wosoworld

[wosoworld]

Pls pls pls reblog to support ♡

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

never doubt my ability to watch the same episode of something ten thousand times and remain just as interested and entertained every single time

[wosoworld]

at this point "they're both the same" is just as detached from reality as "he's making america great again"

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 || 𝚊𝚣𝚣𝚒 𝚏𝚞𝚍𝚍 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you fall in love and never look back

warning : sexual content included - minors do not interact

you're used to pressure. you live for it. ninety-minute matches in front of tens of thousands, champions league nights under the floodlights, the roar of fans at the emirates singing your name. you’ve made your name in the football world with more than just talent. precision. composure. class. arsenal through and through. lioness by blood.

the media calls you “the rolls royce of english football.” you never let it get to your head. but there’s no denying—you’re top tier.

so when your agent sends you an invite to an exclusive athlete gala in los angeles—hosted by nike, packed with global stars—you don’t blink. you pack a tailored suit, hop on a private flight, and plan to shake hands, pose for photos, then bounce.

you didn’t plan on meeting her.

the event is all flashing lights and clinking glasses. you’re posted up at the open bar, sipping on whisky, nodding politely to athletes you recognize from the nba, the wnba, even tennis. but none of them really spark your interest—until she walks in.

azzi fudd.

you've seen her on social media. uconn guard. sharp shooter. but in person, she’s something else. her hair is soft and curled at the ends, makeup subtle, dress hugging her in all the right ways. she carries herself like someone who knows her worth, but doesn’t need to flaunt it.

she spots you first. somehow.

“english?” she said, tilting her head with a smirk when she reached you.

you raised a brow, sipping your champagne. “that obvious?”

azzi laughed, and you swear the sound settled something in you.

“it’s the posture,” she teased. “and the accent. and the fact that you’ve been silently judging everyone’s outfits for the last ten minutes.”

“fair,” you said, chuckling. “you lot dress different over here.”

“and what, you dress better?” she asked, eyeing your crisp black suit, your open collar, the single chain at your neck.

you smirked. “you tell me.”

she laughs, eyes lighting up. “azzi.”

“y/n,” you say, offering your hand.

her grip is firm. confident.

“i've watched your highlights,” she says. “you make the pitch look like art.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you’ve been watchin’ football?”

“i’ve been watching you.”

that was the beginning.

the night drifted by like something out of a movie. you talked and laughed like old friends catching up after years apart. she asked about your training, your matches, what it’s like playing in front of screaming north london crowds. you asked about uconn, her rehab, what drives her to push even harder despite the setbacks.

“no one ever asks me about that,” she said at one point, her voice softer, almost vulnerable.

you leaned in. “well, they should. you’ve done somethin’ incredible.”

after about thirty minutes of talking—real talking—azzi glanced around the busy crowd, then looked back at you.

“you wanna get outta here?” she asked.

you raised a brow. “and go where?”

she shrugged, grinning. “somewhere quieter.”

you ended up outside—on the rooftop patio, behind a velvet rope that no one seemed to be guarding. the music from inside was muffled now, just a thump beneath the hush of the evening breeze.

city lights shimmered in the distance. stars peeked between clouds.

you stood side-by-side at the edge of the railing, her arms resting on the stone, yours beside hers.

“it’s loud in there,” she said.

“too loud,” you agreed.

silence stretched between you—but it wasn’t awkward. it was easy. comforting. natural.

“i don’t usually do this,” she said quietly.

“do what?”

“talk to strangers this long. especially at these things. i hate the attention.”

you nodded. “same.”

she looked at you. really looked. “you’re not what i expected.”

you turned slightly toward her. “what did you expect?”

she smiled. “something more... intense. more guarded.”

you grinned. “you’re not far off. i just like your energy.”

that made her blush. you noticed. and she noticed that you noticed.

“you’re smooth,” she said.

you shrugged. “only when it’s worth it.”

and it was. god, it was.

you talked for over an hour out there. about music. childhood memories. dream matches. the kind of goals that weren’t just on the scoreboard.

she told you her favorite movie. you made fun of it. she told you she’d beat you in one-on-one. you challenged her to prove it.

eventually, someone called her back in. some media thing. she looked at you like she didn’t want to go.

“so… this was nice,” she said, playing with the edge of her ring.

“it was more than nice,” you replied. “you wanna do it again sometime?”

her eyes met yours. “i do.”

you both reached for your phones at the same time, laughing. you swapped numbers. she leaned in, gave you a hug—warm, slow, lingering just enough to tell you she meant it.

“don’t be a stranger,” she whispered.

“don’t give me a reason to be,” you whispered back.

and then she was gone.

but your phone buzzed that same night.

azzi fudd: u made that party 10x better lol. safe flight back. text me when u land? :)

you smiled.

and replied immediately.

your schedules are brutal. you’re back in london before the jet lag even clears, but she’s already waiting on facetime. she calls from her dorm room—head wrapped in a bonnet, hoodie too big, smile soft.

“hey, england,” she teases.

you’re in bed, shirtless, chain resting on your chest, tired from training but wide awake at the sight of her.

“hey, princess.”

you talk for an hour. then two. she plays you music she’s working out to. you show her your boots for the next match. she giggles when you call cleats “boots,” and you tease her for calling football “soccer.”

“you ever gonna come see what proper football looks like?” you ask one night.

she grins. “only if you come to a uconn game.”

“deal.”

you text daily. facetime every night. she sees you in the training room, laughing with teammates. you see her in the locker room, towel slung over her shoulder.

the connection isn’t just romantic—it’s real. she asks about your childhood. you ask about her faith. you start sharing things you haven’t told anyone. and somehow, even thousands of miles apart, she becomes your peace.

you start sending each other care packages. she sends you uconn merch. you send her your match-worn jersey with your name on the back.

one night, as you're lying in bed, watching her yawn on facetime, she says it first.

“i miss you.”

you bite your lip, feeling that warmth in your chest. “i miss you too, az.”

she flies out on her off-weekend.

you pick her up from heathrow yourself, hat low, hoodie up, trying to dodge paparazzi. she runs into your arms like you’ve known each other forever.

you show her london the way tourists never see it—quiet coffee shops in islington, rooftop views in shoreditch, a walk along the thames at midnight. she holds your hand when no one’s watching.

and then, match day.

you’re starting for arsenal. she's in your box seat, wearing your coat, scarf wrapped around her neck.

you score the winning goal. a screamer from outside the box. and when you run past the crowd, you point to her.

the cameras catch it. the internet loses its mind.

@/uclionesshq: y/n scores an absolute rocket… and points straight at azzi fudd? is this a soft launch or am i delusional??

@/bballxfooty: azzi fudd watching her girlfriend play for arsenal?? they’re so international it hurts. i’m sobbing.

@/woagzone: the way azzi’s smiling from the stands... yeah, we lost.

you’re back in your flat. she’s curled up in your bed, wearing your hoodie, skin glowing in the soft lamp light.

“i’ve never felt this safe,” she whispers, tracing her fingers down your forearm.

you kiss her temple. “you’ve got me now.”

you fall asleep holding her. the kind of sleep where nothing aches. where the world can’t reach you.

you show up in connecticut in a long coat, hat low again, but your frame unmistakable. when azzi checks into the game, she looks into the crowd and beams.

you watch her dominate the court—draining threes, quick cuts, fearless. you’re standing before the buzzer even sounds.

@/espnw: arsenal star y/n spotted court side for uconn vs. tennessee. came all the way from london for azzi fudd. love is real.

@/wosoqueens: y/n clapping court side like a proud wife is my roman empire.

you’re tangled up in her sheets. she’s wearing just a tee. you’ve got your arms wrapped around her waist as she rests her head on your chest.

“you ever think about what this is?” she asks.

you kiss her knuckles. “i think about it all the time.”

“we’re making it work.”

“'course we are. that’s what happens when you’ve got somethin’ worth holdin’ onto.”

she pulls the blanket over both of you and whispers, “stay a little longer?”

you do.

the world doesn’t know what you are.

not really.

they know you’re something, though.

the glances during games. the posts that show two mugs on a counter instead of one. the matching trainers. the way azzi was spotted in london twice in a single month. and you? you’ve suddenly developed a love for women’s college basketball.

you two never said a word publicly. but the internet doesn’t need confirmation. it’s already in love with the story.

you’re doing press before arsenal’s champions league tie against lyon. you sit on the set in a tailored track jacket, crisp fade, diamond stud glinting under the lights. you’ve done a hundred interviews—but this one feels different. because you know what’s coming.

the interviewer smiles, flipping through her notes with a glint in her eye. “y/n, your form lately has been phenomenal. and off the pitch, you’ve got fans speculating about some… cross-sport romance?”

you smirk, sitting back in your chair.

she pushes, teasing. “you’ve been spotted at a few uconn games recently… and i think the world noticed you pointing to a certain basketball player after your last goal.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “you lot pay more attention to who i’m lookin’ at than the goal itself, clearly.”

the interviewer grins. “so no confirmation? nothing to share with the romantics out there?”

you lift an eyebrow, grin subtle. “i’m focused on arsenal. and my game.”

a beat.

“but i will say… i’m very proud of certain people in my life right now.”

the clip goes viral within minutes.

azzi’s sitting in front of the press after dropping 27 points against south carolina. she’s radiant—sweat still glistening, hair pulled into a bun, eyes bright.

a reporter raises a hand. “azzi, we’ve seen some famous faces court side for your games lately—one in particular. arsenal’s y/n. are they just a fan of basketball, or…?”

azzi smiles, biting her lip.

“y/n is an incredible athlete. and… a great person to have around.”

the room chuckles.

“would you say they motivate you?”

azzi leans forward. “let’s just say… i like having people in my corner who understand what pressure feels like.”

she never confirms. never denies. but the way she smiles as she says it says everything.

you’re in bed, shirtless, chain glinting in the low light. azzi’s curled up on her dorm bed, hoodie swallowing her frame.

“why do i feel like we’re dating and doing pr at the same time?” she says through a laugh.

you grin. “you handled that well, love. straight outta the ‘don’t kiss and tell’ handbook.”

she mimics your accent terribly. “just proud of certain people in my life, innit?”

you laugh hard, chest shaking. “oi, don’t ever do that again.”

her smile softens. “i miss you.”

you close your eyes for a moment. “i know. me too.”

there’s silence, but it’s full. comforting.

“you coming out for the next match?” she asks.

you nod. “wouldn’t miss it.”

it starts small. a video of you cooking in a kitchen that isn’t yours—azzi’s laugh in the background.

her story the next day: you driving, hand on the gearshift, ring on your pinky catching the light.

you post a photo of two nike duffle bags side-by-side on a hotel floor.

she posts a mirror selfie. you’re blurry in the back, sitting on the bed, scrolling your phone.

comments flood in:

@/bballxwoso: this is the softest soft launch in history. just say you’re in love already.

@/footyfangirl: they’ve posted each other’s fingertips and i’m still screaming.

you’ve got a rare week off. you fly to see her and stay in a low-key airbnb outside hartford. no cameras. no noise. just the two of you.

she’s laying on your chest after a movie, eyes half-lidded. you’re playing with her curls.

“you ever get scared?” she asks quietly.

you hum. “of what?”

“this… getting bigger. people knowing. what it means if we go fully public.”

you nod. “yeah. but i’m not afraid of us. just the noise around us.”

she looks up at you, eyes soft. “i’m not hiding you. just protecting us.”

you lean down, kissing her forehead. “i get it. and when you’re ready… i’m right there.”

you fall asleep like that, hearts in sync.

