WOAHHHH AMAZING 100/10

WOAHHHH 🤩 AMAZING 100/10❤️

A Masked Obsession

Plot: After helping your lover with moving out to another country, you find some stuff that comes to your interest. Unbeknownst to you, a certain mask comes to benefit.

Pairing: Kylian x Reader

Genre: Smut, Dom!Kylian

Warnings: kinda kinky, spitting (requested), hardcore

A/N: I hate how my brain gives me stupid ideas before I go to bed...

“What about that one?” You say, holding some grey joggers up for him to see.

“Nah, leave it here.” He shrugs and continues packing his bag.

The late afternoon light spills into the room as you stand in front of his closet, helping Kylian pack for his move to Madrid. His suitcase is open beside him, half-filled with neatly folded clothes and a few personal items. He’s focused, methodically folding a favorite jersey, the weight of the move hanging in the air between you like a quiet, unspoken goodbye.

You hand him a stack of shirts when your fingers brush against something smooth and unfamiliar. Curiously, you pull it out—a black protective mask, worn and slightly scuffed. Recognition sparks immediately, and you smile.

“Wait, is this the mask you wore when you broke your nose?” you ask, holding it up, remembering the match where Kylian played through the injury, that mask becoming a symbol of his resilience and determination.

Kylian looks over and grins, a mixture of pride and nostalgia in his eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t realize I still had that. Thought I got rid of it.”

You can’t resist the urge to slip it on, the cool material fitting snugly over your face. You turn toward him, your voice slightly muffled behind the mask. “I’m batman!”

He chuckles, throwing another shirt into his suitcase. “Don’t you mean Batwoman?”

You grin beneath the mask, peeling it off with a playful flourish. “No,” you say, voice softening into a low, teasing tone. “I have always been on team Catwoman.” Your eyes meet his, glinting mischievously as you draw out the last word. You curl your fingers into mock claws. “Miaau.”

Kylian freezes mid-laugh, his smile fading just a bit as something shifts in the air. His gaze flicks to your hand, the way your fingers mimic the slow, teasing swipe of claws. You didn’t mean anything by it—at least, not at first—but now there’s a heat building in his stare that makes your heart skip.

He clears his throat, trying to brush it off with a casual shrug. “Catwoman, huh? That’s cute.”

Cute?

You rock your hips as you walk across the room. “Careful, sweetheart… I play rough.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. But you notice the change. Something in his voice has thickened, a hesitation beneath his words. Sensing his sudden interest, you decide to push it a little further. Crawling onto the bed, you prowl closer, your movements slow, deliberate. “What, afraid of a little scratch?” you ask, your voice dipping lower, more playful.

“Y/N....” he warns. “Come on, I’m trying to pack. My ride to the airport is going to be here in an hour.” His voice suddenly hard, darker than you’ve ever heard it. His expression has changed, the usual boyish grin gone, replaced by something far more intense.

He looks away for a moment, as if trying to shake off whatever’s stirring inside him.

You sit by the edge of the bed, legs crossing. “It’s just a little teasing.” You tease.

“Well, you’re playing a dangerous game,” He murmurs, his voice rougher than before, his body tense, as though he’s holding something back.

Your heart races, but you can’t resist pushing a little more. “Maybe I like danger,” you say, your smile coy, your lips barely curving as you sit back, still playing the part.

Kylian’s eyes finally snap back to yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. He should laugh it off. He should make a joke, push you away, anything to bring things back to normal. But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a slow step closer, “Good.” he says. His gaze locked on yours, the heat in his eyes unmistakable now. “I’ll make sure you get an unforgettable dose.”

You swallow hard, his gaze darkening as his resolve starts to crack. He’s close now, too close, and you feel the air between you change—charged, electric.

Your breath hitches, the air between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken. His fingers brush against your cheek, trailing down to your jawline, tracing the edge of the mask. It’s a light touch, but it sends shivers through you. There’s a possessiveness in the way he looks at you now, as if the mask has unlocked something darker in him and he’s waiting for you to surrender.

You don’t move, don’t dare to break the tension as his hand slides lower, curling gently around your throat. His grip is firm but not harsh. “Let’s see how far you’ll go..” He whispers, lips brushing the edge of the mask. “, Kitty cat.”

And then, without warning, he closes the distance. His mouth crashes into yours, fierce and unapologetic, a kiss that’s raw, possessive, full of dark longing. It’s not gentle; it’s hungry, like he’s been holding back for too long and now, with the thought of leaving, he can’t anymore. His hand tightens at the base of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he’s claiming you in that moment, his body pressed flush against yours.

