tw: inspection kink, mama!wanda, sickening amount of pet names, soft wanda, control, oral sex (r recieving), rimming, fingering, water control, bladder control (no actual peeing), spanking, kissing, lesbianism (ᵔᴗᵔ)
wc: 2.8k
more fics here .✦ ݁˖
“I’m home!” You cheered out, toeing off your sandals at the entry way. You were shocked to see Wanda’s car in the driveway, not expecting her home until later.
You had just gotten home from ice cream with Kate and Peter. Of course with her permission and adorning the outfit she had perfectly selected for you.
“In here bunny!”
You smiled, chasing her voice and finding her sitting in the living room. The sky had turned stormy, making the room darker than it should be for seven in the evening.
A few candles were lit, the tv still off. She clicked off her phone and threw it on the couch before grabbing onto you and pulling you in to stand between her spread legs.
“Hi baby.” She smiled, leaning up to kiss you. You met her halfway, kissing her sweetly. “Have fun?”
“Mhm.” You hummed into her lips.
“Were you good?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes mama.”
She leaned back, so you stood back up. “I’ll have to check.”
You whined, stomping your foot slightly. “Please Wans. I’m hungry and I—“
“Shhhh.” Her hands wound up on your hips, right where your purple tanktop had ridden up from your jean skirt.
“Relationships are built on trust, Wans.”
“Relationships are built on devotion.” Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t tell where her iris’s ended and her pupils started. “Look at this house. Look at the clothes on your body. Look at the money constantly flowing in to your bank account every time you want to spend some.”
Her voice was soft, but the grip on your hips had turned violent. You winced, but did your best to stay still. “I am completely and utterly devoted to you and making your life better. So why can’t you do this for me?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
Wanda’s grip softened, her head tilting to the side. “Bunny, will you strip down to your panties now?”
“Yes mama.” You whispered.
Your hands were shaking as they came up to your skirt button, undoing it easily. Wanda leaned back, her arms coming up to rest on the back of the couch. You wished the overhead lights were on so you could see every flicker of expression in her face. The only emotion you could read right now was displeasure.
Your top came off easily, leaving you standing in front of her in just your matching bra and panties. The pair Wanda had picked out for you this morning. A white pair, laced with pink and adorned with a small pink rose right at the top. The top was a balconnette, the bottoms full coverage. The panties had been uncomfortable all day, digging into your skin. But it just served as a reminder.
“Alright.” Wanda leaned back in, her gaze purely predatory in a way that made your head spin. “Now let’s check-in.”
You let out a shiver despite the warm temperature of the room. Her hand splayed over your stomach, her eyes upturned to you. “So soft baby.” She commented, her cold rings making goosebumps erupt.
Her hand traveled down, the other joining it on your hip. “These panties don’t seem messed with. You didn’t go to the bathroom did you sweetie?”
“No mama.”
“Did you drink all your water then?”
You bit your lip and let out a small whine. She just shook her head. “What happens when you don’t do what mama tells you to do?”
“I get—I get punished.”
“That’s right. Such a smart girl.” Her hands traveled up again, wrapping around your front stubly. “How much water did mama tell you to drink?”
“My whole bottle.”
“And how much did you drink?”
“Half.”
She hummed, her hands massaging the skin of your waist. Her thumbs began pressing into your lower stomach. She hummed again, before moving her hands down.
“Alright honey, you passed the first part.” She whispered, though there was a smile on her lips. “Are you ready for round two?”
“Y-yes mama.”
She spread her legs, pulling you to step towards her. She was below you, looking up at you. Yet it didn’t matter. You were completely submissive to her.
Slowly, her hands trecked up your torso, up to the bottom of your bra. Her fingertips slipped underneath, pulling the fabric up enough to reveal your nipples. Without thinking about it, your hands came up to hold the fabric still.
“Such a good girl for me. Hold it up for mama.” She commented, letting go of the fabric to run her thumbs over your nipples.
They hardened quickly under her touch. Only taking one swipe of her thumb to make it happen. “Doesn’t look like these were touched either.” She commented to herself. “Mama knows how sensitive they are, you would’ve been a soaked mess if someone had touched them.”
“Would never let someone touch me mama.”
“Oh I know darling.” She drew her thumb over the hardened nubs again, drawing out a whine from her lips. “Mama knows you’d never let someone touch them. But the world is full of dark, scary people. That’s why you need me to watch out for you right?”
You squirmed as she ran her thumbs over them again. “Right mama.”
“Alright bunny,” She grabbed the fabric from your hands, dropping it back down. Her eyes weren’t on yours, they were staring at the hardness pressed against the fabric. She ran her thumbs over again, mesmerized. She cleared her throat, blinking once before pulling her hands away. “You passed, down on your knees now.”
You nodded, doing as she said, trying to get as close to the couch as possible so she wouldn’t have to move too much. Her hand came down onto your cheek, rubbing your face with her thumb.
“It’s so hard for mama to stay mad at her baby.” She sighed. “You’re just so sweet and so pretty. I could just eat you up.”
You whined under her praise, looking up at her with big eyes that were full of devotion. Her hand moved, her thumb coming to play with your lips, she pulled the chapstick that was lining your lips off with her thumb, pulling her hand away to suck it into her mouth, she pulled it out with a wet pop, smiling as she did so.
“Even used the chapstick I sent with you.”
“I did mama.”
“Sweet girl.
She dragged her now wet thumb across your lips. You were careful to stay still. Last time you had darted a tongue out when she had been in a particularly bad mood and she didn’t let you finish for days.
Soon she popped her thumb into your mouth, pulling out your tongue easily. She ran her thumb up and down it, careful not to go in too far. She pulled her thumb out, pulling it into her mouth again.
“What flavor ice cream did you get, bunny?” Wanda asked once she had sucked your slavia off.