@/wagculture: azzi fudd just called y/n “someone in her corner” and now i’m crying in international couple.

@/ballinnboots: they won’t confirm, but my serotonin confirms for them.

@/sportsnships: this is like if christen press and tobin heath had a gen z reboot.

it’s late. you’re about to kick off in the champions league semis. she’s in her dorm, wearing your tee, facetime tilted just right.

“you got this,” she says, voice soft. “lock in. be brilliant.”

you smirk. “you’ll be watchin’, yeah?”

“always.”

you glance at the camera. “i love you, az.”

there’s a pause.

then her smile blooms. “i love you too, y/n.”

2026 creeps in with quiet ambition.

your days are full of football and facetimes. her nights are full of training and pressure, the wnba draft looming like a bright star on the horizon.

you’ve both gotten better at handling the distance—but the ache never goes away. every goodbye feels a little heavier. every hug at the airport feels like it's not long enough.

but you’re still hers. and she’s still yours.

new york is buzzing. cameras flash. reporters in sleek suits swarm the red carpet. inside the draft venue, azzi sits front and center, dressed in an all-white suit that hugs her like it was tailored by angels. calm on the surface. electric underneath.

you’re there too, seated a few rows back, behind her agent and team. dressed lowkey—black turtleneck, silver chain, dark coat. watching.

not to be seen. just to be near her. just to witness her moment.

when the commissioner steps up to the podium and says her name—

“with the first pick in the 2026 wnba draft, the los angeles sparks select… azzi fudd, university of connecticut.”

—it feels like your chest might crack open with pride.

the crowd erupts. cameras zoom in as she stands, dimpled smile lighting up the world. she hugs her mom, her teammates, her coaches—and just before she walks onto the stage, her eyes flick toward you.

she doesn’t say anything. just meets your gaze and gives you the tiniest, most intentional nod.

you nod back. hand on your heart.

that’s my girl.

later, after the chaos has died down and the press is over, you’re both back at the hotel. she’s taken off her heels, sitting in your lap on the balcony of the suite, city lights flickering below.

she’s still glowing. you’ve got your arms wrapped around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.

"you looked like a goddess up there," you whisper.

she smiles, hands covering yours. "i kept thinking, ‘y/n’s watching.’ that kept me grounded."

you kiss the side of her neck. "you earned all of it. and then some."

she leans her head back against your shoulder, quiet for a beat. “i want you with me. in la. i know we’ve never said that out loud, but… i want you here.”

you hold her tighter.

“i know,” you say softly. “i want that too.”

you knew it was coming. you’ve known for a while.

but when the press release drops, the football world still spins on its axis.

"y/n to leave arsenal after eight seasons, signs with angel city fc in los angeles"

the post goes up on all platforms—black and red graphic with your profile, a quote from you in bold text: “sometimes, even home changes shape. i’m ready for a new chapter.”

you didn’t mention azzi.

you didn’t need to.

@/arsenalwosofans: y/n leaving arsenal? my world just shattered in four languages.

@/uswntdaily: y/n to angel city??? she’s really going to be in the same city as azzi. i’m eating this power couple up.

@/footygirlunited: they won’t say a word and yet i’m crying like they just proposed on live tv.

@/bballxfootycore: the way azzi went #1 to la… and a few months later y/n signs with angel city… do you believe in fate or do you believe in fudd x y/n?

you move into a place just outside downtown. a three-bedroom loft, all hardwood floors and open windows. azzi’s duffel is already by the door when you arrive.

she walks in, tank top and sweats, smile soft. “welcome home.”

you drop your bag and walk to her, arms sliding around her waist.

“i missed you,” you murmur into her neck.

she exhales, relief flooding her. “missed you more.”

you rest your forehead against hers.

“now i can be there for all of it,” you say. “your first game. your rookie season. your bad days. your best ones.”

she blinks slowly. “we’re really doing this.”

“we’ve been doing it.”

“but now we don’t have to leave.”

you kiss her—slow, deep, and full of promise. “not for a while, love.”

it’s late summer in l.a.

you play first—angel city vs. portland thorns. you assist a goal and nearly score one yourself. the crowd roars when azzi’s spotted in the stands, rocking your kit, hair in a bun, proudly clapping.

later that night, the roles reverse. you’re court side at crypto.com arena as the sparks face the liberty. she hits the game-winning three.

she points to you as she runs back on defense.

and you? you’re already standing, arms in the air, grin splitting your face.

and twitter? still losing it.

@/angelcityhq: y/n dropping dimes in the afternoon and cheering on her girl court side at night… this is the crossover episode we deserved.

@/wosoxwnba: power couple. first pick. big leagues. big love. big dreams.

you’d forgotten what it was like to not wake up next to her every morning.

no countdown to goodbye. no long-haul flights. no screen between you and her smile.

just sunlight pouring into the la loft and azzi, bare-faced and warm in your hoodie, mumbling something about coffee as she wraps her arms around your waist.

you’d give up the world to freeze this version of life.

you settle into a rhythm faster than expected. you train at angel city’s complex, she trains with the sparks. you both come home exhausted most days, but there's a new kind of peace in the tiredness—because it leads back to each other.

you take turns cooking. she sings in the kitchen sometimes, off-key but confident, while you season everything with a heavy hand and a smirk.

“why do you act like paprika is personality?” she teases, resting against the counter.

“and why do you act like boiled broccoli is gourmet?” you shoot back.

she throws a dishtowel at you. you catch it midair. she rolls her eyes and kisses you anyway.

you walk hand-in-hand through downtown when no one’s really paying attention—hoodies up, fingers intertwined. you sit together in low-lit corners of cafés, her leg pressed against yours beneath the table. it’s not hiding. it’s guarding.

but the city isn’t blind.

photos surface. grainy shots of the two of you laughing in line at trader joe’s. a blurry picture of you with your hand at the small of her back, guiding her through a crowd. a fan tiktok captures azzi running into your arms outside the sparks’ practice facility, her voice saying “baby” clear as day.

at a post-game interview, a reporter tries to slide it in, casual.

“you’ve been looking more settled off the court lately, azzi. happy. is there someone special we should know about?”

azzi just smiles, grabs her water bottle, and says, “i’m focused on basketball. but i’ve got good people around me.”

at an angel city press day, you’re cornered too.

“you’ve been in la for a few months now—fans have noticed you’ve been spending time with a certain sparks rookie. can we expect a power couple debut anytime soon?”

you chuckle, cool as ever.

“i think people should focus more on the way she plays than who she’s with. girl’s a star. let her shine.”

no confirmations. no denials.

just fire. just finesse.

@/wnbaxwoso: they’re so good at dodging questions it’s actually elite. ballers and pr-trained? iconic.

@/laduo_daily: they really said “mind your business but also yes we’re in love” and i respect it.

@/cuffingseason: the way azzi fudd lights up when she’s asked about y/n? i’m writing my vows now.

she’s fresh out the shower, hair damp, wearing just one of your oversized tees. you’re on the couch in grey sweats, watching highlights with the sound low.

azzi crawls into your lap, legs tucked on either side of you. her skin is warm. she smells like vanilla and citrus.

“you okay?” she asks, fingers resting lightly on your chest.

you nod. “just thinking.”

“about?”

you hesitate, then sigh. “feels like we’re on the edge of something. like… people are starting to really see us.”

she leans her forehead against yours. “and?”

“and i don’t want it to ruin this.”

“it won’t,” she whispers. “they can look all they want. what we have? they don’t get to touch it.”

you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her closer.

“you’re everything,” you murmur into her skin.

you start walking her into the tunnel before every sparks game now. you don’t even try to be discreet anymore. you stand behind the barrier while she warms up, nodding to her when she looks your way.

she always does.

before your own matches, she’s there too. in black sunglasses, fitted angel city gear, and your kit number in a chain around her neck.

fans notice. fans scream.

@/angelcityhearts: azzi waiting in the tunnel for y/n after the game? she’s giving supportive wife energy.

@/sparksxacfc: this isn’t just a crossover. this is an era.

@/wnbaxnwsl: they keep acting like they’re not the hottest couple in la. sweethearts, you are.

it’s quiet on the roof of your building. you’ve got a blanket over your shoulders, azzi between your legs, her back against your chest.

below, the lights of la shimmer. but you’re not looking at the city. you’re looking at her.

"you ever think about forever?" she asks suddenly.

you tilt your head, cheek against her curls. "yeah. with you? all the time."

she smiles, closing her eyes, fingers laced with yours.

neither of you says anything else.

because sometimes, love doesn’t need explaining.

it just needs space to breathe.

and in la—together—you’ve finally got it.

los angeles had changed everything.

what used to feel like distance now feels like grounding. you wake up next to her. you fall asleep with your hand resting lightly on her hip. the city buzzes around you, but all you care about is her voice in the morning and her laugh in your kitchen.

you never wanted the fame. you wanted football. but somehow, the world kept looking.

the pitch is clean. nike wants a joint campaign. you, the english footballing phenom. her, the wnba’s brightest new star. both in la. both on the rise.

“power. precision. partnership.”

that’s the tagline.

they film the campaign over two weeks—split screens of you in angel city black and pink, her in sparks gold and purple. shots of you sprinting down the wing. her launching a perfect three. your silhouettes passing in the tunnel. a final moment where you stand shoulder to shoulder, backs turned, “fudd” and “y/l/n” side by side on your jerseys.

the internet loses it.

@/nikewomen: two sports. two cities. one force. [#dualforce | coming soon]

@/sapphicsports: why is this the sexiest campaign in sports history? they didn’t even touch hands and i screamed.

@/ballerbaesunited: i saw a full second of eye contact in that trailer and now i believe in love again.

still, neither of you confirm anything. just coy smiles in interviews and “we respect each other’s game.”

but something is shifting.

you're tired of loving her in the shadows.

you rent a house away from the city for a weekend. just the two of you. no cameras. no fans. just ocean, pine trees, and silence. she’s been working nonstop, and you’ve watched her shoulders sink lower every time she checks her phone.

on the second night, you cook dinner. nothing fancy—grilled salmon, her favorite roasted potatoes, wine on the deck. she’s wearing your hoodie and her curls are loose and wild in the sea breeze.

you give her the ring after dessert.

no kneeling. no speeches.

you reach into your pocket, pull out the box, and slide it in front of her while she’s mid-laugh.

she freezes. looks at you. then the ring.

“y/n…”

“i want forever with you,” you say quietly. “i don’t care if the world knows. i just want you to know.”

she opens the box with trembling fingers. the diamond isn’t flashy—but it’s clean, clear, timeless.

tears rise in her eyes.

“yes,” she whispers. “yes, yes, yes.”

you pull her into your arms, holding her like you’ll never let go.

you don’t plan to.

back inside, rain begins tapping against the windows.

you lead her to the bedroom with your hand gently cradling her jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek. she’s still a little breathless, eyes wide and glistening. you kiss her like she’s sacred—like you’re thanking the universe for giving her to you.

clothes fall away in the quiet.

your hands are reverent, movements slow. her name leaves your lips like a prayer, whispered against her neck, her shoulder, her chest. you don’t rush. you trace every inch of her skin like it’s poetry you’ve waited your whole life to read.

she holds your face while you move over her, guiding your rhythm with soft touches and sighs. you kiss her fingers—especially the one with the ring. her hips rise to meet you, and when she comes undone, it’s with her head buried against your throat and your name on her lips like gospel.

after, you lie tangled in the sheets, heartbeats steady, her leg draped over your waist. she looks at the ring again, smiling so hard it hurts.