The kiss deepens, the taste of him overwhelming, his tongue sliding against yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Every touch, every movement, feels like it’s laced with a deep desire, the urgency of time slipping away, and the desire to make this moment last. His other hand grips your waist firmly, possessively, like he can’t let go, as if everything else ceases to exist in this instant.

The mask on your face amplifies the tension, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful, like you’ve stepped into a side of him you’ve never seen before. His breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back, his voice hoarse with desire.

“I just hope...” He strips off his shirt. “.. You know what you’re getting yourself into.“

He’s on top of you again, gives your lips a taste and takes your hands in his, pinning them above your head.

“These stay up.” He lets you know.

Then he kisses you again, this time slower, but no less intense, like he’s savoring the moment, as if trying to memorize every inch of you before the world pulls him away. Instantly your hands move to grab the back of his neck and he pulls away, pinning them once more above your head.

“Up, I said.” He warns, and you gulp.

He pulls your shirt up, and the cups of your bra down to suck on the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Fuck,” you mutter, then you close your eyes, lips pressed flat. Heat hitting your cheeks.

This time you intend to comply. But oh, his kisses...

His kisses were fire, ever burning on your skin. And you can’t fight the urge not to grab him by his neck and pull him closer to you.

So you do as you please. You pull him closer and he shoots back by leaving your breasts bare. His eyes are dark, intense, and magnetic, holding a captivating depth. They shimmer with an untamed desire, as if constantly yearning for something just beyond reach.

“I guess we’ll have it my way then.” He breathes, undoing his belt.

The click of the metal buckle clinging in your ears and your heart. The rustling of the freed belt sends a shiver down your spine. He ties your hands with his belt. The leather is slightly cool on your wrists. Pinning your hands above your head once more.

“They stay up there.” He orders and you nod.

His gaze lingers on you, his eyes reflecting the promise of what is to come, as you lay there, hands bound and heart pounding, completely at his mercy.

He strips your lower part naked.

“Now..” His eyes darken. “I’ll have you as I’ll have you. And I’ll take you how I’ll take you. And there’s not a single thing to do about it.”

You clear your throat and you contemplate whether you should say something or stay silent.

“Spread those knees, baby. Let me see that pussy from up here.”

You part your knees, allowing him to see you. And his expression turns hard.

“Now, while you’re down there you’re gonna look up at me with those eyes and watch me lick you clean.” His words are demanding and dark. It makes your stomach feel funny. He gets down on his knees and your stare at his back muscles flex as he grips your thighs in a possessive manner.

You jolt as he starts kissing your thighs and making his way to your core. His breath fans over your clit, and you whine, doing your best not to moan.

“Now who’s playing rough, huh?” He whispers. And before you can answer, his head dips, and his dark hair tickles against your legs seconds before his mouth fastens around your clit. Your hips buck, but he holds you still, gripping your thighs to hold you in place, and to anchor his face right where he wants it. He’s sucking and flicking his tongue at the same time, ratcheting up the pleasure with each passing second. It’s almost too intense.

It’s almost too much.

He merely growls against you, the vibrations of his voice driving you that much closer to that powerful edge.

Sweat accumulates under the mask.

The scent of your arousal mingles with the musty smell of the mask, creating a heady and intoxicating aroma that fills the air. His tongue is rough yet gentle, devouring you with a skillful touch. The texture of the protective mask scratches against your nose, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

“Kylian... Oh fuck, please...”

He wrenches his lips from your clit.

“Please what?”

“I can’t.. Please...” You beg, you can’t form words. But he doesn’t give you what you want. He works according to his own book.

He sucks on your clit until the pressure becomes unbearably hot. White stars dance behind your eyelids as you whimper in short, choppy breaths.

You can’t say it, but by the way your fists are clenched and your hips are bucking, lips pressed flat. He knows you would be begging for him to go faster, harder, to be touched all over. Your hands are clasped together like you’re praying, and he wonders how good you’d look kneeling on the floor. But he’ll save that for later, right now he wants you to suffer a bit. So he stops completely and you gasp out in frustration.

“Fuck!” You groan angrily. Trying to move your hands to do it yourself, he smirks that you are tied up nicely. And he thinks that you’ll have to do this more often.

“Tell me how bad you want me to touch you.” He whispers.

“So, so fucking bad,” you whimper. “I’ll do anything.”

“You wanna make me proud, don’t you?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“So, make me proud. Come on my face.” He thrusts his tongue in your opening, and you shamelessly scream in pleasure.

He dives into your core, licking your clit slowly and running his fingers through your slit. He doesn’t hesitate to put in two fingers, watching as you muffle a gasp out in pleasure. He pumps them in and out slowly, reaching with his free hand to squeeze your hip.

“Kylian... I—.. I’m coming, I’m coming.” You repeat and he smiles before kissing your thighs again and then looking back at you. Pulling back.

