iamagoddess1

[iamagoddess1]

Me or her? PT.1

Mapi Leon x reader

When I met Mapi León, I didn’t expect her to rewrite the rules of my world. Everything about her was vibrant and unapologetic — from her tattoos to her laugh, to the way she’d kiss me mid-sentence like whatever I was saying could wait until later.

We fit. Not perfectly, but in that beautifully chaotic way some lovers do.

But something began to shift this season. I felt it first in the little things — the way she checked her phone more during dinners, how she’d trail off when telling me about training sessions. And every time she mentioned Ingrid Engen, her eyes lit up with something I couldn’t quite place.

“She gets it, you know?” Mapi told me one evening, barefoot on the sofa, scrolling through something on her phone. “Like… football, pressure, just life. She’s really grounded.”

I smiled, unsure. “I’m glad you have someone like that on the team.”

But the air was already different.

At first, I convinced myself it was in my head. I knew they were close — of course they were. Teammates. Friends. But there was something more intimate in the way Mapi spoke about her. Like Ingrid was a new song she couldn’t stop playing.

I finally said something on a cold Thursday night.

“Do you love her?” My voice barely rose above a whisper.

She froze in the hallway, halfway into pulling off her hoodie. “What?”

“You look at her differently. You talk about her like she’s the only one who sees you.”

She stared at me for a long time, eyes wide and tired. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t want to fall for her.”

The silence between us was deafening.

“I’m not even sure if she feels the same,” she added. “But I know how I feel when I’m around her. It’s like I can breathe.”

“And with me?” I asked, my throat aching.

She stepped closer, touched my cheek with a sadness I’ll never forget. “With you, I feel safe. Loved. But something shifted, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

The truth shattered something between us. But strangely, it didn’t break us into pieces. Not right away. We spent a few more weeks in a strange limbo — sharing a bed, but not our hearts. Holding hands, but not holding each other.

Eventually, I let her go.

Not because I stopped loving her, but because I finally loved myself enough to want more than someone who had already started to drift toward someone else.

And as I watched her walk away, maybe toward Ingrid or maybe just toward something new, I knew that letting her go didn’t mean I lost.

I still remember that night and it haunts me.

The night we broke up, it wasn’t because she cheated. It wasn’t because she stopped loving me.

It was because I couldn’t keep waiting for the version of her that used to look at me like I was enough.

Mapi stood in the doorway of our shared apartment, her duffel bag hanging loosely off her shoulder, her hair damp from a late training session. I was sitting on the couch, heart racing, rehearsing the words I’d already rewritten a hundred times in my head.

She looked exhausted. But when she saw me, her expression softened. “Hey, baby.”

“Can we talk?”

Her eyes darted toward the floor. “Yeah. Sure.”

I didn’t wait. I’d been waiting long enough.

“I’ve been trying to hold on,” I said, voice trembling. “Trying to believe we’re just going through something. But it’s not just a phase, is it?”

She sat down across from me. “I know things have been weird. I’ve been distracted. I—” She stopped herself. “Is this about Ingrid again?”

���It’s about us,” I replied gently. “And how every time you say you love me, it sounds like a memory instead of a promise.”

She looked like I’d hit her. “That’s not fair. I’m still here. I’m still trying.”

“I know,” I said. “And that’s what makes this even harder. Because I can see you fighting for us, but I don’t feel you in it anymore. Not the way I used to.”

Mapi leaned forward, hands clasped like she was praying. “Can we just—can we take some space? Go away together? Just you and me. No phones, no football, no distractions.”

I shook my head, tears already falling. “Mapi… even if we got away, your heart would still be somewhere else. Maybe not fully. Maybe not with her. But it’s not here.”

She stood up quickly, pacing. “So what, you’re just giving up? After everything?”

“No,” I said softly. “I’m letting go. Because I deserve to be someone’s first thought again. And I think you deserve the chance to figure out what you really want without feeling like you’re betraying me every time your heart wanders.”

She stopped moving. Her chin trembled.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know,” I said. “But I already lost you.”

She broke then — not loudly, not dramatically. Just quietly, like a wave finally folding into the shore.

We didn’t sleep in the same bed that night. She curled up on the couch, clutching the hoodie I used to wear after every match. And I lay in our bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how a love so loud could end in silence.

[iamagoddess1]

Jane volturi x vampire reader

*requested “Can you make a twilight story where we are mated to Jane from the Volturi but Aro makes her choose between you or them and she chooses them”

Sure here’s this dump take it

You were a powerful vampire, centuries old but unknown to the Volturi until your emergence shook the supernatural world. Your gift—a rare and dangerous ability to nullify other vampires’ powers within a certain radius—drew the attention of the Volturi quickly. But before they could approach you, you met Jane.

She had been sent to observe you, a quiet recon mission. But from the moment her eyes locked with yours, the bond was undeniable. She fought it, at first. She always fought emotion. But you were different. You saw past her cruelty, her reputation, the pain she wore like armor. And you loved her—not despite all of it, but because of it.

For a few stolen weeks, she was yours. Not the Volturi’s soldier, not Aro’s weapon—just Jane. And for the first time in centuries, she let herself be just that.

Then Aro found out.

The kings summoned her. They gave her a choice: return to the guard and sever the bond… or leave with you, and be exiled. She pleaded, reasoned—argued that your gift could serve them too. But Aro saw the danger in love. He saw the threat in your bond. And Caius demanded loyalty. One way or another.

She didn’t look at you when she made her choice.

“I belong with them,” she said. Her voice was hollow. Her eyes avoided yours. “This… whatever this was—it’s over.”

You didn’t beg. You didn’t shout. You just stood there, feeling your soul tear apart as she walked away in silence.

But sometimes, on quiet nights, you swear you can feel her watching you from the shadows. Like even though she chose them… her heart never did

A flicker just beyond your peripheral vision. A whisper of movement where none should be. At first, you thought it was paranoia—the aftershock of heartbreak unraveling your mind. But then came the scent.

Burned sugar and cold stone. Her scent.

You hadn’t smelled it in weeks. Not since that day in Volterra, when she stood in the chamber and made her choice—choosing crown and crimson over you. Over the mate bond that had tethered your souls like twin stars in orbit.

But now she was here. Watching.

You tested the air again, standing alone in the rainy forest outside Geneva. Mist clung to the treetops. Nothing stirred—no heartbeats, no footfalls. But you felt her. The familiar hum in your chest that always ignited when she was near.

You turned slowly.

“Jane,” you said softly to the wind.

No answer.

You stayed still for a long moment, letting the silence breathe, willing her to break it. But she didn’t. You left that night feeling like you were being hunted by a ghost.

Then it happened again. In Prague. Then Stockholm. Then the abandoned monastery in the Alps, where you took refuge for a week in a cathedral of broken glass. Each time, just out of reach. Just close enough to feel her—but never to touch her.

Until Lucerne.

It was snowing.

You stood at the edge of the frozen lake, watching the moon shimmer across the ice. Your eyes burned—not from the cold, but from the ache in your chest. That ache that never left since her absence carved something hollow in you.

“Why are you following me?” you asked the wind again. But this time, you didn’t say her name.

You heard it then. The softest crunch of snow.

She stepped out from behind a tree. Her hood was drawn low, red cloak soaked with frost, the Volturi crest glinting like a wound over her heart.

“I told you it was over,” she said.

You turned to face her fully. “And yet here you are.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no answer came. Her eyes—still crimson—held something haunted. You stepped closer. Just one step.

“I feel you, Jane,” you said, voice low. “Everywhere I go. I feel you like a scar that won’t heal. Why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

You stared at each other, time suspended between breaths neither of you needed.

And then, she vanished.

Not a word. Not a trace. Just silence and snowflakes where she had stood.But now you knew.

She hadn’t let go either.

So you had stopped running. If she was going to follow you, then you would give her a place to find you. You stayed in a quiet, forgotten mansion at the edge of the city, a place untouched by time, filled with broken chandeliers and moonlight through cracked windows. You waited three nights. On the fourth, she came.

You didn’t turn when the door creaked open behind you. You felt her presence like static on your skin.

“I’m tired of running,” you said quietly. “Tired of pretending you’re not there.”

Silence.

“I never asked you to choose. They did. You chose them… but you’re still here. So tell me why.”She stepped into the room.

Her cloak was gone. Her Volturi uniform, replaced by a long black coat and gloves. No insignia. No armor. Just Jane. Pale and quiet. More human than you’d ever seen her.

“I dream about you,” she said, voice fragile. “Not every day. But enough.”You turned to look at her.

“And I feel it,” she continued. “This… ache in my chest like something’s tearing every time I try to move on. Aro says it’s a weakness. Felix says I should forget. Alec doesn’t understand—he never did.”

Her voice cracked slightly. “But I can’t stop.” You stepped closer, but not too close. Not yet.

“You chose them,” you said. You didn’t flinch.

“No,” you said. “With them, you are a weapon. With me, you are someone who gets to choose what you want to be.”

Her eyes shone—not with tears, but with something deeper. Rage. Regret. And beneath it all, longing.

“I was afraid,” she whispered. “Afraid of what loving you would make me. Afraid I’d lose control. That I’d become soft. Weak. That Aro would take you away from me, or worse… use you.”

“Would it have been worth it?” you asked. “Even if it destroyed us?”

“Yes,” she said, and this time her voice didn’t shake. “Yes. Because I think… even if it killed me… I would rather have loved you and burned than feel nothing and survive.”

She crossed the room, slowly. You didn’t move. When she reached you, she raised a hand and touched your chest lightly—where your heart would beat if it still could.

“I still love you,” she said. “I never stopped.”

You took her hand. Cold, trembling.

“Then stay,” you said.

For a moment, she closed her eyes. And when she opened them again, the girl behind the Volturi mask was still there.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

Then she leaned in and kissed you once—slow, aching, eternal. A kiss that held centuries.

And then she was gone again.

But this time… you knew she would return.

[iamagoddess1]

Not your fault

Alexia Putellas x fem reader

The final whistle echoed like a gunshot.

Real Madrid 2 – Barcelona 1.

My knees hit the grass before I even realized I’d fallen. The stadium, once deafening, blurred into silence. I had made the mistake—one wrong judgment, one fumble off a corner—and they capitalized. It was my fault. Everyone saw it.

I didn’t cry. Not yet. But my throat burned with the urge.

I walked off the field, shoulders heavy under the weight of a thousand stares, and avoided the cameras like they were landmines. The locker room buzzed with a tension that cut through me like glass. I couldn’t look at anyone—especially not her.

Alexia sat in her stall, still in her captain’s armband, taping removed from her wrists, sweat glistening on her temples. She hadn’t said a word since the final whistle either. Our eyes met for half a second, and she looked away.

I showered fast, like it would scrub away the guilt. It didn’t.

Back on the bus, my name was already trending online—for the worst reasons. “Butterfingers.” “Choker.” “Should’ve been benched.” The cruelest part? Some of the fans were right.

The seat beside me stayed empty until the bus started moving. Then, Alexia slid in without saying anything. We sat in silence for a long time, the hum of the engine and our breaths the only soundtrack.

Finally, she spoke, softly but with steel in her voice.

“You think I care what they’re saying?”

I turned, heart pounding, not sure what I expected—anger, disappointment, maybe worse.

Instead, her hand reached for mine.

“You think I love you because you’re perfect on the pitch?”

“I let everyone down,” I croaked.

“No,” she said. “You made a mistake. And you’ll make more. But you’re still mine. And I’m still proud of you.”

Tears finally came, hot and ugly. She didn’t flinch. She pulled my head to her shoulder and let me fall apart. Her voice, low and sure, whispered in Catalan, “Això no ens trenca. Això ens fa més forts.”

(This doesn’t break us. This makes us stronger.)

They blamed me. Maybe they always will.

The next morning the training ground felt colder than usual. Not physically—but the way people looked at me, or didn’t. Some of the girls offered polite nods. Others just walked past. No one said it, but I could feel it in their silence:

That’s the one who cost us the Clásico.

I showed up early. Before the coaches. Before even the sun had finished rising. I stood alone on the pitch with the bag of balls, forcing myself to replay the goal over and over again. I wanted to suffer. Maybe I thought it would make it right.

Ball after ball. Dive. Miss. Dive. Catch. Dive. Hit the post.

“Again,” I whispered to no one.

“You’ll burn out before breakfast,” said a voice from behind.

I turned. Alexia. In a hoodie, arms crossed, hair in a messy braid. She wasn’t scheduled to train for another hour.

“You don’t need to be here,” I muttered.

“You’re wrong,” she said, walking over. “I need to be exactly here.”

She knelt by the bag and pulled out a ball. “Let’s go. Corner drills.”

“Seriously?”

She smirked. “You think I’m gonna let you train your demons away alone? No chance.”

And so we started.

She sent corner after corner into the box. Left-footed, vicious swerves with just enough bend to mirror that damn Real Madrid assist. I dove. I caught. I missed. I groaned.

She never scolded. Never pitied. She just kept going.

Until one cross came screaming in like lightning—and I caught it.

Clean. Full stretch. Both hands. The kind of save that silences crowds.

I froze, still holding the ball, panting.

“See?” she said, eyes locked on mine. “You don’t need redemption. You need belief. And I believe in you.”

Later, during full-team training, I knew they were still watching me. Judging.

Every session after the Clásico felt like an audition.

Not just for my teammates.

For myself.

The goal felt smaller. The shots felt faster. My mind wouldn’t shut up. Every time the ball flew at me, I saw the Madrid striker scoring again. The hesitation stuck to me like sweat.

“Focus!” the keeper coach shouted. “You’re late off your line!”

I nodded, biting back the frustration. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear. But most of all, I wanted to earn back the right to stand between these posts.

After drills, while others hit the showers, I stayed behind. Every single day.

And so did Alexia.

She never said she would—she just did.

Sometimes she crossed balls. Sometimes she shot. Sometimes she didn’t touch a ball at all—just sat on the bench, watching me like I was worth watching.

One night, it got too much. I let in a soft shot—soft, and I dropped it. The coach looked away, disappointed. And that was it. I ripped off my gloves and kicked the post.

Alexia came over, calm and quiet.

“Say what you’re thinking,” she said.

I turned away.

“I’m not good enough.”

She stepped in front of me. “You’re human.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I’m scared.”

That one hung in the air. Honest. Raw.

She reached out, fingertips brushing my jaw. “I know.”

“I don’t want to lose this. You. My place. Everything.”

“You’re not losing me,” she said firmly. “And you haven’t lost your place. You’re just fighting for it. And that’s what real champions do.”

Her hand slipped into mine. “You’re not doing this alone.”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.

I just gripped her hand tighter.

⸻

The next day, I showed up again.

Earlier than anyone.

But not alone.

Alexia was already there.

And this time, the goal didn’t feel so far away.

The lineup dropped that morning.

My name was there.

Starting keeper.

I stared at the screen like it might change. But it didn’t.

I was back.

Whispers followed me through the locker room. Some players nodded at me. Some didn’t. The media was already spinning it:

“Coach Gambles on Goalkeeper After Madrid Meltdown.”

“Redemption Arc or Career Suicide?”

I didn’t care.

Okay—I did.

But I pretended not to.

Because she was there. Alexia, taping up her ankles, focused, fearless. When our eyes met, she gave me the tiniest nod. Nothing dramatic. Nothing said.

But that nod said: I see you. You’ve got this. I’ve got you.

⸻

Kickoff.

It was a war.

Tackles flying. Fans roaring. Every touch under the microscope.

First test came early—a one-on-one. Their striker burst through. I came out fast, low, hands wide—

Blocked.

Roar.

Not just the crowd. My own voice, loud in my head: You did it. Keep going.

Second half. 1-0 us. They had a free kick outside the box. My wall looked shaky. My hands were trembling.

Ball came flying in, bending top corner.

I leapt.

Time slowed.

Fingertips. Just enough.

Crossbar.

I landed hard, but I smiled through the grass in my mouth.

I heard it—Alexia’s voice from midfield:

“Vamos!”

⸻

Final minutes.

Still 1-0.

Last corner. Their keeper came up.

This was it. Last chance for them.

The ball curled in—chaos in the box.

Header—on target.

I flew.

Caught it.

Held it.

No mistake.

This time, no mistake.

The whistle blew. Game over.

Barcelona wins.

⸻

My teammates rushed me. For the first time since Madrid, they cheered with me—not around me, not despite me—with me.

Then I turned, and there she was.

Alexia.

Hair soaked. Mud on her kit. But those eyes… proud. Soft.

She jogged over, crowd noise fading into nothing.

“Look at you,” she whispered, smile growing. “My favorite goalkeeper.”

I laughed, breathless. “Even after Madrid?”

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine.

“Especially after Madrid.”

And right there, in front of a thousand screaming fans and a world that once blamed me, she kissed me—slow and certain.

Because this wasn’t just a comeback match.

It was a beginning.

[iamagoddess1]

Obsessed

Mapi Leon X Ingrid Engen x Aitana Bonmati x fem reader

You never expected your life to turn into something out of a fanfiction forum — and yet, here you are, casually flipping through messages from Ingrid Engen and Mapi León, two of the world’s most elite footballers… both completely, undeniably obsessed with you.

It started at a Champions League afterparty. You were there with a mutual friend — low-key, minding your own business — when Ingrid noticed you from across the room. There was something magnetic in the way she approached you, eyes locked, confident and calm. You talked for hours that night, her soft Norwegian accent wrapping around her words like a private melody only you could hear.

A week later, you bumped into Mapi at a coffee shop in Barcelona. She was loud, funny, and didn’t hesitate to say, “You’re exactly my type.” You thought it was a joke — until she slid her number across the table and said, “Don’t ghost me, or I’ll show up at your door.”

You didn’t ghost her.

Soon, both women were in your life — and somehow… neither of them wanted to let go. Instead of fighting, they formed an unlikely alliance. “We share the pitch,” Ingrid said, crossing her arms, “We can share you, too.”

Now you’re the center of a love triangle with no drama — just fierce devotion. Mapi leaves love notes in your jacket pockets and tattoos the first letter of your name behind her ear. Ingrid wakes you up with breakfast and eyes only for you, ignoring even her phone when you’re speaking.

You’ve tried to be low-key about it, but they’re hopelessly attached. Ingrid books surprise weekend trips just to have you alone. Mapi shows up to training with your initials written on her wrist tape. Fans start to notice you in the background of their Instagram stories — blurry at first, but soon tagged outright. Fan pages explode.

“WHO IS SHE?!”

“She’s with both of them?!?”

You? You’re just trying to live your life while two world-class athletes compete to out-romance each other. They bring you flowers after every match — even if they lose. They fight over who gets to sleep next to you. They don’t just want you in their lives — they want you as their endgame.

And honestly?

You kind of love it.

Things were already a bit out of control.

Ingrid had practically moved into your apartment. She left her hoodie on your chair, her books on your nightstand, and her toothbrush next to yours — silently declaring her territory. Mapi? She was worse. She made a habit of “accidentally” leaving her practice gear at your place just so she had an excuse to come back… every. single. night.

You didn’t complain.

But then Aitana Bonmatí happened.

It was at a charity event, something you agreed to attend only because Ingrid insisted. “We won’t stay long,” she whispered into your ear. “I just want to show you off a little.”

And show you off, she did.

Ingrid had her hand in yours. Mapi had her arm around your waist. You looked stunning — the kind of jaw-dropping that made photographers do double-takes. And that’s exactly when Aitana saw you for the first time.

She froze in place, glass of cava in hand, staring. Not at Ingrid. Not at Mapi. At you.

You didn’t know Aitana well — just enough to recognize her from every highlight reel and Ballon d’Or mention. But when she walked up to you, there was this glimmer in her eyes — calculated curiosity mixed with just a spark of trouble.

“You’re… the one, huh?” she said, raising an eyebrow as her gaze dipped — not subtly. “I get the hype.”

You laughed politely. Mapi didn’t.

Ingrid’s smile thinned.

Aitana leaned in. “I hope they’re not keeping you too busy. Some of us are better at… multitasking.”

That was the moment everything shifted. Over the next few weeks, Aitana became more present — more visible. She found excuses to talk to you during team dinners. She sent you memes at 2 AM. She posted cryptic Instagram stories — vague captions, but with enough context clues to send Mapi into a spiral.

“She’s doing it on purpose,” Mapi hissed one night, pacing your kitchen like a tiger in a cage. “She wants to steal you.”

Ingrid was more composed, but you could see the tension in her jaw. “You need to be careful. Aitana doesn’t play fair when she wants something.”

And it was clear: she wanted you.

She started inviting you to events she “happened” to be attending alone. She bought you books you casually mentioned once. She touched your hand just a second too long. And one night — after a match — she looked you in the eye and said:

“You know, they don’t deserve you like I do.”

That night, both Ingrid and Mapi showed up at your place. No warning.

They stood in your doorway, silent at first, then Ingrid finally spoke.

“We’re not going to lose you to her,” she said firmly. “Not without a fight.”

Mapi nodded. “You’re ours.”

You just stood there, blinking between them — completely aware that your life had officially become a war zone of elite athletes trying to win your heart.

Things got messy — fast.

Aitana was relentless. Where Ingrid was soft and steady, and Mapi was wild and passionate, Aitana was calculated. She knew exactly when to strike — when Mapi had an away game and couldn’t keep tabs, when Ingrid was too focused on training to notice the subtle glances and messages.

And you? You didn’t say no.

Not when Aitana brushed your hair out of your face and whispered, “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

Not when she invited you to a rooftop bar overlooking Barcelona and made you laugh so hard you cried.

Not even when she kissed you under the soft gold lights of the city — and you kissed her back.

You didn’t tell Mapi. Or Ingrid.

Not immediately.

But it didn’t stay hidden long.

Mapi found a photo — a blurry one, a fan-shot — of you and Aitana at that bar. You weren’t touching, but the closeness was damning.

“Explain,” Mapi snapped, her voice low but trembling. “Right now.”

Ingrid sat beside her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, trying hard to stay calm. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

You told the truth.

And silence swallowed the room.

Mapi stormed out. Ingrid followed, but she didn’t say a word. That night, you slept alone. You thought it was over. That you had ruined the best thing you’d ever had.

Until two days later, they all showed up. At the same time.

You opened your door and there stood Mapi, Ingrid, and Aitana — like a tactical formation of chaos, beauty, and tension. You stood frozen, heart in your throat.

Mapi was the first to speak. “We talked.”

Ingrid nodded. “We’re… not happy. But we get it.”

Aitana looked almost smug. “You don’t belong to one of us. You belong to all of us.”

You blinked. “What are you saying?”

Ingrid stepped forward and gently cupped your face. “We want to try this. Together.”

Mapi shrugged. “As long as no one pulls any slick moves behind backs.”

Aitana grinned. “Trust me — I don’t share well. But for you? I’ll make an exception.”

And just like that, your life turned into something no one would believe.

You now dated three of the best footballers in the world. Your mornings were filled with sleepy kisses and tangled limbs. Your afternoons were battles for your attention — Aitana stealing you away with clever words, Mapi dragging you on surprise scooter rides, Ingrid reading to you in quiet corners of the city.

Fans began to catch on. They called you “The Lucky One.”

You called it… balance. Chaotic, wonderful, fiery balance.

They each loved you in their own way — completely, obsessively, loyally.

And you?

You wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

The night was warm, the windows open just enough to let the soft city breeze in, but not enough to cool the heat in the room.

They were waiting — Ingrid, Mapi, and Aitana — sprawled across your bed like a portrait of temptation. Three women who dominated on the pitch, worshipped by millions, now laid bare before you. And the only thing on their minds? You. What you wanted. What you’d say. What you’d do.