“Strawberry cheesecake.” You replied, returning your tongue to its previous position right after.
She hummed before smiling. “Good girl. That’s exactly what I tasted.”
You beamed under her praise, pulling your tongue back into your mouth. Wanda reached over you, grabbing your water bottle from where it laid on the table. “We’re gonna finish your water right here okay baby.”
It wasn’t a question, you whined nonetheless. You were horrible with drinking water and you were already so worked up from her inspection that you were feeling impatient.
Wanda rolled her eyes, kicking your thighs apart roughly. “Don’t be like that. Not after all that praise I just gave you.
“S-sorry mama.”
“Alright, now open your mouth.”
Even in your protest, you still did directly as she said. You tipped your head back a little to make it easier for the water to flow. She poured until your moth was full, pulling the bottle away enough to stop the flow. “Not yet.”
She leaned over you, her lips forming a pout only for a line of spit to dribble out. It hit the water in your mouth and then she nodded. You swallowed, doing your best to not let anything drop. You felt a little on the corners of your mouth.
She repeated it again and again until the bottle was empty, garnishing each mouthful with some of her spit, just claiming you more and more. Once you swallowed the last of it, she set two fingers into your mouth, running it along. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, threatening to quickly spill over.
“See honey,” Wanda cooed, pushing her fingers in and out at a slow pace. “See how much more drooly you are? How much easier it is to do this? Mama doesn’t make rules just for fun, she makes them so you’re better.”
You nodded, drool spilling out now. You were trying to regain some composure but you were threatening to spill over at any second. She pushed her fingers all the way in until you were gagging.
She pulled out, her spit covered fingers resting on your chin. “Good job bunny.” She kissed your forehead. “Such a good girl for me, can you stand up for mama now?”
You nodded, helpless to obey anything she would command. Her hands returned to your waist, her thumbs rubbing against the skin right under your belly button. Her thumbs pushed in, making your jolt. She pressed down on your bladder just enough for you to feel it. You pressed your thighs together to try and stop the feeling but it did little to help.
“Alright bunny, time for the last inspection.”
“But mama I have to go—“
“Bunny.”
You whined but fell back onto your knees. You cried out as you turned around, seeing that the coffee table would only press on your bladder more. She pressed you down, hurrying you along. You were splayed out on the coffee table now, front facing down and knees digging into the hard floor, leaving your ass in the air for her mercy.
“Oh bunny.” She cooed, pressing a thumb over the fabric of your panties. “You’re soaked.” You whined as she rubbed you, touching you gently so it would never be enough to fully satisfy you. “Who got you worked up like this?”
“Y-you did—you did mama.”
“Good girl.”
Her thumb pulled away, her hands grabbing at the top of your panties. You whined, only for her to pull up.
You cried out, feeling the fabric pull into your folds. She shushed you, one of her hands holding your panties up, the other pressing down on your lower back.
“Stop squirming, baby. Stay still for me.”
“I-I’m-‘m sorry!”
“Take your punishment like a good girl.”
You whined as she pulled your panties up more. It was bordering on painful but it was so tight on your clit you couldn’t help but grind your hips.
As soon as you were done, her hand came down swiftly on the sensitive skin of your ass. You cried out, which only meant another smack to your other cheek.
“What did I just tell you?”
“T-to stay st-till mama.”
“Why did you start grinding like a whore?”
“Felt good, mama.”
“Ah so your panties we’re rubbing against you all nice?”
“Y-yeah mama.”
Her fingers relaxed, letting the fabric fall back in place. Her hands came down to grab your ass, pulling you apart. She let your cheeks bounce back into place only to lay a smack to each cheek once they had.
“Oh sweet girl…you’re soaked for me. This inspection won’t be easy.”
“Please mama.” You whined, fingers gripping the edge of the table. “‘m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For not listening.”
“Mama might forgive you if you take your punishment like a good girl.”
Her fingers grabbed at the elastic band of your panties, pulling it off to let it snap against your skin. You couldn’t help but moan, arching your back a little bit.
Her strong hands pressed down on your lower back, making sure that your navel stayed pressed down. You cried out, doing everything to keep yourself from wetting your panties.
Finally, her fingers pulled your panties down your legs, the wetness completely covering you making your shiver.
She left the panties pooled at your thighs, just enough for her to see you fully. Unlike the rest of it, she got right to work. Her hands pulled you apart, leaving you completely bare to you. “Hands, bunny.”
You moved your hands to hold yourself open, both holes exposed to her. “Do you feel how wet you are?”
“Yeah mama.”
“Were you this wet when you were out with your friends?”
“N-no mama. Only for you. I promise—mama please—“
“Such a sweet girl.”
An obscene moan left your mouth as her tongue licked all of you. From your clit all the way up to your puckered hole. She hummed, “Taste so sweet too baby. So good for mama.”
“Please mama—I’ll be good—i’ll—“
“Shhhhh darling. Let mama finish.”
Her hands pried you apart further, making your hole clench around nothing. “So tight for me. No one touched you baby.”
“N-no—no one mama.”
She spit right above your folds, letting it run down. Her thumb began circling your hole, teasing it as she did so. “So greedy for me baby.”
Her thumb went down, your entire body jolting as she rubbed your sensitive clit. You cried, tears of desperation threatening to fall from your eyes. The feeling of needing to pee was only amplifying your sensitivity. Her touch moved after an instant, rubbing your folds without touching you where you truly needed it.
“So sloppy.” She commented, which only made you whine. Her thumb was replaced by two of her fingers, circling your folds at a snails pace.
She slotted her hands up, dragging over your hole and circling that too. You cried out, your thighs starting to shake with the will it took you to keep the rest of your body still and not wet yourself.
Her fingers went up, pressing onto your asshole but not inside before falling back down. Then one finger was pressing inside of you.