“this is ours,” she whispers.

you nod, eyes half-closed. “always.”

the invite arrives on crisp ivory card stock. your name printed in gold: y/n y/l/n – nominee, ballon d’or féminin.

you’ve dreamt about this moment since you were a kid in england, dribbling a ball on concrete playgrounds. and yet all you can think about is who you want by your side.

you ask azzi to come.

she says yes immediately.

it’s the first public event you attend together as a pair. no hiding. you walk the carpet first—tailored black suit, clean line fade, quiet confidence. cameras flash. reporters call your name.

then azzi steps out beside you.

she’s in a sleek black gown, hair slicked into a bun, the engagement ring tucked behind subtle waves. she’s radiant. and standing so close to you that it’s impossible not to notice.

reporters pounce.

“azzi, are you two…?”

you grin, arm around her waist. “we’re here to celebrate football tonight.”

a red carpet interviewer smiles slyly. “just football?”

azzi chuckles. “just greatness.”

they laugh. you both redirect. nothing confirmed. nothing denied. but the way you look at each other in between flashbulbs says more than words ever could.

“and the 2026 ballon d’or féminin goes to…”

a pause. a drumroll.

“…y/n y/l/n.”

the applause is thunderous. you rise slowly, heart thudding against your ribs. azzi grabs your hand as you pass, squeezing once, her eyes gleaming.

you take the stage, accepting the golden ball with both hands, blinking into the lights.

“thank you,” you say. “to my clubs. my country. my teammates. and to someone watching tonight… who’s shown me that love doesn’t weaken focus—it sharpens it.”

you glance toward azzi. she beams, eyes glassy.

a photo circulates from inside the ceremony—azzi cheering, hands raised, the ring catching the light on her finger.

@/femmesoffooty: that’s a ring. that’s an engagement ring. you can’t lie to me anymore.

@/gaysinsport: y/n just won the ballon d’or and she’s engaged to the love of her life. is this tomdaya all over again?

@/sportslesbians: azzi in that black dress with a diamond on her finger and y/n winning the biggest award in football. it’s their world. we’re just sobbing in it.

you toss your blazer on the couch, loosen your collar. azzi sits on the bed, scrolling through her phone with a half-smile.

“think they noticed?” she asks, showing you the zoomed-in ring tweet.

you laugh, walking over. “let ‘em.”

she looks up at you, pride and softness in her eyes. “you’re the best player in the world.”

you lean down, hands on either side of her face. “only thing i care about is being yours.”

she pulls you down into her arms.

the world is watching now.

and for the first time… you’re letting it.

you never thought you’d get excited about countertops.

but here you are—azzi by your side, hand in yours, arguing about quartz versus marble with an interior designer who is both frightened and fascinated by how seriously you take backsplash color schemes.

you’re standing in the middle of an empty living room, all high ceilings and sunlight and possibility, and she’s looking at the space like it already belongs to her.

to you both.

you squeeze her hand. she grins. “feels real now, huh?”

you nod. “yeah. real—and forever.”

you buy it just outside west hollywood. a spanish-style bungalow with arched doorways, a tiled patio, a garden in the back where azzi swears she’ll grow tomatoes but forgets to water succulents. you spend weekends building furniture, painting walls, and arguing over where the couch should go.

(it ends up in the exact spot she picked. you don't mind.)

one afternoon, you catch her slow-dancing to no music in the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon like a mic. you lean against the doorframe and watch her with a smile tugging at your mouth.

this is what peace looks like.

this is what love feels like.

the engagement is private. the wedding won’t be.

you both know the headlines are coming. wnba star and ballon d’or winner to tie the knot. you don’t care. not anymore.

you sit at the dining table one night, laptops open, pinterest boards synced, and a bottle of wine between you. she wants an outdoor wedding. you want something small, intimate. you settle on a coastal venue north of malibu—cliffside views, lots of open air, and the sea close enough to hear.

guest list? selective.

just friends. family. teammates. the people who know you, not just your stats.

you make the playlist yourselves—slow r&b, golden-era soul, a few old-school uk garage tracks that make her roll her eyes and laugh when you dance around the room like a fool.

you add “adorn” by miguel and “like i’m gonna lose you” by meghan trainor to the slow dance list. she adds “golden hour” and your eyes almost well up.

“why that one?” you ask softly.

she looks at you, eyes shining. “because that’s what being with you feels like.”

the night of the housewarming party, your home is filled with laughter, music, and the smell of grilled chicken and baked mac and cheese.

angel city teammates show up first, bringing ridiculous gifts—like a neon sign that says “goal diggers” and a framed picture of you mid-slide tackle with “our king” scribbled across it in gold marker.

then the sparks players roll in, loud and rowdy, and immediately start challenging your friends to beer pong in the backyard.

paige bueckers and nika mühl arrive with azzi’s old uconn friends. you’d met them once before, but this time they act like old family. paige throws her arms around you like a sister. caitlin hands you a bottle of wine and says, “if you ever hurt her, i’ll ruin your credit score.”

you laugh. “noted.”

your family had flown in the night before—your mum already tried to rearrange your spice rack, your dad had teared up walking through the garden.

azzi’s parents arrive last. her mom brings a massive casserole dish and her dad immediately grills you about wedding logistics.

“beach weddings get windy,” he warns, sipping lemonade. “i hope your suits are tailored tight.”

azzi rolls her eyes. “dad.”

you just smile and say, “they’re perfect.”

midway through the evening, you find her in the kitchen, crouched on the floor with a plate of cake and a fork in her hand.

she looks up at you, cheeks full.

you laugh. “you hiding?”

“they keep asking about the wedding,” she mumbles.

“mine keep asking when we’re having kids,” you say, crouching beside her.

she snorts. “they don’t waste time, do they?”

you brush a crumb off her lip. “we could run away.”

she hums. “we already did. just in a very well-furnished house.”

you kiss her softly, slow, ignoring the distant sounds of music and shouting and someone—probably paige—trying to start karaoke.

“i like this life,” she whispers.

“i like it with you.”

you collapse on the couch together, lights low, dishes half-washed. she’s in one of your tees again, hair up in a messy bun, bare feet resting in your lap.

you play with her fingers, gently spinning the ring on her hand.

“so this is it,” she says, half-asleep. “i’m excited for forever.”

you nod. “and it only gets better.”

she yawns, then turns into you, her body melting into your side.

and as you hold her in the quiet aftermath of celebration, in the home you built together, you realize something simple and beautiful:

this isn’t the beginning of the end of your story.

it’s the beginning of the best part.

the day of the wedding begins slow.

the world outside is still wrapped in fog, but inside the coastal venue, sunlight begins to filter through glass windows and soft white curtains. you wake up in separate rooms—old school tradition, azzi’s idea—and yet your first instinct is still to reach for her.

you resist. barely.

your suit is classic—clean black, tailored within an inch of its life. your cufflinks are a gift from her. “always yours,” engraved in tiny script.

the ceremony is outside. white flowers, pale green vines, and a view of the cliffs that seems to go on forever. every seat is filled with someone who’s shaped your story. your mum dabs at her eyes. azzi’s grandmother clutches a handkerchief like it’s holy. teammates whisper excitedly.

then she walks down the aisle.

you forget how to breathe.

she’s in a custom off-the-shoulder gown that hugs her body and moves like water. her hair is pinned back with soft curls brushing her cheeks. she meets your eyes and smiles—and in that moment, nothing else exists.

your hand shakes slightly when you reach for hers.

she grips it tight.

after the ceremony, you sneak away. just the two of you. up on the cliff, overlooking the sea.

no audience. no pressure. just love.

you sit together on a low stone wall, legs touching, holding hands.

“i wanted to say this without the world listening,” you begin, voice low. “because some things are too sacred for microphones.”

she nods, eyes already shimmering.

you breathe.

“i’ve spent most of my life being strong. stoic. people expect it. but with you, i learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s trust. and i trust you with every part of me. the loud ones. the quiet ones. the ones i still don’t understand. i choose you—every day, in every way.”

she blinks, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

her voice is soft when she speaks.

“i used to wonder if someone like you could ever love someone like me. i never had the answers. but you didn’t give me answers—you gave me home. you gave me safety, joy, laughter i didn’t know i needed. i love you, y/n. all of you. and i’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much.”

you kiss her like it’s your first and last time.

the wind dances around you.

you fly out two days later, in island villa over crystal blue water. just enough distance from the world to make it feel like paradise.

your days are sun-soaked. mornings with lazy breakfasts, late afternoon swims, dinners barefoot in the sand. azzi wears oversized sunglasses and your shirts as cover-ups. she’s never looked more at peace.

but the nights? the nights belong to you.

you take your time.

that first night, she’s in black lace, skin glowing from sun and champagne. you press her against the glass doors of the villa, the moonlight catching on her ring.

“i married the most beautiful woman in the world,” you whisper, lips trailing down her throat.

she moans. “prove it.”

her back hits the bed with a soft thud, legs parting on instinct as you crawl between them. azzi looks up at you with wide, expectant eyes, lips already parted, chest rising and falling with anticipation. she’s already breathless, and you haven’t even touched her properly yet.

your hands trail slowly down her sides, fingers teasing the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing smooth skin and toned curves you’ve craved all day. she bites her lip when you lean in, mouth ghosting over her collarbone, not quite kissing—just letting your breath skim her skin until she shivers.

you smirk. “so needy already.”

azzi nods, flushed and eager. “please…”

you take your time stripping her, peeling off her shorts, then her underwear, slow and deliberate. she lifts her hips to help you, her thighs already twitching as your fingers graze the inside of them. you press a kiss just above her mound, and her fingers instantly knot into the sheets.

one long lick. that’s all it takes to have her gasping, her hips jolting up into your mouth.

you don’t let her set the pace.

your hands grip her thighs, holding her open as you flatten your tongue against her, dragging it in slow circles that have her moaning your name like a prayer. every time her hips buck, you press her down harder, forcing her to take it your way. her taste is addicting, sweet and slick, and every whimper she lets out just drives you deeper.

you swirl your tongue over her clit, then suck it between your lips until she cries out, legs trembling. she’s already close—you can feel it in the way her body tenses, the way her breathing stutters. but you don’t let her go over the edge just yet.

you pull back, fingers replacing your mouth. you slip one inside her, then two—tight, warm, soaking. she clenches around you hard, her hips grinding into your hand as you curl your fingers just right, stroking the spot that makes her eyes roll back.

“more,” she begs, barely able to speak.

you grin. “i’ve got you, baby.”

you reach for the strap, already harnessed and slick with anticipation. you tease her with it first, dragging the head through her folds, making her squirm and whine. then you press in, slow at first, inch by inch until she’s full, until her nails dig into your shoulders and her head drops back, jaw slack.

you set a rhythm that’s all dominance—deep, steady thrusts that leave her a moaning mess beneath you. her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in harder, and you give her everything she wants. the sound of skin slapping, her desperate gasps, the creak of the bed—it’s all fuel.

you reach down to rub her clit again, syncing your thrusts with the motion of your fingers, and she’s gone—screaming your name as she cums hard around you, shaking and breathless.

but you don’t stop. not until her body’s limp and her voice is hoarse from moaning. not until she’s completely wrecked, ruined by your touch, your control.

and when you finally collapse beside her, she curls into you, lips brushing your shoulder, still trembling.

“god,” she whispers, “you’re gonna kill me one day.”

you just smirk, wrapping your arm around her. “only if you’re lucky.”

her breath is still shaky, skin flushed and damp as she tries to recover, her thighs trembling from the aftershocks. you don’t give her long. you slide your hand slowly up her stomach, fingers trailing lazy circles just under her breasts, watching her twitch under your touch.