Mapi, ever the wild one, smirked like she was ready for a challenge — until you pinned her with a single glance.

“In your place,” you said calmly, and she dropped the act instantly, biting her lip as she obeyed — crawling back into position.

Ingrid was quieter, watching you with wide eyes, her breath catching every time you even looked in her direction. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered, voice trembling like a confession.

“You’ll know when I show you,” you replied, walking slowly toward the bed, letting your fingers brush lightly over skin, over curves, over shivers.

Aitana tried to act unaffected — cocky, aloof — but the moment you touched her jaw and tilted her face up, she melted.

“You think you’re in control?” she breathed.

You leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “I know I am.”

You made them wait. Teased, commanded, controlled the rhythm and the air itself. You didn’t rush. You didn’t need to. They were already undone — watching your every move like you were the sun and they were gravity-bound.

One word from you and they listened. One touch and they crumbled. The room echoed with their gasps, the soft sound of tangled sheets, and the steady, low tone of your voice telling them exactly where to be, how to move, when to beg for more.

By the end of the night, all three lay breathless — flushed, tangled around each other and around you.

You sat back against the pillows, completely composed, while they curled into you, each trying to get closer, to stay connected just a little longer.

“You’re dangerous,” Aitana whispered.

“You ruin me,” Ingrid added.

Mapi just smirked sleepily and said, “You’re mine. And somehow, I’m yours.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

Because in that moment, there was no doubt:

You were the center of their world — and they loved

[iamagoddess1]

What if she chose me pt4

You wake before the sun.

Not from a alarm, not from a dream—just… awake. Like your body knew before your mind could catch up. Like something in your blood whispered, Today matters. And now here you are, staring at the ceiling in the half-dark, chest already tight.

The world is still. Silent. But inside your skin, everything buzzes.

You lie there a while, barely breathing, letting your eyes adjust to the slow gold of dawn leaking through the curtains. The room is the same as it was last night—clothes folded on the chair, shoes lined up by the door, borrowed hoodie slung across the back of the couch. Familiar.

But nothing feels familiar today.

You shift under the covers, muscles tense from too little sleep and too many rehearsed mistakes. You’ve been cycling through every possible scenario for hours—missed tackles, overhit passes, misplaced touches, Alexia’s voice ringing sharp in your ears like she never stopped speaking.

You turn over, press your face into the pillow, and try not to scream.

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble for it, blinking against the brightness of the screen.

Mapi: If you trip walking out of the tunnel today, I’ll fake a hamstring tear in solidarity. You’re welcome.

You stare at it for a second. Then snort. Then another message appears.

Mapi: Also, wear the bra that gives you defender energy. Not the one that says "I’m nice, please pass to me."

You chuckle this time—actual, reluctant laughter, just loud enough to fill the quiet around you. Your chest eases, just a little.

You reply with one hand tucked under the covers.

Y/N: What does defender energy even look like?

Mapi: “I will shoulder-check your soul into orbit.” That’s the energy. Find it.

You smile. It’s small, but it sticks. Your thumb lingers over her message for a second longer than necessary.

Find it.

You stare at the ceiling again, heart still quick, thoughts still racing—but something about the absurdity of her support—of her—lets you breathe a little deeper. She’s chaos wrapped in glitter, but somehow she’s also the calm before your storm.

You throw the covers off, feet hitting the floor like an oath. Let’s Game day begin.

You move through the morning like a half-formed version of yourself.

Shower. Dry off. Pull on your clothes layer by layer like armor. Re-tie your laces three times before accepting they’ll never sit perfectly. You eat half a banana before your stomach decides that’s a declaration of war.

You pull your hair back into a tight braid. The kind that says I’m here to fight.

But even then, you can feel it. The nerves. The weight of the start. It presses behind your eyes and crawls along your spine. Not fear exactly—but something cousin-close. Like adrenaline with a grudge.

You sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, staring at the floor like it’s got the answers you haven’t found yet.

You’re not scared to play. You’re scared to be seen.

And not in the usual way. Not in the "are they watching?" sense. But in the way that some of them will be watching just to see you fail.

You don’t need to name names.

The silence between you and Jana lately is practically a character of its own. It hovers. It lingers. It judges.

And Alexia? Sometimes you wonder if she’d prefer you gone. If part of her is still waiting for you to crack. If she’ll ever admit that the anger on the pitch that day wasn’t just about mistake you made but rather that she’s taking Jana’s side in whatever beff she has with you.

Your thoughts spiral fast, then faster. And then-Another knock. Three quiet taps.

You expect salma—she’s always composed, never too early, never too late.

But when you open the door, it’s Ona. Hoodie zipped to her chin, hair still damp like she just stepped out of the shower, and a bag in one hand.

She raises it. “Aitana made these terrifying protein pancake things and delivered them to me last night. I didn’t want to eat alone.”

You blink. “Are they edible?”

“Barely,” she says. “But they’ll get you through kickoff.”

She steps inside without waiting for an invitation. You don’t mind.

You sit back on the edge of the bed, and she leans against the wall like she’s done it a hundred times.

You tear off a piece of the pancake, chew, and grimace. “It’s like chewing ambition.”

She grins. “Better than nerves.”

You nod. “Barely.”

Ona doesn’t say anything for a while. She just lets you eat in peace.

Then, quietly “You okay?”

You shrug. “I will be.”

She nods once. “That’s enough.”

You look up at her—really look—and see the understanding in her eyes. Not pity. Not even sympathy. Just recognition. She’s felt it too.

The pressure. The scrutiny. The weight of having to prove yourself, not just as a player, but as someone who belongs.

You finish the last bite, toss the wrapper into the bin, and run a hand down your thigh like it’ll ground you.

“Thanks,” you say.

She tilts her head. “For the pancake?”

“For showing up.”

Ona smiles, small and real. “Bus leaves soon. I’ll save you a seat.” And just like that, she slips out the door.

You sit there a second longer, heart steadier now. Not weightless—but ready.

The bus ride is quiet. Not tense—just… focused. Everyone’s got their headphones in, their game faces on. The kind of silence that crackles with intention.

You sit next to Ona, just like she promised. Her knee bounces gently against yours, keeping time with the soft beat leaking from her earbuds. She doesn't speak, but her presence is steady. Like a metronome. Like something you can anchor to.

You press your forehead to the window and let the city pass you by—streets melting into each other, sky shifting from dusty pink to something clearer, cleaner. It's a matchday sky. You’ve seen it before. But today it feels like it’s watching you.

When the bus pulls into the stadium’s lower lot, you feel it—the shift. The tightening of laces. The sharpening of focus. Game day lives in the bones. And now, it’s awake.

The locker room buzzes with movement.

Cleats thud against tile. Zippers open. Tape stretches and snaps. Coaches murmur. The playlist pulses low from a speaker tucked behind the trainers' bench. The air smells like menthol, citrus, and tension.

You move through it all without speaking.

Jana doesn’t look at you when you pass her bench. She’s taping her wrist, jaw tight.

Alexia is across the room, leaned against a locker, arms crossed as she listens to Jonatan go over set-piece responsibilities with Patri. She doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know she’s clocked your arrival. You feel it like static.

You sit. Pull on your socks. Lace your boots. Every movement slow, deliberate, rehearsed a hundred times in your head before you ever touched the gear.

Mapi walks by and tugs lightly on your braid. “Lookin’ scary, Noruega. I like it.”

You smirk. “Defender energy?”

“Hell yeah,” she grins. “Now go scare someone.”

You stand with the rest of the squad when Jonatan calls everyone into the center. His speech is brief. Clear.

You’ve trained for this. You’ve earned this. Trust your instinct. Play your football.

He reads the lineup aloud. Your name is in the XI.

Even though you’ve known it for days—heard it from his own mouth, seen it on the board—it still hits different when the whole room hears it too.

There’s a pause.

A few cheers. A quick pat on the back from Mapi. A nod from Vicky.

But no reaction from Jana. None from Alexia either. Their silence scrapes a little. But it doesn’t stop you.

The tunnel is colder than you expect. Concrete underfoot. The roar of the crowd already building above.

Your heartbeat finds a rhythm as the announcer calls the lineups. You walk out shoulder-to-shoulder with legends, lights flashing, the pitch unfolding ahead like something sacred.

Your first start for barcelona.

Your name echoing across the stadium. You blink up at the sky—blue, endless—and whisper to yourself, You’re here.

And then the whistle blows.

The game starts fast. Faster than you’re ready for. Your first touch is too heavy. Your second pass is too soft. You recover quickly, but the sting of your mistakes lingers like a slap. You can feel it—eyes on you. Coaches. Teammates. Alexia.

You try to find your footing, get sharper, but everything feels just half a beat off.

“Move!” Alexia shouts from midfield. “You’re late!”

You grind your teeth and sprint harder.

You intercept a pass near the sideline, win your first tackle. The crowd claps. Mapi yells something supportive that you barely hear.

Then—

Your side gets overloaded on a switch. You step forward, late again, and the winger blows past you.

Ingrid slides in to cover, saving the play. The ball goes out for a throw.

“Track that earlier,” she says, not unkindly. “You saw it coming.”

You nod, frustrated with yourself.

“Don’t get stuck in your head,” she adds before jogging back into position.

You try to take her advice.You really do. But the pitch feels tilted. The weight of expectation like a hand on your throat.

Fifteen minutes in, you see your moment.

A misstep in their midfield opens a line. You pounce, intercept, and launch a perfect ball into the run of Aitana. She doesn’t hesitate—curls it around the keeper.

Goal.

The stadium erupts.

You’re weightless for a second. Dizzy with relief. Aitana runs past you, grinning. “Perfect ball!”

Mapi slaps your back so hard your legs almost give. “NORUEGAAA!”

Ingrid turns as she jogs back and gives you the briefest, proudest nod.

But when your eyes flick to the sideline— Jana. Arms crossed. Staring like you just committed a crime by playing well. And Alexia— She doesn’t celebrate. Doesn’t smile. Just turns and jogs back into position, jaw tight. Your chest sinks a little.

The next ten minutes are sharper. You push harder. Try to prove it wasn’t luck. You win another duel. Force a foul. And then— You're hit.

A crunching shoulder to the ribs, no attempt at the ball. You collapse on impact, the turf biting at your elbows as the air knocks from your lungs.

No whistle.

You roll to your side, coughing, trying to breathe. Boots scuff near your head.

“Ingrid,” you croak.

“I’m here,” she says, kneeling beside you.

You keep your face down. You don’t want her to see it. The pain. The tears threatening behind your eyes.

“You good?” she asks, voice steady, quiet.

You nod. Lie. “Fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I said I’m fine.” You push up, stagger to your feet before the med staff can even blink.

Ingrid doesn’t stop you. But she watches you longer than anyone else does. You don’t meet her eyes.

You try to shake it off. But the pain is still there. Ribs throbbing. Head spinning. The next ball you chase burns like fire in your lungs.

You pass it off too early. And Alexia’s already turning. “Stop playing scared!”

You flinch. “I’m not—”

“You are. Play forward. If you’re not reading the press, you’re just getting in the way.”

You want to scream. Or cry. Or just stop moving for one second. But you can’t. Because that’s weakness. Because that’s what they’re waiting to see.

Thirty-nine minutes in. You misread a rotation. You step when you should’ve dropped. The space you leave is enough for a through ball that nearly costs you a goal. Cata makes the save. Barely.

And then—Alexia is on you. “What was that?!”

“I thought—”

“You thought?”

“I had the read—”

“You didn’t.”

You turn your back on her before you say something you’ll regret.

She’s right behind you.

“You want to be here?” she hisses. “Then act like it.”

You clench your jaw so tight it hurts.

Halftime.

You’re walking into the tunnel like a ghost. Ribs aching. Head down.

Mapi jogs up behind you. “Hey,” she whispers. “Shake it off.”

You want to. You really do. But everything is a blur.

Inside the locker room, noise buzzes. Water bottles slam. Coaches speak in quick bursts. Someone’s unwrapping tape. Someone else is shouting about second-half press triggers.

You don’t hear most of it. Until—

“Do you want to lose this for us?!” You freeze.

The room goes silent. Alexia. She’s standing by the whiteboard now. Braids damp with sweat. Arms tensed at her sides.

All eyes swing to you.

“What?” you ask, already knowing.

“You’re dragging us down,” she snaps. “You’re late on rotations. You’re second-guessing every decision.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“Well, your best isn’t good enough right now.”

“Alexia,” Ingrid warns, standing slowly.

Alexia ignores her.

“We don’t need passengers,” she continues, voice hard. “So either lock in—or get off the field.”

You open your mouth. But nothing comes out. Because what do you say? What can you say when you’re bruised and breathless and still not enough? You nod. Just once. Then sit down. Towel around your neck. Staring at the floor.

The rest of the room moves around you. Coaches talk. Arrows on the tactics board. Sub plans. Adjustments.

But you hear none of it. Just her voice.

Lock in. Or get off the field.

And for the first time all day— You’re not sure which option hurts more.

The second half is sharper. Not easier. Not lighter. Just sharper.

You stop thinking. There’s no room for it anymore. Every touch is muscle memory. Every sprint is obligation. You don’t feel the pain in your ribs anymore—you’ve locked it out. You don’t feel anything except the scream in your lungs and the burn behind your eyes.

You’re not trying to shine. You’re trying to survive. Alexia says nothing to you after halftime. Not a look. Not a word. But somehow, the silence weighs more than all her shouting.

She directs the press. Calls switches. Points to space. She speaks to others. Just not to you.

At one point, the ball comes across the field—a loose rebound, fifty-fifty. You lunge for it without thinking, and the collision knocks the wind from you again.

You bounce back up. You don’t show it. You don’t dare show it.

Mapi helps you up. Doesn’t say anything. Just nods once like she knows exactly where you are, emotionally and physically. Like she’s been there herself. Like maybe she still is.

The game ends 2–1.

You hold the lead. You help hold the line. And yet When the final whistle blows, you don’t feel victory.

You feel empty. No one says anything to you on the pitch.

You give a couple of high-fives. Offer a nod to Jonatan. Ingrid claps your shoulder once and mutters “Good recovery second half.” But it’s brief. Controlled. Like everyone’s choosing not to pick at the bruise still throbbing between you and the captain.

Alexia speaks to the ref. To the staff. To Aitana. Not to you. You don’t expect her to. Not after what she said.

The locker room is weirdly quiet after the match.

Not quite tense, not celebratory either. Just… still. You sit on the bench, peeling your socks off in silence. Your body is one giant ache.

Your ribs scream every time you bend forward. There’s dried blood on your shin you hadn’t noticed until now. Your hands shake a little when you finally untie your boots.

No one’s looking at you. But you can feel the weight of it anyway. Like everyone knows what happened at halftime, but no one wants to be the one to touch the wound.

You grab your bag and leave quickly—head down, towel slung over your shoulder. You tell yourself it’s just fatigue. Just pain. Not shame. Not disappointment. You’re almost convinced. Almost.

The bus ride home is darker than it should be.

You take a seat by the window in the very back, headphones in but no music playing. You stare out at the blur of city lights and try not to spiral.

Alexia sits near the front. Her head is down. She’s speaking quietly to Vicky, the occasional nod, the flick of a wrist to emphasize a point. She hasn’t looked back once.

You should be proud.You started. You held your own. You played hurt. You did the job. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Not with her silence still ringing louder than any stadium crowd.

A soft nudge hits your shoulder.You blink, turn. It’s Ona.

She’s standing next to your seat, hoodie up, one hand clutching a can of something vaguely citrus-flavored and probably disgustingly unhealthy.

She doesn’t say anything. Just hands it to you. You take it.

Your fingers brush hers. You don’t mean to flinch, but the contact feels too much right now. She notices. Doesn’t comment.

Then she sits beside you without asking.

You open the drink. Sip. Swallow. Still silence.

But it’s not like Alexia’s silence. This one is safe. Gentle. Intentional.

Eventually, she says, “You played well.” You don’t respond. She waits. Then “And you got hit. Hard.”

“I’m fine,” you say. It comes out too fast.

She gives you a look. The kind that says she knows you’re lying. The kind that says she’s not going to call you out on it—but she’ll still sit here anyway.

“You shouldn’t let her get in your head,” Ona says softly, voice low so no one else can hear. “Alexia.”

You stare straight ahead.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You exhale. Slow. Shaky. “She’s the captain.”

“She’s not always right.”

“She’s Alexia Putellas.”

“She’s human,” Ona replies.

You don’t know how to argue with that. So you don’t.

You just sip your drink, grateful for the space she’s holding beside you, even when it hurts to be seen this clearly.

You whisper, “Thank you.”

She nudges your shoulder. “Always.”

And just like that, you exhale—really exhale—for the first time since the whistle blew.

You still ache. You’re still angry. You’re still bruised, outside and in. But for the first time all day— You don’t feel alone.

You lose track of how many matches it’s been.Three? Four? You stopped counting after the second time your name showed up on the lineup board and no one questioned it.

Not Mapi, who always shouts “NORUEGA!” when the names are read.

Not Aitana, who throws an arm around your shoulder like you’ve been glued to her side since pre-season.

Not Patri, who passes you the ball in tight spaces now without hesitation, like she knows you’ll handle it.

The team didn’t need convincing. They were warm from the beginning—open, ridiculous, protective. You didn’t have to earn their affection. Just their rhythm. And now, you’re in it. You’re part of them. Except—Not her And not alexia.

Alexia plays with you like a soldier plays beside someone they didn’t choose—precise, efficient, silent. She no longer corrects you mid-game in front of everyone. But the glances are still there. The clipped tone.

The way her voice softens around everyone else but hardens when it reaches you, like she’s building a wall and doesn’t care if it cracks your ribs in the process.

You do everything right and still feel like you’re failing her. You stop expecting warmth. You just want neutral.

Jana remains distant. Cold in a quiet way. She doesn’t glare. She doesn’t talk shit. She just... withholds.

No eye contact. No celebration overlap. No reaction when you make a clean tackle or deliver a decent cross. The silence from her is a kind of noise all its own.

You stopped trying to interpret it. Mostly. But even with their silence, you survive. You hold your place. You make your runs, your tackles, your recoveries. You do the job.

And in the middle of it all—your team surrounds you with so much energy it almost fills the spaces left by the ones who won’t meet your eyes.

One Friday afternoon, after a solid win, you’re icing your ankle on the bench when Ona taps your shoulder with the end of a water bottle.

“Drinks at mine,” she says, casual. “You in?”

You blink. “Like… a party?”

“No. Just chaos. And hydration. And maybe tequila.”

Mapi perks up from the corner like a demon summoned by a forbidden word. “Did someone say tequila?”

Ona sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ll bring the speakers,” Aitana grins. “And the bad decisions.”

“Make sure you bring your charger too,” Vicky mutters. “Last time you played Bad Bunny for six hours and then ghosted.”

“I have taste. You’re welcome.”

Ona looks at you, expectant, already smiling.

You smile back. “Yeah. I’m in.”

That night, you show up at her place just after nine—hoodie on, hands stuffed in your pockets, unsure if you should’ve brought anything.

But inside, the vibe is perfect.

Shoes by the door. Music pulsing low. Half the team already curled into couches, sprawled across the floor, or raiding Ona’s kitchen.

Mapi has a shot glass in one hand and a cucumber slice in the other.

“Balance,” she says when she sees you. “It’s called nutrition.”

“You’re drunk,” Ingrid says calmly from where she’s mixing juice and gin.

“I’m hydrated.”

“You tried to FaceTime Messi ten minutes ago.”

“I wanted to say hi!”

Ona’s curled up in the armchair, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, nursing a soda and watching the chaos unfold like she’s streaming a sitcom she’s seen a hundred times and still loves.

She catches your eye and smirks. “Welcome to the circus.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel your body relax. You don’t feel like a starter. You don’t feel like a disappointment. You just feel like one of them.

Someone turned the lights down. Someone else added disco lights. There’s glitter on the dog. You’re not sure whose dog this is.

You’re also not sure how you ended up on the kitchen floor with Aitana, both of you laughing so hard you can’t breathe while Mapi tries to convince Patri to let her freestyle rap over Beyoncé.

“Absolutely not,” Patri says, deadpan.

“It’s a remix,” Mapi insists.

“It’s a war crime,” Ingrid mutters.

From the living room, Vicky shouts, “Who just broke my charger?”

“It was already broken!” Mapi yells back.

“It was in my purse!”

You end up in the living room again, head spinning, cheeks sore from laughing. Someone shoved a pillow under your arm and told you it was emotional support. It might’ve been Ona. She hasn’t moved from her chair in an hour but somehow has complete control over the night like a benevolent goblin queen.

“I’m letting chaos unfold naturally,” she says as she watches Mapi attempt a somersault over a beanbag and land flat on her back.

“Did it look cool?” Mapi groans.

“You looked like an injured seal,” Aitana offers.

“I felt cool,” Mapi says, still face-down.

Ingrid, curled up with a glass of wine and absolutely judging everyone, leans over to you. “It’s getting dangerous.”

“Emotionally or physically?”

“Yes.”

Someone yells “karaoke” again.

Everyone groans, but someone already has the mic.

Aitana and Marta do Bailando. Mapi and Patri butcher Shallow but sing it like it’s the Champions League anthem. Pina and Vicky team up to sing Toxic, surprisingly well, to everyone's shock and slight fear.

“Have you practiced this?” you ask.

“I’m a woman of range,” pina says, sipping her drink.

You’re two songs deep into a group rendition of I Want It That Way when you try to hit a high note and end up choking on your drink instead.

You cough. Loud.

Violently.

So loud, in fact, that the room goes quiet.

Then Mapi, from the couch: “Is she dying?”

Aitana rushes over, dramatically grabbing your shoulders.

“Live! LIVE, damn you!”

You’re laughing through the cough now, tears in your eyes.

And somewhere near the doorway, Jana laughs. Not a loud cackle. Not an exaggerated one. Just a quick, genuine little laugh. Shoulders shaking once. A soft exhale. She catches herself fast. Looks down into her drink.

But not before Ona, Ingrid, and Mapi catch it. M They glance at each other—no teasing, no comment. Just quiet surprise. Because it’s the first time in weeks.

Back on the floor, you recover. You wipe your eyes and raise your drink. “Cheers to making it through vocal cord trauma.”

“To death by karaoke!” Mapi adds, throwing an arm around you.

Patri sighs and downs the rest of her drink. Alexia, still seated in the corner, hasn’t moved much. She’s half-listening to the chaos, one foot tucked under her knee, swirling a drink she’s barely touched. She doesn’t talk much. But she doesn’t leave either. She watches everything. Everyone.

Her gaze lingers when you laugh too hard. When Mapi leans into your side. When Ingrid ruffles your hair and calls you “idiota” after you miss a charade clue so badly that everyone thinks you’re miming childbirth. You were trying to act out “bicycle.”

It’s sometime past midnight when the dares escalate.

“Drink roulette!” Aitana declares, setting shot glasses in a circle and filling them with different mystery liquids.

“What the hell is that one?” you ask, pointing to a glowing blue thing.

“Lemonade and… something Mapi brought from Norway.”

“It’s called Surprise Juice,” Mapi says proudly.

“It smells like nail polish remover.”

“Surprise!”

Patri loses a round and has to do a dramatic monologue from a telenovela. She delivers it flawlessly. Marta films it and immediately texts it to the group chat with the caption oscar-worthy.

Later, you’re lying flat on the floor next to Ingrid and Vicky.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you mumble.

“Good,” Vicky says. “You’ve ascended.”