You moaned, unafraid of being loud. “So tight for me bunny.” She pulled her finger out, not pushing it back in like you were hoping. A tear sprang free from your eye, unable to hold them in anymore.
She dragged her finger back through your slick, before pushing it into your asshole. “Sucking me right in honey, like you were made for this.”
“Mama…” You whined. “Please…”
She shushed you once again, not hearing your pleas. Just dragging her finger out. Her hands went on top of yours, pulling your cheeks further apart.
She licked your asshole, pulling more tears out of you. It felt good, of course it felt amazing. But you both knew it wasn’t enough. She licked again, pushing the tip of her tongue past the rim.
The urge to pee was getting harder to ignore, but so was your neglected pussy. “Mama please—please I’ve been good—I need to—“
She didn’t listen, just kept licking and sucking your hole, completely ignoring where you needed her most.
Tears fell freely from your eyes, your entire body was shaking. You tried to clamp your legs together but her feet were keeping your knees in place.
She pulled away, one of her hands coming down to circle your hole. “You cum from this or you don’t cum. It’s up to you. You have a minute.”
“No mama please, you know I can’t.”
Her fingers came down, slapping your hole directly with practiced precision. “One minute.”
She dove back in, doubling her efforts but it was in vain. You did everything you could, even grinding back onto her face. You were painfully on the edge, only one touch to your clit and you would be cumming.
You sobbed as she pulled away, frustrated noises leaving your lips as Wanda pulled your hands away. You felt the cloth of your underwear being pulled back up, signalling the end of her attention.
She pulled you up by your hair, pulling you to sit on her lap. You were crying and shaking, still so mad at her for not letting you finish but still tucking your head into her neck.
“Mama please—“
“Not my fault you didn’t listen to me.”
You whined, “I’m so sorry mama I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
“Oh I know honey, but that’s not good enough. You gotta know your place.”
A pitiful huff left your lips but she stroked your back gently. “What happened to my good bunny? Is mama gonna have to make you hold it in longer?”
“N-no mama. No I-I swear—please don’t—I really have to go.”
“You wanna go take a shower then? We can order some take out later.”
You nodded, your hands winding around her head to play with her hair, rolling the red roots in your hand. She kissed the side of your head before picking you up and carrying you off.
ꫂ❁ Summary: Alexia doesn't lose control. Not on the pitch, and certainly not with you. Until you give her no choice but to.
ꫂ❁ Tags: smut (18+), strap sex, strap sucking, face fucking, finger sucking, rough sex, a bit of fingering, some dirty talk, jealousy, r is a brat and kika loooves drama
⇢ word count 11.1k
a/n: this idea came to me in the middle of the night a few days ago and i just had to do it. let me know what you think!
Life with Alexia was more than you’d ever hoped for, possibly even more than you deserved. She took care of you in all the quiet, steady ways you’d always wanted someone to. It was hard to imagine her ever doing anything wrong. Everything she said and did came so easily to her, like she’d already thought it through weeks before it happened.
On the pitch, she was the same. She never lost her head out there. She never lost it with you either.
And that was the problem.
You were obviously happy with her; you'd be stupid to say otherwise. Yet, deep down, you knew something was missing. It took you a long time to understand fully, but once you did, you never stopped thinking about it.
It had been a particularly tough game, especially for Alexia; that much you knew. She'd been subbed off after a not-so-favourable performance — in her eyes — and though it was a rare occurrence, you knew just how angry she was about it, even before you saw her that night.
She didn't talk at all on the drive back, instead staying slumped in her seat as the radio played at a low volume, her eyes glued to the window as you drove. You knew better than to ask about it then, so you didn't.
"Are you hungry?" You ask softly, as the older woman lies on the couch with her hood over her head, strings pulled so tight that you could barely see her face.
"Estoy bien."
You nod to yourself, not really sure how to navigate this situation.
As you go to sit next to her, you feel her stiff body loosen just with your presence, and you decide to test the waters a bit.
"I thought you played well."
"Cariño." Her voice is firm, not necessarily angry, but you can tell it's a warning. It's rare for her to talk to you like this.
"You did, I'm not lying."
"You were not watching the same game, then." She sits up, loosening the strings of her hoodie to take a swig of water from her bottle. When she stands, she tugs the hoodie off completely, tossing it onto the couch beside you. The sudden movement makes you flinch a little, but you hide it well. Or you think you do, you honestly can't tell since she barely takes any notice of you.
Her jaw is set tight as she looks forward, eyes fixed on the coffee table. You can almost hear her thoughts whirring, undoubtedly going over her mistakes in the game, the things she could've done better. She's obviously angry, and you should be doing more than simply sitting there, but you can't bring yourself to look away from her right now. There's a heat radiating off of her, and you just wish she would—
"I should've done better," she mutters to herself. "I had sixty minutes to fucking do better."
Her fingers drag through her hair roughly, her forearms flexing, veins shifting ever so slightly under her skin. Your eyes naturally drift upwards to her now exposed biceps, and they linger there for a bit before her deep sigh startles you.
"Ale," you start softly, "you're being a bit harsh on yourself, no?"
At that, she glares at you sharply, and it hits you harder than you anticipated. For a moment, you wait, hoping she'll say something, maybe argue—just anything. But she doesn't.
She exhales, her shoulders slumping as the tension in her body seemingly disappears as quickly as it arrived.
"I'm going to go shower, mi vida," she says quietly and way too calmly for your liking. She leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then straightens and walks away towards the bathroom.
You sit there, blinking at the empty space she left behind, wondering how she can be so calm even when you know she feels everything but that. How, just a few seconds ago, she looked at you in the way you've always wanted her to. It was there for such a brief moment, and you would've missed it had you not been so desperate for it. How silly you were to think that maybe, for once, she would finally stop holding back. That perhaps she would stop treating you like you're fragile and that you'd shatter if she touched you or talked to you differently than she always has. You know she loves you—more than anything—and of course you don't take it for granted. Sometimes you just wish that she would, just for once, lose control with you.