“already done?” you murmur, voice low and taunting as your fingers skim back down to her inner thigh. “didn’t think you’d give out this fast.”

azzi’s eyes flutter open, dazed but defiant. “i’m not… done.”

you raise an eyebrow, pleased. “good girl.”

you kiss her—slow, deep, possessive. she moans into your mouth, her body already arching toward you like she’s begging for more. you don’t make her wait this time. one hand slides between her legs again, fingers slipping through the wet heat you left behind. still so sensitive—her whole body jerks when you touch her, but she doesn’t stop you. she spreads wider.

“such a mess for me,” you murmur against her throat, biting gently at the skin just beneath her ear.

she gasps when you push back in with your fingers—this time three—and her nails claw at your back as you set a slow, torturous pace. you feel every twitch, every squeeze, as you curl your fingers deep and press your palm right against her clit, keeping that pressure steady.

“f-fuck—” she pants, legs kicking a little.

you glance down, watching your fingers disappear into her over and over, her slick coating your skin. she’s dripping, her body reacting like you never stopped touching her. you lean in, lips brushing hers.

“you’re gonna take more.”

she nods before the words are even fully out of your mouth. you pull your fingers out with a wet sound and stroke them against her entrance once more before grabbing the base of the strap again. she barely gets a second to breathe before you're inside her again—deeper this time, rougher.

the rhythm is fast and hard, her body bouncing with every thrust. her legs are spread wide and trembling, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. she’s completely undone—moaning nonstop, voice cracking, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the intensity.

you lean over her, one hand gripping her throat—not squeezing, just holding. just letting her feel your control. her eyes roll back when you start rubbing her clit again in quick circles, all while the strap pounds into her harder, deeper.

“i—fuck—i’m gonna—”

“again,” you growl, keeping the pressure on. “give it to me again.”

her back arches and she screams your name, body going rigid before falling apart in your arms. her whole body spasms through the second orgasm, her nails digging into your shoulders like she’s holding onto reality.

you don’t stop until her legs are shaking uncontrollably, until her whimpers fade into soft, overstimulated cries and her hands are pushing weakly at your chest.

then you slow. you pull out carefully, gently. she’s wrecked—flushed and soaked and twitching. you kiss her cheek, her shoulder, her chest, letting her breathe again.

azzi looks at you through heavy lashes, her voice hoarse. “you’re insane.”

you laugh softly, pulling her close. “you love it.”

she doesn’t even try to deny it. she just nods, curling into your chest, her fingers weakly gripping your side like she never wants to let go.

she’s sprawled out, thighs parted, skin slick with sweat and arousal, chest rising and falling like she just ran a marathon. her cheeks are flushed, lips kiss-swollen and slightly parted. you hover over her, watching her body twitch with aftershocks, your hand tracing lazy circles over her belly as her breath stutters beneath your touch.

“you done?” you whisper, voice low and teasing.

azzi shakes her head slowly, even though her legs are still trembling. “no… i want more.”

you grin, dark and hungry. “that’s my good girl.”

you don’t waste time. your fingers return to her swollen, dripping cunt—slicker than before, throbbing, oversensitive. the second you brush over her clit, she whines—high-pitched, desperate—but doesn’t pull away. she arches into you, aching for it.

“look at you,” you murmur, dragging your fingers through the mess between her legs. “this pussy’s soaked. so needy. still not satisfied?”

“n-no,” she stutters, face contorting as you press down on her clit with your thumb, making her hips jerk. “please—please, fuck me again.”

you grip her thighs and flip her effortlessly onto her stomach. her ass is round, flushed, begging for attention. you give it a sharp slap and she moans into the mattress, pushing back against you.

“goddamn,” you mutter, palming her ass as you guide the strap back to her soaked entrance. “you’re unreal.”

you slide it in again, deeper this time—different angle, fuller. her moan rips out of her like it’s been building, her hands fisting in the sheets as you bottom out inside her.

you don’t give her time to adjust. you set a brutal rhythm right from the start, snapping your hips forward, the sound of skin-on-skin bouncing off the walls. she’s a mess—drooling into the sheets, crying out with every thrust.

your hand comes down hard on her ass again, then you lean over her, your chest pressing against her slick back, lips brushing her ear. “say my name.”

she gasps, voice breaking. “y/n.”

“louder.”

“y/n! fuck—don’t stop!”

you reach around her body, fingers back on her clit, and she loses it. her body spasms, legs shaking, her moans growing louder, messier. you don’t ease up. you keep fucking into her hard, fucking through her orgasm as she thrashes beneath you, completely undone.

you pull her up by the hair, just enough to whisper against her mouth. “one more.”

she whimpers, nodding furiously. “yes—yes—please—do it.”

you shift again, pulling her into your lap as you sit back on your knees, keeping the strap deep inside her. you grip her hips and bounce her on it, hard and deep, her body limp and pliant in your arms. she’s so far gone—crying, moaning, begging—nothing left but want.

her head falls back on your shoulder as she grinds down, desperate to feel every inch of you.

“good girl,” you whisper, biting at her neck. “cum on my cock again. let me ruin you.”

and she does—again.

harder than before, louder than before. screaming your name, body convulsing, hips jerking erratically. her whole body tenses in your arms, then collapses completely. she falls forward, chest to the bed, shaking and soaked.

you pull out slowly, letting the strap fall against your thigh, then gently turn her over. she’s flushed, sweaty, lips parted, legs still twitching.

totally. fucking. wrecked.

you lean in and kiss her slow, soft, like a contrast to everything you just did.

she breathes against your lips, voice barely there. “i can’t move.”

you grin, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. “that was the point.”

you run your fingers down the inside of her thigh, watching her flinch at even the lightest touch. her pussy’s red, used, still leaking from the last orgasm—and you’re not done watching it tremble for you.

her eyes flutter open just enough to look at you, dazed, soaked in sweat, lips swollen from moaning your name for what must be the hundredth time.

“color?” you ask, hand paused right above her inner thigh, even though you already know the answer.

she nods, voice rough. “green.”

“good.”

you kiss her neck, soft and slow—contrast to the way your fingers dip back between her legs. she gasps, the sensitivity making her jolt, but she spreads her thighs again anyway. you hum in approval.

“still so good for me,” you whisper, sucking a fresh mark into her collarbone as your fingers circle her clit again—barely any pressure, just enough to make her body twitch. “still letting me have this sweet pussy.”

she lets out a shaky moan, back arching off the bed.

you press two fingers inside her—tight, so tight, even after taking you over and over. she clenches like her body’s not sure it can handle more, but her hips move, desperate for more depth. you give it to her slow this time—just your fingers first, curling deep, scissoring gently, dragging the swollen heat from her all over again.

“sensitive?” you ask against her ear, licking the shell of it.

she nods, but her legs still try to wrap around your waist. “i don’t care.”

you pull your fingers out, slow and wet, then suck them clean while she watches. her breath catches in her throat.

then you reach for the strap again.

this time, you flip her onto her side, spooning up behind her, sliding the tip between her folds. she whines, body shivering from head to toe as you tease her entrance.

you push in slowly. every inch dragging against oversensitive walls. her mouth drops open, no sound even coming out this time.

“shhh,” you murmur into her ear, hand sliding up to her chest, gripping a breast while your hips start moving. “you can take it. you were made for this.”

your thrusts are deep and angled perfectly. one leg slung over yours, her ass pressed right up against you. you slide your arm under her neck, cradling her as you fuck into her slow and punishing.

your hand drops between her thighs again, rubbing slow circles around her clit in sync with every thrust.

she starts crying.

not from pain. from being absolutely, thoroughly destroyed.

“please,” she sobs. “please, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” you growl, thrusting harder now. “you’re gonna cum again for me. you’re gonna soak my cock like the filthy little slut you are.”

her whole body shakes.

you bite her shoulder as your pace builds, the slap of your hips against her ass getting louder, faster. her pussy tightens around the strap, and you feel it—she’s right there again. her cries grow high and choked, her legs spasming uncontrollably.

then she screams.

you hold her tight as she convulses in your arms, another orgasm ripping through her so violently she nearly pushes you out. but you hold her there. deep. still. letting her shake around you, her nails digging into your arm, tears wetting the pillow.

and finally—finally—you slow. you gently pull out, her body twitching at the loss, her legs unable to close.

you shift her onto her back, brushing the hair from her face. her eyes are barely open, lips trembling. she looks absolutely ruined. blissed-out. used in the best way.

she tries to speak, but all that comes out is a broken, “f-fuck…”

you kiss her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose.

“you’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking her stomach softly now, letting her finally come down. “all mine.”

she nods weakly, voice barely audible. “yours…”

the first thing you notice is the sunlight creeping across the sheets.

the second is azzi, curled into your chest, naked, her leg thrown lazily over your waist. her skin’s warm against yours, her cheek soft where it rests on your shoulder. you let your fingers trace lazy shapes into her hip, brushing over the faint red marks you left there the night before.

she stirs a little when you shift, letting out a soft, sleepy whine that turns into a broken, “mmm… don’t move.”

you smile. “didn’t think you had energy to complain.”

azzi groans, burying her face against your neck. “i don’t. everything hurts.”

your hand slides lower, brushing over the curve of her thigh. she tenses when your fingers graze the inside of it—still sore, still so used.

“you okay?” you ask softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

she nods, but her voice is hoarse. “i’m wrecked. my legs feel like they don’t work.”

“mm. wonder why that is,” you murmur, dragging your knuckles slowly along the inside of her thigh, right up to where she’s still slightly sticky between her legs.

she flinches. “y/n…”

“sensitive?”

“you’re evil.”

you chuckle, kissing her cheek as she squirms in your arms, trying to pull the sheet up higher to hide her face. but you don’t let her go. you roll her gently onto her back, sliding your leg between hers and leaning over her. she’s all flushed again, body remembering everything you did to her last night with every shift of her hips.

your hand glides down her stomach, and she catches your wrist—not stopping you, just holding you there.

“i can still feel it,” she whispers, not meeting your eyes. “you. inside me. i swear it’s still there.”

you hum, low and satisfied, kissing just beneath her jaw. “it should be.”

her breath hitches when your fingers drift lower, teasing again—just light pressure, not even pushing in. her whole body tenses.

“god, i’m so sore,” she mumbles, but her legs part anyway, muscles trembling.

you glance down at her—messy hair, love bites scattered across her chest and neck, thighs still flushed and twitching. she looks perfect.

“you want more?”

she bites her lip. “i want… a shower. and breakfast. and maybe… later.”

you grin and kiss her softly. “later, huh?”

she arches an eyebrow at you with a sleepy smirk. “maybe.”

you pull her into your chest again, hand still resting low on her hip, your fingers casually stroking the curve of her ass.

“we’re not leaving this bed for a while,” you say, voice low in her ear. “you’re not even ready to stand up.”

azzi groans, burying her face in your neck again. “don’t remind me. you broke me.”

you hum, satisfied, brushing your lips against her temple. “damn right i did.”

coming home feels… different now.

not because anything’s changed about the house—your keys still stick a little in the lock, the laundry’s still piled in the guest room, and the kitchen smells faintly of that candle azzi always lights when she bakes—but because you’re different.

married. still freshly sun-kissed from spending the days under the golden light. still catching yourself staring at her ring when she gestures in conversation.

still in awe.

azzi steps into the house first, barefoot, suitcase dragging behind her. she turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes soft, mouth tilted into that half-smile you fell for.