“You’re in stage three,” Ingrid adds. “Stage four is existential dread.”

“Do I get a badge?”

“You get a hangover.”

You glance across the room. Alexia’s still in the corner. Still watching. Still unreadable. But she hasn’t left.

And when you trip getting up and Mapi yells “Man down!”, you could swear—just for a second—you see the corner of Alexia’s mouth twitch. Not a smile.But close.

Eventually, people start curling up under blankets. Aitana is asleep with her head in Patri’s lap. Mapi is singing softly to someone’s shoe. Ingrid has claimed the couch. Vicky is trying to convince Irene to let her organize the fridge “for serotonin.”

You lean back against the armrest, drink in hand, fuzzy and floating.

Ona sits next to you “You good?” she asks.

You nod. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been since I got here.”

She tilts her head, studying you for a second. Then she bumps her shoulder against yours. “You belong here, you know.” You blink. “Even if some of them don’t know it yet,” she adds.

You glance toward the corner. Alexia isn’t watching you anymore. She’s looking at the floor. But she’s still there.

So is Jana— who is now sitting beside alexia. Observing drink in her hand as if it’s some rare diamond.

It’s too quiet now. The kind of quiet where the chaos has died down, but your thoughts haven’t. The floor is crowded with sleeping teammates in various states of blanket burrito. The lights are off except for the one faint glow from under the bathroom door.

You try to be quiet as you step over Patri’s legs, then a half-eaten bag of chips, then what might be Aitana’s slipper. You don’t know why you’re even up. Just needed a moment. A breath. Maybe cold water.

You reach for the bathroom handle. Then freeze. Voices. Low. Muffled. Inside. You pause. It’s Alexia. And Jana.

You step back, heartbeat loud now. You know you should leave.

“You know,” Jana says, voice low, “I used to think all I had to do was work harder. Stay later. Watch more film. Push more in training. That it would be enough to keep me here.”

“You’ve earned your place,” Alexia says.

“That’s the problem,” Jana replies, bitter at the edges. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to keep earning it. I thought they would choose me after hearing about onas injury”

Silence. Not judgmental. Just still.

Jana continues. “Then she arrived. And it was like… like the bar moved.”

You can’t see her, but you know her face right now. The tight jaw. The way her fingers probably twist into her sleeve when she’s trying to talk herself down from a spiral.

“She doesn’t play scared,” Jana adds. “She plays like she’s already part of the story. Like the pitch is hers. You know how rare that is”

Alexia says nothing.

Jana laughs softly, but there’s no joy in it.

“I hate how much I notice her. How much I compare myself. I’ll do something solid in training—one-touch pass, good angle, decent recovery—and think, ‘Maybe today someone saw it.’ But then she does something ordinary, and people light up like it’s gold.”

“She’s new,” Alexia says. “That shine won’t last forever.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jana says. “Because she’s good. She’s not just shiny—she’s solid. And the team’s already folding around her like she’s a permanent part of it. And me?” Her voice cracks. “I’m still waiting to feel like I’m not temporary. Last choice.”

Alexia sighs. You hear it. Deep, steadying.

“She’s not a threat, Jana.”

“No,” Jana agrees. “But she is a reminder.”

Alexia’s voice is quiet now. “Of what?”

“That maybe I was never as good as I thought I had to be.”

That one cuts. Even from the hallway, even when it’s not yours.

You feel it in your throat. That quiet, dangerous line we all walk Am I enough, or just filling space until someone better comes along?

Jana sniffles, but it’s fast. Swallowed. Buried.

“I gave up so much to stay here. To belong here. I wasn’t the next big thing. But I clawed my way into this squad. I stayed when others didn’t. And suddenly I feel like I’m on the edge of the frame again.”

Alexia doesn’t speak for a moment. Then “You think she’s pushing you out.”

“I think I never had a place that was really mine to begin with.”

That silence that follows is brutal. Too long. Too honest.

Then Alexia says, softer than anything else you’ve heard her say, “I remember feeling that. First time I walked back into the locker room after the injury.”

Jana doesn’t reply.

“You think the space you left behind has forgotten your shape. You think everyone adjusted. Moved on. You watch girls play like they were born here and wonder if you were just an extra.”

A beat. “I looked around and thought, ‘They don’t need me anymore.’ Even after all I gave.”

Now you want to cry. Because they don’t know it, but they’re not just talking about themselves.

They’re talking about every player who’s ever stood at the edge of the pitch, wondering if they were already fading before the whistle even blew.

“I’m tired, Ale,” Jana whispers. “And I’m not even old. But I’m tired.”

“That’s because you’ve been carrying your place like a burden instead of wearing it like it’s yours.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Then maybe it’s time someone shows you.”

Alexia’s voice is different now. Not coach. Not captain. Just teammate. Friend.

“You belong here, Jana. With or without the perfect stats or the big minutes or the highlight reels. You belong because you make people around you better.”

Jana lets out a shaky breath.

“You think she doesn’t notice your game?”

There’s a pause. Hesitation.

“She probably watches you more than you watch her.”

You inhale sharply.

Because you hadn’t realized how true that might be.

“She’s not your replacement,” Alexia continues. “She’s your teammate. You don’t have to compete with her to prove something.”

“She’s so—”

“So are you.”

Silence again. Longer this time.

And then Jana says, quiet like a confession, “I wanted to hate her.”

Alexia hums. “Did it work?”

“No,” she breathes. “It just made me feel small.”

“You’re not small.”

Another pause.

Then Jana asks, voice barely audible, “Do you think she knows?”

“That you’ve been scared of her?” Alexia says. “Maybe not.”

“That I admire her,” Jana says. Your heart stumbles.

Alexia is quiet. Then “Tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She might stop trying.”

Alexia laughs softly. “She won’t. People like her? They’re always fighting invisible battles. Just like you.”

You step back from the door then. Not because it’s over. But because you've heard enough.

And maybe… So have they.

The kitchen’s warm with lazy late-morning light, the sound of someone opening cereal in the background, and half the team moving in a daze like hungover ghosts. There’s glitter in the sink. There’s a sock stuck to the fridge. Aitana is loudly brushing her teeth while singing Rosalía down the hall.

You’re sitting on the edge of one of the barstools at Ona’s kitchen island, toast half-eaten in front of you. You haven’t blinked in two minutes. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardio level.

Because Jana’s leaning on the opposite counter. And she just tucked her hair behind her ear. While drinking from her water bottle. And somehow… she made it look cinematic.

It was slow. Casual. Effortless. And now you’re spiraling.

Beside you, Mapi has been watching you watch her for the past twenty minutes.

Quietly. Calculating. Like a chaos mathematician with too much free time and a god complex.

She sips her smoothie. Loudly. “So when’s the wedding?”

You flinch. “Mapi—”

“She’s got the ‘I’d ruin my career for you, but only if you asked twice’ vibe today.”

“She’s not even—”

“She’s glowing. And I’m not talking ‘hydrated athlete’ glowing. I mean ‘I just had an emotionally complicated dream and now I’m looking at the person I can’t stop dreaming about’ glowing.”

You press your palms to your eyes. “You’re insane.”

“You’re in heat.”

You choke on air.

Mapi pats your back. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us. It’s not your fault she looked at you like she’s reading your search history.”

“She didn’t look at me like anything.”

“She looked at you like she just remembered what your voice sounds like when you’re about to orgazm .”

You turn to her slowly. Whisper “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

“She made eye contact,” Mapi hisses back. “It wasn’t just a glance. It was slow. It was ‘I’m trying to unbutton you with my brain’ levels of direct.”

“She was checking to see if the cereal was behind me.”

“She looked at you like she’d eat cereal off your collarbone.”

You gasp. “Jesus Christ.”

“She blinked like she felt you looking.”

You can’t deny that. Because you did. You did look. And she did blink.

And your whole body betrayed you with a wave of heat so fast and ridiculous you genuinely considered walking straight into the pantry and staying there forever.

Mapi leans closer, whispering directly into your ear now. “Tell me the truth. You’d let her ruin your life, wouldn’t you?”

You stare at your mug. Then whisper, “Maybe just a little.” Mapi lets out the most evil giggle you’ve ever heard.

“I knew it.” She smacks your arm. “I’ve seen less chemistry in actual relationships. This is like watching unresolved fanfiction in real time.”

“Mapi,” you plead. “She’s right there.”

“She has no idea we’re talking about her. That’s the best part. She’s over there thinking about formations or hydration or something.”

You risk another glance. Jana’s reading the back of a cereal box. You should be safe. But then— She looks up. Right at you. It’s instant. No buildup. Just—boom. Contact.

Your breath catches. Her gaze doesn’t waver.Not playful. Not aggressive.Just steady. Measured. Like she’s not looking at you. Like she’s looking through you. Like she’s reading your temperature and judging whether or not to start a fire.

You blink. She doesn’t.

Mapi lets out a long, slow whistle. “Oh my God.”

You feel the heat crawl up your neck. Your ears. Your spine. And then— Jana smirks. Tiny.Barely there. But real. Real enough that you nearly pass out. She looks away. Goes back to pouring cereal like she didn’t just end your entire bloodline.

Mapi drops her forehead to the counter.

“I’m lightheaded,” she whispers. “That was filth.”

“I think I just died.”

“You should’ve. She looked at you like you were dessert and she skipped dinner.”

“I’m gonna scream.”

Mapi lifts her head, eyes wide and serious. “No. Because if you scream, she’ll hear you. And then she’ll know. And we’ll lose the sacred tension.”

“There is no sacred tension.”

“There is a slow burn religious undertone to that stare-down you just had. I felt like I was watching the eye-contact version of Fleabag.”

You drop your head onto your arms.

“Hey,” Mapi says softly. “At least now we know.”

“Know what?”

“That she definitely wants to lick the inside of your mind.”

You slap her leg. She giggles again. And across the room, Jana—completely unaware—starts scrolling her phone with that neutral, unreadable face.

Except… You know she smirked. Mapi saw it too. And now you can’t unsee it. You glance up. Just once. Just long enough to catch her eyes already on you again. She doesn’t smirk this time. She just stares. Cool. Curious. And devastating.

Mapi grabs your toast. Takes a bite. Mutters, “You’re so screwed.”

You don’t answer. Because she’s right. And the worst part? You might like it.

[iamagoddess1]

masterlist

alexia putellas

take me home, babe

is it a crime?

ona batlle

funky car

requests are open and very much welcome

what i am currently working on and release dates can be found in: wips

[iamagoddess1]

Could you pleaseeee do g!p Alessia x reader and it’s hot steamy shower sex. Maybe they’re trying to start a family so breeding kink? Up to you ofc

Hi anon, no shower sex but plenty of breeding kink. Hope you like it =)

+18 SMUT MINORS DNI

READER G!P. SMUT. BREEDING KINK. PENETRATION. BLOWJOB. PRAISE KINK.

"Please," Alessia asked breathlessly, "will you... b-breed me?"

You looked her up and down, your cool, analytic gaze seeming to perfectly undress Alessia and evaluate. But there was no heat to your gaze, nothing that screamed 'I want you so badly I can barely hold myself back' like Alessia was hoping to see. 

It was... disappointing.

So when you finally nodded and said, "Yes," in your smooth, calm voice, Alessia was a little shocked.

"A-are you sure?" Alessia asked, mentally kicking herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"Hm? Yes. Ah," you nodded again in understanding, "you see, it has... been a while. If you are amenable, I may ask you to take a point?" your cold voice was kind of cute, Alessia had to admit.

"Sure," Alessia said, then, "Can I...?" with a vague gesture in the direction of your crotch.

You nodded once, seriously.

Alessia took the two short steps needed to close the distance between you both, then reached down to your waistband, your faces mere inches from each other. "I... I'm going to unbutton your jeans and pull them down," Alessia whispered. Alessia doesn't know why she felt compelled to narrate herself to you, but something about it felt right, and your nod of affirmation sent a quick thrill through her spine that she hadn't expected.

While Alessia undid your jeans, she ended up maintaining eye contact. She didn't mean to, but something about your gaze felt so charged, so intense that Alessia couldn't bring herself to look away, and neither did you flinch even when her cold fingers brushed up against the warm skin of your stomach, or when they crept down to the thick tangle of curls below. Alessia slid her fingers around to your hips and began tugging your jeans down around your full ass, your plump thighs.

Underneath was a plain pair of boxer briefs, with no telltale bulge or anything. "Are... are you sure you want this?" Alessia asked, and all her worries were dispelled when you nodded immediately and excessively, your hair swaying forward and back with the exaggerated motions. "Alright, then I-I'm going to, um... h-help you get hard, I g-guess..." Alessia stammered, still nervous.

Alessia reached up to do the same thing with her underwear that she did with your jeans, but one whispered word stopped her in her tracks.

"M-mouth," you breathed, barely audible above the rustle of clothing. "Use... your mouth..."

Alessia nodded seriously once, then clasped her hands behind her back and lowered herself to her knees. She couldn't resist the temptation to leave a couple of kisses on your stomach, just above the waistband, and Alessia could swear she felt a tiny tremor run through your body.

Still, Alessia had a purpose here, so she began the slow process of tugging down your boxer briefs with her mouth, one side at a time, gradually exposing more and more of you. Every now and then she'd pause to plant a kiss on your thighs or between your legs, and occasionally she'd think that maybe she saw another subtle tremor from you, but nothing she could be certain about.

The further Alessia got, the closer she came to having you fully revealed to her, the more frantic her actions became, the more uncoordinated her motions were, but finally, after what felt like far too long of a wait, Alessia exposed your waiting cock, hanging limp between your legs.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry," Alessia apologizes, embarrassed that she'd gotten so carried away when you were so obviously not into it. "I can stop, or we can do something else, I just didn't realize you…"

"M-m-mouth," you stammered, interrupting her. "P-please."

It wasn't until then that Alessia noticed your fists, clenched and shaking at your sides, or the way that, sure enough, every time Aleesia so much as brushed your skin with her nose you would shake in anticipation. 

Alessia saw the bead of precum gathered at the tip of your cock and her mouth started watering.

"Please," you repeated.

Alessia didn't make you beg again.

She leaned forward and licked the precum off of you and she was rewarded with a sharp gasp from above. One of your hands jerked forward, but then returned to your side, fist clenched even more tightly than before. Grinning, Alessia licked you again, then again and again, teasing you a bit before she got serious. Each lick was accompanied by a yelp, and one time Alessia saw you twitch a little bit.

Already Alessia could tell you were getting bigger, harder from her efforts, so before she could miss her opportunity she parted her lips and took you into her mouth. Taking advantage of your temporarily reduced size, she wrapped her lips around your base and started swirling her tongue around your head, eagerly lapping up and swallowing any precum generated by her efforts.

The results were obvious immediately. Alessia could feel your cock swelling and hardening in her mouth, what started as an easy fit forced her to open her jaw wider and wider; her lips tightened around your rapidly increasing girth; Alessia had to slide her lips up, no longer able to fit your entire length in her mouth quite so easily. The last of those drew a ragged gasp from above her. Encouraged by the reaction, she started bobbing her head forward and backward, keeping her tongue firm against your shaft on the way up and down and flicking it across your tip at the apex. Alessia kept the pace slow and teasing, wanting to savor the experience as long as she could.

"Can't... hold back..." Alessia heard you mutter.

Regretfully, Alessia released you from her mouth and looked up. To her shock, the view was far different than when she began. Your face was beet red and covered in a sheen of sweat, your lower lip caught between your teeth like a fisher's lure, and there was a sense of danger in your eyes, a deep intent that hadn't been there before. Alessia licked her lips. This was what she was expecting to see earlier; this was more like how she thought this was going to go.

"What was that?" Alessia asked. "Green, yellow, red?"

"Green!" you snapped back almost immediately, then looked away from Alessia to the side, embarrassed. "I-I mean... i-if... if you keep doing this I won't be able to, um... that is to say, I really want to..."

"It's okay," Alessia whispered. "You don't have to hold back. I want this. You want this, it seems. So just... let go."

"promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay..." you muttered. Suddenly your hand was at the back of Alessia’s head making a fist in her hair. "Then keep sucking my cock," you growled as you pushed her face toward your cock and thrust your hips forward at the same time, barely giving Alessia a chance to open her mouth before you were fucking it, fast and hard.

"fuck, just like that," you moaned. Suddenly you were very bossy and demanding, and Alessia had to rub her legs together to relieve some of the heat that was suddenly pooling there. "You got me good and hard, so now you're going to learn just what happens to breedable sluts who turn me on like that. When I'm done fucking your face you won't be able to think, and when I'm done with your pussy you won't be able to stand."

You kept up your monologue as you pounded away at her face, and Alessia moaned loudly with each thrust, barely able to keep up with the pace you had suddenly set. "You're going to be... hah... so fucking full of my cum... that you won't be able…oh fuck!...to fucking move. You'll just sit there, body sloshing, pussy dripping, waiting for me to fill you with another load. And oh, you better believe I will. I'll be back over and….yes, your tongue, just like that…over again to pump you full. I've seen those childbearing hips you have. You're mine, and you'll be here all big and pregnant and helpless forever, all because of how slutty you decided to be… just…n-n-n-now!"

You screamed then, and your cock throbbed, and you came hard and fast and loud, pumping Alessia full of cum just as promised. Alessia tried to swallow it down as fast as you shot it out but there was too much, the excess bursting out from around her lips and dripping down her chin and neck with every pulse, and there must have been dozens, for she stayed there with her lips wrapped around your cock for what felt like an eternity, and when you were done the cum had made it all the way to her tits.

Alessia shivered, eager to find out what’s coming next. And just in time, too, because it seemed like you were just as eager, your hand were pushing forward on her head again, but this time you were behind Alessia, not in front, and as she fell to the floor Alessia felt you mount her and push inside her.You were huge. Alessia didn't realize just how big you had gotten, but you were so girthy that she could barely take you, so big that the sensation of fullness she got from you stretching out her pussy bordered on, but didn't quite reach, pain. As you slid into her, there just kept being more and more of you, too, and by the time you were all the way in Alessia was certain she couldn't take any more, could barely even take that much.

You twitched inside Alessia, and she gasped at the feeling. "Oh?" you said, your voice cruel and teasing and beautiful. "You liked that? You could feel that?" You did it again, then a few more times in quicker succession, and Alessia moaned. "Such a strong reaction from nothing at all... how are you going to feel when I do this?" you growled as you pulled almost all the way out then thrust back in again, hard.

Alessia screamed, and you pushed her face down even harder as you started fucking her in earnest. "You like that? You want me to breed you so bad you'll even take my cock with no complaint? You really are a slut, aren't you? Or maybe you just realize that this is your purpose in the world. Your pussy fits me perfectly, your hips are so hot and wide, your tits are already so big... you were born to pop out children for me, weren't you?"

Alessia moaned and screamed, barely able to follow what you were saying, but that didn't seem to be enough for you. You stopped fucking her, briefly making Alessia whimper in desperation and leaned in close to her, your voice a husky whisper in her ear.

"I said, you were born for me to breed you, weren't you?"

Alessia nodded.

"Answer me."

"Y-yes ma'am!" Alessia responded instinctively.

"I want to hear you say it," you growled, dragging the nails of your free hand slowly down her back.

"I-I-I was born for you to breed me, ma'am," Alessia panted, desperate.

"Beg me to breed you, slut."

You commanded, so Alessia obeyed. "Please ma'am, please breed me, please, I need to feel you cum in me, I want to be full of your cum, I want to see how big you can make me, please, please fuck me, fill me, take me, use me, I'm yours, I'm yours to breed however you want, however many times you want, please!!!"

Partway through Alessia’s half-coherent begging you started railing her again in earnest, but the floodgates were open, and Alessia couldn't stop, her delirious begging blended in with your degrading, objectifying talk, neither of you caring that the other were talking over each other, and it wasn't long until you both were on the edge. Both screamed in unison, and Alessia felt warmth explode inside her, rapidly filling her almost to the point of discomfort. She probably would have been uncomfortably full any other time, but after everything that just happened she welcomed every last drop of cum you could dump into her. Unconsciously, Alessia moved a hand over her belly, the bulge from earlier now even more pronounced and growing bigger with every load of cum you pumped into her. Alessia shivered and moaned as she felt her belly grow under her hand.

Secretly, Alessia hoped this was a sign, and that her pregnancies with you would be accelerated. She wanted you to breed her over and over again, and the faster they grew inside her, the faster she'd be able to perform her duty to you, again and again. The thought sounded so nice, Alessia automatically rolled onto her back and spread her legs wide open.

You appeared again above her, radiant and glowing. "Good girl," you purred, looking down on her with a grin that made your intent clear, then lowering yourself onto her once again.

[iamagoddess1]

Guiding Light

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,128

Warnings: Milf!Stepmom!Wanda, Wanda’s Stepdaughter!Natasha, Neighbor!Reader (called Master), Strap-Ons, Cockwarming, Punishments, Dildos, Praise, Dacryphilia, Degradation, Exhibitionism, D/S Dynamics, Mommy Kink, Infidelity | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When Wanda fails to discipline the pet, it’s up to you to show Natasha the importance of good behavior.

“Will you forgive her if she misbehaves?”

You chuckled at the absurdity of the question, shaking your head without daring to say a word as you believed it to be in jest. Upon turning around, realizing her expression was serious with eyes darting out the window, you frowned. “Of course not. She wanted to be mine and if she can’t handle the consequences of her actions, then maybe she doesn’t deserve to be owned.”

Wanda knew it was fair. She had enough training under your hand for years to understand the severity of misbehavior, but as she watched out the kitchen window into the backyard, seeing her stepdaughter getting rather close with one of her friend’s daughters, she couldn’t help but shudder. The punishments that their master gave out weren’t kind. If you were in a good mood then at the very least she’d be given the benefit of being looked at by you, but the pain which you could elicit over Natasha was tedious, one which even Wanda knew firsthand.

“She’s so small,” Wanda commented, shifting to the side as you joined her by the window. As the guests danced and socialized in her backyard, her husband, Natasha’s father, being one of the few who sat back playing cards, the two id you remained inside. She was to finish dishes for the dinner service, a trusty housewife who adored her place, while you were the kind neighbor who didn’t hesitate to offer help. “Basically a puppy, Y/N. It’s her first time doing something like this. I think she’s trying to make you jealous but I…”

“But?” You raised your eyebrows. A hand drifted down Wanda’s back, teasing her skin hidden behind the walk that was her sunflower dress, before landing on the swell of her ass. You cupped one of her cheeks, squeezing tight as her breath hitched. “Use your words, mommy.”

“She doesn’t know any better. Do you have to punish her?” Wanda questioned with pleading eyes that you adored seeing stricken with tears. She allowed you to grope her, to stand from behind while kneading her ass and your free hand forcefully grabbing one of her full breasts that stood perky for you. “Please, master. I promise I’ll teach her. She won’t ever do that again.”

The desperate way in which she desired to protect her stepdaughter made you chuckle. “Yeah? Oh you’re adorable, baby. Look at you trying to keep the puppy from being hurt. You have to remember that she’s a big girl, okay?” Your voice was soft as you blew it by Wanda’s ear, your front brushing against her back. “Someone needs to teach the mutt some manners. Tomorrow we’ll teach her. I know you’ll be my good girl Wanda, you always are. You’ll listen to what master says, right? You’ll help me break the pup?”

Drowning in your presence, hypnotized by the way you assaulted her body, Wanda nodded dumbly. “Yes, master. Anything for you.”