Over time, you realised the only way you could get your point across was by making her mad yourself. Instead of waiting for her to have a bad game or day at training, you needed to be the one riling her up in the first place.
So you did, on any occasion you could.
Your next attempt came by naturally, at night, whilst Alexia was up late, staring at her laptop screen instead of being in bed with you.
It wasn't uncommon for her to do this on her off days, reviewing clips from her matches or training sessions — going over all that she needed to improve on. Usually, she would've done it earlier in the day whilst you were working, but instead she thought now was a suitable time for it.
"Babe, you said you were going to be done like an hour ago?"
Her eyes stay glued to that damn screen, a faint frown on her brow as she rewinds the video once more as if your interruption ruined her fifth rewatch of the same clip.
You sigh, frustrated and tired, as you flop onto the couch next to her. You bump into her slightly, which earns you a tut from her lips.
"Un momento," she says absently as she clicks on another clip, from a game this time, and you squint as you look at her screen, the brightness so high it could probably burn your retinas off.
She'd been like this all night; as soon as she ate, she was on her laptop watching the same videos over and over. You wanted her attention, her eyes on you, her hands… You glance down. Her finger moves across her trackpad as she selects another video — a free kick she took in the game that didn't go in. She keeps rewinding it at the point where her boot touches the ball, and you roll your eyes. You sit up a little and lean into her as she lets the video play fully, and you watch it too, trying to figure out what it is you're supposed to be looking for.
"The game's over, by the way." You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't think watching it over will change the fact that you didn't score."
That makes her pause — just a little. Her finger hovers just as she was about to rewatch the clip once more, and you feel a warmth pool in your stomach, knowing you definitely struck a nerve.
"It helps me." Her voice is low and steady. "I need to do it, amor."
You scoff as you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. "I think it's stupid, honestly."
She exhales through her nose, "It is not stupid."
"Yes, it is."
Her head turns ever so slightly, her eyes catching yours for a beat before she returns to her screen. She doesn't say anything, and it infuriates you.
"Typical," you mumble under your breath, but she catches it, of course she does.
"¿Qué dijiste?" (What did you say?)
The sharpness in her tone makes your eyes widen a little, and you straighten up at the sound of it.
You clear your throat, feeling a little bolder suddenly. "I said, typical."
She looks at you once more and tilts her head. "Vale." Then smiles softly before clicking on another video. "Typi-cal…" She tests the word out on her tongue as she presses play.
You want to scream, tell her to notice you, make her notice… But you don't. Instead, you get up and go to bed, knowing your girlfriend won't be finished anytime soon.
As you were doing the last parts of the laundry, you walked into your bedroom to see Alexia sitting on the edge of the bed, hair still wet from the shower, while she's rolling one of her shoulders with a slight wince on her face.
You lean against the doorframe as you watch her for a moment. "The same one still?"
She glances over at you, the corner of her mouth tugging up a little. "Yeah," she winces again as she moves it barely an inch. "Nothing helps."
You walk into the room, putting away all the folded clothes before turning to her. "I could help, if you like?"
A brief flash of hesitation washes over her, but she nods. "Thank you."
She lifts her shirt off and lies on the bed, groaning quietly at the strain on her shoulder in this position, and you reach for the bottle of oil on your nightstand.
When your hands first touch her, she exhales a long, slow breath that tapers off into a low groan, and you feel your body react almost instantly to it. Your fingers falter a little, barely noticeable to anyone but you. After quickly collecting yourself, you press deeper into her shoulder, earning you another noise that forces you to release a breath that you weren't aware that you were holding.
"You should've told me that it was still hurting, baby." You whisper as your thumbs dig into her shoulder blades.
She turns her head slightly on the pillow so you can see her. "But, you worry too much."
You give her back a light slap in response, which makes her laugh, and it rolls through you, settling somewhere deep in your stomach.
As your hands work her shoulders, your eyes naturally trail down her back, taking in the different designs on her smooth skin, and you smile to yourself. You don't notice the woman beneath you has noticed your new distraction until she clears her throat loudly.
"Sorry," you mumble as you move your hands back up to her bad shoulder, "got distracted."
Her quiet laugh fills the room. "Does my body distract you this much, cariño?"
Usually, you'd back down, let her win because a part of you liked that — but you don't this time.
"It does."
She looks over her shoulder then, and the way her gaze meets yours makes your breath hitch before you can control it. There's a tension hanging between you both; you know she feels it as her eyes flicker down to your lips, staying there as she subconsciously licks her own.
Yet, when you think things are about to escalate, she blinks, and her expression softens before she turns back and rests her head against the pillow.
"Sigue, lo estás haciendo bien." (Keep going, you’re doing well.)
The warmth in her tone should calm you down, but it does the opposite. With a huff, you continue to work into her shoulder, perhaps pressing harder than you should — not that she would notice. Yet another time, when you wished she would take that next step and she ended up backing away completely.
You're sitting at the counter, scrolling through your phone, when she brings it up.
"It's just a small thing," she says as she takes out a pan from a cupboard, "and it's my turn to host this time."
You hum as you try to act casual — you already knew about this dinner happening tonight, given the fact that she literally told you last week. It was good timing, because you thought you could use tonight to your advantage. Alexia had been impossible lately, despite all of your attempts; she was always as oblivious as ever. Honestly, you were starting to run out of ideas, so this was perfect.
The shirt you were wearing was one of Alexia's, in fact, a little oversized for you, and you'd unbuttoned a few too many buttons, the soft fabric able to slip further over your shoulders with the subtlest of movements. Your shorts barely show, the shirt covering most of them unless you stretch or lean a certain way.
It was definitely not appropriate for the occasion, and had this been any other time, you would have behaved, but in your eyes, you really had no choice. You want Alexia to get mad and tell you off for being careless. To have her stop being so gentle and actually do something about it.