Why the fuck is he pulling back?

“Kylian...?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t do this, please.”

He stands tall and your eyes follow his every move.

“Kylian... I swear to God..” You threat. Eyes burning in fury. “Don’t play this game.”

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked games?” He bites his lower lip and it irritates you. It frustrates you how you allowed him to take control and he’s taking advantage of it.

“Please, Kylian. Let me.”

“Let you what?”

“Let me come.”

“Mmm.” Pretending to be thinking. He stands tall and unbuttons then unzips his jeans to ease the tightness in his pants. Then he towers over you. “Non.”

Then his fingers are inside you again. With each flick of his finger on your nub, he turns the pace up slowly, higher and higher, until your breaths are shallow and whimpers sound.

“Please. I’m sorry—so sorry.” There are tears welling in your eyes. You just want to be released. “I shouldn’t have teased you. Really, I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help it.”

“Ouais.” He pulls his fingers out and lifts his hand to his mouth, his two fingers coated with your cream. He savors the sweetness. A soft *click* echoes as his lips release them. “You shouldn’t have. But I’ll make sure you learn your lesson.” His expression is one of indulgence, completely absorbed in the creamy delight.

He hovers over you and grabs the belt that’s wrapped around your hands and effortlessly pulls you up. You sit in front of him. On the same level as his torso.

He amends the issue quickly, standing before you and pulling his jeans a bit down, just enough to free his hard member. You watch with undivided interest when his length springs free of his boxers. Your gaze locks right on it, deepening into a look of pure want.

“Do you see this cock? Do you see that pre-cum? Dripping already.” He teases you, pumping himself once as his blood rises to the surface.

“Do you see how it’s not in your mouth?” He strokes his length with his fist. “Too bad it’s gonna stay that way.”

What?

“Kylian...” You try to complain, but he cuts your words.

“Play with yourself. Play with it the way I like to watch.” He demands while stepping backwards to rest against one of the moving boxes.

Shock pummels through you, but you don’t hesitate, not with his face looking so intense. You don’t question his demand, not once. And with your fingers you reach for between your wobbly legs, throwing your head back.

“No, no, no. Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

You make eye contact. Your face hot, and he bites his lip at the sight. How you’re completely and entirely helpless. How your eyes glaze over with pure bliss.

“Look at you being a good girl already. It would be a damn shame to stop. Wouldn’t it?” He asks and you whine.

Slicking up his hand, wrapping it around his member, and rubbing it up and down. You can see the skin sliding back and forth.

He strokes it faster now, his breath rigid.

“So..” He breathes. “Stop.”

What the fuck?!

“Kylian, no!” You shout, already frustrated by his mind games.

“Hands off.” He orders. “On your knees, face down.”

You lean forward, facing away from him. Your arms rested on the mattress when you hear his devotions; words spoken in a voice that drifted away from you. Being most devout he stands behind you and growls.

“You’re gonna get fucked the way you deserve. Do you understand?”

You whimper.

“Come here.” He grips your hips and you gasp.

*Ding-dong*

The sudden, sharp sound of the doorbell cuts through the quiet, startling in the room.

“Hmm. Would you look at that. It’s my ride to the airport.” He pushes himself away from you, putting his clothes back on. “Keep it wet.”

Kylian moves quickly to the door as you fall quiet, the tension easing just slightly. The sound of the door creaking open is followed by muffled voices outside. His tone is low, almost casual, but there’s an edge of urgency in his words. Through the door, you catch snippets of his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s them… Just grab the bags... There’s one more upstairs. I’ll go get it.” He says, his voice faint but clear enough to recognize the familiar instructions.

He bounds up the stairs with quick, purposeful strides, the soft thud of his shoes barely muffled by the carpet. The muted creak of the wooden steps follows him as he ascends.

He clothes the door behind him. His eyes suddenly turn to mischief.

“Keep. Your mouth. Shut.” He warns.

He grasps the back of your neck with firm fingers, pulling you toward him with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation.

“He can wait.” He says mid-kiss. Then your lips collide again with a raw force, his breath mingling with yours as he claims your mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. As if trying to consume every part of you in that moment. He snatches his lips away from yours.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply grabs his bag and hurries downstairs. It takes him good two minutes to get back to you. Closing the door behind him.

He exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping as the frustration washes over him. Then he walks toward you. “Open.”

Open what?

He slaps your left thigh with his hand to part your legs. And then you hear him spit. It wets your core with a faint splatter.

He pounds into you with a deep, strong thrust. And a sharp moan pours from your throat, followed by his name.

He’s grunting through the thrusts and you lick along the seam of your lips, as if to taste his name on your tongue. And you moan loudly.