“There’s my good girl, such a pretty mommy for her puppy and master. Now come here,” you pulled her back, making Wanda giggle as she was dragged off. “You know master always wants to reward a well-behaved pet.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

After a little over a year of seeing Wanda, you had begun adding her stepdaughter to the mix. It was never planned, but after having caught her multiple times peeking through the door of the bedroom her stepmother and father shared, hand shoved down her messy panties, you were sure to do something about it. She had cutely threatened to tell her dad once as a means to be accepted under your embrace. Although it brought a chill down Wanda’s back, you simply laughed in Natasha’s face — the poor girl that shook her head and pouted before giving in, forcing herself on her knees to receive the same treatment as her stepmom.

Alexei was a beacon of the little community in Westview — a wonderful father, a great husband, and a man who unknowingly lost both his wife and daughter to the next door neighbor who only had to so much as move a finger for the women to drop to their knees.

Always one to keep your promises, you waited until he was out of town the following day. At first it had hurt to see him kiss Wanda goodbye before hugging his daughter and going on his merry way, but as time went on you found yourself amused by it. Many times Wanda came running to you, practically begging you to get his smell off of her, to kiss her until all she could remember was that she was owned by you, her face nuzzled against your chest as she ignored the wedding ring on her hand when you slipped inside her.

Wanda had hastily dragged Natasha out of the house and to yours. You had heard them on the previous night, the older woman anxiously reminding her stepdaughter, who carried feigned confidence, of the rules which she ignored and would receive a punishment for. As much as Wanda tried to warn her, the redhead wouldn’t listen.

“You need to do as master says,” Wanda reminded her stepdaughter, pulling her into your bedroom. She hesitated for a second, eyeing you with desire as you sat back by the edge of the bed, carefully stroking a bulbous blue dildo attached to your hips. It was meant for her, she knew that much – the pride that swelled in her chest knowing she had been good, that master was pleased with her behavior, made the woman shudder with joy. “On your knees, Natalia. Don’t speak unless spoken to and don’t you dare try to fight it, okay? I know you’re a good girl, baby. Show master that.”

“Yes, mommy,” came Natasha’s voice. The tone was shaky, her eyes never meeting your own as she tugged off her clothes, knowing already to settle on the floor hovering over a dildo with a suction cup supporting it in place. It was much bigger than what you previously gave her, but the young college student knew not to question it. “I’ll be good for you, master.” She stared at you intently. “I’m really sorry for misbehaving, but I promise it won’t happen again. ‘M a good puppy.”

“Fucking pathetic,” you shook your head at that. It amazed you to see how easily your two pets sprung into action, pulling off their clothes and throwing them on a pile, Natasha knowing to take her place as a mutt on her knees for you while Wanda stood waiting, beginning to jerk off your lube-coated cock. “You’re nothing but a stupid slut. Do you really think that you can whore yourself out like that? Someone needs to be reminded who she belongs to.”

“But master-”

“Natalia,” Wanda warned, giving her stepdaughter a snide look. “I’m sorry, master. My little one just doesn’t know any better.”

Opting to show mercy was not something you typically did. If anything you were sure to use every ounce of fury you had within you. During the early days of Wanda’s training it would end with her backside entirely sore, her skin carrying nasty bruises that she proudly took as a response for her misbehavior. Although you desperately wished to do the same to Natasha, the redhead’s adorable pleas for forgiveness tugged at your heartstrings.

Taking in Wanda’s body always fueled your pride for her. At times you wondered how her husband dared despise it, how he stared down at rolls across her stomach, stretch marks running down breasts and thighs, and saw disgust. She had told you all about it, how he didn’t dare so much as look at her without grimacing. Such a wondrous pet deserved all the love and affection, which is exactly what you’d forever offer her.

“It’s so big,” Wanda commented as she straddled your hips, your hands guiding her over your cock. There was always uncertainty within her. With slow moments she attempted to catch her breath, to remind herself this is where she belonged. She didn’t see herself with the beauty that resided in your eyes upon gawking at the woman. With her cunt rubbing against the tip of your dick, she licked her lips. “Can I have it, master?”

“Yes, mommy. Anything for my best girl,” you told her. Carefully you carried her heart with a tenderness only shown to those who behaved. Natasha cried out for you, slapping the floor with hands turned to fists as she rubbed herself against the dildo. “And I don’t want to see you move, little whore. You’ll be a good mutt and warm the little toy, alright? Or are you too dumb to understand what I’m saying?”

Natasha shook her head at that. While you took the time to ease into Wanda, your cock bulging against her cunt, your mindless animal bawled her eyes out. Each little tear carried great responsibility – always so much more than what she could carry. Plump lips flushed with embarrassment, a humiliation she held onto against her chest while slowly sinking down over the dildo.

A green eyed monster struck Natasha’s soul. As much as she adored and worshiped the ground her stepmother waltzed through, she held dismay against her. Seeing her being thrusted into by you forced every drop of bile to rise up her throat. She wished to be good, to be treated as though she was a princess only meant to please her master. Her brattiness always dissuaded her. With the push in the right direction perhaps she could someday find herself back in your good graces.

“Look at how pretty she looks,” you pointed out Natasha’s sobs as she sank on the dildo which stuffed her to the brim. She wasn’t allowed to move a muscle, to speak unless previously being given permission. The torturous wave of arousal which overtook her being, her cunt throbbing each second that passed, urged more tears to slap themselves down her face. “Hmm such a pretty puppy when she’s crying for me.”

You took your time exploring Natasha’s weaknesses via the attention you gave her stepmother. The stench of sex piled in the room, your fingers digging into Wanda’s waist as you pumped her pussy full of your cock. She knew how to take it, how to follow your movements as though you were one, how to moan loudly against your ear while begging you to keep going until she was spent – and if you wished to use her after that, she could never fault you for it.

Wanda’s compliance swelled your heart. She gripped your shoulders and nuzzled her face against the crook of your neck – a home of sorts she claimed. “Fuck me harder, please,” she begged. The sounds of her own moans alongside the wet noises her pussy made when harshly fucked fueled your desire to keep going.

Natasha found it impossible to tear her eyes away from Wanda’s cunt, watching in awe while warming the dildo, remaining frozen in place, as you stretched out deliciously velvety walls. For a moment the sight piqued her curiosity. Her mommy must taste delicious, she mused. Perhaps the two of them could practice together as a means to prepare themselves for master behind closed doors.

“You’re such a good girl, Wanda. Always taking master’s cock like a well behaved kitten.” You slapped a hand over her ass, causing the woman to squeal with a mix of surprise and desire. “You’ll always be my pretty kitty. Master’s proudest possession.”

The benefit of release was never given to Natasha no matter how much her insistent groans silently begged for it. You spent countless hours throwing Wanda over the bed with forcefully pried apart legs, taking away every ounce of sanity she had left and making it your own. She kept begging for more, pleas which you gleefully complied with.

By the end of the night the two were spent, Wanda slumped over the bed attempting to thank you for so much as touching her, but her voice only coming as an incoherent mumble. You felt pity for Natasha as she remained kneeling on the floor with a bulge on her stomach. Dragging her onto the bed beside her stepmother was a risky move, although she was sure to profusely apologize even as you drew an orgasm from her dripping pussy with your hand.

“I’ll be good,” she promised with heavy eyelids, juices running down her slick thighs that you slapped. “I want to be your best puppy.”

You hummed at her exhausted enthusiasm, your cock dripping with Wanda’s essence pressed against her lower back. “You better,” came your low whisper against her ear. “Or else I’ll make sure you behave. It won’t be hard to break a stupid whore like you.”

[iamagoddess1]

“You don’t matter anymore”

Pairing: Lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: takes place after doomcomings the girls corner Jackie you rush to her aid to defend her which enrages you’re not so sober girlfriend and she goes off on you

You’ve never been one to drink you never liked the mornings after, and that didn’t change even after the plane crashed and you’re friends decided to host a doomscoming you opted to just watch over everyone

Not knowing the drinks were spiked you thought the girls would be fine and went to go hang out with Natalie and coach Ben who also decided to stay sober. After not hearing much noise you decided to go check on the girls after not seeing them anywhere you panicked and ran to the cabin

After running inside you find Lottie towering over Jackie interrogating Jackie on why her and Travis had gone to the cabin you quickly rush forward stepping in between them Jackie sighing in relief seeing a sober person

“Lottie what the fuck are you doing it’s none of our business what they were doing” you whisper shout at her Jackie holds onto your hand thankful for your protection Lottie cocks her head at you her eyes narrowing “so you’re encouraging her she took what doesn’t belong to her” she shouted

Lottie pushes you aside causing you to fall and she continues questioning Jackie on her actions with Travis after being in shock for a second than seeing Jackie’s face of helplessness you quickly rise again pushing Lottie away which enraged her even more

She quickly grabs your shoulders breathing heavily you can smell the berries on her warm breath as you blink your tears away she grips tighter and whispers something you can’t quite catch under her breath

“Lottie talk to me I can’t hear you love what’s wrong?” You try to reach up and touch her face she quickly grips your hand tightly causing you to wince “I said you don’t matter” she spits out venom filling her voice “did you hear that love” she mocks “you don’t fucking matter not to me and not anywhere” she pushes you into the closet and Jackie is pushed in after you she glances at you standing there in disbelief as tears fall down your cheeks

Lottie looks at you once more with this blank expression you shake your head at her “lottie-“ you’re cut off by her slamming and locking the door you sit on the ground in disbelief as Jackie pounds on the door cursing the girls out after realizing her attempts are useless she sits next to you pulling you close and letting you cry on her shoulder

“I don’t know who that was Jackie” you look at her and shake your head “but that wasn’t my Lottie” you whisper the door opens revealing Natalie “oh thank god” Jackie pulls you up with her and out of the closet

Natalie and Jackie rush towards where they hear the girls the turn back to you “are you coming” shouts Natalie you shake your head in reply “I can’t face her” they both nod and turn back around

You let out a sob as soon as they are out of earshot turning to look at the cabin going back inside grabbing your blanket and pillow glancing at Lotties makeshift bed next to yours and you let out a few more tears before rushing back out and into the woods “you don’t belong anywhere” Lottie’s words echo in your head as you run into the night you find a tree with a big hole under it and decide that’s where you’ll hide out from now on

An: guys I’m sorry this is my first time writing please be kind and let me know if you want a part two!💗

[iamagoddess1]

Could you do something with loser vi cuming to quick so reader punishes them? Like over her knee even tho vi is like bigger and could easily get away she stays to be a good girl 💕

uhhhmmm fuck yeah i can! thank u sm for this ask i love my subby girl vi<3

Not so big & bad after all

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ sub!loser!vi x dom!reader

There Vi was, thighs trembling between your face as your tongue circled around her clit, keeping the same pace you knew she liked. She was close, you knew that. Her breathy, high pitched moans sped up, hands tangled in your hair, sweat dripping down her chest. She was a mess, really. She wasn’t allowed to come though, not yet, not so soon. Needy thing always came so fucking early, it irritated you. So you put up one rule for her, one simple rule:

Don’t come in less than ten minutes.

Seemed easy enough, right?

Not for our sensitive girl. This was torturing her. Her eyes watered, whining about how she was right there, just so, so close. Begging, pleading, using her puppy eyes, all the works. None of that worked on you though, you knew better. Her legs began to want to clam up, squishing your cheeks together. You growled against her wetness, forcing them back open, sucking on her clit harder as your tongue swirled around it. Your eyes darted up towards her face as her nose scrunched up, eyes shut tightly, chest rising and falling quickly. You could feel her clit tensing up inside your mouth, making you swat at the inside of her thigh.

“Don’t—mmh—you dare come, Violet!” You muffled out, lips still stuck on her bud, though it was too late. She bucked her hips forward, “Mmh—I-I’m c-com-” Was all she could let out before she reached her orgasm, moaning your name out as her cum dripped along your tongue. You rolled your eyes as you watched, letting her orgasm roll out, then quickly smacked your lips off her clit.

“You lasted,” You turned to look at the clock. “Five fucking minutes. That’s the best you could do, really?” You questioned, sitting up and staring at her angrily, eyebrows furrowed. She laid there, panting, acting like she had just fucked for hours. Again, it irritated you.

“I’m sorry, okay! I just—I’m sensitive, I guess. You make me come real fast, princess.” Your eyes glared at the pet name, which didn’t quite suit the situation.

“Did you even try to hold back?” You asked. She opened one eye and looked at you, shrugging off your question. She totally fucking did not. You felt your eye twitch as you stared at her, blood boiling underneath your skin. You sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off, then reached over to swat the side of her leg. “Get over here.”

Her eyes shot open, staring at you with her big eyes confusingly. “What? What are y—”

“I said get over here, Violet. Crawl to me.”

Vi blinked at you for a second before huffing, making her way over to your side of the bed. She held onto your shoulder as she spoke, lips meeting the side of your neck. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I’ll last longer next time, I promise—” Her sentence was cut off by your arm reaching around her back and pushing her down, landing ass up on your knees. She gasped as her face pressed against the mattress, quickly trying to push herself back up. “Hey! Princess, what the fuck?!” Your hand landed on her plump ass with a hard smack! Her whole body jerked, tensing up under your palm. “Ow! What—What are you doing?!”

“You know, I’ve had enough of you doing whatever the hell you want all day then not listening to the one very simple instruction I give you.” You squeezed the skin pressing against your hand firmly, nails digging into it. “To answer your question, I’m punishing you, Violet.”

Her head snapped back to look at you the very best she could, putting on those puppy eyes that she knew killed you inside. “But, I apologized! I won’t do it again, I swear!”

You rolled your eyes at the same words you’d already heard of time and time again. Another slap landed on her cheek, making her wince and whine out. “I don’t believe you.” She wiggled around, crying out as two more followed after. “Hey!” Your other arm pressed against her back, forcing her down the best you could. “If you be a good girl and take what I’m giving you, I’ll give you another chance to redeem yourself.”

Vi buried her face in the sheets, body melting under your skin, accepting her defeat. “Mm… O-Okay.”

You scoffed, lifting up your hand to catch air, landing it back on the red marks that were already being left on her skin. “Okay, what?”

Her back arched, face twisting up as her eyes began to water. “Okay, Mommy, okay!”

“Good girl, Vi.”

The room echoed with the sounds of your hand continuously landing back on her ass, a flush of red spreading all over it. Her blubbering apologies, whines, and cries every single time your hand met her skin, and your mocking coos, telling her that it would all be over soon. Vi was a strong girl, certainly stronger than you, so she could’ve easily gotten away if she wanted to. You knew that deep down inside, she was taking it because she liked it. She enjoyed this ‘punishment’ more than she actually should, more than she’d ever admit. Seeing her smart ass, oh so big and bad self completely ruined as she bent over your knee made your heart flutter. You spread her cheeks, her wet slick glistening against the light. A smirk crept up on your face, tutting at her as she hid her face in the sheets as you did so.

“Are you enjoying this, sweet girl?” You asked, your head tilting as you lightly gripped her hair back, forcing her to look up. “Answer.”

“N-No.” She muttered out, face flushed and painted with tear streaks.

You sighed, lifting up your hand to land another blow on her ass. “You know, I hate liars.”

She gasped, shaking her head before you could even lift it up all the way. “No, no, no! I-I do like it, Mommy. I like it a lot!”

“Mm… Is that so?” You said, staring at her cute pained face. Gods, you could only punish your girl for so long, those eyes really did kill you. Plus, watching the bounce back from her ass every time you spanked it totally had you dripping wet. You pressed a digit against her hole, making her cry turn into a whiny moan. “Are you ready to redeem yourself?”

Her glossy eyes grazed towards you, biting her lip and arching her back for you before she spoke. “Gods, please. I’ll be good for you this time, I promise!”

You snickered as you slowly pushed the finger in, feeling her soft walls tightening around it, almost sucking you in. “Such a good girl.”

[iamagoddess1]

♡ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

WARNING! Most of the following contain SMUT and/or have a DARK theme.

➥ This masterlist contains all my works, I hope you enjoy!

Dark: ᵈ Angst: ᵃ Fluff: ᶠ Smut: ˢ

LISA ANN WALTER

Melissa Schemmenti

It's a craving not a crush ˢ

Summary: you caught melissa's interest ever since you started at abbott six months ago. but, you being you, you were blind to her attempts at flirting with you because you thought she was just being well, melissa. however, when ava suggested that you should all have a get together on the last Friday before Christmas, you noticed. and oh, how much you loved it.

In the staffroom ˢ

Summary: melissa get’s jealous that the new teacher at abbott is flirting with you. she makes sure that you know who you belong to.

Chessy

...

JENNIFER ANISTON

When we're alone ᶠ

Summary: you come home from work to find your girlfriend cooking for you and you can't help but cherish these moments.

Rachel Green

Mismatched shoes ˢ

Summary: rachel can't find an outfit to wear to a party tonight, leading her to become frustrated and anxious about her appearance. she rummages through her closet, trying on multiple options before finally settling on a simple black dress. however, none of her shoes match the dress, causing her to feel even more stressed. you find a way to calm her down, causing you both to not go to the party after all.

City lights ᶠ

Summary: after rachel arrives at my apartment heartbroken over ross, i comfort her. we sit on the balcony, watching the city lights as i quietly confess how deeply i care for her, even if she doesn’t realize the full extent of my feelings yet.

HELEN MCCRORY

Narcissa Malfoy

Please ˢ

Summary: you give narcissa exactly what she has been needing for years.

O children ᶠ

Summary: for the holidays, you are staying with the malfoys. because of the time you've spent together, you and narcissa have grown closer. narcissa is concerned about draco and the possibility that he will not return in time for christmas, so you try to cheer her up. 

Polly Gray

...

CHRISTINA RICCI

Marilyn Thornhill

Secret gardens in my mind ᶠ

Summary: ...

CATE BLANCHETT

Lady Tremaine

Pink and blue masquerade ᶠ

Summary: you spot a particular redhead at the ball where you are supposed to find a suitor. however, that doesn't stop you. it will never stop you.

Carol Aird

Dearest ˢ

Summary: ...

Lou Miller

...

[iamagoddess1]

Another Love (flatline)

Okay, this isn’t my usual kind of story, but I’ve always wanted to do a cheating fic. I haven’t been cheated on (yet, hopefully never) so I’m sorry if it doesn’t feel authentic. I took a different approach with it. But yeah, let me know what you think. Also thank you this anon. I know I didn’t do exactly what you asked but I hope you like it.

Warnings - smut 18, cheating, toxic, manipulative behaviour, swearing

word count 6922

The rain outside pelted hard against your living room window, the sad looking drizzle cascaded down the glass like a mini waterfall. The sky outside was grey and miserable, making your normally bright and sunny living room dark and gloomy. But being at the end of the year it wasn't a surprise the weather was so dull, even if you were living in the sunnier climate of Barcelona.

And as it was the end of the year that meant Christmas was only a week away. Which is exactly why you were searching on your phone for a last minute Christmas gift. Well, actually you had done all of your christmas shopping weeks ago. This last minute shop was for Alexia’s mum. Though, this gift wasn't from you, this gift would be from her very unorganised daughter. And just like Alexia did every year she left everything to the last minute and of course she had asked you to help her out.

“You’re better at shopping, amor. Just take my card. I know you’ll get something she likes.”

You of course couldn't say no to your fiance's pleading puppy eyes and honestly you didn't mind, you were better at buying the gifts for any occasion. And Alexia would only end up just buying something last minute that her mum definitely wouldn't want or use.

So you sat comfy on your sofa with a heavy blanket wrapped around you, snuggled in one of Alexia’s thick, soft jumpers, scrolling through your phone in search of the perfect gift for the older woman. You hummed, mindlessly nodding your head to the music that lightly played out of your speaker in the background. After another 20 minutes of scrolling you finally found the perfect gift. It was a beautiful red cotton scarf. Alexias mum had lost her own a couple weeks back, and as far you knew she hadn’t replaced it yet. So this was perfect! 

You added the item in your bag, filled out all the postage information and just before you could click the ‘buy now’ button, your screen turned black. Your phone battery had given up on you. 

“No! Fuck sake.” You grumbled, throwing your head back in annoyance.

What were the chances? I mean you were warned at 20% and 10% but still!

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly kicked the covers that were wrapped tightly around your legs, freeing yourself from your comfy cocoon. You were about to go to your bedroom to grab your charger until you spotted Alexia’s ipad sitting under the coffee table. You leaned over and grabbed the device, thanking the heavens you didn't have to leave your spot.

“Please have charge.” You prayed as you pressed the on button.

The apple tech gods must have heard your prayers as the screen sprung to life with a full battery. “Yes!” You cheered as you slumped back into your pit, wrapping the covers around your body. 

You easily unlocked the device, typing in your date of birth for the password. You smiled as the screensaver appeared. It was a photo of you and Alexia last year, when you had been away on holiday, the very same holiday the blonde had proposed to you. You wore a huge smile while the blonde was lovingly kissing your cheek, both your sun kissed skin glowing on your faces.

You could still remember the moment she pulled the blue velvet box out. Your eyes had tears in them the moment she got on one knee, it was the easiest decision you had ever made.

It only made you more excited for the upcoming holiday you had booked. Not that Alexia had any clue, this was a surprise holiday, completely planned all by yourself. It was technically for her birthday but you couldn't wait another 2 months, she’d almost found out about it four times already!

You opened up the website again and found the red cotton scarf, you added the item to your trolley once more and began the process of filling out all of the shipping information again. You didn’t mean to tap the notification when it appeared on the screen, you swore as it instantly opened you up to Alexia’s emails and straight to the one that just landed in her inbox. 

“Shit.” You huffed. 

You were about to click off of the app and finish your purchase and you would have, if it wasn’t for the yellow emoji that caught your eye. You knew you shouldn't have, but something in your gut told you to read the message.

You blinked.

You stared at the screen. 

You blinked again.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you read the words, your heart instantly dropped to the pits of your stomach. “What?” You whispered to yourself

Alexia - I'll see you around 4 after training. Be ready. 

Joe - be quick, I’ve missed you 😘

“Missed you?” You said out loud. What?

No. Wait. Maybe there was more to it than this. Maybe it wasn't what you thought it was, surely not. Alexia wasn’t cheating on you, she’s your fiance for fuck sake, this wasnt what you thought. Just breath, don’t over react. This might be a friend or someone you don’t know, and she's meeting up with them. This might be nothing. Right? It's nothing. 

But, it also might be something. 

You scrolled a little further up on the conversation. 

Joe - Did you have to rip my underwear? 😂

Alexia - Sorry, i'll buy you another pair 

Joe - just for you to rip those too? 

Alexia - maybe 😘

Your breath caught in your chest as the words sunk in. You were wrong, this was clearly more than a friend.

You felt sick.

Your eyes kept going over the words, over and over and over until they didn’t make sense to you. You stared until the black lines that formed letters became small blurs that you could no longer read or process.

Alexia was cheating on you. 

Alexia. Your fiance. Your world. Your life. Your person was cheating on you.

This couldn’t be real, surely not. It must be a prank. A wrong email. Maybe she had been hacked or it's a code for football talk. Maybe …. something? You were so desperate you would believe anything else right now. But it was real, it was right in front of you, in black and white. You just didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t.

Your mind went completely blank, a numbing feeling sunk into your bones. Nothing was processing right, it was like your body was trying to reject what it was feeling. Even your vision seemed to stop, everything around you seemed to blur. A deafening silence sliced through your head, ringing painfully inside your ears. 

Breath. 

With a shaky hand you swiped up to see how far this went. Maybe this was a one time thing? Not that it made it any easier, well, maybe it would? Maybe. But that thought was killed instantly as you watched the messages between Alexia and Joe go on and on. Your finger kept swiping the screen, watching the days and weeks go by. The dates were going further and further back. It felt like it would never end. 

