel so good,” he groans. “Just for me, yeah? Tell me this pussy belongs to me. ”

“It belongs to you, baby. Only you,” you moan softly, clenching around him. “I belong to you.”

A shaky breath leaves him. He buries his face in your neck, sucking softly on your skin while he gives one slow, grinding roll of his hips. “Good girl… all mine,” he mumbles, the words slurred with tiredness. “I don’t share you with anyone.”

Then he starts moving with slow, lazy rolls of his hips, grinding deep instead of thrusting hard. Every stroke is deliberate, like he’s savouring every second even though exhaustion is weighing on him. His breaths are heavier, his arms shaking slightly as he holds you, sweat beading on his forehead and sliding down his temple. Still, he doesn’t stop. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, and Jude lets out a soft, whiny sound again that makes you clench harder around him.

“Baby… yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Feels too good. You’re squeezing me so tight— fuck.”

His mouth finds yours again, the kiss sloppy and tired, tongues sliding lazily while he keeps that slow grind going. One hand stays gripping your hip, the other slides up to cup your breast through your t-shirt, thumb brushing your nipple almost absentmindedly, like even his hands are running out of energy but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s so vocal, whimpering your name, telling you how perfect you feel, how much he needs you.

You can feel him getting closer, his thrusts losing their steadiness, becoming a little more desperate. “I’m so close,” he whines against your mouth. “Come with me, baby. Please. Wanna feel you come around me.”

One of his hands slips between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. The combination of his cock dragging deep inside you, his fingers, his soft sleepy moans, pushes you over the edge first. You clench around him hard, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you.

Jude follows right after with a broken groan, burying his face in your neck as he comes deep inside you, hips stuttering. “Fuck— love you, love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin, trembling through it.

Afterwards he collapses on top of you, heavy and warm, still buried inside. His arms wrap around you tightly, face tucked into your neck as he catches his breath. Soft kisses press against your shoulder, lazy and sweet.

“Best recovery ever,” he murmurs with a tired little laugh, voice muffled. “But I’m never moving ever again.”

You run your fingers down the muscles of his back, smiling as both of your breathing starts to even out, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. You kiss his temple, open your mouth to respond, but he's snoring softly before you can even reply.