“That’s a good fucking girl. That’s a good fucking girl.” He praises. Sweat building up.

Wanting more of a friction. More of him. You throw your head back and you match his movements. Bouncing back so he can get even deeper into you and hit that spot.

“There you go, throw it back. Bounce that ass on me the way I like it. Come on.” He groans. His tone frantic.

You flinch, your brain beginning to split and latch on to the fact that you’re being fucked in a way you never knew you would like.

He pulls you by your hips and you sink your face on the mattress because you can’t take it no more. Screaming into it with pleasure.

“I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna fucking ride you till you can’t fucking walk.”

He groans into the skin of your back.

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Well here it fucking is, so fucking take it.”

He fucks you harder, seeming to get off on your body.

This entire situation is beyond fucked up. Yet, it becomes impossible to feel a damn thing outside of the orgasm looming.

Cries pour from your throat, and he moans them all off, proving just how starved he is.

“Don’t stop,” You gasp, your voice strained. “Fuck, Kylian, please.”

His lips retreat from your back, and he hovers over your back only to grab your jaw and turn your face to the side and take your lips between his teeth.

His thrusts are even deeper now as he moans against your mouth. “Take that fucking cock. Come on. Come on. Fuck me.”

His kiss trail down to your neck. You lose all coherent thought, your surroundings becoming disjointed and incomprehensible. The pleasure is like a disease, shutting down your nervous system and taking control. You’re a slave to his power. Drunk on his love, and there’s nothing you can do but succumb.

“Fuck me good.” He whimpers. “Fais-moi jouir.” (make me cum) He repeats and your bones liquefy, the muscles surrounding them seize. Vaguely, you feel rather than hear the broken cry leave your throat.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.” He whispers hazily.

And with that announcement, his body tenses up. Your back is arching like the string of a bow.

He closes his eyes as the orgasm surges through him, tidal waves at first, turning into ripples that slowly ebb out, leaving every muscle of his body absolutely exhausted. Then he releases, your head slumping forward as he explodes into his orgasm, groaning loudly, shamelessly, probably having the chauffeur worried.

Time stills, and you shatter just as he releases on your back, sending blood rushing to your head, intensifying the explosion detonating throughout your body.

Your thighs shake, your eyes roll back in their sockets and you scream out your orgasm, and clasp one hand over your own mouth, moaning quietly.

You allow yourself to fall flat on the mattress. Your cries still audible. Catching for breath as you remove the sweaty mask.

He rests his head on your back. His sweaty face pressed against it. His body going completely limp.

He stands with his dick in his hand, mind completely empty, panting heavily, eyelids fluttering. You feel disoriented, like you don’t really remember where you are.

“Shit.” He mutters. “I have a plane to catch.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and watch him get dressed as you do too.

The light from the window illuminates the dust motes dancing in the air, and the room feels a mix of nostalgia and emptiness.

You leave for the bathroom to pull yourself together. It’s not like it’s the first time he leaves for another country.

Deep breaths and a few wipes against your face fixes the issue... For now.

You get back into the bedroom to see him sitting on the bed, phone in his hand.

“Got everything?” You block your sad thoughts.

“Not quite yet.” He gets up, then presses the black mask into your palm and you laugh.

Did you just unlock a new kink in him?

“You’re not serious...”

He surprises his smile and shows you his phone screen.

You glance at the phone, your eyes widening as you take in the detailed design of the costume. The soft, velvety material and the delicate, whiskered mask were perfectly tailored. Then your eyes dart to the sentence:

‘Thank you for ordering Smitten Kitten Costume!’

You look at him.

“We need to have a serious conversation, young man.” You imply.

He tucks his phone in his pocket and smirks. “Call me batman.”

A/N: I’m sorry... No I’m not.

When I look through the tags after a long day and there's no fics waiting for me

competition

warnings: cuteness (my heart literally melt)

genre:fluff; kylianxfem!reader

summary: Kylian can't stand kitten videos anymore, so what's better than actually gifting you one?

author's note: I’m really going to miss seeing our little croissant play for the next three weeks! It’s just so sad and i want to cry. Every time I watch him on the pitch, I find myself literally ADMIRING him , and honestly, it’s starting to worry me about my mental health...

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

You’ve been dreaming about adopting a kitten for what feels like forever—weeks of obsessively sending Kylian video after video of fluffy kittens, each with the same unspoken message: “I need one.”

He’s honestly not sure how this kitten craze of yours even started. Maybe it was that time you found a kitty on the street and immediately dropped to your knees, practically begging him to take it home with you. He still remembers the way your face fell when you found out the kitten already had an owner. Ever since then, you’ve been on a mission.