Your stomach twisted as the dates went back eight months. Months. This had been happening for 8 months. Nearly a year. How? How was she doing this? When was she doing this? Why was she doing this? Countless questions were steam rolling through your head. You didn’t notice your fingers were gripping the iPad as hard as they were until the muscles in your digits started to hurt. 

The messages were short. There were no declarations of love or anything that seemed intimate. Just a lot of ‘when’ and ‘where’ there was the odd flirty message, like the one you read, but nothing cryptic, it almost seemed business li

“W-what?” You stuttered in disbelief.

This surely wasn’t happening, this had to be a dream. A nightmare.

You took a deep shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You wanted to wake up and see that none of this was real. You had to wake up from this nightmare and see Alexia sleeping soundly in your warm shared bed as she cradled you against her chest like she did every night,

Please don’t let this be real. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until your tears began to drop on the screen, blurring the words that had just turned your world upside down. Your body was shaking, trembling hard as your fingers moved to swipe along the messages. You scrolled to the start of their conversation, needing to know how this started. 

No, you needed to see her. You needed to put a face to the name. You needed to see who this Joe was. 

You studied the name of the stranger. You instantly searched for her on Alexia’s instagram followers. It didn't take you long before you found her profile. Her public profile. Did they even care to be careful? The carelessness felt like another kick in the teeth, it almost felt like the stranger wanted you to see her. Maybe she did.

You scanned her profile. She was the complete opposite of you. Her hair, her eyes, her nose, her style, her smile. She was nothing like you. 

She was beautiful. 

Somehow that made the pain worse. You couldn't stop the humiliation creeping down your skin, and your walls going up. Your mind dived into a deep pit of insecurity, not only was you being cheated on, but the girl didn't even look like you. A nauseous feeling flooded your brain. Did Alexia not find you attractive anymore? Was this the kind of girl Alexia actually liked and wanted?

A certain photo caught your interest. Joe was laying beside a pool, her perfect body cladded in a bikini that hardly contained her intimate parts, you scoffed in disgust when you spotted Alexia’s name in the likes. She had liked a few of her photos. Once again not caring about her footprint, she either had no shame or was just careless. It just felt like another punch in the gut. You continued to stalk Joe’s insta, looking for any more sightings of Alexia in the likes or comments, and maybe even a photo. 

She was stunning. She was perfect. She wasn't you.

You felt stupid. So fucking stupid. How many lies had Alexia told you? 

Your mind wandered to where they even met. Was she a fan? Did she know her from a life before you? Did she work for Barca? Did she find her online? On a dating app? Maybe they met on a night out?  It wasn't hard for her to do, you had noticed you had been asked less and less on nights out with the girls. Probably for this exact reason. Was she the only one, or was there others? Or maybe Alexia wasn't even meeting with the team.

Did the team know? Were they aware of what Alexia was doing? You had noticed some of the girls didn’t speak to you as much as they did before, maybe this was why? Maybe they felt bad, too ashamed to look you in the eye. But Alexia could.

Then it started to click, the late nights, the texts from Alexia telling you she was staying behind for extra training, it was all starting to take a different meaning. You pictured Alexia and Joe sneaking around, checking into some random hotel, naked and wrapped up in white sheets, panting and laughing at how clueless you were.  

You could feel the acidic bile daring to rise as you pictured Alexia with your rival. Did she make her feel better than you could? Satisfy her in a way you couldn't? 

That's when the intrusive images flashed in your mind, images of Alexia doing all the things she did to you to your opposite. Did she fuck her the same way she fucked you? Did she go down on her the way she went down on you? Biting at her thighs, making her beg to give her what she wanted, while your fiance smiled up at her with her hazel eyes. 

Her mouth kissing you hours after being with her. That’s when the bile finally rose up from your stomach. You ran to the bathroom just in time to make the toilet as the sick came up. You wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, your back slumped hard against the wall before collapsing on the bathroom floor. Your lip quivered as the tears finally spilled from your eyes, your body trembling against the cold tiled floor.

How was this happening? Alexia had proposed to you just last year, you were planning a wedding, a future together, a family. 

What did you do wrong? 

You didn’t know what to do. Should you call someone? Should you call Alexia? No. Should you leave? But where would you go? All your family and friends were back in the UK. You had some work friends here but you weren't close enough for something like this.

Everything was falling apart. Everything you thought you knew was one big lie. How could someone you love treat you like this? How? 

After what felt like hours, you found the strength to wash your mouth and face before carrying yourself back to the living room and opened the ipad back up. Reading the messages that were breaking your heart but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The messages were short, no more than two lines but every word felt like another blow, another hard hit that made your chest painfully tight. You didn’t realise you were hardly breathing until your body forced you to take one large gulp for air. 

You felt your body go numb when you realised Alexia had met her on your 5th anniversary. 

God, you felt so stupid. You had waited at home for her. You had spent hours cooking a three course meal, all her favourites. 

Your eyes begin to blur again when you read their messages.

Joe - Are we meeting at the restaurant or should I meet you at the hotel?

Alexia - Come to the hotel, I want to see you before I go out

Joe - okay, but this time we have to make the reservation. We missed it last time.

Alexia - well if you hadn't have put on that dress that drives me fucking crazy we would have made it. 

You were broken. 

How was this your Alexia? 

This surely wasn't the same girl that made you feel effortlessly loved? The girl that knew you better than you knew yourself. The same girl that brought you untold happiness, happiness that you never knew existed before you met her. This wasn't the same girl that asked you to dance 5 years ago in the dingy little bar. The girl that had put a ring on your finger promising you a happily ever after. 

How was this her? Your Alexia. Was she even your Alexia anymore?

Nothing felt real. You looked around the living room, it didn’t look right, nothing looked right, nothing was the same. The peace and warmth you felt from the apartment had instantly disappeared, it felt cold, lifeless. 

You jumped when you heard a text come through on your phone, it was from Alexia.

Alexia - Hola, baby, we’re going over game strategy so I will be home a little later today

And there it was, another one of her lies. A heavy weight sunk over your body, making you feel numb to the bone.

You placed the ipad on the coffee table and slowly stood up. Your legs felt like led as you began to walk, you didn't really know what you were doing, your body felt like it was going into some weird overdrive or maybe it was the shock from it all. You stopped and stared at the christmas tree that flickered in the corner, your mind took you somewhere else. You weren't sure how long you were standing there before your legs brought you to your shared bedroom.

—-----------

The familiar sound of keys rattled in the door. It was once a sound you looked forward to, instead your stomach lurched. You took a deep and shaky breath as you got ready to come face to face with your finance, the woman that had shattered your heart into a million pieces. 

“Amor, I’m home.” 

Alexia frowned when you didn’t reply, she removed her shoes and made her way into the apartment to find you. It didn't take her long to spot you in the living room, sitting at the breakfast table. 

The beating in your chest thumped hard when your eyes fell on the blonde. You wanted to hate her, you wanted to instantly fall out of love with her, you wanted to feel nothing when you heard her call you by your pet name, but that wasn't the case. You still felt everything you did before you saw the messages, before you knew the truth.

But you knew where she had been this evening. 

Alexia could instantly tell you had been crying, your blushed cheeks and watery eyes gave you away, not that you were trying to hide it. You wanted her to see the hurt she had caused.

“Bebé? What's wrong?” 

Alexia hurried over to you, she was about to cup your face, but was stopped in her tracks when you moved away. Your eyes met hers, you could see her hair was wet, she at least had the decency to shower before returning home, or make it look like she had just showered after training.

“I know.” Your voice croaked out, the hours of crying weakening your throat.

Alexia’s face frowned in confusion, it instantly annoyed you.

“Que?” 

“Joe.”  Even saying her name out loud made you want to scream.

Alexia’s face dropped, you could see the look of horror as realisation hit her. Her mouth gaped open but no words came out. The silence was deafening, you felt your skin burning, it felt itchy, painfully itchy you wanted to tear it off. After what felt like hours, though it was likely seconds, Alexia finally spoke.

“Wh-what? Who? What do you mean?” The blonde anxiously fiddled with the zip on her joggers. 

You felt your shoulders slump, she didn't even have the decency to just be honest, but why would she? She’d lied this whole time. 8 months. 

“Don’t. Don’t play dumb, Alexia. I saw your messages on your emails.” 

Alexia's frown deepened. A flash of anger flickered across her eyes. “Why were you going through my emails?” 

Was she really going to try and turn this on you?

“What? Are you actually fucking asking me that?” You snapped, your own anger boiling over.

“No! I mean-” Alexia pushed her hand through her wet loose hair, you didn't miss the way it shook. A trait she did when she was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

“Don’t lie to me!” You shouted, voice cracking. The tears you were trying so hard to hold down bursting at the seams. “Please. Just stop lying, Alexia.” God. You sounded so weak.

Alexia looked at you, those beautiful hazel eyes you loved so much filling with tears. Her foot was tapping against the floor, she looked scared. Good, you thought. She bit her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. You watched her through blurry eyes, she took a step back from you, covering her face with her hands. Her body stiffened as she took a deep breath.

“She means nothing to me.” Her voice was just above a whisper. But you heard it.

You sucked in a hard breath. Even though you knew what you knew, hearing her confess it hit you harder than you could have imagined. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but when Alexia put her warm hand on your shoulder you broke down, your skin prickled where she touched you.

“Amor, please. Please don't cry.” The blonde begged. 

You covered your face as the tears streamed down your hot cheeks, you could feel your heart beating painfully fast. It felt like you were about to go into shock, maybe you were, your body felt like it was taking a brutal beating from the inside out.

“You were with her tonight.” You weren't asking. You felt her hand stiffen on your shoulder.

The silence was so loud.

“You were with her tonight, weren't you Alexia.” You repeated. Your tone was sharp. You bluntly moved her hand from you, not wanting her to touch you. You ignored her gasp from the out of character movement from you, but you didn't care. The thought of her hands being on someone else made the pit of your stomach tighten painfully.

You watched as a few tears slipped from her eye’s. You could see the panic starting to hit her. You stood up, you needed to move, you walked past Alexia even though a small part of you wanted to hold her. What the fuck? No. You ignored it. You walked to the open kitchen, you grabbed the sides to help you with your balance, you were sure your legs were about to give up on you, your knees buckling under the turmoil of emotions that ran through your body. 

“I just don’t understand.” You squeaked out, turning your head to see Alexia who looked like a kicked puppy. 

“I am sorry. I-I- she means nothing to me. I swear.” She slowly walked over to you but stopped when you moved away.

You didn't believe her. You would never believe her again.

“You’ve been doing this for months, months Alexia! Lying to me for fucking months, seeing this girl behind my fucking back!” You screamed. Your chest was heaving with anger.

Alexia didn't say anything, what could she say? She stood there looking like she could be sick, the colour draining from her face.

“You asked me to marry you, Alexia. I have a ring on my finger because I love you. Don’t you love me? What have I done wrong?” 

You didn’t know why you had blamed yourself, but it felt like you needed to know. 

Alexia looked panicked, your words clearly making her wince. “No! I do love you! I-I- she is nothing. It’s just sex. It’s just a big mistake. I don’t know why I did it!”

That hurt. You would have some kind of understanding if you and Alexia didn't have sex, but you did. Yeah, of course it wasnt every night, or even every week but you were still intimate. So this must have been more than sex.  

You shook your head, you didn’t believe that, not anymore. You felt so small as your world began to crumble around you. The blonde was now by your side, catching you before you dropped to your knees. 

What was happening? How was this your life right now? It wasn't meant to be like this. Alexia was never meant to be the one that broke your heart.

“Baby, please. I’m here.” She grabbed your body pulling you into hers. 

You had a burning urge to hold her, you wanted to feel safe in her arms like you always did, but you felt weird, her arms didn't feel right anymore. It made you feel sick, you could feel your stomach churning as you pictured Alexia holding your opposite. You flinched away like she was made of fire. 

“Here? You’re here? You havent been here, you’ve been creeping around fucking some girl and god knows how many others behind my back! Don’t you dare say you’re ‘here’. You screamed so loud the neighbours would have heard every word.

Let them hear.

Alexia shrank at your words. You hated that you felt bad. She was the one that had hurt you.

“Why? Just tell me why? Am I not enough?” You felt like you swallowed a stone with that question. 

Alexia sniffled, wiping her tears with her sleeve. It made you realise how little you saw the girl cry. 

“You are everything and more, I swear it. I….I panicked.” Her accent grew thicker as her words shook in her throat.

“What? Panicked for what?” You questioned. 

“After I proposed.” She took a breath for air, her hazel eyes looked more green after she cried. “I panicked and got scared. It was only meant to be once, but then we started planning the wedding. It got more real and I-I just didn't know how to stop.”

“You asked me to marry you!” You said in disbelief. 

“I know! And I still want to!” She whispered.

You scoffed. This girl had some fucking nerve.

“Why would I marry someone who can lie to my face every night? Lie about where she is? Touch someone else and lay in bed with me the same night!” 

The neighbours were definitely getting a show now.

Alexia dragged her face, her puffy lips wet with tears. How could she still look so beautiful?

“I’m sorry. It was all just a big mistake I swear!” She moved closer to you. “Please, amor, forgive me! I have not been myself, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I want to marry you and be with you! You are my world, my everything! Please! Please forgive me! Please.” She was hardly breathing, her gasps of air were short as the tears came pouring out of her. She dropped to her knees in front of you, her crying getting louder and louder, you thought she might be having a panic attack. 

Your own tears fell from your eyes as you watched the woman you love break down in front of you, you wanted to believe her, but your trust had shattered the moment you read those words. How could you trust her again?

“Alexia.” You whispered her name as you put your hand on her arm. 

The blonde looked up, her wide hazel eyes bore into yours. She looked so tired. She put her hand over yours and stood, her face inches from yours. 

“Babita, please. Please. I love you so much, give me another chance.”

Her large hands came up to your face, you allowed her to wipe the ever flowing tears from your cheeks. Even though it was Alexia who had broken your heart you still needed comfort, you still wanted to feel her. You still loved her.

She took you not moving for a good sign, taking her chances and gently cupping your cheeks. 

“Please, mi amor. I am so sorry. I am such a fool, you’re everything I want. I love you so much. I can’t do this without you.” 

She moved closer to you. Her familiar smell washed over you, she smelt like home. She wrapped you up in a tight hug, you felt yourself lean into her, you didn't know why. Maybe because your whole world had just been turned upside down and you needed to feel something, even if she was the culprit that caused you all this pain.

A couple of minutes passed by, all in silence other than a couple of sniffles from you and Alexia. And in those minutes you weren't sure where you went, it felt like you had left your own body. Like this was all just a big weird dream and you were about to wake up and see that it was all a mistake, see that this wasn't real. 

Maybe you were having a panic attack.

Alexia stroked your hair as your tears still fell, the front of her jumper was wet from your face but you only snuggled more into her.

You hated yourself for it. Why were you so weak? Why were you not screaming and calling her all the names under the sun for breaking your heart? For ruining your self confidence, for making you question everything you thought you knew. Why can’t you do it? 

“Alexia.” You whispered into her jumper.

“Sí, carino?” 

“You-you’ve broken me.” Your voice cracked as more tears came.

Alexia’s tears also sprung to her eyes as she heard your words, her arms held you tighter. She took a big shuddery breath before she kissed your head. “I’m so sorry. I will be sorry that I hurt you, until the day I die.” She confessed. 

Her words didn’t comfort you, not really. They made you wonder about the future you had planned with Alexia. The future you had once been so excited to share with the girl. Now all gone. 

“I will fix this, I will, amor. Please, let me fix this.”

You felt Alexia press her lips on the top of your head. You tried to ignore the warm feeling that swirled inside your stomach. It felt like you were losing a battle with your brain and body. You closed your eyes as a soft kiss was placed on your temple. It was the same spot Alexia kissed every morning. It was so familiar, and yet it felt different. Does it feel different? Or was your brain trying to protect you?

“You’re my world. I promise you I will fix everything.” She whispered into your ear.

Your lips quivered before a small sob escaped your mouth. You felt your eyes release a new wave of tears at her words of declaration, you wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe this could be fixed. Could it? 

Sad watery eyes met yours as you looked up at the girl in front of you. Her hands held your face. It was just you and her, staring at the other. This was the face you wanted to watch grow old. The face you wanted to wake up to everyday. The face you wanted to have by your side for the rest of your life. Now it almost felt like you were looking at a stranger.

Alexia placed her hand under your chin, moving your face to her own. Your body stiffened when you felt her lips press against your own. 

“No.” You whispered weakly as you pulled back.

“Please, don’t do this. I love you with all my heart. Please don’t let this break us.” The blonde whispered as she stroked your face. 

Alexia pulled back slightly to look at your face, her glassy eyes scanned your features, taking in every detail of you. You felt exposed. Completely open to her. It made you feel vulnerable. Alexia had been your world for so long. She made you feel real love for the first time. A love that made you feel protected, seen. 

“I love you.” 

Your brain screamed to run. Leave. Don’t let her fool you. This wasn't right, you knew it wasn't. But your heart didn't agree as you let her kiss you again. The kiss was everything you knew. Her lips were a safe blanket that you could wrap yourself around in. This was what you knew, how were you going to give this up? 

“I love you.” She whispered against your lips as she gently pushed you against the kitchen side. 

“Alexia-”

“Please. I can fix this.” She pleaded as her voice cracked with desperation. 

She leaned her forehead on yours, her body leaning more into you. She closed her eyes but the tears still managed to escape as they dropped on your t-shirt and seeped into the fabric. 

You didn't say anything. All the words you had ever known escaped your brain, leaving you empty. Everything you had planned, all the questions. Gone. You were more ready this time when her lips sunk into yours again, you even opened your mouth, allowing her to push a gentle tongue against yours. You could taste the salt from her tears that stained her lips. 

What were you doing? Why were you letting her in? 

Because you loved her, you loved her with everything you had. Because you were a fool.

Her mouth cascaded down from yours to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your skin as she made her way down to your neck. You hated yourself when a small groan left your mouth, but it turned into a small whimper as another sob escaped you.

Run.

But you couldn’t, your heart was broken, you needed to feel something, you needed Alexia, she was the one that made everything better, she was the one you went to if you ever felt upset. She was your light. She was who you needed. You just wanted to feel loved even though this wasn't what love was.

Your hands gripped her shirt when she came back to your mouth, you weren't sure if you were going to push her or away or pull her closer. Her kisses grew more desperate once she heard the groan you made, thinking this was the only way to have you back. 

She easily moved you from the kitchen to the bedroom, all while her lips attacked your neck and mouth, making you gasp for air. Your mind was a blur, a blur of pain and hurt. A blur of confusion. 

Your head was throbbing from the headache you caused yourself from crying. You tried to ignore it like the way you ignored the voice in your head telling you to stop this. But you didn't listen.

“I love you. I love you. I can fix us.” Alexia kept chanting.

She laid you on the bed as she slowly removed your joggers. You felt the tears run down your puffy lips, as you reached out for her needing her close to you again. But you couldn't look at her. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the girl you loved and hated.

Both yours and Alexias lips were puffy and swollen from tears. You felt your lips split as you licked them, stinging your plump flesh, you tried to focus on it as Alexia connected your lips once more before she began to move down your body.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much, babita. Let me make you feel good.”

You felt your breath hitch as the blonde kissed on your stomach. The familiar feeling of her body pressing on yours grounded you more than you would have thought. You almost forgot about why you were crying. You nearly didn't feel the pain that sunk into every fiber of your body. Nearly.

Her hazel eyes looked up at you as she moved further down. But you looked away, you felt shame flood your chest as you allowed her to remove your underwear. 

“I love you.” She mumbled against your skin. 

You gasped as you felt her tongue swipe through your folds. Your eyes started to wet again as you felt her mouth on you. Her hands gripped at your thighs, pushing you open as she gently licked at your sex. 

You felt everything and nothing. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, wanting to feel Alexia, but wanting nothing to do with her at the same time. You just wanted to feel something. It was an absolute mind fuck. And yet you opened your legs further as the girl wrapped her lips around your clit. 

Alexia stroked your thighs as she used her mouth on you. She kissed your clit before sinking her tongue into your cunt. You felt the way she groaned, probably from tasting your essence as it melted on her tongue. Your own body betrayed you. 

Your thighs started to shake as you felt that familiar swirl start to wash over your body. Alexia could tell straight away. She grabbed your hands that would have normally sunk into her hair by now and placed them on her head. You looked down from the touch, Alexia’s eyes were puffy from crying. She looked at you with a look you didn't recognise. 

Was it regret? Was it hope? Was it guilt for being caught?

Your fingers flexed loosely in her hair as your thighs started to shake. Your orgasm was building but you could tell it wasn't the same, it felt like it didnt know where to go. Or why it was even there. But you let her finish, you let her suck and lick your bud until your body shook against the bed. Your orgasm trickled over your body, leaving you feeling worse than you did. Alexia stayed between your legs to clean you up. 

You felt your chest tighten and your throat close up as a wave of sadness pulled you down. When Alexia reached your face it felt like you were drowning, it must have been your own cries as you shuddered against the bed. 

“Baby, please. Please, I’m here.” 

You grabbed Alexia's hand and pushed it between your legs, you needed to feel something. You still wanted to feel her. You didn't want to feel this sadness that was taking over your body.

Anything. Please feel anything.

“Please.” You begged as you pulled her closer to kiss you.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” She whispered before your lips locked.

Alexia circled your clit a few times before she dipped a single finger into you. You let out a small groan, you could feel you were tight. She pumped her fingers as she kissed your neck, you tried to ignore the tears that fell from her eyes onto your skin.

You hissed as she pushed another finger in. 

“Ho sento. I’m sorry.” She pressed a kiss to your lips as she moved her fingers slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed her shoulders as she started to open you up. Her eyes fixed on your face as you closed your own, trying your best to escape today's nightmare. 

“I love you, mi amor. I love you so much.” She mumbled into your neck.

Her fingers got deeper as she moved faster. You finally started to float away as you felt nothing but her inside you, putting all your focus on this one feeling. 

“I will marry you. I want you to have my babies. Please let me.” She started to cry as she fucked you. 

Before you could register what she was saying you let out a loud gasp when she pushed a third finger inside you, but she knew it wasn't a painful gasp. She knew your body, she knew you. Your head dipped back in the pillow as you felt your second orgasm start to rise. Your small whimpers gave you away to the girl above as your nails dug into her arms.

“That's it baby. You’re so good.” She peppered kisses all over your face as she encouraged you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm fast apoached. Your thighs shook against Alexia's hips once her thumb began to circle your clit. You felt it. You felt something. other than sadness, just for a few seconds. 

“Don’t stop!’ You begged as your orgasm rushed over you.

“I’m here. I’m here.” Alexia coed at you.

You saw stars as your pussy clenched tightly around the thick fingers. Time stood still as everything went quiet. No voices in your head. No sadness that took over your senses. Your tears stopped for just a moment as you relaxed into the mattress. All the pressure that your body had taken was finally melting away. 

You winced a little as Alexia removed her fingers as gently as she could. You slumped back into the pillow, taking a deep breath of air. You stared at the ceiling before you felt the blonde slot herself next to you. 

“Turn around, amor.” Her breath ghosted the lose her on your neck.

 You slowly moved, you knew she wanted to hold you and you let her without question. 

Was this really your life? Was this really you?

Familiar hands started to stroke your hair. You could feel how stiff Alexia’s body was behind you, maybe she was scared to move in case she frightened you away. 