“we’re home,” she says quietly.

you shut the door behind you and drop your bag. “we are.”

the first few days back are quiet. peaceful.

you wake up late, tangled in sheets and her limbs. you make coffee slowly, watching her dance around the kitchen in one of your oversized training shirts. you water the plants you forgot to set timers for before leaving. you rest.

there are no press tours. no practices yet. no calls you can’t ignore.

just her. just you.

one afternoon, you both sit on the living room floor with wedding photos spread out across the rug.

azzi’s in your lap, her head on your shoulder, scrolling through the digitals on your laptop. you hold one of the polaroids in your hand—one her grandmother snapped at the ceremony. the one where you’re looking at azzi like she’s the sun.

“i still can’t believe we did it,” she murmurs.

you glance down at her. “married or survived your mom’s guest list?”

she snorts, nudging your side. “both.”

you kiss her temple. “best decision i’ve ever made.”

she tilts her head up to kiss you, slow and full of quiet joy. the kind that lingers.

training resumes.

you return to the pitch with angel city, sharper than ever. the staff welcomes you with soft smiles and cheeky grins—everyone saw the ring. no one says a word. respect.

azzi’s season is winding down, playoffs approaching, but she still shows up to your practices with smoothies and baby carrots and that proud look she always wears when watching you play.

you find each other in between the chaos.

late-night facetime calls when she’s traveling. her falling asleep on your chest after your matches. cooking together in silence. folding laundry with music playing. sunday mornings spent reading on the patio, legs tangled under the same blanket.

everything feels like a shared rhythm now.

even your space.

you were already living together technically. but this?

this is your first time in your shared home as wives.

there’s a slow reverence to everything now—unspoken meaning behind the little things. when you rearrange the mugs, when she organizes the books by color. when you hang framed wedding photos in the hallway. when you both look at the guest room and wonder if maybe, soon, it’ll be something more.

one night, you’re curled on the couch, both in sweats, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching a documentary neither of you are really paying attention to. azzi’s head is on your chest.

“you know,” she says softly, “i never thought i’d have this.”

“this?” you ask.

she looks up at you. “this love. this life. a home. a future.”

you press a kiss to her forehead. “i didn’t either. but now i can’t imagine anything else.”

your home is louder now.

years has passed. 

tiny feet run through hallways. giggles echo off walls. cartoons hum faintly from the living room.

you and azzi are moms to two beautiful children—your daughter, ava, and your son, zion. ava has azzi’s big eyes and your strong jaw. zion has your dimples and her curls.

your lives have changed—but the love? that’s only grown.

you still wake before sunrise for training. azzi still shoots hoops in the driveway with zion on her hip. ava already kicks a football around with frightening precision.

the world still watches. but you’ve built something untouchable.

until now, you’ve never confirmed your relationship publicly.

no statements. no interviews. just love in private.

but today, you decide it’s time.

@azzi35 & @yourinstagram “our greatest win. our forever team.”

[first photo]: you and azzi on your wedding day, foreheads pressed together, tears in your eyes. [second]: a quiet beach shot from your honeymoon—her laughing in your arms. [third]: you two in your home, ava between you, zion on your hip, the sun pouring through the windows. [fourth]: ava in an angel city kit and zion in a sparks jersey, both wearing custom “#1 mom” caps. [last slide]: your hands, fingers intertwined. her ring shining. yours next to it.

@/sportsqueens: azzi fudd and y/n have kids. kids!!! i didn’t even know they were dating and now i’m crying over a family i didn’t know i needed.

@/lesbianhoopsfc: we’ve been shipping them since that nike campaign and now they have two babies and a house and rings? i’m emotionally wrecked.

@/ballonbabes: when y/n said “forever team” i actually ascended.

@/wnbaxnwslfamily: this is what sports power couples should look like. loyalty. legacy. love.

you read the comments with azzi curled against your side, zion asleep on your chest, ava drawing nearby.

she looks up at you, smiling.

“you happy we posted it?”

you nod. “we’ve never hidden—but it feels good to share. on our terms.”

she kisses your jaw. “we deserve to be seen.”

and you are.

by the world. by each other. by the two beautiful kids who call you mama.

it’s not just the end of a love story.

it’s the beginning of a legacy.

[wosoworld]

funky car

ona batlle x handball!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut, thus minors DNI, thanks

Alexia invites you to what she calls a barbecue and what you call a disaster. Also, you don't even play for the team so you have absolutely no clue why you're here.

Alexia says you're still a part of Barca, even if it's for handball rather than football. You, on the other hand, only feel out of place.

Everyone is either chatting or passing around a ball or cooking while you're in the corner of Alexia's tiny yard. You've told her a couple times to move but she's refused so you're all crammed in this yard with the smell of burnt food lingering in the air.

"I haven't burned it!" Mapi hisses at Patri as they both lean over the grill.

The smell is overwhelming and they should thank their lucky stars that Alexia is inside at the moment rather than outside because she would have their heads for that.

"Yes, you have, Maps!" Patri yelps and grabs the tongs from her.

She picks up a piece of meat to inspect it. It's completely black and completely inedible, you grimace along with the two of them and pray that the rest of the meat is alright.

"Look at this," Patri waves the burned slab in Mapi's face and she backs away quickly.

"Alexia is going to have our heads," Patri mutters as she drops the failed cooking back onto the grill.

You shake your head and take a sip of your drink. This is already a failure and it's barely even begun. You don't actually know many people here, apart from Alexia, Mapi and Patri, you're kind of lost.

Still, you'd rather not have your senses overwhelmed by the smell of burnt meat so you back away from them and move to another corner of the yard.

Ona is having a bad day- or well... She was having a bad day, until you walked in with Alexia and she nearly passed out. You're tall, taller than Alexia and have the most perfect arms Ona has ever seen on anyone. You're built like a goddess and she's been drooling over you since you arrived.

"Oni, are you even listening?" Jana whines while Esmee bellows her.

Ona snaps her gaze away from you and focuses back on her current conversation, which she can't actually remember.

"Yeah, yeah- of course," Ona smiles and tries to make it look like she's been listening but it clearly doesn't work.

Instead Jana is raising a brow, "Really?"

Ona nods, "I was!"

Esmee laughs, "Okay, then what were we talking about?"

Ona's smile is wiped off her face. She has absolutely no clue what they were talking about because she was too busy watching you pour water all over your face. So now she's a little screwed.

"I knew it!" Jana laughs and pushes her lightly.

"So... who is it this time?" Esmee surveys the small group.

Practically everyone is from the team and Ona's never shown any indication of a crush on a teammate. Then both Jana and Esmee's eyes land on you and they let out a unified gasp.

"Her?" Jana comes close to whisper between the three of them.

Ona's face flushes bright red and there's no point denying it. You're drop dead attractive, wearing a sleeveless shirt and flowy shorts that reveal your various leg tattoos. She hasn't felt like this in a while and now you're making her want to eat you alive.

Esmee lets out a low whistle, "Damn, she's so hot."

Ona looks out at her pointedly and Esmee raises her hands up in defence.

"Chill, she's yours."

Jana giggles and pushes Ona, "Go on!"

Ona scrambles back to them with a bright red face and visible sweat down her forehead. She's not scared per say... maybe a little intimidated? You've got a kind of look to you that screams dangerous but sexy and Ona wants it so bad.

"Jana, no," Ona says sternly and plants her feet in the ground.

Jana rolls her eyes in return, "Don't be a wuss."

Esmee laughs loudly at Ona's shocked expression.

"Aitana is going to steal your girl," Jana points to where you're standing and talking with the shorter woman.

Aitana is friendly or at least you think so. You've never met her before now but you've known of her from Alexia. She's rambling about a recent match and you're only half listening, your eyes mostly focused on a different person.

You think her name is Ona from what Alexia has told you. Ona looks wonderfully beautiful and alarmingly lewd. She's got a cropped shirt that ends just at her mid torso and shorts that show off her toned legs. It's making it very hard to focus on Aitana or anything else for that matter.

Ona's hair is down and around her shoulders, it makes you wonder what it would feel like to card your fingers through it and then, what it would feel like to tug on it. You shiver and force yourself to look away from Ona and back to Aitana who, thankfully, has not noticed you eyeing up her friend.

"She's looking at you!" Esmee whispers excitedly and Ona scoffs.

"Yeah right," Ona rolls her eyes but Jana grabs her face and turns it back in your direction.

Suddenly, your eyes go wide when they meet Ona's. She's more than beautiful. There are freckles scattered all over her face that you've failed to realise earlier and you kick yourself for doing so. Then, something hot bubbles in your stomach at a rapid rate and you lick your lips. You need Ona, badly.

You get what you want an hour and two drinks later in the back of your car. Your hands are firmly placed on Ona's hips as she straddles you in the back seat. She's grinding into your lap expertly and it's driving you crazy, she's like the devil and you're happy to give in completely.

Ona pulls back from the kiss with your bottom lip between her teeth and a smirk that sends you out of orbit. She's stilted her moves in your lap and you groan at the missed contact.

She shushes you then proceeds to grab one of your wrists and brings it so that both of you can see.

"God, your hands," Ona murmurs as she presses her palm against yours.

The difference isn't comical but it's apparent. Her hands feel soft against your calloused one, a perk of playing handball everyday. You wrap the top of your fingers against hers but she pulls her hand away and grips your wrist again.

"Watch," Ona commands and who are you to tell her no?

Ona lowers her mouth onto your longest digit and your eyes roll into the back of your head from pleasure. Her mouth is warm and wet around your finger and you can't help but let a low groan out.

"Shit, you're so good at that," You ramble as Ona lets your pointer join the other finger in your mouth.

Ona smirks around your fingers and looks up at you as she takes them even further. Your breathing has become laboured and stops complete for a moment when she slips her tongue between your fingers inside her mouth.

"Awe, fuck, Ona," You whine out when she pops your fingers out of her mouth.

A string of her saliva connects them to her mouth and you watch as she licks her lips with a smile. Her hands go to the buttons of her jeans and you follow as she unbuttons them, then takes them off completely, throwing them towards the front.

You look down at her underwear to see the red material soaked through. Your eyes snap back up and they meet hers, she gives you a wink before taking the very same hand and putting it inside her underwear.

You moan at the wetness and it mixes in with Ona's mewls. She's soaked to the core and you can feel it around your fingers. You meet her gaze again and this time, she grinds down into your fingers and croaks out a high pitched moan.

Your eyes widen as she lets go of your wrists and goes to rest her arms on your shoulders but continues to ride your fingers.

"Fuck, that's so good," Ona leans forwards to breath into your ear and you grunt in return.

She feels so good under your fingers, so wet that she's silky smooth and it's driving you crazy. You let your free hand come to palm her stomach where her abs are flexed. You don't think you've touched or seen better abs in your life, they're like a washboard against your hand and you let yourself run a nail down each side.

You smirk at Ona's reaction. She arches forwards, her chest nearly pressing against yours and her mouth coming impossibly close to your ear. You take the opportunity and kiss her neck, licking long stripes up and down the skin. She tastes faintly of salt from her sweat and sweet, you guess it's her intoxicating perfume as you press open mouth kisses to the skin.

"Right there!" Ona whines into your ear as she pushes her lips against your fingers.

You've got them pressed against her clit, letting her grind down hard to produce the illicit friction that she's chasing. One of Ona's hands comes up to grip the bun in your hair, tugging at it and pressing her nails into your scalp.

You chuckle against her throat and press your fingers harder against her, helping her out a little. That makes a loud, very loud, moan escape her throat and you shush her a little with a large smirk.