Alexia turns around, wondering why you haven't gotten up yet. Then her eyes flicker over you, up and down, then once again as if she's missed something.
She blinks a couple of times before speaking, "Go get ready then."
"I am ready." You turn your attention back to your phone, fighting the smile creeping to your lips.
She pauses, setting some wine glasses down on the table. "¿Perdón?" You feel her eyes across your skin again, lingering on your exposed shoulder for a moment too long. "You're not wearing that."
You look up, and you swear you can see her gulp slightly. "Why not?"
She blinks, caught off guard by the fact that you're actually questioning her right now. Then, she shakes her head like she’s trying to steady herself. "Porque lo digo yo, bebé," (Because I said so, baby) she says finally, calmly.
Swivelling off your seat, you get up and wander over to her. She's already focused on cooking and, knowing her, probably has forgotten about your conversation already.
You press your body into her side, wrapping your arms around her waist, a soft sigh slipping past your lips as you lean your head against her shoulder. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t react either; she just keeps stirring, her eyes never leaving the pan.
Your frustration builds up as she refuses to acknowledge you. "I thought you liked this shirt," you bring up again, wanting the attention back on you.
She sighs exasperatedly, moving away from your touch to grab other utensils. "I do."
Then she turns back to you, taking you in once more, and her eyes stay on your neck, your shoulder, down to your legs and back to your eyes once more. Her jaw tightens; she looks like she's holding herself back, like she wants to say something. You're aching for her to.
Both of you stay there like this, her eyes locked onto yours as you're tilting your head at her, waiting and hoping that she'll snap.
But nothing happens.
A small breath escapes her, and she gives you a soft smile, then goes back to what she was doing, leaving you staring at her in shock. You thought she was going to lose it; you could've sworn she was close to doing so, but she dropped it. Again.
You let out a short, bitter laugh as you walk off into the living room, shaking your head. There's clearly no point in trying anymore.
You're unaware, but as you leave, she looks over her shoulder for a moment, taking you in, then goes back to stirring the contents in the pan.
The apartment smells amazing. Roasted vegetables and garlic wafting in the air as you're perched on the arm of the couch, adjusting your shirt slightly so it reveals even more skin. You're doing your best to act casual, but every muscle in your body feels like it's on fire for the woman who is currently trying to do three hundred things in the kitchen at once. Obviously, you tried to offer your help earlier, which Alexia proudly declined, something she loves doing to you lately, clearly.
A ring at the door has your attention, and finally, you can put yourself to use — socialising.
Irene is first to arrive, and you welcome her warmly, and Alexia gives her a small wave from the kitchen as she walks by. Not long after, Cata and Claudia are the next to arrive, and the place starts to liven up, and you slowly feel yourself forgetting the frustrations of the past few weeks as the minutes go by.
Finally, Kika and Esmee arrive. You know not because they rang the doorbell but because you can hear them down the hall, and you perk up at the thought of seeing them again after a while. Out of all of Alexia's teammates, you're closest with them — Cata and Claudia come in a close second. You're not sure how it happened, but as soon as you were introduced to Esmee and Kika, you clicked with them instantly. Being around Kika definitely makes you more chatty; her personality is so infectious, and you know you're definitely way more annoying when in her presence — much to everyone else's dismay. Esmee was basically her polar opposite, and that's how your friendship worked so well. Whenever you both needed to be taken down a few notches, Esmee could just about manage — most of the time anyway.
As you open the door, Kika practically throws herself at you, enveloping you in a tight hug, and you laugh, trying to keep your balance.
"Girl, you look so hot, what the hell?" She whispers into your ear, a little too loud, as it manages to catch Alexia's attention. You notice instantly the way her hand pauses mid-stir, her smile faltering just a bit. Her gaze fixed on Kika's hand lingering on your exposed shoulder as she looks over your shoulder to wave at the others. Your hand swats hers away playfully, but you appreciate that someone thinks you look good enough to compliment tonight. Esmee gives you a quick hug before going to sit with everyone else, and you stand there for a bit as Alexia watches you, her eyes burning into the side of your face. After a few seconds, you catch her gaze with yours, and she offers you a tight smile before turning away. Finally, it feels like things are beginning to turn in your favour.
As everyone begins to congregate at the table, you begin to walk over to where Kika is already sitting, but a hand on your waist stops you before you can get there.
"No," a low whisper in your ear, "a mi lado." (next to me) It isn't a question, and you know you should listen; something in her tone tells you not to question her. So you don't.
Alexia goes around, plating up for everybody, and you barely take notice as you're chatting away with Kika opposite you, with Cata chiming in here and there. Even when your plate is put down in front of you, you don't acknowledge it.
When Alexia finally takes her seat beside you, there's an air around her that makes you shift ever so slightly. The scent of her perfume cuts through the air and momentarily has you distracted from your current plan.
Across from you, Kika is still mid-story, something from international duty, and you watch her as you eat, trying not to spit out your food as you're laughing. It doesn't escape the woman beside you that you're laughing louder at what Kika's saying compared to everyone else.
"I literally texted you as soon as it happened, didn't I?" She looks to you, and you nod with a smile as you put your hand on the table near your wine glass. The quick shift to English as she asks you the question catches a few people off guard besides you and Esmee, but everyone continues to listen regardless. Kika's hand lands on top of yours as she laughs. It's casual and obviously means nothing.
Not to Alexia, though.
It's the way you and Kika are in your own bubble, as if everyone else doesn't matter — as if she doesn't. Her jaw stiffens as she finishes the rest of her wine, placing it down on the table a little harder than anticipated, and you look over at her. Your eyes flicker down to her hand, still gripping the empty glass, and you feel a small urge to say something to her. You don't.