“I love you.” She whispered again.

You didn't respond. You felt her arm snaking around your side, her hand looking for your own. You didn't think before you gave her what she wanted, her thumb instantly stroked your knuckles. It wasn't long before your tired and sore eyes started to close. 

An hour later you woke up as Alexia stirred behind you, sleeping soundly. You moved as slowly as you could, creeping out the bed as lightly as you could. You grabbed your clothes that you had waiting on the side, along with your suitcase that Alexia missed when she pulled you into the bedroom.

You looked over at her sleeping form, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, a small frown sat between her brows. She looked beautiful. You almost wanted to climb back in the bed. But you stayed strong. 

“I love you.” You whispered to your lover.

The tears started to form again, quickly falling over your cheeks. You felt sick as you carried your suitcase to the front door. What were you doing? Was this the right thing? Yes. She cheated on you! She’s broken your heart. She doesn't love you like you thought she did. Leave. 

You took a deep shuddery breath before you removed your engagement ring and left it on the side, with the keys to Alexia's apartment next to them. You took one last glance over your shoulder, the Christmas tree caught your eyes as it flickering in the corner. You gently shut the door behind you, a loud sob escaped you as you left everything you thought was your future behind you.

[iamagoddess1]

Face to Face (III)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader; Alexia Putellas x reader (platonic); Barça x reader (platonic)

Summary: your Barça teammates swoop in to save the day (or at least they do their best)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: okay don't kill me but Frido isn't in this much... enjoy some sweet Barça hurt/comfort to make up for it because she'll be back soon. as usual everything is pure fiction and written in good fun! PREVIOUS PART

Warnings ⚠️: medical description, slight angst

"Hola Nena," Alexia said in a hushed voice as she came into your hospital room. Laura and Zećira had left earlier that morning with your mom, assuring you they would be back later in the evening.

Alexia had a stuffed giraffe and a small bouquet of yellow roses in hand, and she looked at you with soft eyes. You smiled at her weakly, the light in the room dim enough that the subtleties in her face were blurred. If you focused too much on them your head began to hurt more intensely.

"¿Cómo estás?"

You gave her a thumbs up, pleased with the smile you got out of her.

It was quickly replaced again with concern as you winced, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes as she set a vase down on the windowsill for the flowers.

"Has anyone else been over to visit?"

You knew it was Alexia's subtle way of asking if Frido had come. As far as you knew Alexia was in the dark as to your relationship (or lack thereof) with the Swede, but you could never be sure with her.

"Laura… Zećira and Magda came right after the game."

Alexia nodded. She took the giraffe and placed it on your chest, shaking it a bit as if you were a child she wanted to entice.

"You know you'll be out of training for a bit, sí?"

"Sí."

You weren't pleased with it, but there was no denying that you needed the rest. You could barely bear to open the blinds for now.

"Jona agrees, you should stay with someone when you get home. A few of the girls have spare rooms, so there's options. Ingrid and Mapí offered, and of course you can stay with me if you want."

You thought for a moment, letting Alexia's fast Spanish sink in. Your brain felt sluggish, as if everything took thirty seconds longer.

"If you don't mind… maybe I can stay with you?"

Alexia put a hand over yours, smiling brightly.

"Of course. I'd be happy to have you."

You chuckled.

"I'm not sure I'll be much fun for the next few weeks."

Alexia shrugged.

"It doesn't matter to me, we all take you how you are."

A comfortable silence fell over the room, and you began drifting off. Alexia promised to stay while you slept, her hand protectively on your calf as she studied up for the next Barça game.

Cómo está la alemana? Alexia saw her phone light up with a text from Mapí. She quickly snapped a photo of you asleep, frowning at your coloring and the wires that monitored your heartbeat. It was just a precaution, but it reminded one of how much worse this could've been.

Sleeping. She replied, attaching the photo.

Her head? Mapí replied immediately.

Not good, but not horrible. No training for a few weeks. Doctor said it was a serious concussion, but not severe.

Alexia watched as the three dots indicating Mapí was texting popped up, then disappeared, repeating a few times. Finally, just the message.

I'm glad she's okay.

Alexia knew there was much more weight behind that text than met the eye. You were vital to Barça—every player was, of course. But you had a kindness in you that helped glue the team together even when things were falling apart. Everyone was fond of you, and those you seemed to have chosen on the team (Mapí included) as your close friends cherished that. It was as if you had shone a light on them just by being around.

Alexia thought just of how much your Spanish had improved in the past few months. You spoke better Spanish than most of the international players—and it wasn't just because you had some kind of propensity for language. Alexia had seen you studying in your free time, listening to podcasts, practicing. She asked you once, why you did that; you replied that you simply wanted to understand them better.

That was how you were, thoughtful and kind and lovable. And it hurt everyone on the team to see you hurt—particularly because there was an added element of complexity with it having been Frido who caused it.

"Alexia?" Your groggy voice called out, "can you hand me my cup of water, please?"

"Of course, Nena."

Alexia watched as you drank slowly, and sat by as a nurse came in to examine you. She checked your pupils again, and didn't look pleased.

"I'm going to ask the doctor to order another round of scans, just to double check that no bleeds have popped up that we didn't see before."

"Why?" Alexia asked, concerned. She didn't feel equipped to deal with this totally on her own, especially with the doctor speaking English so quickly, with seemingly no time to explain or guide her through things.

"They're worried I've got a bleed in my brain because of how I fell, Ale." You explained to her.

"I thought they already checked that?" Alexia replied, trying to keep her Spanish slow enough for you to easily understand.

"Sometimes things can only show up on the scans after a little while, because they start so small. I hurt my head when I was younger in a similar area, so they're being extra careful."

Alexia rubbed her temples, worry increasing massively. She turned to the doctor.

"Will she be able to come home, still?"

"If the scans come out clean, then yes. She can be taken back to Spain." The nurse looked to you and asked in German, "you have a doctor there, yes?"

You nodded.

"She will need to be checked again in a little while, and monitored. Does she live with anyone?"

"She'll be living with me." Alexia assured the nurse.

A little while later, the doctor came in and wheeled you off to the CT scan. Alexia was not allowed to accompany you, so she stayed behind, waiting for you in that empty room. Suddenly it truly hit her how serious things could've been. There hadn't been more than a few bruises on you, so it wasn't as easy to understand how hurt you were. ACL, meniscus, these were things Alexia knew. Head injuries? Those certainly felt more daunting.

"María?" Alexia spoke into the phone.

"Alexia? Is everything okay?"

Alexia bit her lip, wishing she could keep herself in check a little more.

"Alexia?" Mapí repeated.

"Yes, sorry, yes I think so. They took her for more scans and it just… I don't know, it hit me."

Alexia heard Mapí speaking to someone in the background.

"Is someone with you?"

"Sí, Ingrid is here, and Pina and Patri are over for a movie. But I stepped out, so talk."

"The doctors were talking about brain bleeds and surgery, and I just couldn't handle it. She was so calm and I felt like I was freaking out…"

"Brain bleeds?" Mapí exclaimed, fear in her voice. Alexia heard something in the background. "Does she need surgery?"

"They don't know if she has one yet. The first scan was clear but apparently they can take a while to be visible."

"Dios mio… one moment, Ale, Ingrid is demanding I tell her what you're saying."

Alexia listened in to the faint mumblings from the other line, looking at the floor. There were raised voices and then a few more joined in, and Mapí returned.

"You're on speaker now, Ale."

"She has a brain bleed?" Ingrid’s voice appeared, a mix of anger and concern evident.

"No, no, they don't know yet. They're checking."

"Is she talking? Does she seem okay?" Patri interjected.

"Sí, she was talking fine. Her head hurts, of course. She can't handle much light, or focus very well yet." Alexia paused. "I don't know if she seems okay, but she'll recover."

The muttering on the other end picked up again, this time more audible. The girls were worried, of course.

"Why the hell did Frido hit her so hard!" Patri exclaimed, then it sounded as if someone had lightly smacked her. But nobody seemed to have a good answer.

Alexia explained what more she could from what the doctors and Laura had told her about your condition, and promised to update them again later. Ingrid promised to keep the other girls in the loop so they wouldn’t bother Alexia, which she appreciated. Everything felt overwhelming enough as it was.

Eventually Alexia hung up once she heard your voice from outside of the door.

“Brain bleed free, Ale!” you smiled as the nurse wheeled you back into the room. You had the stuffed giraffe she gave you clenched in your hand, and you waved it at her as you spoke for emphasis.

“Yep, the scans look perfectly normal.” The nurse affirmed. “Now let’s not try our luck for a third time.”

You saluted her as she left the room, falling quiet soon after. Alexia could see that you were still low on energy.

“Why don’t you rest a little more? I’ll deal with the paperwork in the meantime. Then we can get you home.”

-

Olga had made up your room already when you arrived back in Barcelona. She greeted you and Alexia at the door, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's lips and pulling you in for a soft hug.

"¿Cómo estás, linda?"

"Okay," you gave her a small smile.

"You're my baby for the week," Olga said, taking your arm out of Alexia's hold and instructing her to take your bags into the guest room.

You chuckled as Alexia rolled her eyes playfully and followed orders.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

You nodded, feeling like you could be honest with Olga.

“My ears won't stop ringing… it's driving me nuts.”

"Why don't you go and lay down on the couch for a bit? I'll make dinner in a little while."

After changing into a borrowed shirt and sweats you settled with your head in Alexia's lap. She was stroking your hair very gently, trying to do what she could to make you feel better. Once you were asleep she looked to Olga.

"How are you, mi amor?"

Alexia rubbed her eyes.

"Tired."

"You've had a few very difficult days… she'll be okay."

Olga looked at your sleeping form.

"I'm not sure how to approach it at practice next week." Alexia fell quiet, "I can't help but feel upset at Frido, because I don't understand. If she had looked worried, gone to visit, something, then it wouldn't seem so bad. But she just got up and ran away, didn't seem to care at all. It's so unlike her."

"You let her know that behavior isn't acceptable, yes?" Alexia nodded, "then that's all you can do. And keep an eye on her."

-

You walked out onto the training pitch carefully, a pair of sunglasses covering half of your face and a cap on your head. Alexia held your elbow, keeping you close. You were already shorter than much of the team but you somehow looked even smaller tucked into yourself like that. Hardly anyone had seen you since you got home because of Alexia's insistence that you rest; only Patri had managed to convince Alexia to let her come over, and that was because she was one of your best friends on the team and you were dying of boredom.

Frido hadn't seen you, or heard from you since the friendly. She hadn't been allowed in your hospital room when they kept you overnight for observation, nor had she tried to visit you as you stayed with Alexia. Part of her had been too afraid to ask her capitan if she could come over. And you weren't allowed any screens, so texting was a no-go.

Ingrid, Mapí, and Pina all came rushing towards you, slowing once they were near your pitiful form.

"How are you feeling, bebita?" Mapí asked softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Like shit," you mumbled, giving her a grin.

"With the way your head bounced, it's a miracle it's still attached!" Pina joked in a whispered tone, prompting a smack on the arm from Alexia.

You chuckled, clearly not bothered.

Ingrid, who had been quiet until now, wrapped you in a soft hug. She was careful with your entire upper half though she didn't need to be. You returned her embrace, looping your arms over her shoulders.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She mumbled to you.

You nodded, patting her cheek as she pulled away.

After that Alexia declared that you were going to sit in the shade and were not to be bothered, a glance thrown specifically at Patri and Pina. The rest of the team nodded, giving you quick smiles and thumbs up. Frido continued to stand awkwardly on the side, not sure what the best thing to do was. Would you even want to talk to her? Probably not.

Alexia walked you over to the bench and gave you water and some ear plugs to quiet the noise of the field. Unfortunately you couldn't really do much, no reading or phones allowed. All you could really do was sleep, which you did not long after, lulled by the warm air and low sounds of your teammates playing.

You didn't wake up until about an hour later. You were hot in your light jacket, so you shucked it off and gently sat up. Your sunglasses made it so your head didn't hurt too badly. Caro noticed you were awake and waved at you. You waved back, sending her a smile.

Alexia had mentioned that everyone sent messages of well wishes, not only your Barça teammates but your German teammates, and even a few from the Swedish team. You couldn't use your phone to see them, but Alexia had read them to you one by one. It was a little overwhelming, the support. Even players you had only interacted with a few times had reached out to check in.

"Hola cari" Patri said, flopping herself down next to you. It was a water break, and you could see the team dispersing to grab their bottles from their bags.

"Hola, Patri."

"Here," Patri shifted so she was sitting up, and patted her lap for you to put your head in. "How do you feel? Is it okay if I talk in Spanish or is English better for your head?"

"How about German?" You joked, prompting a large smile from Patri.

"Hallo?" She said, her Spanish accent laughably thick. You patted her leg fondly.

"Spanish is okay. It doesn't hurt my head anymore than a different language."

Patri began to stroke your hair as the two of you caught up. You learned that she had fought hard to get you to stay with her even though she only had one bed (the couch was a perfectly fine alternative for her, she had tried to tell Alexia), and that she was going to the coast during the next break with her family. You told her about seeing your family in Germany before the match, and how big your niece had gotten. Before long, another presence joined you.

"Hi," Caro's soft voice called.

She crouched down in front of you two, giving a faint smile.

"Do you need anything? Did you bring anything to eat?"

You shook your head, and Caro disappeared for a moment. When she returned, there was a bag of crackers in her hand, and a banana.

"I also found this at the supermarket."

She pulled out a packet of cookies, a German brand that you loved as a kid.

"I remembered seeing them when I was playing at Wolfsburg all the time…I figured since you're from around there maybe you knew them?"

You took them from her and held her hand, squeezing it in thanks. It brought tears to your eyes.

"I loved these when I was little… thank you Caro."

Caro smiled at you, taking a seat on the grass across from you and eating quietly. The Norwegian wasn't much of a talker, but she showed her affection just by hanging around.

"Here," she offered some of her water, realizing you had run out.

You took the bottle hesitantly, but Caro was firm.

"Drink, it will help your head."

Soon it was time for everyone to get back on the pitch, and you were left alone again. You put on a podcast through your headphones, passing the time as best you could.

The podcast served mainly as background as you watched your teammates train. It was hot today, and you could see everyone having to work a little harder to keep up. Your eyes fell to Frido naturally, even though you wished it weren't the case. She was partnered with Aitana doing passing drills. Her form was near perfect, you were jealous of her impeccable footwork. She looked beautiful: her hair was done up in a bun, her legs were glowing in the sun, and the muscles in her arm rippled as she picked up her water bottle to get a quick drink. It was disappointing that you still wanted her, even after all of this. Maybe something was wrong with you.

Later, as you waited for Alexia to finish with some promo stuff, Ingrid wandered over to keep you company. Mapí must have been getting a little extra physio time since she had only just been cleared after her injury.

"Can I sit?" She asked you, gesturing to the spot where you sat on the field.

You nodded and smiled, pulling your headphones out.

"How are you feeling?"

You shrugged.

"It's not so bad now, just like a regular headache. They gave me some medication but I'd rather not…"

Ingrid rubbed your shoulder, pulling you a little closer to her.

"You gave us quite the scare."

"Don't tell me you watched the video." You shifted to look her in the eye. "I know it freaks you out, makes you paranoid."

Ingrid smoothed the crease between your eyebrows with her thumb.

"Don't worry about me. Now is the time for us all to fret over you."

You huffed and rolled your eyes, wincing as it hurt your head.

After chatting for a little while Ingrid began braiding your hair into the intricate patterns she had learned to do as a kid. She took care not to pull at your scalp too much, and the gentle motion of her fingers felt lovely on your head. You were more relaxed than you had been in months.

"Has Frido said anything to you?" Ingrid finally asked after a stretch of silence.

You raised your eyebrows, surprised at the question.

"No, we haven't spoken since before we went on international break."

Ingrid paused, but didn't press. You felt her desire to do so, however. You wondered if Frido had spoken to her at all.

[iamagoddess1]

you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.2 here: all mine

tags: internalized homophobia, smut, cheating, tw:owen, fingering (aa!receiving), lowkey sub!aa

A/N: we do not condone cheating here! unless it’s on owen fuck that asshole. sorry i disappeared for 100 years!! hope this is half-decent enough to make up for it. working on reqs i promise!!!! i love you all my sweet angels <333

please click me!!!

it was undeniable— the tension, between you and abby anderson. your queer sexuality was common knowledge amongst the WLF base, and your reputation as a womanizer quite contributory to the hot topic. on the complete opposite of the spectrum stood abby: top soldier, with the highest leading score in kills, and most importantly, dutiful girlfriend to owen moore.

where she stood on the line of homosexuality was made evidently clear. from the way she scoffed under her breath at the sight of your marked-up one night stands, to her weekly mornings at the base’s sunday service, you had found an almost masochistic pleasure in ticking her off to your best efforts.

you would catch yourself throwing offhand comments towards your latest hookups when she was in ears range. “my dick’s better than any man’s, isn’t that right, baby?”

in the mere corner of your peripheral vision you would see abby’s jaw tighten, gaze hard as she refused to look your way— her own sort of defiance to your antics. a haughty smirk threatened to break across your face. you couldn’t exactly place your finger on as to why you were so enamored with her understated reactions, rather than focused on the pretty, blushing girl in front of you. it became a thrill you craved insatiably, and built up as a wall between you two over the years, bound to come tumbling sooner or later.

~

mid-summer now, the longer days and better hunt called for a compulsory celebration. wlf’s central lounge was buzzing with drunken chatter and alight with the golden hue of mini lamp lights.

your childish bickering with abby hadn’t lessened up any bit, and to much of your delight, had begun to stir up more volatile reactions of hers as they’ve persisted.

you sat across her now, separated by only a couple foot’s distance and a beer bottle, which lay empty and flat on its side.

“spin the bottle? what are we, twelve?” abby scoffed at the idea.

she sat crisscrossed, forearms resting atop her legs, muscles straining against her tight grey shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder how she, the very picture of masc, was so adamantly straight.

“aw, scared, anderson?” you grinned devilishly.

she physically recoiled, as if the very thought of being intimidated by someone like you burned her mind. haughty self satisfaction coursed through your veins, sick pleasure in knowing you could get under her skin so easily. running your eyes salaciously down her figure, you watched as she shifted nervously. cute.

“es solo un juego, abby,” manny says, shrugging.

“whatever,” she replies, “just get on with it.”

as the rounds go by, you can’t help but take note of the way abby awkwardly averts her gaze from whichever two lucky partakers kiss, no matter the duo. scoffing, she teasingly mouths ‘pendejo’ after manny stupidly grins into his third kiss of the night. you watch her smile disappear in a brief second when the your turn arises.

eye contact unwavering, you stare down abby as the bottle whirls around, waiting for it to select its next target. you can’t quite understand why your heart feels like it’s racing out of your chest the closer the bottlehead gets to nodding the blonde’s direction.

it inches closer. slower now.

a person away— and it stops.

…on the pretty girl next to abby.

abby releases a harsh breath you didn’t realize she was holding, chest rising slowly as she catches some air. you blink.

you cross the short distance between the two of you crawling, abby eyeing you down, before swerving your course of action in the last moment to land yourself in front of the girl next to her. without a moment’s hesitation you tug her in for a kiss, or no, multiple kisses as you tongue the girl down hungrily. she groans into it with a matched eagerness, desperate to get a dose of your infamous mouth.

your eyes flicker open between kisses, expecting to get an eyeful of the top of the blonde’s head, but you’re met with quite the opposite. the piercing stare of none other than abby anderson sends a chill down your spine. her breath hitches— she looks like she’s been fucking caught. and as tempting as the girl in front of you is, you can’t tear your gaze away from her.

you begin to dominate what is now a full-blown makeout session, eyes darkened, breaths unsteady, hands pulling. she just watches, bound to the floor. you watch her watch. and you want her to want it.

you pull away with a final tug on the girl’s bottom lip, feeding off the way abby’s eyes follow the action. someone wolf-whistles in the background, but, even flustered now, you can’t shake the undeniable tension between yourself and abby.

the rhythmic thumping of blood rushing through your skull acted rather as a barrier between your awareness and the continuing rounds. thankfully, you were left as a mere onlooker, free of any further unwanted attention.

abby had gone back to staring at her lap, you discovered, watching intently as she picked a stray hair off her jeans.

“hey anderson,” you called over, her reaction immediate— head jolting up.

her eyes relaxed to a glare once she realized you were the one addressing her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i think it’s ‘bout your turn, yeah?”

“you fu-“

“solo un juego, abby,” manny cuts in.

with a huff, abby begrudgingly leans over to give the bottle a spin, tapping her fingers against the floor in anticipation.

the bottle stops. so does your heart, for just a second.

you look up. abby looks to owen. the fucking son of a bitch lends no help, smirking, excited that his perverted fantasies have come to life before his eyes.

“c’mon then,” you nod at her, leaning back on your wrists, almost in invitation.

she moves slowly, braid dangling by her shoulder as she scooches towards you, hands coming to a stop on the floor in front of you.

closer now, you can feel the heat radiating off her large figure onto your own, the light brush of her breaths intermingling with your own. yet— she makes no move to get any closer.

you loop a finger around her neckline and drag her in, teeth clashing from the aggression, noses bumping; it’s no fairytale kiss. but then your tongue licks into her open mouth, perhaps merely by muscle memory, or maybe because you secretly want a taste of more, and she fucking whimpers. so quiet, strangled, from the back of her throat, but you hear it nonetheless, and god, you feel it.

the switch up is almost immediate: abby pulling away faster than you can blink, back in her original spot before you know it, wiping at her mouth. but she was too late. you knew what she craved, and you were going to make sure she’d have to beg for it.

~

the party was in full swing now, majority of the room drunk off of wlf’s own brew, which meant everyone was completely fucked up.

you stumbled over to the serving area, leaning haphazardly over the bar to scan the room without falling over. your eyes caught onto a familiar blonde, seated quietly with a group composed of what you assumed to be her usual patrol friends. she’s seated next to owen, the fucker, who has his arm lazily swung around the skank sprawled on the other side of him. your eyes are glued to the visible scrunch between abby’s eyebrows, fingers itching to reach out and press it away.

“who’s the lucky girl you’re sinking your claws into tonight?”

your head swivels towards the voice, met with a concerned look from alex, wlf’s residential mixologist.

“…you good, babe?”

“fuck— yeah, just got a lit, a little dizzy for sec. the answer to, uh- to, your question is no one,” you hiccuped, grinning up at alex as you rested your head against the cold counter.

“uh-huh, sure. i’ll let you have your secrets. i won’t pry,” she quips.

you laugh, miming an imaginary lock over your lips before tossing the ‘key’ away. “what can i say? i’m a gentleman, alex, no, gentlewoman. i don’t kiss and te-“

you’re cut off by another voice approaching the counter, low and slurring, asking for a glass of straight whiskey.

you roll your head over, faced with the towering frame of none other than abby anderson. she’s closer than you expected her to be, causing you to stumble back a step, and then laugh at yourself, muttering under your breath, straight whiskey for the straight girl.

“i think you’ve had well enough, anderson. even with all the muscle on you, man, i don’t know how you got this hammered. i’ll get you some water, honey,” alex jokes.

abby sulks, spacing out as she begrudgingly sips on her water. you doubt she even notices your presence, using the accidental peace as time to really take in her side profile. she’s stunning, in her own, amazonian sort of way. especially now in the hazy golden light of the lounge, the sweaty blonde strands framing her face made her appear in rather close resemblance to a goddess of some type. and all you wanted was to worship her in that manner, treat her body as your temple and such. perhaps the alcohol really was getting to you.