"Bad girl, you want someone to find you like this?" You tease and flatten your tongue against her pulse point.

Ona shakes her hair frantically, "Fuck, no... Ah shit!"

You press your free hand to her chest and squeeze hard which makes her back arch deeply and you smirk proudly. You're loving this, her grinding on your fingers sends electric shocks through you and you can't help but tease.

"Inside. I want you inside, please," Ona whimpers into your ear and your heart races in joy.

You press a hand to her hip in order to stop her movement then slips your hand out of her underwear. Then, both your hands come to rest on her waistband. You look at her, asking for permission with your narrowed eyes and Ona nods quickly.

You rip through the material and throw the tattered remains onto the seat next to you. Then you allow her to slip the fingers inside her. They go easily, she's so wet that it's impossible for there to be anything else.

Both of you moan at the contact and Ona immediately lifts her hips before grinding back down, hard. You see stars, she's riding your fingers in the backseat of your car without a care in the world and you can feel each clench vividly.

"You're so good, I'm so full," Ona rambles, her mouth open and panting.

You take the opportunity to lift her shirt up a bit and slip a hand into her bra. It's warm, just like everything else and you caress the sensitive skin.

"You're so fucking good, Oni, I've wanted you since I got here," You groan out as she mewls out sweetly.

You're not lying. She's the first person your eyes landed on and you knew right then and there that you needed her more than anything else. Now you've got her and it feels so good.

"Me too, I need your fingers so bad," Ona pants as you curl your fingers inside of her.

"Yeah, needed this?" You smirk and squeeze her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Ona yelps loudly and it turns into a moan on the way back down. You smile, that is exactly what you wanted.

"Yeah, I needed it so bad," Ona's got her tongue out as you add a third finger inside of her.

it's just right, so tight and wet that it sends you into overdrive. You can't help it when you take your hand out of her bra and shove it into her hair before tugging hard to angle her head back.

You take her open mouth into a kiss that's all teeth and tongue. You can feel her breath inside your mouth and those whimpers turn you on more than anything.

Ona pulls back after a minute, gasping for breath and with pupils blown wide making her eyes appear black.

"I'm close," Ona tells you and you raise a brow.

"Yeah?" You ask and she nods rapidly with her lip between her teeth.

"And what am I going to do about that?" You smirk, teasing her by nibbling her throat again.

"Fuck, please!" Ona begs and you feel yourself slipping.

You smile, "Have you been a good girl?"

Ona nods in a daze, grinding rapidly against you, trying to chase her release.

"I think so too," You reach to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear before leaning forwards.

You trace the shell of her ear with your tongue and Ona grips onto your neck tightly like she's holding on for dear life. She may as well be because she's howling now, loudly, not caring about anyone hearing her.

"Come on then, Oni, come for me," You murmur into her ear.

Ona comes with a sob, her back arching impossibly and body shaking. You moan at the slight. She's covered in a thin layer of sweat and looks marvellous with her messy hair and eyes screwed shut.

"Fuck, that's so hot," You groan out as Ona rides out her orgasm.

You stay like that for a moment, with your fingers inside Ona and her head resting against your shoulder. You're both breathing heavily, gasping for air after that finale.

She rolls off you a moment later and reaches for her shorts that rest on the front seat. She slips them on without any underwear, the scraps are now impossible to wear.

Ona turns to you and you lean in to kiss her again. This time it's nice and soft. You take your time, lick her bruised lips and explore her mouth before you have to pull apart to breathe.

"Can I get your number?" You whisper against her lips and she nods.

"Already in your phone," Ona winks and opens the door.

She steps out and smooths her clothes down before looking back at you with a light smile.

"Text me?"

You nod quickly, you're going to be texting her a lot. You know it.

Ona makes her way back to the yard. She looks slightly dishevelled but nothing crazy and thankfully no one notices the way she casually slips back into the group.

"Hey! There you are," Jana wraps an arm around her shoulders and Ona pushes the urge to smirk down.

"Where were you?" Esmee raises a brow in her direction.

Ona shrugs her shoulders, "I went for a ride."

Jana and Esmee furrow their brows in question, clearly confused.

"What-" Jana starts but is cut off by a yelling Alexia.

"This is inedible, María!" Alexia screams as looks at the newly grilled meat.

Mapi shrugs her shoulders and holds the tongs up in defence and everyone lets out a loud wave of laughter at the scene. Ona, thankfully, is saved by the clock this time. 

[wosoworld]

is it a crime?

alexia putellas x policeofficer!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut and a g!p reader, thus minors DNI, thanks

wc 2.6k

Alexia doesn't actually know just how she gets herself in these kinds of situations but this isn't really the time. She's gotten pulled over, in a foreign country, where she can barely speak the language and the only other person in the car is Jana.

Which means that they aren't getting to the stadium on time or maybe even today for that matter.

You gesture for Alexia to roll down the window and she feels her breath get taken away for a moment. You have the sleeves on your uniform rolled up, which allows her a peak at your rather muscular forearms and the vest you're wearing is tight around your chest.

You're like the hot cops out of those weird police dramas that play on the television sometimes and Alexia cannot believe her luck. If you weren't the one pulling her over, she'd ask if you wanted tickets to the game or maybe even her number. 

You knock on the window and Alexia scrambles to roll it down while shushing Jana's giggles.

"Afternoon, ma'am," You say politely while taking a look inside the car.

Jana is sitting in the passenger seat and you can only see two bags on the back seat, both black and from nike. Nothing to worry about really which makes this so much easier to dismiss.

"Afternoon," Alexia replies in a murmur.

"Licence please," You put your hand out and take Alexia's drivers licence to glance over it quickly.

You smile, "Do you know the speed limit here?"

Alexia curses under her breath and looks around, all the street signs show only directions. She's about to get a ticket, in England, while she's running late for pre-match training. She knew that she shouldn't have let Jana convince her to rent a car for the few days they were here.

"Err..."

You laugh a little and smile kindly again, "Where are you from?"

Alexia feels her heart speed up at the dimples on your face and the way you casually lean against the car to run a hand through your hair.

"She's from Barcelona!" Jana leans over Alexia with a grin, clearly she's a little more outspoken than Alexia.

Your eyes lighten up. The time to use your Spanish has finally come and maybe your co-workers would stop teasing you for taking classes every week if you tell them that it has finally come in handy. 

"Right, I'll let you off with a warning this time but be careful and pay attention to the speed limit, okay?"

Alexia is taken aback. Your Spanish is flawless, like a local's and she wonders whether you're from Spain even though you don't look like you are.

"Y-yes, of course," Alexia stutters out and elbows Jana when goes to lean over again.

You pat the hood of her car and lean back, "Have a nice day."

"You too!" Jana waves at you and you wave back as you walk to your police car.

Alexia turns to Jana abruptly, "Never again."

Jana laughs while Alexia starts the car again.

"You thought she was hot, Ale!"

Alexia clenches her jaw and decides to ignore her passenger, instead she turns on the radio and drives to the stadium. This time following traffic rules.

Barcelona won over Chelsea the next day. They go from being two down in aggregate to winning 4-2 mostly due to Aitana and Pina but they all go to celebrate with the fans in the away end.

To Alexia's surprise, you're there with a Barcelona shirt on, hugging Lucy and congratulating her with a pat on the back. The shirt you're wearing is a little tight, clearly not yours but Alexia thinks it looks brilliant on you anyway.

"You have to come to the party!" Lucy's trying to convince you to join their "party" in order to properly celebrate the win and place in the final.

"Don't you have training tomorrow or something?"

You shrug her arm off you and raise a brow. You've known Lucy for a while now, ever since secondary school actually so it would be a sin to miss a game of hers if she's playing in England but that doesn’t stop her from being annoying. 

"Tomorrows a free day," Lucy argues and you sigh, she's stubborn like a mule.

"I have work tomorrow," You try but Lucy doesn't fall for it.

"You have a night shift, so you're free."

You scoff and eventually nod. You'll stay for a maximum of an hour, then when Lucy finally lets you go, you'll take the opportunity to slip away.

The opposite happens. Lucy drags you around to meet everyone, one by one and you introduce yourself to them, mostly using Spanish and before you know it, it's been two hours and a drink later.

"Now this is la Reina or capitana."

You blink a few times. This is the exact same woman that you pulled over yesterday for speeding. It's just your luck to run into probably the most sexy person you've pulled over at an after party and find out that she's a world class athlete.

You try to smile but it comes out like a grimace, "Hola."

Alexia looks just as shocked. You're still wearing that tight Barca shirt that makes your biceps pop and there is now a visible sweat on your forehead from the heat in the room. You look like walking sex and Alexia wishes that you didn't pull her over yesterday.

"Hi," Alexia replies and then takes a sip of her coke.

You nod at her and turn, hoping that Lucy will drag you away but she's gone. Lucy's just disappeared on you and by doing so, she's left you with Alexia. Who is the hottest person you've ever seen and someone so off limits it's ridiculous.

"Err..." You shuffle awkwardly, gripping the glass in your hand tightly.

Alexia is dressed magnificently. Her t-shirt is perfectly cropped just above the waistline of her jeans and you can't help but let your eyes wander over her figure.

"Listen, can we pretend that I didn't stop you yesterday?" You ask sheepishly and relief floods into you when Alexia nods.

It turns out that you and Alexia get on better than you thought you would. Actually, you hit it off. Talk about your dogs, her job and yours, about London and Spain. Then before you know it, you've been at this party for three hours and you're in a bathroom with your back against the door and Alexia's tongue down your throat.

"Shit, Ale.." You mutter through the kiss.

Your hands are firmly placed on her ass, gripping the fabric of her jeans and occasionally kneading into the flesh. She's gasping into your mouth with her strong arms wrapped around your neck so that she can kiss you comfortably.

Then she lets one of her hands fall from your neck to your stomach where your abs flex under the silky material of the shirt. Alexia runs a nail down the middle of your stomach and you groan into her mouth.

You don't think you've ever been harder in your life and Alexia is making it difficult not to do anything. Then she lets her hand drop to your belt and stops kissing you.

You pull back and look at her with hooded eyes. Alexia looks like a vision, her lips are slightly red and pupils are blown wide open, making her eyes impossible dark.

"Can I, Officer?" Alexia smirks and you can't help but groan.

You nod furiously and Alexia unloops her other arm from around your neck and it joins her other one on your belt. She unbuckles it with quick and nimble fingers then slides one of her hands into your trousers.

"Ah, fuck," You gasp out when a hand palms your clothed cock.

Alexia smirks, "Is that a baton in your pocket... or are you just happy to see me?"

You let out a shaky laugh before moaning deeply when Alexia presses her palm firmly against your cock. God, the feeling is beyond deadly. You need her so bad it hurts.

You give her ass a firm squeeze that makes her jump a little. She's teasing you, letting her hands roam around the inside of your trousers without actually slipping into your underwear. It's making the want pool in your stomach at an alarmingly fast rate.

"Don't tease," You say through clenched teeth, you're desperately trying not to moan loudly.

After all, there is no reason to make this a public announcement.

"Sorry, Officer," Alexia mewls then unexpectedly drops to her knees.

The image is one you'll forever have burned in your mind. She's got her hands on the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you expectedly with a cat-like smirk.

Fuck it, you whine loudly, you've stopped caring about what people think. Right now, you only want her.

Alexia takes that as the go-ahead and swiftly pulls down your underwear. She's greeted by your hard cock and you can't help but hiss at the cold air of the bathroom.

She wraps a hand around you and you moan slowly. You need her, so, so bad but you resist the urge to buck in her hand.