It’s gotten kind of relentless. At first, Kylian thought it was cute, how every few hours you’d send him another kitten clip with heart eyes and a not-so-subtle, “Look at this one! Isn’t it adorable?” But now, it’s reached a point where every time his phone dings, he knows it’s another video of a kitten doing something cute, followed by your predictable "I want one so bad."

The man can only take so much.

And for Kylian, saying no to you is basically impossible. He could ignore the hints for a while, but the way you light up whenever the topic of kittens comes up? Yeah, there’s no way he’s letting this one slide much longer.

“Amour,” Kylian’s deep, playful voice echoes through your temporary apartment as he closes the door behind him. You barely glance up from your phone, lost in yet another kitten video that you’ll definitely be sending him in a few minutes.

But his tone catches your attention. There’s something different in it—something secretive.

“Amour,” he repeats, this time a bit more mischievous. “I have a surprise for you.”

That’s all it takes. Your heart skips a beat, and you scramble to your feet, tossing your phone onto the couch without a second thought. You rush down the hallway toward him, excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Kylian, what is it? What’s going on?” you ask breathlessly, practically bouncing on your toes. You’re not great with surprises, mainly because your curiosity knows no bounds, and Kylian knows that all too well.

He grins, clearly enjoying your impatience. “Patience, chérie,” he teases, holding his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes first.”

You let out an exaggerated groan but obey, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know I hate this, right?”

He chuckles, and you can hear him moving closer. “I know. But you’ll love this.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re going to explode from anticipation. Then, just as you’re about to cheat and peek, you hear it—a tiny, delicate meow.

Your eyes snap open before Kylian can even tell you to, and your breath catches in your throat. In his arms, nestled against his chest, is the most adorable, tiny kitten you’ve ever seen. Its fur is a mix of cream and gray, and its big, round blue eyes blink up at you with curiosity.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth as you stare in disbelief.

Kylian laughs softly, clearly proud of himself as he watches your reaction. “I couldn’t handle the constant kitten videos anymore,” he teases, shifting the tiny bundle of fur in his arms so you can get a better look. “So I figured I’d just… bring you one.”

You’re speechless, your hands trembling as you reach out to take the kitten from him. It’s so small, so delicate, and it lets out the tiniest purr as soon as it’s nestled in your arms, pressing its little head against your chest. 

“I love you,” you murmur, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re saying it to Kylian or the kitten. Maybe both.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But do you love me more than the kitten?”

You giggle, shaking your head as you hold the kitten closer. “Well, the kitten is pretty cute. You’ve got some competition now.”

He feigns offense, raising an eyebrow as if wounded, but the act doesn’t last long. Watching you tenderly cradle the tiny kitten in your lap, gently stroking its soft fur, his heart can’t help but melt.“So… have you thought of a name yet? Or are you just going to call it ‘kitten’ forever?”

You look down at the tiny fluff ball in your lap. A name? You hadn’t even gotten that far in your daydreams.

“Hm, I don’t know… I kind of like ‘kitten,’” you joke, earning a groan from Kylian. “No, seriously! Look at this face. It’s like pure kitten energy.”

“Amour, we are not calling it ‘kitten,’” Kylian says, though he can’t help but smile.

You tap your chin playfully, as if deep in thought, then look up at Kylian with a soft smile. “I think I need to really take my time with this,” you say, your tone serious but with a hint of teasing. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re telling me we need to schedule a whole naming ceremony for this kitten?”

“Obviously,” you reply with a grin, gently stroking the kitten’s fur. “It’s an important choice. I’ll need some time… and maybe a little inspiration.”

Kylian leans in, his voice playful. “Oh? And how do you plan on finding this inspiration, chérie?”

You tilt your head and flash him a warm smile. “By cuddling with my two favorite babies,” you say softly, looking between him and the kitten. “That should give me all the inspiration I need.”

Kylian’s expression softens instantly, his eyes sparkling as he leans in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Your two babies, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning into him as you settle against his chest. “My big baby and my little baby. Both equally important.”As you lean into Kylian’s embrace, you watch the tiny kitten stir slightly before making its way to his stomach. With a delicate hop, it settles right on top of him, curling into a tiny ball, its soft purring almost harmonizing with the rise and fall of Kylian’s breathing.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your heart practically melt at the sight. There’s something about seeing Kylian, this towering, athletic man, with such a delicate creature nestled on his chest that makes the moment even sweeter.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “Look at her.”

Kylian glances down at the little fluff ball, a small chuckle escaping him. “She’s already making herself at home,” he says softly, his fingers lightly grazing the kitten’s fur. “Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pretty comfortable, right?”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THISSS!!😩

-> never lose me | jude bellingham

jude b. x sister!tatumalexanderarnold!reader

part one | genre: social media au, brief smut 18+

summary: a weekend trip with your brother turns into a petty situation where jude can’t see to let go of an old crush you had on him

“What’s your problem?” You asked and the smile on your face faded with each word. Trent, Jude, and a few others were standing outside the club waiting as you walked down the steps. You had idea the “problem” was you abandoning the section that your brother bought for the night out and instead went to be with Charles Leclerc, your close friend.