“what’s got you all pouty, anderson? your little boyfriend not doing you any good?”

it’s so comical, the effect your presence has on abby. her head jerks your way at the first breath of your words, and her pinning gaze blows away any of the fog clouding either of your minds.

her demeanor hardens instantly, as she crosses her arms defensively. “fuck off,” is all she manages to spit out.

you take it as an invitation to continue. “like,” you scoff, “there’s no way he knows how to hit all the right spots. does he even try to? how’s his head game, abs?”

her look away speaks volumes.

“oh? god, what a dick.”

“he-“ she tries.

“-i could show you a good time,” you ramble, “i can assure you that i know how to hit all the right spots. your spots— i mean, only if you want me to.”

she gawks at you, her look half full of disbelief and half full of curiosity. and you can tell that you’ve got her hooked.

“i don’t need you,” she mutters, but a glance at her thighs pressed tight together says otherwise.

you smirk, placing your hand down that just so happens to land on her mid-thigh. her muscle jolts at your contact.

tentatively dragging your fingers higher, you speak lowly, stare locked, “you sure, baby?”

the wall comes crashing.

abby’s snatching your hand off her leg in a heartbeat and dragging you into the closest bathroom, shoving you against the door and pushing her lips against yours.

your tongue is dipping into her open mouth almost immediately, desperate to pull another one of her addicting whimpers out.

“shit,” abby curses in between gasps, before leaning back in to just consume more of you. her hands are searching for any part of you she can reach, grabbing at the meat at your hips, thighs, pressing your waist against hers with a groan.

the feel of your body against her own is so different from owens’, but so satisfying in a way she can’t wrap her head around. you fit into her frame like a puzzle piece, and your touches are needy and selfish, but they don’t feel offensive in the way that owen’s do.

you venture a hand under her shirt, tracing along the ridges of her toned stomach, and abby shudders, breaking your kiss to look down at your moving hand. she’s panting against your neck, heavier now, as you slide your hand up under her bra to cup her chest softly, rolling her hardened nipple between your fingers and watching hypnotically as she gasps into your skin.

with her head down at this angle, her neck is perfectly bared, and you can’t deny yourself a taste, can you? you’re sinking your teeth in before you realize it, soothing the marks with a wet lick over, only to tug the skin in between your teeth to suck at.

the quiet noises abby’s trying to muffle against your shoulder now are sending you into a frenzy, your hands now abandoning her breasts to pull her hips closer against yours.

abby nearly cries at the loss of your direct touches, but stops when your fingers return a place far more rewarding. you’ve unbuttoned her jeans now, your hand cupping her over her boxers teasingly, digits pressing over the damp spot in the fabric.

“bet you’ve never been this wet for owen,” you laugh, running a finger over her soaked core.

“don’t bring him up right now,” she pants in return, hips keening to your touch as she grabs your face to press into a sloppy kiss.

you push her boxers down eagerly, teasing two fingers by her leaking entrance to gather her slick.

god, abby gasps, and it seems to be the winning word of the night when she repeats it as she watches you stuff those same two fingers into your own mouth, and again when you stuff them straight into her pussy.

her pretty eyes are rolling back into her skull farther with every thrust against her gummy walls. “look at me while i fuck you dumb on my fingers, abs, look at me,” you beg.

“i c-can’t,” she whines, blushing a deep red and burrowing her face into your shoulder.

you slow your pumps, using your free hand to grab her by the braid and force her look at you. “awh,” you coo, pouting mockingly at her gaped mouth, “cute.”

your fingers buried as deep into her as physically possible, you curl them to hit that sensitive spot you genuinely believe has never even been touched once. and with the way abby lets out her loudest moan yet, you cannot believe otherwise.

“there it is,” you murmur, massaging your fingertips agonizingly slow inside of her, “see what you’re missing out on?”

her only response is a strangled whimper. baby blue eyes big and pleading as they threaten to roll back with every slight movement.

mhm, you goad her on, “that’s your g-spot, baby, feels real good, huh?”

she nods her head vigorously, quiet mhmmhmhm’s trailing out from her bitten lips.

“now if your little boyfriend’s dick is too small to reach it, i guess he can’t help it,” you laugh. “shame, you make such pretty noises when i touch you here,” you let out an exaggerated sigh, picking up your pace abruptly to slam into her spot over and over.

abby’s nearly gone cross-eyed, tossing her head back now as her pussy throbs almost rhythmically with every thrust. she’s never felt so filled to the brim, so overwhelmed with pleasure, and she’s too blissed out to even care about the stupid fucking smirk you’ve got plastered on your face.

“but his mini- dick is no excuse for not touching you here,” you continue, letting loose of her hair to finally touch her poor, neglected, pink clit, rubbing circles harshly into the button.

abby’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest. she’s moaning nonstop and swearing like a fucking sailor, the combination of your actions almost too much for her to physically bear. after a particularly loud oh god, fuck-please, you have no choice but to stuff abby’s mouth full with the bottom of her shirt. and fuck, was that the right move; the way her ab muscles flex and tighten as she nears her release, glistening with sweat, is enough to make you let out a groan of your own.

“‘m- close,” abby cries around the fabric, hips rocking with your motions as she begins to ride out her high.

“there you go anderson, you got it,” you mutter, circling her swollen clit faster now as you fuck into her g-spot repeatedly.

mmmmph is all you can make out, as abby’s walls clamp down around your curled fingers and she digs her nails into your sides, eyes squeezing shut.

her jerking movements eventually slow along with your own, half lidded eyes staring as you slip your cum-coated fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. the moistened fabric falls from abby’s open jaw as she attempts to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

before you know it, she’s tugging up her soaked boxers and jeans, shoving past you as she buttons them up and promptly bolts out of that bathroom.

well, that was one way to deal with the tension.

she’ll come running back to you before she knows it.

yikes! i just read that over and yikes! lol uh! sorry guys i’m out of practice!! we love abby anderson though and pray that she gets over her internalized homophobia. she’s too sexy for allat.

send me more reqs!! not that i need any more but send ‘em!

[iamagoddess1]

Kinkcember Day 3: Tentacles

Day 3 gets a little weird with tentacles making their return to the kinky month

Length 1.9K

Jessi & Jennie X tentacles

“You said this was going to be an easy hike,” Jennie complains, running out of breath. Her eyes follow the barely used trail as it winds up the mountain.

“Oh, shut up; it’s going to be worth it. There’s a really nice view at the top.” Jessi said as she continued moving up the overgrown path. She bit her lip, happy to be returning to the mountain. Her experience the last time she had come was one she couldn’t get out of her head. Something told her to come back. Every step up was one closer to the top, and Jessi couldn’t help but rub her slit every so often, just out of sight of Jennie. Their march through the mountain moved slowly, each woman grateful that they had begun hiking in the early morning when the temperatures were cooler. They reached the top soon enough, a plateau covered in a heavy forest. 

Jennie stopped and looked around, seeing the city in the distance. She sat down, enjoying the wind as it passed through her and into the forest. “You were right; this is a nice view,” she said before lying down. 

“There’s something even better in the middle; there’s a lake where we can swim and cool off,” Jessi said, glancing deeper into the forest and biting her lip before turning back to Jennie. “Let’s go.” She whined, becoming more pushy the longer they waited.

Jennie groaned, wanting to spend more time resting. The thought of a lake in the middle of the forest intrigued her, though she thought it would be nice to take a dip after such a long walk. The younger woman stood slowly and turned to her friend, following her as they headed into the forest. Light broke through the scattered leaves, allowing a good amount of sunlight as they continued. The walk didn’t last too long, five minutes at most, Jennie thought as they reached a clearing and their eyes came upon a placid crystal blue lake. Jennie smiled, excitement surging through her as she saw the lake's beauty. “Wow, you weren’t lying. This looks amazing.”

Jessi wasted no time, kicking off her shoes and stripping down in front of Jennie. “I’m heading in first,” she said, walking into the cool water and lying back. The older woman kicked her feet, getting further into the lake before coming to a stop. 

Jennie didn’t want to miss out, so she stripped out of her sweat-filled clothes, dropping them beside Jessi’s before joining her in the water. It was cool but not unpleasant. She swam to join her friend, moving toward the center while kicking up a lot of water. Jessi looked toward her friend, smiling as she saw how much she was disturbing the water. “You were right; this is great,” Jennie said as she swam around the older woman. 

“I told you,” Jessi said with a smirk on her lips as purple haze began rolling onto the lake from the far side. She ran her hands down her body rubbing her slit in front of the younger woman without care now. 

“Jessi! What are you doing?” Jennie screamed with a surprised smile. She was used to having fun with the older woman but didn’t expect her to want to do it while swimming. Looking past the older woman, Jennie finally noticed the purple haze as it reached them. She became lightheaded. Jennie held her head as the haze filled her lungs.

“Don’t worry, this is fine,” Jessi groaned, shutting her eyes and pulling away from the younger woman. Jessi laid back in the water, floating along the top as she ran her fingers up and down her slit. The water around them began to shift, and while Jennie panicked, Jessi smiled.

Soon, the haze blocked all sight of the beach, leaving the women alone. From beneath the water came tendrils that slowly closed in on the older woman who kicked at the water. They found their first target, wrapping around Jessi’s tanned legs and arms. Another tendril soon poked through the water near her head; Jessi craned toward it without hesitation, running her mouth along its slimy surface. The tentacle bent in on itself, its bulbous head rubbing against Jessi’s mouth before the rap star opened her mouth and allowed it inside.

Jennie was stunned at the sight and began to swim away, only to be stopped. More tentacles held her in place, and they continued to appear, keeping the young woman. Whatever beast held her wasn’t mindless; it turned Jennie around, forcing her to watch the older woman.

Jennie’s mouth dropped as she was turned around. Jessi was getting fucked by the beast. In the time she had been facing away, Jessi had gone from sucking on one tendril to having her entire body toyed with. The beast was filling Jessi, its tentacles moving inside her cunt and ass. It looked like it was going to break her. Jennie gulped and felt herself getting wet as she watched the tentacle moving inside Jessi, bulging the rapper’s stomach. As her eyes moved up, she saw Jessi taking another tentacle down her throat, watching it bulge, too. Jessi’s muffled moans became the only thing she could hear, her body the only thing she could focus on. 

The rapper was having the time of her life, her body being pumped full of pheromones that increased the pleasure she felt; every thrust by the tentacles made her cum. She didn’t resist at all as she felt another rub against her ass whole; she reveled in the pleasure as the tentacle stretched it out. The slimy tentacle provided its own lube, easily sliding deeper inside. Jessi’s muffled moans grew louder as she felt the tentacle inside her ass grows thicker. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as both holes were filled to the brim. Each movement made Jessi’s toes curl; as wave after wave of mindnumbing pleasure crashed over her, the rapper fully gave her body up. Something she wished she had done the first time she felt this way.

Jennie watched on as the beast continued to toy with the older woman, a couple of tendrils opening at the ends and attaching themselves to the rapper's tits. Jessi’s continuous moans floated into Jennie’s ear, continuing to turn her on. She began to question how good it must feel. As the thought crossed her mind, one of the beast's tentacles began to rub her slit. Jennie moaned the amount of pleasure she felt coming as a shock to her. Her eyes fluttered, and she struggled to keep her mind clear. 

More tentacles came from beneath the water, each lashing at the younger woman and slapping against her body; two smaller ones toyed with her breasts, and as much as Jennie wanted to struggle, her body was giving in. The smaller tentacles were flicking her nipples. She tried to catch the moans before they came out, but as the tendril by her cunt began to creep in, she had to release her moans. It snaked its way inside Jennie; she felt it slowly growing thicker inside of her, stretching her tight cunt like never before.  Jennie began to groan. Looking down, she saw the tentacle make a visible bulge in her stomach. It slowly dragged itself out of her before moving back in at a painfully slow pace. 

“Faster,” Jennie muttered, surprised at her own voice. Like it was following orders, the tentacle picked up speed, ramming into Jennie’s womb before beginning to thrust into her. Jennie’s body tensed as the sudden movement rocked her; she felt herself on the verge of cumming. Another deep thrust made her cum, her walls squeezing down on the tentacle's shaft. It continued to move at the same pace, uncaring that the woman in its grip was becoming more sensitive by the second. 

Jennie began to understand how Jessi was feeling, and her will to escape soon faded as the beast began to train her. More tentacles appeared, rubbing the thin woman’s body; one rubbed between her ass poking and prodding her asshole, while another slapped her face, its scent drowning Jennie. She involuntarily opened her mouth, and it slid inside; the bulbous head stretched Jennie’s throat to its limit before sliding in and out. The young woman used her tongue, trying her best to lap at the side as she felt it hit the back of her throat. Jennie's view of Jessi becomes completely blocked, but the older woman is given a perfect view of her.  The tentacles pulled her from the water, raising her.

Jessi took in the sight of the younger woman’s body bulging as the beast slammed itself into her womb. The beast pulled itself from Jessi’s mouth, allowing the older woman to lap at the head like it was an ice cream as she watched. “Your friend is taking it nicely,” A voice said before pausing; the older woman looked around but saw no one. “Just like you did the first time, this time, I’ll make sure to mark you.” 

With those words, it clicked who was talking; it was the beast. Being marked as the beast’s companion was something that intrigued the older woman; the thought of being pleasured every day was something wonderful to her. “Do it, I’m yours.” The tentacles inside Jessi began to pick up the pace, slamming into both holes. The older woman’s body was a toy for this beast, one that took full advantage now, slapping her body with its tendrils, leaving it red all over as it spanked her roughly and continued to stretch her. Jessi continued to cum with every thrust, her body giving out as she felt it becomes flooded by the beast's cum, her belly bloating as it marked her. The last thing she felt before passing out was a stinging sensation on her abdomen.

Jennie was next; the poor woman had been cumming nonstop for the last few minutes. She felt the beast’s tentacles begin to throb. Jennie wanted it; she wanted this thing to cum inside her. As the beast continued to move quickly, she tried to flex her muscles, tightening her walls around the tentacles. Whether it worked or not is questionable, but either way, the beast came. Jennie felt its hot cum pour into her cunt and down her throat. The taste was horrid but addictive. After the first drop, she was hungry for more and drank every drop, barely noticing her belly bulge from the amount of cum that was dumped inside her. 

As the young woman passed out, she was also left with a mark. Both women awoke on the shore near their clothes, their bodies seemingly left unharmed, a trail of cum the only signifier that something had happened. That was what they thought until they noticed they had a mark on their stomach. Each woman looked at it warmly, remembering the events that transpired. “Bring me more, and I will bring you more pleasure.” They heard the voice ring out in their heads. 

“Yes, Master,” Jessi said, licking her lips. She looked over at the younger woman, who nodded in agreement. The two would have to find more people to show them what true pleasure was.

[iamagoddess1]

Your Four Tigers ・Barcelona Femení

Finally wrote this request! Hope you enjoy!

Request: “Could I request one where it takes place during El Clasico and the teams break into a fight, R usually the softest of the team but when she’s met with a heavy push and tries to stand up with a bloody face and concussed head,  the entire barca team fires up especially mapi, alexia, amc and irene jdjhsgss your work is so good I’d die for this”

Part 2 La Princesa 

Word count: 1,2k

Your team had been doing amazing in the Copa de la Reina so far, Barcelona leading 3-0 by the 52nd minute.

You have assisted two of those goals to Aitana and Mariona, Alexia assisting the first goal of the match to Lieke.

You’ve been on fire the whole game creating chances any second you got and racing past any and all of the Real Madrid players.

Perhaps that is why you had been targeted the entire match.

You’ve been tripped and pushed several times but you shook them off each time. You could see though that Alexia and Mapi weren’t taking it as lightly.

You were the most gentle and soft person the Barcelona team has ever played with and so a lot of your teammates often took it upon themselves to protect you, their Ángel.

You had four main protectors though, who took their job way more seriously than any teammate you ever had.

Mapi, Alexia, Irene and Ana-Maria, or your four tigers as they were often referred to by the spanish fans.

This was why as the game hit its 60th minute and Alexia was subbed off for Pina, Ana-Maria was jumping up and down  on the sidelines, impatiently waiting for her number to be shown.

As she jogs onto the pitch she gives you a high five as she passes you, but the determined look in her eyes was hard to miss.

Your team’s next chance on goal arrives at the 67th minute and as you receive a pass from Asisat you neatly curve the ball into the top left corner of the goal.

Now that Barca is even more confident in their win, Real Madrid’s team seems to get more reckless with their tackles especially the ones directed at you.

It’s obvious that they are getting frustrated by your versatile gameplay.

You’re somewhere near the halfline when Esther González corners you and tries to take the ball away from you, but you’re faster.

The next time you come face to face with the number 10, you end up on the ground.

You had the ball at your feet and as Esther ran at you, you attempted to nutmeg her which would have worked if you had watched out for the elbow coming at your face.

It’s too late though as her body turns, elbow smacking into the side of your head before she pushes you.

As she starts running towards your team’s goal the referee quickly blows her whistle as she realizes you’re still laid out on the turf and clearly in pain.

Sitting up you look up at the referee and see Irene running towards you out of the corner of your eye.

You’re still holding the right side of your head when she gets to you and she gently removes you hand allowing you to take a look at your palm. It only takes the sight of your own blood running down the length of your hand to get you panicking. 

Irene immediately recognizes the look on your face and she moves closer to you, cradling your head and muttering gentle words into your ear. The referee is also calling for the medical team to get to the scene.

On the other side of the pitch, not too far from where you’re sitting with your bloodied face, Mapi and Ana-Maria are raging.

It’s not often that the two of them get along ever since their breakup happened, but your safety was always their priority.

They surround some of the Real Madrid players with your other Barca teammates and instantly get into a screaming match with Esther who is denying their accusations.

This only fuels their anger more and Mapi sends a shove to her shoulders, the girl stumbles back a bit and her teammates also join, pushing around the two blondes. 

Mapi and Ana-Maria quickly turn it into a shoving-screaming match, yelling profanities into Esther’s face.

It takes a while for the referee to notice what’s going on but as she does, she starts separating the two teams, threatening anyone with a yellow card who would dare to move any closer.

Pulling out her yellow card she shows it towards Mapi and Ana and then she pulls out the red card writing Esther González’s name on it who’s then sent off the field.

The two blondes make their way over to you and Irene, the two of you now accompanied with three medics as they try to wash the blood off your face and check for a concussion.

One of the medics moves over to let the Barca players get closer to you and Mapi squats in front of you.

As your eyes focus on the number 4 you reach for her and Mapi smiles softly, taking ahold of your hand and squeezing it. 

“I don’t want to go off, I wanna continue playing.” your voice comes out hoarse and Irene pushes a water bottle into your hand, urging you to drink from it.

“You have to go Y/N/N, we can’t risk you getting seriously hurt.” Crnogorcevic speaks up as she finally reaches you all.

It’s obvious to three out of your four tigers that you’re not done playing and Irene glances over to the medic assessing your cut. He shakes his head at her, indicating that you will not be allowed to get back.

“Come on cariño, let’s get you to Alexia.” Mapi tries and you reluctantly give in at the mention of your captain.

Mapi and Irene help you stand up and you lazily hold onto their waists as you’re led off the field, Mapi holding a rag to your head.

Reaching Alexia she studies your face a bit longer as the other two place a kiss on the crown of your head and get back on the field. 

The medic from earlier approaches you two and informs Alexia that it would be best for you to be somewhere darker. The brunette hears your protests though and decides that the two of you would continue watching the match from the benches.

As you go to sit down next to her she pulls you into her lap to sit sideways and you automatically tuck your head into the crook of her neck.

For the last 15 minutes of the match she gently rubs a hand up and down on your back, Lieke also checking up on you every once in a while.

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep in Alexia’s comforting embrace and as she later gets on the bus with you still wrapped up in her arms, the three other girls start arguing over who you get to sit with.

Alexia rolls her eyes at their banter, though smiling at the care. 

She decides for them however, and makes her way to the back of the bus, sitting down on one of the four seats.

The other three look after her before springing into action and claiming a seat each, eagerly waiting as Alexia lays you over the four of their legs.

You stir a bit as your head is gently placed on someone’s thigh and Ana leans down.

“Go back to sleep bébé.” she whispers then presses a kiss to your cheek as you bury your face in her stomach.

A few seats in front of them Lieke and Leila giggle softly as they film the five of you before posting it on their Instagram stories. 

You and your four tigers.

[iamagoddess1]

take charge - lucy bronze

pairing: lucy bronze x female reader

theme: smut

warnings: smut, minors dni, fingering, strap-on use, oral sex, praise kink, gag use, orgasm control, submissive lucy, pet names, use of y/n

summary: lucy has always been the dominant one out of the two of you throughout your entire five year relationship. when leah tears her acl, Sarina gives you the armband for the World Cup. Something about you in the armband turns lucy on and suddenly, she wants you to take control in the bedroom…

notes: based on this request, thank you sm anon! whilst writing this, half of it didn’t save so i had to rewrite most of the match part so sorry if it’s really bad <3

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It was heartbreaking watching Leah tear her ACL, the three letters confirming to you and all of your England teammates that your captain would miss the World Cup. You had no idea who Sarina would give the armband to, you thought Millie would receive it, or even Lucy, she deserved it more than most in your definite non-biased opinion. But Sarina had other plans. You were announced as the captain for the World Cup. Naturally, you were honoured to not only represent your country but to know hopefully captain them to a World Cup win, it was a childhood dream come true and Lucy couldn’t have been prouder of you.

So far, you had lead the team through the group stages, having won all three matches and you couldn’t be happier. You had noticed a slight change in Lucy ever since your first game against Haiti, but you put it down to just tournament nerves. Not knowing what was really going through her head. Having no clue that seeing you lead all the girls on the pitch, wearing that armband and being much more commanding and even more confident then you normally are, has been doing things to her.

All this week, you had been preparing for the game against Nigeria. You weren’t stupid, you knew it was going to be tough. They’re physical. Way more physical than the Lionesses but you were all ready. Or that’s what you thought. You played in the left-wing back position, which allowed you to cover the back and push up a little, which you loved doing. You had a good link up going with Georgia but Nigeria were quick to break it, quick to have you marked down and so you could do nothing, not really, except for telling your girls what to do.

Rarely, anger was never an emotion you dealt with on the pitch. You never got angry, not really, the last time you had it was the champions league final back in 2020 for an unjust foul committed on you that should’ve been a penalty, but it wasn’t awarded. However, watching you get awarded a penalty in the 31st minute and then having it taken off of you in the 34th just really pissed you off. You thought it should’ve stood. But it didn’t. When you’re angry on the pitch, you get a touch more aggressive, more loud and much more pissed if things don’t go your way. And that’s exactly what starts to happen.

The last minutes of the first half are basically just filled with you shouting at the girls, telling them what to do, putting challenges in on the Nigerian players, but still being careful to not get carded for them. When you come off for half time, Lucy is the first one over to you, putting her arm around your waist, whilst you two walk back through the tunnel. All of the fans knew about your relationship, I mean the pair of you never made any effort to hide it, meaning you could be more open with some of your affections.

“That should’ve been a fucking penalty,” you huff, as you walk towards the changing rooms, Lucy’s arm never leaving its position of being wrapped around your waist.

“I know baby, I know. Don’t threat about it though, we’ll be okay, we have you, you’re playing exceptional as always,” Lucy reassured you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, ignoring the feelings stirring inside of her from watching you get angry on the pitch. From wearing that armband. You have absolutely no clue how much you’re turning her on.