Kika's hand tapping yours lightly tears your gaze away as you continue listening to what she has to say. Meanwhile, your girlfriend sits beside you quietly, trying to figure out how she's going to get through tonight without exploding.
After everyone finished eating, they made their way to the couches, preparing to play whichever board game they could all agree on — from the shouting you could hear, it was not going to be an easy decision.
You find yourself walking into the kitchen, where Alexia is wiping down the counter, seemingly in the same spot over and over again.
"I think it's clean enough now," you tease as you lean against the counter, facing her.
She definitely hears you, her glance giving her away, but she doesn't reply.
You tilt your head slightly. "You okay?" Your voice drops a level, not wanting the others to overhear—not that they could with the way Cata and Kika are yelling right now.
As you open the fridge to get a bottle of water, you hear her footsteps behind you, which makes you freeze a little.
"¿Qué te crees que estás haciendo?" (What do you think you're doing?)
As you turn to her, you blink a few times as you feign confusion.
"Getting water? I'm thirsty." You walk past her, letting your shoulder graze hers on purpose.
Your heart rate is skyrocketing; you know you're pushing your luck, but this is the most Alexia has acknowledged your antics for the last few weeks. Why on earth would you stop now that it's starting to get good?
"No juegues conmigo." (Don't play with me.) Her voice cuts through you, and you turn away from her so you can let out a breath you've been keeping in for far too long.
"I'm not allowed to drink water now?" You smile over your shoulder, and her eyes narrow at you. Unimpressed.
She exhales deeply, stepping closer to you, and the space between you shrinks into nothing, her body pressing against yours firmly. Her hand grips your hip, stopping you from moving away, not that you're even thinking about doing that right now.
"¿Me tomas por tonta?" (Do you take me for a fool?) She murmurs low, and your pulse spikes, and you feel your face warming instantly.
She continues, her eyes locked on yours, "¿Y en la cena? ¿Qué fue todo eso?" (And at dinner? What was all that?)
Feigning innocence once more, you shake your head as a small smirk creeps onto your lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Her jaw clenches, and you don't miss the way the vein in her neck stands out sharply against her skin. Your body thrums as her grip doesn't let up, her nails digging into your skin, and you find yourself biting your lip softly as you look at your very angry girlfriend.
"Behave."
You let out a short laugh, more amused than anything, and you shake your head again as you move out of her grasp. Your eyes find hers once more before you leave to join everyone else. Alexia leans forward, hands braced on the counter as she watches you disappear into the living room. She's starting to understand what you're doing, but she knows you'll listen and act normally for the rest of the evening. You always listen to her.
Yet, she doesn't seem to know you at all, because you're only getting started.
By the time Alexia makes it into the living room, she misses the start of the round of UNO, so she's made to just observe this time. Cata and Claudia are sitting together, shielding their cards from each other defensively, whilst Irene and Esmee are sitting pretty relaxed beside each other, sipping their drinks here and there.
The sight of you makes Alexia stop in her tracks, though. You're on Kika's lap, leaning into her as you point at her cards, shaking your head at every suggestion she makes. Both of you are trying to be casual, but of course, Alexia sees through it all. You want her to see it.
She sits down, takes a swig of her wine, swirling the rest of it as her eyes burn into the side of your head.
"¿Puedes dejar de elegir el azul? Nadie tiene azul." (Can you stop picking blue? Nobody has blue.) Claudia frowns as she picks up another card after Cata has changed the colour for the fiftieth time.
"Deberías elegir mejores cartas entonces." (You should choose better cards then.) Cata sticks out her tongue, and Claudia slaps her forehead with the back of one of her cards.
Irene wordlessly places a blue 6, and Esmee groans as she's also made to pick up another card.
You move off Kika's lap to grab your glass off the table, and you meet Alexia's eyes for a few seconds before sitting next to Kika, leaning against her side to tell her which card to play next.
"Anything but blue because Cata's are literally all blue," you whisper in her ear, and she laughs with a nod. Kika plays a green 2 on top of the blue 2 Esmee picked up and put down moments before. You notice Cata's smile drop as she looks back at her own cards. Too easy.
Alexia feels her eye twitching at the sight of you across the coffee table, and she decides to direct the attention onto you, seeing as it's what you want, apparently.
"Why aren't you playing, nena?" Her tone is casual, definitely not out of the ordinary to everyone else, but to you, it's all but comforting.
As you're about to reply, Kika places her hand on your thigh and answers on your behalf, "Ella es la árbitra, Alexia." (She's the referee, Alexia.)
Alexia scoffs at that, her eyes rolling just slightly. "Apenas una árbitro si solo te está ayudando a hacer trampa." (Hardly a referee if she's just helping you cheat.)
"No es hacer trampa." (It's not cheating.) Kika smirks at Alexia across the room, "Ella está siendo realmente útil, en realidad." (She's being really helpful, actually.) She then places a green reverse card on the pile, grinning mischievously.
Alexia shakes her head with a bitter laugh, her gaze flicking down briefly to Kika's hand still resting on your leg, and the others start looking at each other, not knowing whether to say anything or continue playing.
After Esmee takes her turn quickly, not wanting to say anything, Irene clears her throat as she puts a card down onto the pile, "Uh… recoge cuatro…" (Uh… pick up four…)
"¿Otra vez?" Claudia groans in annoyance, slapping her hand down onto the pile of spare cards with a glare in the direction of a very pleased-looking Irene. Cata gives Claudia a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she sulks, looking at the… fourteen cards in the winger's hands.
Just as everyone thinks it's safe to breathe again, Alexia speaks once more.
"¿Y tú, vas a seguir mirando las cartas de Kika?" (And you, are you going to keep looking at Kika's cards?)
You go to open your mouth again, but Kika steps in again, a sly grin on her lips as she speaks. "Todo forma parte de nuestra estrategia, Alexia." (It's all part of our strategy, Alexia.)