"Come on, please..." You groan out, hands splaying on the polished wood of the door.

Alexia obliges you with a smile and takes you into her mouth. It feels like heaven. Her mouth is so wet and warm that your eyes roll back into your head for a moment.

"Shit," You moan out and resist the urge to tangle your hands into her hair.

Alexia swallows down another inch with ease before taking both of your hands and placing them onto her hair. You raise your brows and only card through her scalp with a gentle hand.

This is clearly not what she meant because Alexia looks up at you a few moments later, then pulls off you to speak.

"Need a little encouragement?" Alexia says suggestively and you scoff.

You take a handful of her hair and urge her back down. You aren't shy this time, you let yourself thrust a little into her mouth and use her hair to stabilize yourself.

"That's so good, shit, you're so good," You murmur out praise in quick succession.

Alexia responds by hollowing her cheeks and sucking harder. You see stars then, she feels so good and you know that you're not going to last long if you keep this up.

You tug Alexia back and off your cock, she, in turn, looks up at you with questioning eyes.

"I want to fuck you, can I?"

Alexia smirks and stands while you tuck yourself back in for a moment. This time, you lift her so that she is seated on the sink and lean forwards to kiss her hard.

You can taste yourself on her lips but you don't care. Your hands roam down her body, feeling every mountain and fall and she's palming your stomach with needy hands.

She pulls back slightly, just so you can still feel her breath going into your mouth and her nose touching yours.

Alexia whispers, "Are you going to fuck me, Officer or no?"

"Be patient and you'll find out."

Your hands travel down to her jeans and you quickly discard them so that they are merely a heap on the marble floor. You then place a hand over her pussy, she's soaking wet. So much so that her underwear is drenched beyond belief.

"Someone's needy," You chuckle and Alexia rolls her eyes.

You kneel down and tug her underwear down, then throw them to join her jeans. You look up at her while you lick a long stripe up her cunt and you can feel the way Alexia shudders underneath you.

"Oh God," Alexia moans loudly and you smirk against her.

"No, no, just me, darling."

Alexia goes to roll her eyes again but mid way through, you twirl your tongue around her clit and her eyes roll back into her head involuntarily.

You suckle on her clit with hollowed out cheeks and Alexia howls above you. The whole place can probably hear it but that's the last thing on your mind right now.

You flick your tongue against Alexia and her hands fly to your hair while her legs wrap around your shoulders. There is practically no way out, not with Alexia's strong thighs wrapped around your head but you don't want an escape either way.

It only takes a few more minutes before Alexia is cursing out loudly, her hands tugging your hair in different directions and her thighs are squeezing around your head.

"Shit, shit-" Alexia moans out quickly and you smirk against her.

You use your hands to pry her thighs off your head and stand once again. Alexia's finger ball up the front of your borrowed shirt and drag you closer until she can kiss you firmly.

"If you don't fuck me now," Alexia mutters the threat into the kiss and you smile.

You pull her off the sink then twirl her around and press her to the front of it. You meet her gaze in the mirror and smirk wildly while she looks at you with slightly widened eyes.

"You want this?" You lean forwards to murmur into her ear and you see her nod in the reflection.

You push down your underwear and wrap a hand around your cock, give yourself a few pumps before sliding into her. She's so wet and tight that you immediately screw your eyes shut and join her in a high pitched moan.

"You feel so good,"

You plant your hands on her hips and give a few shallow thrusts. This is everything you wanted when she suggested going to the bathroom.

You close your eyes and let the sensations overtake you for a moment, she's clenching around you each time you bottom out and it drives you crazy.

You open your eyes and meet Alexia's in the mirror again. She's got her mouth slightly open, panting as you speed up your thrusts. It takes a minute until you find a perfect rhythm but when you do, you have Alexia clawing at the porcelain sink .

"Harder!" Alexia whines out and you give her a thrust that sends her forwards from the force.

"Yeah, right there," She's moaning uncontrollably, loudly so that it echoes through the room.

You think about pressing a palm to her mouth, shushing her but you decide that the damage is done. There's no point trying to be quiet when the two of you have already been too loud.

"I'm close," You whimper out while your thrusts become erratic.

"I'm going to come soon, Ale."

"Give it to me, Officer," Alexia winks at you in the mirror and you can't help yourself.

You groan loudly as you come inside Alexia. It feels Godly and you feel her tighten around you as she reaches her peak as well. You moan lightly as you pull out and brace yourself against the sink.

"That... was," You gasp out, breathing heavily.

Alexia catches her breath next to you. She's got a thin layer of sweat on her face that matches yours and her cheeks are flushed red. You turn to look at her and she presses a soft kiss against your lips.

"Fantastic?" Alexia raises a brow and you laugh.

"Yeah, fantastic."

A loud knock sounds on the door and it is followed by a few others.

"You done, capi?" Patri calls out, clearly laughing.

Then she's joined by Lucy, "You were supposed to be my ride!"

Both your eyes widen and you turn to look at Alexia.

"Maybe we should stay here forever?" You say, embarrassed and flushed.

Alexia nods with wide eyes, "Si." 

When you walk out a few moments later, you’re greeted by a crowd of cheers and Lucy’s smirk. 

[wosoworld]

take me home, babe

alexia putellas x parkranger!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut, thus minors DNI, thanks

wc 2.7k

You normally like to keep a very professional distance from anyone you're guiding around the park but this time is different because you don't think you've seen a more attractive woman in your life.

It's like she's been sent by the Gods to tempt you and you'd say yes to anything she asked of you if a pack of devils weren't following her like lost puppies.

"Look! It's a squirrel-" Cata points and somehow everyone turns to look at it as if it were an endangered animal.

"It's so cute!" Jana coos at it, immediately pulling out her phone and a few others follow while you wait.

This could be worse. They could stop and look at different rocks or trees or maybe walk super slowly.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your cargos and kick about a rock with your boots, completely missing a very obvious conversation about you.

"You have the hots for the cowboy, Ale!" Mapi giggles and nudges Alexia who is very clearly staring at you.

"María," Alexia hisses and immediately steps away from her counterpart.

You look hot, so hot that you might just burn her if she were to touch you. Your shirt sticks to you and is covered in a few oil stains but it doesn't make you seem dirty, actually she's even more turned on by it. The fact that your muscles practically bulge out of the shirt helps as well.

"What? Am I lying?" Mapi wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and Alexia scoffs.

Mapi's reading is accurate. You're the hottest woman Alexia has ever seen and she'd let you have her in the middle of a forest if that's what you wanted... but, that doesn't mean she wants it to be public knowledge.

"I'd worry about Ingrid ditching you for her, actually..." Alexia laughs and points at you.

Ingrid is standing close by and talking to you, it's far from sexual and all friendly but practically everything sets Mapi off, so it's an easy way out and Alexia gets a sigh of relief when Mapi stomps over and slips an arm around Ingrid's waist.

You smile politely. You're taller than Ingrid by an inch or two, which means that Mapi looks like a teenager next to you and Alexia can't help but giggle at your shocked expression when she drags Ingrid away to join the squirrel crowd.

The period of relief doesn't last long though because you're suddenly right next to Alexia and she feels her heart race in her chest. You, on the other hand, feel your palms clam up with sweat and so you wipe them on your trousers before giving her a friendly smile.

"Hi, Alexia, right?" You ask while cringing internally at your half blank tone.

"Yeah- but Ale is good too..."

You watch as Alexia stumbles over her words slightly. You don't know much about anyone here but you've seen the odd interview on the television and you know that she's normally quite collected. At least on camera that is.

"Cool, cool... So... You like hiking?" You smile, trying to ignite the conversation.

Alexia nods a few times but you aren't very convinced, "Yeah! It's so much fun."

Your laugh catches her off guard and makes her blush furiously for a moment.

"You prefer football, right? Hiking isn't for everyone."

Alexia looks away and tries to hide her red face, "Yeah... I'm not a big fan of bugs."

You laugh again and grin. Alexia manages to see it this time and you look beautiful to her. Your cropped hair neatly tucked behind you ears and sunglasses, smiles lines made apparent by your grin and she gets a peek of your tan lines when your shirt drops a little.

"I think we should carry on. Do you want to round them up, capitana?" You smirk and wander a little down the trail.

Alexia bites the inside of her cheek as she watches you walk away, then a hot flush runs up her neck when you make a show of tucking your shirt in again.

Right, focus, around everyone up.

"Vamos! We need to go now."

The crowd forming around the small part of the trail breaks up into pairs and threes and then you're all off again.

You stand at the front while Alexia rounds up stragglers from the back so you don't get to see much of each other but you don't need to turn around to know that it's Alexia's eyes that you feel burning into the back of your skull. You don't mind, actually, you encourage it by untucking your shirt and lifting it to wipe the sweat off your forehead whilst on a short break.

"Ale, you okay?" Vicky asks, slightly concerned when Alexia chokes on her water.

She coughs deeply, turning bright red but thankfully, she can blame it on the water and not your glistening abs.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," Alexia waves her concerns away and tries to avoid looking at you when you pour a handful of water over your face.

The rest of the hike is pretty uneventful, no more creatures distract the team and there are no more long breaks. So eventually, you guide the group back to a large clearing that acts as the car park and say goodbyes to them all.

"Thank you so much!" Mapi grins as she grips your hand and you give her a firm shake.

"No problem," You say politely to both her, and Ingrid who stands next to her.

Then a couple of other goodbyes and thank yous are said before there is only one car left in your parking lot and an Alexia stands in front of you.

"Thank you for coming, hope it was adequate."

Alexia smiles and you feel your heart skip a beat, she is beyond perfect. It's kind of crazy how she makes your heart beat at a thousand miles an hour.

"No, no, thank you for dealing with all of us..."

You wave a hand in the air as you laugh, "Really, this is probably my best group tour so far- It was far better than an office group."

"I'd actually be happy for you all to come back... If that's what you want!" You quickly add on with a faint blush on your cheeks.

"I'm sure we'd love to"

You pat your pockets, searching for your business cards but the small stack of cards are nowhere to be found. Then you remember that you had emptied out your pockets yesterday.

"I would offer you my card but they're in my cabin..." You say sheepishly.

Alexia smiles sweetly, "I would be happy to wait or come with you?"

You swear you catch her lips lifting in a slight smirk at the end of the question and you can't help but let the want pool in your stomach.

"Err... Yeah- Sure, come on."

The two of you walk in silence, closely together towards your little hut that's not too far from the car park. You wouldn't say that you were hoping for anything more than a friendly exchange of pleasantries but you definitely wouldn't say no.

Your cabin is small and sometimes even tiny if things are thrown in random places but luckily, you had cleaned the place out yesterday. You welcome Alexia in, slip off your boots while she takes off her own shoes and then look around for your cards.

You feel Alexia's gaze again, just like in the woods previously and resist the urge to turn around, to catch her red handed, in the act. You manage focus and find the business cards after a minute or two and then turn around with them in hand to give to Alexia.

"Here they are-" You start but are cut off by Alexia's lips being pressed to yours.

You melt immediately. Drop the cards and let them scatter all over the floor. Your now free hand makes its way to her waist as you kiss her back hard, your tongue travelling around in her mouth freely.

The kiss tastes sweet and you wonder what chapstick she's wearing as you lick her lips.

"Fuck," You gasp out as she pulls away.

Alexia's hands shoot out to grasp the bottom of your shirt and she pauses for a moment to look up at you. Your eyes go wide when they meet hers, she looks wonderful and you can't believe this is actually happening.