“Luce, I’ve hardly done anything,” you sigh softly as you make your way through the changing room and sit down at your cubby, which is conveniently next to your girlfriends.

“Yes you have. The passes that you have managed to make have been perfect, you’ve kept the left locked down and you’ve been commanding us really well.”

You smile softly at her and she presses a gentle peck to your lips before whispering against them lowly, “It’s very hot actually,” before she leaves to use the toilet to adjust herself.

Sarina gives her usual half time speech, telling you all on how to improve, then about ten minutes later you’re all back on the pitch. The knowledge that Lucy finds how you’re carrying yourself on the pitch hot, sends sparks flying through you. You weren’t thinking about that, not at all, but now, it’s in the back of your mind and you can’t help but want to impress her just a little more.

By the 83rd minute, most of the girls are tired. Nigeria’s physicality is just knackering the entire team. Sarina still hasn’t made any changes and it’s annoying you a little bit, your team are tired, substitutions need to be made. That’s why it doesn’t surprise you as much when frustrations get the better of Lauren James. Sure, her stamp on Alozie was completely unnecessary, but you understand why she did it. You’re frustrated too, however you have the maturity, which Lauren lacks and needs to work on, to time your tackles right, to not foul a player as said tackles you have committed have all been completely legal. Yes your frustrations did get the better of you in the 73rd minute leading to you getting a yellow card, but that was only for talking back to the ref, who you now had down as being a wanker, you didn’t like her. You knew the red card was coming to Lauren, a blind idiot would know, but that still doesn’t mean it didn’t hit the team hard. Being forced to drop to ten whilst you’re already struggling isn’t really an ideal situation.

The last eight minutes were utter hell for England. Scrappy, sloppy, whatever the commentators want to call it. You are extremely lucky to be going into extra time and not home. There were multiple shots from Nigeria that could’ve gone in but didn’t.

When the first fifteen minutes of extra time roll around after the short break, Nigeria’s tactics are slightly different. They try to test you, try to exploit the left side which they haven’t for the entire game. However you’re successful at keeping it locked down, not letting them get around you, which means they take back up their usual routine of going down the middle or the right.

In the 98th minute, a diagonal ball that’s just completely ignored by Millie could’ve easily been scored, it was a big chance for Nigeria. A huge one, it could’ve won them the game. But it didn’t. That still doesn’t mean that you didn’t have a few stern words with your vice captain. Millie understood and she was incredibly apologetic, knowing she fucked up, her words, not yours, she’s tired. All of the girls are, you couldn’t blame her that much, so you just remind her to stay alert and on her player, that’s all really.

You notice Nigeria decide to attack down the right, and Lucy isn’t doing all that well. She seems distracted by something. You’ve never shouted at Lucy on the pitch before, but you just have to, she has to lock that right side down, you can’t concede.

“Luce, c’mon snap out of it, stay on her!” you shout at your girlfriend and Lucy is quick to react. She improves her marking of Ajibade instantly and doesn’t let her past her, locking the right down just how you wanted. Yet again, you had no idea what you had just done to Lucy. The way you commanded her stirred something primal within her, but she was quick to snap out of it: remembering your earlier words, not wanting to disappoint you. It was a weird feeling for Lucy, but she was sure that if you asked her to do anything: she’d do it for you.

The first half of the extra time comes to an end and you have a little break, having a quick gel and then a word with the girls to just play their best and for now push through the pain and the tiredness for their county. For winning this game and for hopefully winning the World Champion title in a few weeks time.

The second half of extra time kicks off and it’s an improvement from the first, you have a second substitution now, so more fresh legs and Beth England is an excellent player.

In the back of your mind, you know that ever since Lauren’s red card you’ve had less possession and have not had a single shot. You pray to change that. You want one to end up in the back of that net, not really wanting to have to end up with going to penalties. But it seems like fate has other ideas. There was a couple of chances that England had in that last half, but unfortunately none could connect. So penalties it is.

A few minutes break is allocated for a breather to discuss who would take the penalties and in what order. It would be Georgia, then Beth, then Rachel, then you, then Chloe and then Alex for the first six, if all six are needed of course. Then the rest of the girls were also ordered, if more than five had to be taken. You had taken a few penalties in your time, all in shootouts, and you’d scored all of them. So you were pretty confident in yourself.

You stood next to Lucy at the end of the line, one arm wrapped around her waist as you watched Georgia set up to take her shot, hoping, praying it would go in. It didn’t, but you were still proud of the midfielder nevertheless she’d played a good game, and you had every faith in Mary in saving the one. Which she doesn’t even need to do because Oparanozie misses the target.

All of the England players scream when Beth slots it perfectly in the back of the next. 1-0 to England. When Alozie steps up to take Nigeria’s second, you hold your breath and when she skies it, you sigh in relief. Lucy quickly pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rachel scores the next one, slamming it into the top left corner, however Ajibade also scores her one too. 2-1.

Usually when you take penalties, you’re not nervous. Not at all. But you can feel them tingling away around your body. You set the ball down and then close your eyes, quickly taking a moment to breathe, to block out all of the sound of the fans, and to focus on where you’re going to try and slot the ball. When you open your eyes, you focus on the opposite spot, to throw the keeper off, focusing on the bottom right.

You take in a breath and then strike the ball, to which it slots in beautifully in the top left hand corner. The keeper diving completely the wrong way. You run up and jump into Lucy’s arms, her pressing a soft kiss to your lips, which makes fans in the stands go wild. That’ll be in TikTok edits later, but you don’t care. After you, Ucheibe scores hers for Nigeria and then Chloe’s up.

You squeeze Lucy’s hand, if this goes in you’ve done it. You’re through to the World Cup quarter finals. And of course, Chloe Kelly slots it in and England are through. After an incredibly challenging, tiring game, you’d done it. England through to the next round, thank fuck. Nigeria put up a good fight, it was crystal clear they wanted it just as much as you did, the game truly could’ve gone either way.

After consolidating the Nigerian team, you get into the team huddle, standing in between Sarina and then Lucy on your other side, listening to the gaffer give her little post match speech before you have to give yours, a little bit of that aggressive, more dominant edge still clinging to your voice. As Lucy listens to you, she feels that urge cross her body again, the one that’s willing to do whatever you say. To be your good girl. It’s a weird feeling for her. Lucy has never, ever felt this way before. She’s not submissive. She never has been. But seeing you, like this, all commanding, angry and dominant it’s doing things to her and suddenly she craves for you to take charge of her, like you’ve done on the pitch.

After you’ve said what you’ve needed to, you look over at your girlfriend and notice that tiny glint in her eye which means she’s turned on, that makes you raise an eyebrow slightly, wondering how and why. But you just shrug it off, listening to what some of the other girls have to say about the game whilst Lucy’s eyes are fixed on the captains band sitting on your left arm.

A few hours later, you finally manage to get away from all of the girls, Lucy saying the pair of you need an early night. You make it up to your room, and then she’s on you, her lips immediately seeking out yours, kissing you passionately, but not rough like she normally is.

“Put your kit back on, especially the armband,” she breathes against your lips, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“You want me to put my dirty, sweaty kit back on? Seriously?” you ask, your tone incredulous, confused beyond belief.

“Mhm, please Y/n, put it on,” she begs, her eyes pleading with yours.

You look at her gone out. What the bloody hell is happening? Lucy had never ever begged you to do anything (unless it’s get her cake) in the entirety of your five year relationship. It takes you a few seconds to deliberate the idea in your head but with a soft sigh you nod and grab your bag that you brought up here earlier, just after the game before the dinner you’ve just had, to get it out of the way.

“Do I have to put my pads back on?” you question as you strip from the England gear you currently had on, getting back into your football kit from the match earlier.

“It’s up to you Y/n, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Lucy states softly as she watches you intently, her eyes glued to the armband that’s now sat back on your left bicep and she swears she feels her knees going weak.

You nod and decide against putting them back on, not actually needing them for whatever you’re about to do. The answer she gives you is not “very Lucy”, usually she would’ve told you exactly what she wants. For extra measure, you put your hair back up into the style of a rather neat bun, much neater than the ones Lucy does in her hair are. You look at yourself in the mirror quickly before glancing back at the brunette, something about seeing yourself in the armband has made that sense of pride and dominance return, exactly what Lucy wanted.

“This what you wanted hm Luce? Want to get me in my kit so I could take charge?” you had finally caught on to what she wanted, it just all clicked and fucking hell, taking charge in the bedroom, of Lucy is an incredibly hot thought.

“Please y/n, I’ll be a good girl, I promise, I need you,” she whines, her usual dominance having completely melted away. It’s almost like another woman is stood in front of you.

“Dirty girl, getting turned on by seeing me get all angry and aggressive on the pitch. I should just leave you here, wanting and not getting anything,” you hum before gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, a direct contrast to your words.

“No, please, don’t, I need you baby, I’m so desperate, please.”

God she sounds so so so pretty when she whines, when she begs. You’ve never heard it before, and you want to hear more of it, you’ll make sure Lucy does her fair share of begging before she gets anything from you.

“You sound so pretty when you beg Luce, what you desperate for hm? What do you want me to do?” you ask, fully aware that you’re being a tease, but you know she’ll do what you want.

“I want you to fuck me, please Y/n.”

A small groan slips past your lips at her admission, normally you’re the ones saying those words, begging her to have her way with you. Now it’s the other way around and you love it and of course, you’ll give her exactly what she wants, eventually.

Your lips find hers, kissing her rather hungrily before you start to trail your kisses down the column of her throat, occasionally dragging your teeth over her skin, making her shiver.

“Fuck baby, please stop teasing,” Lucy pleads, her head tilted back slightly, allowing you to have slightly better access to her neck.

“And why should I do that hm?” you question before connecting your lips again, the kiss all teeth and tongue, with you in full control. Your lips stay intact as you reach the edge of the bed, only breaking apart for a few seconds to push her down gently, before kissing her once more.

Lucy whimpers into the kiss, wanting so much more than she’s currently getting, needing you to push her over the edge and give her the orgasm she so desperately craves, that she so desperately needs.

Momentarily, you break the kiss to take off her top, and then her sports bra, carelessly throwing them over your shoulder. You ignore her boobs, for now, going back to roughly making out with her. She lets out another little whimper into your mouth a few seconds later, needing more.

“Is there something wrong Lucia?” you hum teasingly, using her full name which you know has an effect on her, knowing full damn well what she wants.

“I need more Y/n,” she mewls, now having taken to squeezing her thighs together to get a touch a friction.

When you see what she’s doing, you click your tongue in disapproval before then gently pull her legs apart, slotting yourself in between them.

“Oh really? Is what I’m doing not enough for you?”

“N-no, please, give me more.”

Puppy eyes was the last thing you’d expect to see from Lucy, but god they do look adorable. And you find yourself giving in, very slightly to what she wants. Your mouth finds her right boob, gently kissing over it before flickering your tongue over her nipple. After a few little flicks, you tug it between your teeth, then run your tongue over it, soothing the small amount of pain. Your hand finds her left one, kneading the flesh delicately ahead of your fingers twisting and lightly pulling at that nipple, whilst the other one gets taken properly into your mouth for you to suck on.

A mix between a moan and a whimper leaves your girlfriend’s throat and it sounds beautiful, like music to your ears. You keep up with what you’re doing for a while before pulling away and kissing down her chest, littering it with love bites, then you move onto trailing your tongue down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. Quickly, you get them off of her, leaving her in just her boxers, a very noticeable dark wet patch on the front of the dark cotton.

“Fuck look at you, I’ve hardly touched you and you’re soaked. God if I’d have known if me being captain would make you this needy, I would’ve begged Sarina to have been captain for the Euros too.”

That makes Lucy whine again and squirm a little, wiggling her hips, trying to get you right where she needs you.

“Stop teasing me, please baby,” she whimpers once more, growing stupidly needy.

At first, her whines and her begging you sounded perfect, you loved them, but now, they are getting on your nerves very slightly, just like yours must do to her. Now you realise why she doesn’t like it when you’re whiny and are begging her insistently. Not when you have a plan in place of what you’re doing and she’s just being so goddamn impatient.

“No, stop fucking begging,” you practically growl, but she doesn’t listen, whining a little more and bucking her hips up to almost remind you where you’re so desperately needed.

“Please baby, I need you, it aches, fuck me, please.”

You raise your eyebrows at her so blatantly ignoring you, your hand finds your captains band on your arm and you tug it down before forcing it into Lucy’s mouth.

“There. Now we’re all nice and quiet hm?”

Lucy moans around the gag of your armband and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard, you just hope that you get to hear it again. Sure enough, when your mouth finds her inner thighs after pulling down her boxers, that same noise spills from her throat.

A small smirk tugs onto your lips as you kiss, lick, nip and suck at Lucy’s inner thighs, not darling to inch just that little higher and run your tongue through her soaked folds. Admittedly, you were savouring every second of this, you’d never ever taken her like this. She’s always been sat on your face and there was no time to tease her, so you’d never properly gone down on Lucy.

When you finally do decide to give her a little of what she needs, languidly swiping your tongue over her drenched slit, avoiding her clit like the plague, the prettiest little sound slips around the gag of your armband, something like a moan mixed with a small cry.

You go back to then sucking at her inner thighs, just wanting to tease her a touch more before you really give her what she wants. Lucy’s frustrated, but she doesn’t vocalise it, not whimpering around the gag, nor does she show it, her hips remain planted on the bed, hands screwed up in the duvet: not daring to touch you without your permission. For her your dominance was exhilarating, your armband in her mouth silencing her was what she thought was the hottest thing ever and the sheer confidence you have in taking charge does in fact have her incredibly needy; evidenced in just how soaking wet she is.

After a few seconds, when you see no physical reaction from Lucy to your teasing, you smile and lean up to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Such a good girl for me hm? Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want,” you coo before dipping your head back down towards her dripping sex.

Those two words, “good girl” have Lucy literally melting in a puddle for you. Involuntarily, her pussy clenches around nothing, clit throbs with need and the moan she lets out - which is slightly muffled - is perfect.

At the revelation that Lucy has a bit of a praise kink going on, you smirk, you’re going to use that to your advantage. As your tongue once again swipes over her slit, your eyes remain locked onto your girlfriends, watching how within seconds of your ministrations, they roll into the back of her head.

“My good girl,” you husk against her cunt before your lips find her clit, sucking just how she likes as one of your fingers teases around her entrance, not dipping inside just yet.

The possession mixed with the praise has Lucy letting out another moan around her gag and as soon as your lips finally find her clit, a muffled cry tumbles from her lips.

You continue with sucking her clit, pushing just one finger inside of her, groaning into her pussy as you feel just how tight she is, how warm she is. When she’s in charge, Lucy rarely lets you finger her, she always forces you to use your mouth and nothing else, it’s because she’s never been much of a receiver. Always giving. But when she’s does want something, the quickest way to get her off is to eat her out, so she’d make you do just that: so she could get back to fucking you quicker.

Slowly, you pump your finger in and out of her, a second one soon joining the first, feeling her walls stretch a little to accommodate it. You can already feel Lucy getting closer to the edge, so you slow down even more. You want to draw this out. You want to prep her to take the strap.

“Doing so well for me sweetheart, think you can take a third for me?” you ask her softly, pulling your mouth away from her clit for just a few seconds, still fucking her with your fingers.

Eagerly, Lucy nods. She wants to take it, to be your good girl, she knows she can take them too. You smile at her and then once again dip your head back down. Your tongue swirls over her clit gently, before you go back to sucking the sensitive nub.

A third finger slowly joins the second two, and your curl up all three of them, causing the right back to let out another muffled cry around the gag. The stretch for her is perfect, the feeling of taking three of your fingers is sensational, it feels like heaven. With each thrust of your fingers, Lucy can feel them hitting her g-spot, which makes her face contort with pleasure.

You speed up your fingers and your sucking, determined to push her over the edge, wanting to make her cum hard. Lucy’s knuckles turn white with how hard she’s now clenching the duvet, her back arching slightly, eyes now squeezed shut, stars dancing behind her eyelids. With what sounds to be like a moan of your name around your armband, she comes undone, harder than she ever has done. Just like you wanted.

Your movements slow, gently rocking your fingers inside of her, so she can ride out her orgasm. You press a gentle kiss to her clit before pulling your mouth of her, so you can murmur gentle reassurances to her as she comes back down from her high.

“You did so good for me sweetheart, such a good girl,” you state softly whilst gently easing your fingers out of her, which you clean by sucking on them.

The sight of you sucking and moaning around your fingers, coated in her cum, has Lucy getting worked back up again, which you obviously notice.

“You need more hm?” you tease as you ease your armband out of her mouth, pulling it back on to your left arm.

“Please, w..want you to use the strap,” she admits breathlessly, her voice slightly hoarse from your armband being in her mouth for so long, her eyes watching as you put it back where it belongs: slightly wet from her mouth.

“Hmm, do you think you deserve it?”

Lucy simply nods as she watches you pull down your shorts, the underwear you’re wearing are very damp, a clear sign of your own arousal.

“Me too, you’ve been my good girl after all,” you hum, pressing your lips to hers, giving her a soft peck.

When you’re at home, the strap usually resides in the bedside table, and Lucy always wears it. When you’re on camp, you have it in a bag that sits in the wardrobe with all of your other toys. You give Lucy a few more pecks, before getting off the bed and walking over to the wardrobe. The doors are slightly ajar on it as you must’ve forgotten to close it after grabbing your kit bag from it earlier.

You find the bag which is sat in the back of the cupboard and pull it forward, undoing the zipper on it. There’s not many toys in there, you have way more at home, but neither you nor Lucy were going to weigh your suitcases down when you flew out here, to Australia, with sex toys.

The harness gets pulled out of the bag and then so does a seven inch sleek black dildo that you’ll clip into the front of it. You make your way back over to the bed, the two items in hand and then nestle yourself in between Lucy’s spread legs.

You set the things down onto the mattress and then remove your shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room, leaving you in just your sports bra and underwear.

From the countless times of watching Lucy put the strap on, you know exactly what you’re doing. Your underwear come off and then you attach the harness to your hips. The brunettes eyes beneath you are fixated on your own soaked cunt, which you’re not even thinking about, your full focus is on giving your girl exactly what she needs.

“See something you like sweetheart?” you taunt whilst clipping the dildo into the slot at the front.

“Mhm, you’re so beautiful Y/n. Can you take your bra off, please?” she asks softly, her hand coming to paw at the material gently.

You smile and gently take her hand, kissing her knuckles before letting it go and removing the final item of clothing, which also makes Lucy smile.

“That what you wanted Luce?”

“Yes, y..you look perfect, I love you,”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

You gently kiss her forehead, then her cheek, the tip of her nose and then her lips. You kiss her for a few seconds, it’s gentle, unlike your earlier, more rougher, demanding ones.

After those few seconds, you pull away and then adjust your positioning, running the head of the dildo through her folds, which causes her to gasp.

“Fuck baby, please, n-need you,” she whimpers as you line the tip up with her entrance.

“Shh sweetheart, I know, you’re being so good for me,” you croon before you slowly push the strap into her, your eyes fixated on her pussy swallowing it, the sight getting engraved into the back of your mind.

In all honesty, you thought Lucy had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes almost closed, lips parted, one hand gripping the sheets, the other now gripping onto one of yours, her hair sprawled out against the pillows, her face contorted in sheer pleasure, her abs slightly tensed, the sounds escaping her and the way her pussy looks swallowing your goddamn strap. This was something you were going to remember for a long, long time.

“Shit Luce, you’re so tight, doing so well for me,” you grunt as you start to slowly thrust in and out of her, your eyes moving up to her face, to watch her reaction to your movements.

The praise has her letting out a small whimper, which turns into a loud moan as you start move. Her hand that’s in yours grips it a little tighter, for her it feels weird, she feels so full, stretched so beautifully, she could definitely get used to the feeling.

“F..fuck, feels so good Y/n. Harder, please,” she begs softly and it’s impossible to not give her what she wants, after all she has been good for you.

You increase the force of your thrusts, little grunts occasionally tumbling from your lips, like the ones that you make when lifting in the gym and Lucy fucking loves it. She loves hearing the little noises you’re making, knowing you’re enjoying it just as much as she is.

“Taking me so well, my good fucking girl.”

Lucy’s eyes roll into the back of her head, the praise making everything so much better for her, she can feel herself getting closer, her small moans getting louder, her walls gripping your strap tighter.

“Baby I’m close, p..please don’t stop,” Lucy pleads, her legs shaking slightly from the force off the orgasm that’s she’s so close to letting go of.

“Not yet sweetheart, hold it for me,” you demand softly whilst pushing your strap deeper into her, your hips snapping slightly faster. Selfishly, you don’t want her to cum yet, for it to all be over. You don’t know if you’ll ever get to experience this again, to watch Lucy take your strap, to be the one on top, the one in charge. So you just want to draw this out for as long as possible and you know Lucy will listen to you.

Lucy doesn’t complain, she just simply nods, opening her eyes properly to look at you. To her you look perfect. Your eyes are completely darkened with lust, watching her, your hairs up in that damn bun, some of the strands coming loose and sticking to your forehead and your captains armband is sat snug around your left bicep: you look like heaven to her.

“Look at you, look so fucking pretty taking my cock,” you practically growl, your eyes now back to watching her pussy take the toy as you pound into her faster, which makes her moans even louder.

“Y/n, please c..can’t hold it any longer,” she whines, her hand tightening in yours to ground herself as she knows her orgasm is going to be intense. She can feel it.

“Fuck, cum for me sweetheart, cum all over my cock.”

With a sudden cry, Lucy comes undone, her legs shaking slightly from its intensity, her eyes now rolled back, her back arched a little and her face contorted up in sheer bliss. You don’t know where to look, her face, her cunt, at the way her abs tense. You keep your eyes on her face, watching how it twists with pleasure, your hips slow down, still gently rocking the toy in and out of her, allowing her to ride out her high.

“That’s it sweetheart, such a good girl,” you hum, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before ever so gently easing the toy out of her sensitive pussy, revelling in the way it grips your strap harder, as if it doesn’t want you to leave.

Once the toy is out, you quickly undo the harness and then toss it off, throwing it onto the floor. You then lay down next to your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her gently, allowing her to cuddle into you, whilst you pressed gentle kisses all over her face.

“T..that was incredible,” Lucy managed to exclaim a few minutes later after coming down from the most incredible high she’d ever experienced.

“It was, my god you looked so beautiful Luce, who knew seeing me be captain could get you so worked up,” you couldn’t help but tease, watching as she responds by playfully rolling her eyes.

“Hm, I don’t know what can over me, it was just like hot, watching you take charge of everyone on the pitch y’know?”

“Mhm, I think I’ll beg Sarina to let me be captain forever now if that happens every time after we have a game.”

Lucy swats your shoulder playfully, her eyes watching as you pull off the armband and toss it onto the nightstand.

“No, I couldn’t focus on the game at points because all I was focused on was you baby,” she points out with a small smile, her lips gently pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Oh really?” you ask, rhetorically, as you think back to the game earlier that day which feels like it was years ago. “That actually makes a lot of sense, I knew something else was going on earlier, it has been the entire tournament,”

“Yep, ever since the Haiti game. I’ve been wanting you to take charge for a little while now,”

“Well I definitely want to do it again,” you suggest with a little smirk crossing your lips, making her chuckle.

“Ditto baby.”

With that, it didn’t take the pair of you that long to fall asleep, all tangled up in each other, your bodies exhausted from the match you played in earlier and then the incredible sex you’d just had. As you slept, there was one thing you both knew for certain: you’d been taking charge much more often.