“Wha’ your little boyfriend staying behind?” Trent scoffed as you halted on the last step. You crossed your arms in defiance and to cover yourself from salty breeze coming from the ocean.

“Which one?” You countered with a smirk.

“Tatum.” Trent said with no humor at all. For a guy who was drunk and partying an hour ago, he had an absolute foul mood radiating off of him. Trent had the habit of being a brat, which made it difficult for you to also be one, too. He was the brother who had the nuclear secret code to pissing you the hell off.

“Let her stay, she doesn’t have to leave with us.” Iris played Devil’s advocate. She wrapped an arm around Trent’s bicep and drummed her fingers against the muscle. “She’s a big girl.”

You mouthed “Big. Girl.” to emphasize the girl’s statement.

“She’s my baby sister and she’s not staying at a random club in Ibiza.” Trent said. “We’re leaving.”

“This?” You jutted your thumb behind you to the club that was somehow getting livelier as the threat of sunrise came. You gave an exasperated whistle and said, “this is chill compared to Monaco.”

“Let’s go.”

“Let me just…” You began.

“No. Sprinters nearly here.”

“I need the ladies room.” You argued truthfully.

“Hold it.” Trent’s rebuttal earned a snicker from Jude and a small smack from Iris.

“I’ll be back.” You turned on your heel, taking one step up when you heard Iris offer to come with you. Trent shot her proposal down. His reasoning?

“I’m not sendin’ the two of yous in there alone.”

“Not alone if we’ve got each other.” You yelled over your shoulder and took another step. “It’s literally right there, I’m not doing to die.”

“I don’t trust you to come back.”

“You don’t trust anyone Trent.” You exposed his lack of trust without a second thought to how bad it looked for that to be said with his very kind, very cool, girlfriend standing there. You could feel the impending lecture he was going to give you over breakfast.

“You’re not goin’ alone.”

“I’ll go with her bro,” Jude stepped forward and all eyes landed on him. He looked calm and collected despite the fact he had partied for hours on end before stepping out into the night. “It won’t take long.” His eyes flickered towards you and instead of meeting him with a grateful smile, yours fell flat with irritation.

“Hurry up.” Trent said and you skipped your way up the steps, flashed your wristband to security and slid your way into the club.

It was pure ecstasy to step back inside and be met with flush bodies. The fog machine shot out thick, cool smoke from the impossibly tall building and the cheers of the crowd was a welcome relief from the stupid conversation between you and your brother. Mindlessly you reach behind yourself and wiggled your fingers for Jude to grab. Instead of cupping his hand around yours, he felt it better suited to interlock his fingers with yours. You rolled your eyes over the boyish movement but continued pushing through the crowd to the restrooms.

“There’s a line!” Jude bellowed behind you. “This will take forever.”

You ignored him as you sauntered further and further into the building towards a dimly lit hallway. There was a velvet rip blocking the entrance to a private bathroom but without a second glance, you lifted your leg and stepped over the rope. Jude followed suit, glancing behind himself to see if anyone was watching. Despite the blocked off restroom, there was no one actually keeping security outside of it.

You jiggled the door and it didn’t budge. You groaned and stomped your foot, thinking of ways to let your friend know that his club needed to stop locking the only luxury bathrooms. You pulled a bobby pin out of sweated out hair and placed the opening between your teeth.

“We should go to the other one.” Jude said with darting eyes.

“Relax.” You ordered as you bent the bobby pin into a flat piece and jammed it into the doors key lock. It clicked and you sighed, pushing your way in. Jude took a step back to let you have your privacy but you pulled him in and slammed the door shut.

“We cannot leave the bathroom together.” Jude stammered dumbly.

“We won’t.” You pulled on the handle of the marbled sink, allowing the water to block out the noise of you using the restroom. One glance at yourself in the mirror left you impressed by the fact your makeup held up perfectly.

“Turn away.” You ordered with a spin of your finger.

Jude did so with a huff and a cross of his arms, inspecting the gold leafed walls. This placed reeked of new money.

“Why do ya know about this bathroom?” He asked with a hint of judgement.

“I have a few friends who like to go skiing.” You answered and flushed the toilet.

You were pulling your micro skirt over your thong when Jude turned around. You didn’t hesitate for a second although he flushed at sight of your fire red thong contrasting the black skirt. Thankfully, he didn’t see your tipsy stumble or the fact you needed the wall to walk up to the sink.