You nod desperately and she takes the go ahead to tug your shirt over your head quickly. It leaves you panting in your sports bra and Alexia takes the liberty to run a hand down your abs, making you flex under her touch.

"You're so hot, fuck, I've wanted this all day-" Alexia moans into your ear and you can't help but groan back when her nails scratch down your torso.

Your own hands find her t-shirt and you tug it up and take it off her. When she finally matches your own state of undress, you push her back until she meets the dining table. You prompt her to sit on it and take to kissing her as your hands roam around her body.

Your fingers crawl across your hard stomach then down to her ass which is still covered by the coarse material of her trousers. You dig your fingers in anyway and revel at the gasp you get in return, you know she's just as turned on as you are. There is no denying it, not when she's practically grinding into the table.

"Shit- Please, take them off," Alexia groans out, squeezing her eyes shut and you smirk in return.

Your nimble fingers let go of her ass and instead go to undo her buttons and unzip the fly. Then you get her to sit up a bit while you tug them down, leaving Alexia in her underwear.

You let your hands drop to her strong thighs while you lean forwards again to kiss her, this time softly. It's more subdued and controlled than the previous kisses, mostly because you don't want this to end and maybe because you love to see Alexia get wound up with each passing second.

You keep your hands firmly placed on her thighs and ignore the fact that she's practically grinding into the table. You like to tease and you absolutely love the reactions you're getting.

Alexia takes one of her arms and loops it around your neck, pulling you closer and letting her deepen the kiss until she can trace your canines with her tongue. Her other hand comes to rest on top of one of yours. She grabs it and guides it to her pussy and you can immediately feel the damp material of her underwear against your hand.

You groan into her mouth, "Fuck, who's that for?"

Alexia pulls back but doesn't take away the arm that is wrapped around your neck, instead she presses her palm harder into yours which makes you moan at the wetness and her sigh at the touch.

"All for you," She purrs and you see stars for a moment.

"Shit, maybe you need a reward?"

Alexia grins and you kiss it from her. This time, the kiss is all teeth and no softness, you bite your way into her mouth just like you rip your way into her underwear. Alexia enjoys this thoroughly, arching her back as you trace her clit with a long finger.

"This what you wanted?" You ask roughly, allowing another finger to join the first as you play with her.

"Shit, Ah, yes, yes!" Alexia moans out but it's half stifled when she bites her lip in an attempt to quieten down.

You smirk and let the two fingers dip further down her wetness before traveling back up.

"No need to be quiet, babe," You remind her with a smile.

Then you take your hand out of her underwear and smirk when she growls in frustration before unlooping her hand from your neck. You then lower yourself to your knees and look up at her.

You feel giddy from down on the floor and the way Alexia looks at you, with impossibly deep lust only makes the want bubble in your stomach.

You allow yourself to lick and bite the insides of her thighs, revelling in the creamy skin there. You explore each plain of skin before making your way to her core that is still covered by now soiled underwear. You decide to bite into the waistband and tug it down to the floor with your mouth before returning to her pussy.

You lick your lips, "May I?"

You see Alexia nod frantically and you take it as a good to go and so you lick a large strip up her cunt. She tastes better than you though she would and you swallow the wetness on your tongue.

Alexia's hands shoot to grip onto your hair but your own hands quickly find hers and you bring them down from your head to the table. You look up at her and smirk darkly.

"Now, now. No touching, let me take care of this, huh?"

You pin her hands down to the table and dive back in. You immediately twirl your tongue around her clit and she yelps out a moan in surprise. You smirk against her but continue your assault without a care in the world.

"Oh my- Fuck!" Alexia groans out loudly and thrashes her hands against your larger ones.

In return, you suck on her clit hard and she grinds her hips into your face. You chuckle as you flatten your hot tongue against her then grab her wrists and press them to her hips in order to stilt the movement.

You pause for a moment to look at her, "You get to come when I say."

Alexia in response moans softly but doesn't refute anything. So you take the opportunity to trace your tongue down her cunt before dipping into her for the first time.

"God," You hear Alexia mewl above you.

You thrust your tongue in and out a few times before going back to suckle on her clit with a smile. You know she's close, you can tell by the way she's trying to roll her hips in your grip or the way her stomach is tightening.

"I'm going to come, fuck, I'm so close." Alexia rambles above you on the table.

You pull back, "Not until I say, understand?"

You see Alexia nod faintly and your smile sweetly, "Good girl, just a little more."

You put your head down again to suck on her some more. She's intoxicating and you never want this to end, the way she tastes is perfect and the small whimpers above you are music to your ears.

You let yourself have two more full strokes before you go back to focusing on her clit again, giving it your full attention but twirling your tongue around it expertly.

"I need to come, come on!" Alexia cries out above you and you can't help but find it so satisfying.

You pull back and smirk, "What do you say?"

"P-please!"

You give her clit a kiss, "Go on then, come for me."

With the permission granted, Alexia lets go and moans loudly as her orgasm passes through her. She thrashes in your grip so you let go completely and let her ride it out as you kiss the inside of her thigh.

"Shit- That..." She begins breathlessly.

"Was it good?" You ask and being to stand.

Alexia nods and blushes, "Very good."

You smile and nod, then pick up her clothes to help her get dressed and slip off the table. You tug your own shirt on after Alexia is fully dressed, much to her dismay and place a kiss on her cheek.

You look at the cards that are scattered all over the floor and pick one up.

"Would you still like one?" You gesture to the card with a sheepish smile and Alexia laughs.

"How about your real number?" Alexia asks and you raise your brows in surprise.

"Y-yeah, okay, sure."

You scribble your personal number on the back of the card with a little heart and give it to Alexia who smiles as you do.

"Thank you, cariño."

Alexia steps up to you and places a soft kiss on your lips before smirking and strutting out the door, leaving you standing in your little cabin wondering what just happened. 

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

Help Ala's family

Here is my story. My family of five and I were living a peaceful and stable life in our beautiful little house. We worked hard to provide a decent life for our three children, and they were proud to see our children learn and grow in a safe and stable environment. But in a sudden moment, their lives changed forever.

The disaster happened when our house was completely destroyed due to the war. They lost everything: their home, their source of income, and even their children’s education. They became homeless and insecure, living in difficult and dangerous conditions. The children, who used to go to school with joy and hope, are now deprived of their most basic rights to education, and live in constant fear.

And now. My husband and I are trying hard to secure their basic needs, but we face great challenges. Every day is a struggle for survival, and an attempt to rebuild what they lost. Despite the pain and suffering, there is still hope in our hearts that we can rebuild our lives with the support of kind people. 💔🙏🙏

We desperately need your support and donations to rebuild our home, educate our children, and provide them with a decent life. Every donation, no matter how small, will make a huge impact in improving our lives and restoring hope to us

Thank you for your generosity and support

💔💔🙏

My camping vetted by:

@90-ghost

@nabulsi

@a-shade-of-blue

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #514 )✅️

@determinate-negation @b0nkcreat @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @fools-and-perverts2 @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @hotvampireadjacent @marxism-transgenderism

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #514 )✅️

[wosoworld]

[wosoworld]

It’s so fucked up how tiktok culture has made clout-poisoned people turn the public into content, every day I see people minding their business have their entire faces put online for thousands of likes, a couple kissing on the train, a lady dancing across a cross walk, a guy nodding his head to the music at a club, a lady buying a banana at the store, ring camera footage of the neighbors kids being stupid. Just let people live jfc

[wosoworld]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 // 𝑨.𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊

You’d done plenty of interviews before -solo, with the team, with Aitana. You were used to the usual fluff questions, the occasional awkward silence, the endless smiling. But this guy? From the moment he introduced himself, something about him made your skin itch.

It wasn’t just his overly enthusiastic smile, or how he looked at Aitana like she was some kind of rare exhibit. It was the way he spoke -slow, exaggerated, like he was addressing a toddler. Every time he directed a question to Aitana, he’d dumb it down. Repeating words. Raising his eyebrows expectantly like she was supposed to clap for understanding him.

“And what is it like, Aitana,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a patronising smile, “to play football in a foreign country, where people speak a different language? I’m going to assume it’s not the same as playing here, at Barça.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Aitana, bless her, smiled politely, not seeming to catch on. “Uh… is hard, sometimes,” she said carefully. “But I have… help. From my girlfriend,” she looked over at you with a shy little smile that made your heart ache, “and the team.”

The interviewer nodded like he’d just watched a dog do a backflip.

“Very good!” he said, clapping his hands once. “That’s very good, Aitana.”

Your jaw tightened, and you reached for her hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back, still smiling.

He turned to you then, beaming. “It must be a challenge for you too, right? Helping someone navigate English when they’re not a native speaker?”

You returned the smile, all saccharine and sharp. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, it’s almost as difficult as trying to understand some of the posh nonsense English journalists say. But we manage.”

His smile faltered slightly.

You pressed on. “She’s doing brilliantly, though. The progress she’s made since we started dating is huge. I mean, a couple years ago she thought asking me to buy her a coffee was the same as asking me out for coffee.”

Aitana let out a bashful laugh, already blushing.

“She was very confused when I showed up at the café with two drinks,” you added with a grin.

“She does really well,” the man said, turning back to her. “I mean, I suppose you just have to take it step by step, don’t you, Aitana?”

Aitana blinked, a little confused by the tone. “Sí… I learn… more every day.”

He nodded slowly, like he was talking to a toddler learning to count.

That was the last straw.

You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows on the table and smiling so brightly it made your cheeks hurt.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” you asked sweetly. “Only, I wasn’t sure if you were talking to my girlfriend or trying to train a puppy.”

His smile froze. “I was just-“

“Oh no, of course,” you said quickly, voice still sugary. “You were just trying to be helpful. Just like when you repeated the word football, as if she’s never heard of it before. What would she do without such clear explanations?”

Aitana looked between the two of you, clearly starting to realise something was off. “Cariño?” she said softly, touching your arm.

You glanced at her, brushing your fingers over her knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s fine.”

The man cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean any offence-“

“Oh, of course not,” you cut in smoothly. “That’s the best part about passive condescension. You can always claim it’s not meant that way.”

He shifted in his seat.

“Do you talk like that to all players whose first language isn’t English?” you asked, tilting your head. “Or just the women?”

Aitana’s eyes widened slightly at that, her grip on your hand tightening.

“I’m just trying to make the interview accessible,” he said defensively.

“For you or for her?”

He didn’t answer.

You smiled again, this time without warmth. “Look, if you can’t speak to her with the same respect and tone you’d use for any English-speaking player, maybe you’re not the right person for this interview.”

There was a long, heavy silence.

Aitana shifted closer, her voice quiet but certain. “I speak English. Not perfect, but… I can do it.”

You turned to her and kissed her cheek. “You speak beautifully.”

She flushed.

The interviewer cleared his throat again and offered a tight smile. “Perhaps we can… wrap this up.”

“Great idea,” you said, already rising from your chair.

Aitana stood with you, her hand sliding into yours, fingers laced tight.

Outside the studio, as soon as the door closed behind you, she let out a long breath. “Was…he bad?”

You looked down at her, face softening. “He was an ass.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ass…like donkey?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No, baby. Not that kind of ass.”

She blinked at you, then gave a tiny, wicked grin. “You were angry.”

“A little.”

“You protect me.”

“Always.”

She leaned into you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Thank you, cariño.”

You hugged her tight, kissing her temple. “He’s lucky I didn’t throw the chair at him.”

“I throw it next time,” she said seriously, and you laughed again, tugging her close as you walked out together, hand in hand.

**

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[wosoworld]