Alexia arches her brow and nods, "¿Ah, sí? Interesante. (Oh, really? Interesting.) She's doing her best to appear calm, but only you notice the way her knuckles are turning white from gripping onto the arm of her armchair so hard. You pluck up the courage to look her in the eyes and already see she's been waiting for you to. The heat of her gaze prickles your skin as you feel your breathing start to become uneven.
As you both stare each other down, Kika's hand on your arm brings your attention back to her, using her cards to hide her mouth, asking you if she should unleash her two +4 cards onto Esmee. Instead of answering right away, you look over at Alexia and make sure she's watching you first, then you nod in reply to Kika's question.
It's been so long since you've seen your girlfriend look at you this way, and in all honesty, you're not sure if it's ever been truly in this way. You've seen her angry on the pitch and, obviously, after some bad games. This, however, was fully because of you — no external reasons, just your behaviour. It's what you wanted, but it's completely untouched territory. You don't really know what your next move should be. Perhaps you've done enough; maybe you should rein it in for the night and deal with Alexia after. Or…
"UNOOO!" Kika shouts gleefully, and the others mumble and groan between themselves.
"How come you only helped, Kika?" Esmee frowns at you as she tries to peek at the last remaining card in the Portuguese woman's hand.
"Because I'm her favourite," Kika sticks her tongue out at Esmee, and the latter rolls her eyes.
You expect a comment, a noise or anything from Alexia, but nothing comes. All she does is sit there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her eyes bore into you, like nobody else is in the room right now.
Once it's Kika's turn again, all eyes are on her, awaiting the inevitable.
She sighs deeply, getting up to go pick up another card, and everyone playing, besides Claudia, who is far from winning, breathes a small sigh of relief. Then, Kika slaps her last card onto the pile, and she wins the game.
"You're so annoying," Esmee mumbles, dropping her cards down on the table.
"You're a sore loser," Kika shoots back with a cheeky smile as she sits back down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You don't push her off; instead, you lean into the contact as your body relaxes ever so slightly.
Cata stands up and stretches her arms with a groan. "La única perdedora adolorida aquí es..." (The only sore loser here is...) She turns to Claudia, who is sulking as she sinks deeper into the couch.
"Es culpa tuya que tuviera tantas cartas." (It's your fault that I had so many cards.) She scowls as she sits up a bit.
Everyone watches their bickering fondly, whilst Irene shakes her head with an amused smile as she starts collecting the cards up. The only person not smiling or talking currently is the woman across from you. You're not sure if she's looked away from you in the past thirty minutes, even though you were doing your best to avoid her eyes most of the time; you always felt them on you.
Kika notices your silence and follows your gaze, her eyes landing on Alexia before a knowing smirk spreads across her face.
Her hand slides to your face, her fingertips grazing your jaw as she tilts your head slightly toward her. "I think my work here is done." Her voice is quiet, and her eyes dart to Alexia as she says it.
You bump your shoulder against hers, trying to bite back a smile. "Do you not think it was a bit much?" You say with uncertainty, and Kika moves back a little to look at you properly.
"Oh, absolutely." She looks over at Alexia once more, then looks back at you. "You're so dead, girl."
At that, you feel your stomach drop slightly, the gravity of the situation properly hitting you for the first time tonight.
Kika goes over to Esmee to gloat some more, leaving you alone on the couch. As you sit up, you decide to look at Alexia again.
No words need to be said. The message is loud and clear: she's had enough.
Cata and Claudia are the last to leave. You walk them to the door, your laughter filling the now quiet apartment. Cata pulls you into a tight hug, and you groan as she nearly squeezes your organs out through your ears. As you push her off you with an eye roll, you kiss Claudia on the temple, and you promise to meet up with them again on one of their off days in the future.
Earlier, when everyone started to get ready to leave, Kika had pulled you to the side and asked you if she should stick around for more 'moral support', but you instantly declined — you know you've absolutely crossed the line tonight. One more interaction with Kika probably would've ensured you wouldn't have lived to tell the tale.
Speaking of.
The click of the door beneath your fingers makes your anxiety worse, knowing that you're truly on your own from here on out. You're not sure how to go about this — whether to act normally or bring up the night's antics. The thought of doing so makes you feel a bit nauseous, so you decide to go and collect your neglected water bottle from hours ago on the counter instead. Alexia emerges from the hallway, and you don't acknowledge her presence as you sit on one of the stools. You notice a text notification, and you start typing your reply.
"Get up."
The way she's talking to you chills you, your body stiffening as soon as you hear it. You don't move, though. Opting to glance at her momentarily, then back to your phone.
"You're ignoring me now?" She scoffs as she walks towards the counter, and before you know it, your phone is ripped out of your hands and slammed harshly down onto the surface without a care. The action makes you jump, but you cover it up with a small snicker.
"Can you give that back?" You mumble, "I wasn't finished." You go to grab the phone, but she's too quick for you, her hand slamming on top of it.
For a moment, you stay there looking at each other, and you don't know what to say. You weren't used to any of this. This was what you wanted for so long, for her to be looking at you in this way. She's livid. You swallow hard, refusing to be the first to break eye contact; you want to show her that you're not intimidated. Though your body's reactions definitely tell a different story.
"All night," she begins slowly, "you have been testing me."
You feel yourself ache at her voice, and you shift in your seat, crossing your legs tighter together in a desperate attempt to find some relief.
"I literally didn't do anything," you say, brushing her off like she isn't setting your entire body alight just by looking at you.
Her jaw tightens, teeth gritting together as she walks over to you, and you instinctively cower under her as she looks down at you. "Firstly, I told you not to wear this. You do it anyway." She grabs the collar of the shirt you're wearing and gives it a rough, dismissive tug, the fabric slipping back down your skin. "Then, at dinner, you barely look at me. Only at Kika. ¿Por qué?"