“Skiing? In Ibiza.” He scrunched his nose in confusion.

“Jude, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” You shook your head in disbelief. It became so clear in that moment just how tiny the bathroom was. You could smell his cologne and the minty gum he was chewing on.

“Whadda mean skiing?” He asked again as you began washing your hands. He stepped behind you and looked at you down at you through the mirror.

“Coke.”

“Oh, oh.” Jude said dumbfounded. He pulled his phone out his pocket after a set of bells and vibrations began to alert him. He declined the call after staring at it for a few moments and then it was your turn to ask.

“Not going to answer your girlfriend?” You asked sarcastically.

The last time you saw Jude was a the Formula 1 Monaco Grand Prix a year ago, but back then he was dating a girl - or two, you weren’t absolutely certain. The rumor mill was small.

What you were certain of was him not giving any thought to you. Jude brushed you off. That wasn’t the first time it happened but you swore it to be the last. You only ran into the same circle when it came to your brother and those few minutes being around him irritated you. It was comical after his disinterred that he was always the first to view your stories and like your posts. You’d even been sent a screenshot from a friend exposing him for liking a post about you and Charles from a floozy gossip account.

It boosted your ego knowing he was finally seeing what he lost. The girl you were last year would have never expected to be glad to turn down Jude Bellingham.

“Nah, not sure which one it is.” He stole your rebuttal with a smirk. You found yourself rolling your eyes once again at the boy.

Through your drunken gaze, you were reminded of why you were attracted to him in the first place.

Jude’s skin was quite literally golden - the kind of color that reminded you of caramel candy and you truly, secretly and desperately, wanted to know if he tasted like it, too. You weren’t the biggest fan of facial hair but on him, it worked. His symmetrical face framed by the baby beard and the long lashes that stared down at you were a killer combination. The first time he actually looked in your eyes and smiled, you could barely speak. It was the most embarrassing thing to have happened in your life. It was totally normal for you to find yourself staring at your brother’s friends but it wasn’t normal to find yourself instantly stuttering if he stared at you too long.

“Hilarious.” You said lamely and a hiccup followed.

God, I’m fucking drunk.

You took a step backwards towards the door but your heel bobbled and he instinctively grabbed your wrist.

“Christ how drunk are you?” He scolded. There was no use to answer the question. Jude tilted his head to look at you, assessing your features. “Are you…are you okay?” His sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine.” You shoved his hand away, which did you no favors. Jude was rooted in his spots and his strength sent you stumbling back against the door.

“Tatum.” His eyes widened at the sound of your head thumping against the heavy door.

“ ‘m good. Swear.” You breathed out. You could feel the common sense fading away. “Just…just get me to the sprinter.”

“You sure….there’s probably paps outside by now.”

“I’m sure. It’ll be fine lead the way.” You ushered him into the hallway and made a prayer with each platform heeled step you took.

——

-> the gossip

Spotted 👀

-> Oh snap! 📸 Miss Tatum Alexander Arnold is out and living her best life in ibiza. Sources say she wasn’t alone, she spent her time in a reserved section surrounded by nepo babies, models, and even a few athletes. Though she came in alone, she left with her brother, his girlfriend, and a few friends *cough cough* Jude Bellingham. Now we’re not one to gossip but waking out hand-in-hand with your brother’s teammate is scandalous to say the least. What do we think besties?

——

You were content sitting on the marble counter of the rental house with the moonlight lighting the kitchen. With your gooey brownie in one hand, phone in the other and the promise of a long hot shower on your mind, you were at the peak of your night. You couldn’t stifle the laugh at the blog post that “reported” on you being out at the club. You had to give it to them, they worked fast and majority of the time they were accurate.

Your peace was interrupted by the kitchen bright white lights flashing on. You shut your eyes and cursed at whoever turned the lights on.

“Sorry.” Jude mumbled. You opened your eyes to see him walking in shirtless, clad in boxers and rubbing his eye like a little kid coming to tell his mom he was sick. “Drama Queen.” He muttered as he pulled open the fridge.

“That’s mint coming from you.” You chuckled and turned towards him, legs still swinging.

“From me?” Jude grabbed a water and leaned on the counter across from you, his fingers moving up and down on the bottle. You found yourself staring at his fingers - taking in the rhythm, the size of them. You bit you brownie to distract yourself and scattered crumbs on the counter in the process.

“Yeah, you.” You chewed. “They should give you an Oscar for the flopping you do.” You mimicked his habitual movement of throwing his hands in the air, acting as if he’s been hit so hard and leaned backwards to complete his way of performing for a foul.

Jude’s laugh was hearty and genuine, making a small one spread across your own face. His laugh was charming. Dangerous, even.

