When I Look Through The Tags After A Long Day And There's No Fics Waiting For Me

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

Erling Haaland: (NSFW) Sex Positions

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Find more at: Masterlist

Erling Haaland x (female) reader

WARNINGS: SEX; short!reader.

AN: Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

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The height difference makes it practically impossible to have missionary sex so you’re forced to try out new positions, to see what works best for you.

Riding him is one of the options and personally Erling loves it. He stays seated, letting you ride him. To see you getting all flustered and sweaty, your hands dearly holding onto to his shoulders as you fuck yourself on his cock. The steady bounce of your breasts as you’re the one controlling the speed and how much of him you take. 

If you get tired, he can always move his hips from underneath you or help you ride him. His hands palming your ass, effortlessly moving you up and down like a weightless doll as you rest with your face on his shoulder, worn off.  

He definitely teases you in this position, a half smirk on his face.

“Getting tired already, huh? But, baby, this is only round 1 yet.” 

“So desperate for my huge cock. Fuck, keep going, baby.”

Doggy style is also an option, but Erling has to be careful as not to hurt you, given his immense strength. The good thing is that he goes much deeper, alongside with the primal feeling the position provides you. 

It’s usually reserved for when you need to blow off some steam, ending up in a rough sex session. It’s so intense to have him manhandle you, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you there as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll feel me inside of you for weeks.”

“Look at that, taking my cock like you’re made for it.” 

Table top is also a frequent position in your sex life, being a good replacement for the impossible missionary one. You love it when he fucks you in this position, his hips steadily meeting yours as his hand sneaks to your clit, bringing you closer to your release, facing each other. The bed/table/furniture constantly squeaking underneath your joint weights, especially when Erling picks up the pace. 

Even though these are the most frequent sex positions you guys do, you clearly end up doing more riding and table top as they’re the ones that actually allow you to face each other, something that you love a lot. 

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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

How can you be a Madrid fan and be sad / bitter / pissed about Vini potentially winning the Balon d'or?

We have seen him since he was 18. When he was all tricks & flicks but no output. When he was dealing with injury, attitude issues, lack of trust from the squad (becoz his conversion sucked) and massive racism all across Spain.

The boy could have broken down, but he rose like a phoenix. In the second half of the season, he ended lives on the left wing. Look at him in UCL knockouts. In finals - 2 finals, 2 goals.

I love Jude a lot but I have always wanted Vini to win this year.

Why? It's just harder for Vini.

Odds will always be against him. He doesn't get any PR support. People will always discredit him for his attitude. And he's singlehandedly fighting the racism fight.

And he was fucking brilliant when it mattered. In the competition we value the most. The Champions League player of the season should absolutely win the Balon d'or.

If any supposed Madrid fan feels sad about it, well, you are not really a Madrid fan then.

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."