“So you watch me? That’s what you’re sayin’?” He asked with a bemused expression.

“Nah, not willingly.”

“Ouch, T.” He said with a pained expression and you snapped at him as he responded as if a referee was secretly watching.

“You just proved my point.” You hopped off the counter and you skirt took it’s sweet time settling down. For the second time that night, Jude got a view of your stringy thong with a bit of a shower of your tanned ass. You’d never been so happy with your results of your training.

Jude cleared his throat and when you turned to look at him, he began drinking his water and adverting his eyes from looking at your ass. You rolled your eyes at the lame way of hiding his stare.

“See ya in the mornin’.” You said without turning back around.

“See ya.” He coughed and you knew that it was your microskirt that him choking on his water.

——

-> the instagram post

tatumsdiary: from passenger princess to back seat baby 👼🏽

landonorris: 🪩 💃🏽

frienduser1: the bag 🤌🏽

tatumsdiary replied: prada til i die

malefriend: 🔥🔥🔥

randomfan: big T one not the lil one

situationship: 😍

femaletennisplayer: tatum wyd babe

tatumsdiary replied: my best

femaletennisplayer replied: i love you lmao

tatemcrae: giiiiiirl

bestfriend: damn you fine

nbaplayer: that’s how we moving now?

tatumsdiary replied: i think y’all call it traveling in your league or something

nbaplayer replied: don’t piss me off 🤣

loriharvey: gorgeous

I'm proud of you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: Comforting sad and defeated Jude after England's loss. Warning: Sad moment, comforting Words: <1k

The referee blows the final whistle.

It was over. England lost. It all happened too quickly. Spain scoring in the last minutes didn't even give us time to process the situation.

I was sitting in the stands with Jude's family. We all shed a tear once the Spanish players started celebrating. Seeing Jude go off to the bench and kick something was a heartbreaking yet scary sight for me. Instantly, I knew that was going to be a sight for the media.

He's not like that at all. He just really wanted this win. With people being all over him, critiquing him, he really wanted to prove them wrong, to make England proud. I couldn't be more proud of him, though. He achieved amazing things in this competition.

As I watched him from afar, I wished I could just run down and hold him, tell him it was okay. I knew how much he had invested in this tournament, how much he had sacrificed. His dedication and his passio were the qualities that made him extraordinary. Those were the reasons why I fell in love with him.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, I excused myself from his family and made my way down to the lower stands, closer to the field. As I approached the edge, I saw Jude pacing back and forth, his frustration evident in every step. When he finally noticed me, our eyes locked. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

With his help, I crossed the barrier and immediately fell into his arms, holding his head tightly into my neck. I could feel him shaking from all the emotions he was going through.

"I messed up," he muttered, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"No, you didn't," I said firmly, my hand gently running through his hair. "You were incredible, baby. You gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough." "Hey," I cupped his face gently, putting my forehead against his. "Listen to me. You were amazing out there. You fought so hard, and everyone saw it."

He didn't know what to say. I could see he wanted to let go of everything he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just stay calm, baby," I tried to comfort him, reminding him that losing is part of the game and keeping his composure is important. "You can use this to come back even stronger."

I knew my words might not have a big impact on him in that moment. It was all still raw and fresh for him, so I simply held him tighter in my arms. He pulled back slightly, his eyes still glistening. "I have to go, baby. They're going to do the ceremony."

"I know," I said softly. He kissed my forehead.

"I'll meet you afterwards," I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded, giving me one last look before turning and walking towards his teammates. As I walked up the stands to where his family was, I felt a mix of pride and heartache.

After England had their moment, Jude walked up to us and hugged his family. They all expressed how proud they were of him, trying not to show any sadness in front of him.

He sat down with his head low. I gently lifted his chin, earning a small, faint smile from him.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you guys," he managed to say to them.

I sat on his lap, holding him close to my chest. It pained me to see him like this, unable to erase his sadness.

"You never disappoint us, Jude," his mom reassured him, holding his hand tightly.

I arrived at my hotel room feeling exhausted and heartbroken for Jude. He had to return to the hotel with the team. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him in my arms and try to ease his sadness, even just a little. I was about to get into bed after finishing my nighttime routine when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Jude standing there, his shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. "They told me it's okay," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed.

He took off his shirt and sweatpants and collapsed onto the bed, pulling me with him. His head immediately rested on my chest as he hugged me tightly.

"It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his head and kissing his forehead repeatedly. "These bad feelings will pass, trust me."

I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing it helped him relax and fall asleep. I kept kissing his forehead and cuddling him until I felt his grip around my waist loosen slightly, indicating he had fallen asleep.

"You'll always be my champion, baby," I whispered softly." I love you so much, Jude Bellingham."