You lean back, trying to create more of a distance between you so you can breathe, but she's having none of it.
"Contéstame." (Answer.)
Your eyes drift to her hand gripping the edge of the counter, then back to her face before replying. "I'm always like this with Kika. I don't know why you're being so weird for."
"Weird?" Her tone drips with mockery; it sends a shock through your veins, and you use all your strength not to react. "What is weird is how you think whoring yourself around all night is normal behaviour."
Oh.
Your cheeks burn up in an instant, and your heartbeat slams against your chest. You search in her eyes for regret or anything to suggest she didn't mean that. There's nothing.
"¿Qué es?" Her face lowers to your level, and your breath hitches ever so slightly. "You don't agree?"
You say nothing.
"You let her put her hands on you, mi niña." She says softly, a stark contrast to how she was just talking to you. The sudden change makes your head spin a bit. "Right in front of me. All night. Did you like that?"
"I—No."
"Hm? Explícame entonces." (Explain it to me then.)
You shake your head as you go to stand up, "I'm not having this conversation right n—"
"You will stay where you are." She cuts you off calmly, but with that tinge of coldness that's making you throb painfully. "When I ask you something, you answer. ¿Sí?"
Before you realise, you're nodding as you look up at her.
"I just wanted—" Your gaze falls to your lap, ashamed of having to admit why you went to such lengths tonight and on all the occasions before. "It's just that…you're so kind."
Alexia laughs at you, and it's so unexpected that it makes your heart sink a bit.
"You threw yourself at my teammate because you think I'm kind? Dios mío, lo he escuchado todo." (My God, I've heard it all.)
"No!" You start, and you feel your face getting hotter by the second. None of this is working. "The problem is, you always treat me like I'm too delicate for anything else."
She doesn't say anything, so you take that as a sign to continue.
"I love the way you love me, more than anything." Alexia's eyes soften for a brief second, but you catch it. "It's just that sometimes… I wish you wouldn't hold back so much in other ways."
The silence stretches for a while, with the faint buzzing of the fridge accompanied by the noise of your heartbeat in your ears, consuming you. All of it feels overwhelming as you wait for your girlfriend to say something.
Her brow furrows and her head tilts, as if she's letting the words settle in her mind before she responds.
"So tonight you play games with me? To make me angry? That's what you want?"
You sit up, your back straightening as you try to appear more in control of the situation.
"I wanted you to fucking look at me." You spit out, pushing yourself to your feet. She's still towering over you, but not as much.
There’s a flicker of disbelief in her eyes, and it only makes the smugness in your chest grow. You're going to see how far you can go before she fully snaps.
"Kika paid more attention to me tonight than you have in weeks." You tilt your head as you get close to her, your voice as challenging as the look in your eyes. "Maybe I enjoyed that, so what?"
The air between the two of you thickens, and you can almost see the remaining thread of restraint she was holding on to snap completely.
"Bedroom." She demands sharply, and for once, you don't have anything smart to say back.
Without realising, you take a small step back. Alexia stays there, unmoving, whilst her fury radiates off her body. You know you should be feeling at least a drop of remorse, but you can't bring yourself to. This side of Alexia is turning you on so much, and you don't want it to stop.
"Not asking again. Go."
The urge to defend yourself, to anger her even more, is so strong, but instead, you find yourself turning around and obeying her. She grabs your phone before her eyes return to you, burning into the back of your head as you walk down the hallway. Whilst you're trying to hide the biggest smile on your face.
"Get on the bed." Her voice is so stern it rocks you to your core, and you do as she says. Sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her as she makes her way towards you after throwing your phone onto the nightstand.
Before anything escalates, you think about apologising. You probably took it too far, and you don't want this to get out of hand. "Alexia, I—"
"Cállate." Her hand grips your jaw firmly, locking you in place as you look up at her. You don't even want to blink; the thought of momentarily slipping out of her gaze makes you tremble.
"You're going to listen to everything I say," she says slowly. "I'm in control."
You nod obediently, still a bit restricted by her tight grip on your chin.
Her fingers loosen on you, and you let out an exhale without realising. She trails two of her fingers to your lips, prodding at them gently, and you open them without her having to ask you. Her long, slender fingers fill your mouth, your eyes rolling back a bit as they venture deeper toward your throat. She keeps her eyes locked onto yours, and you don't dare to look away.
"Así," she praises you softly as her fingers push deeper into your mouth, testing how far you can take her. Tears prick at your eyes as she fully has you at your limits, but you couldn't think of complaining in the slightest. Her gaze pins you in place, and the fading memory of the power you had over Alexia earlier is now fully replaced with your aching need for her to make you forget about your antics altogether.
A low chuckle makes your eyes flutter. "Mírate, baby." (Look at you, baby.) The fingers in your mouth press roughly down onto your tongue, opening your mouth wider as she smiles down at you. "You do know how to listen, after all."
She nods her head over to the pillows, and you take the hint and shuffle back on the bed. Her fingers slip out of your mouth, and your small whine at the loss of contact doesn't fall on deaf ears; the older woman smirks at the sound as she waits for you to lie down.
Her fingers loosening the buttons of your shirt are hurried and lacking care. Your stomach tightens at how she hasn't asked you if you're okay or for your permission, which she always made sure to never skip over. As she pulls the shirt off your body, your mind starts to race, wondering what she's planning to do to you. If any of this is an indication, you know she isn't going to take it easy on you. Wordlessly, she unclasps your bra, and you hear the faintest growl rise from her throat as she takes the sight of you in.
She lifts and removes her shirt, leaving her in her sports bra. You can't help but trail your eyes over her toned body and the way each muscle tightens with even the smallest of movements.
You're not so subtle as you think, and she notices your new distraction, "Mírame." (Look at me.)
The way her eyes darken as you finally look back at her makes you shiver. The heat of her gaze on you is so intoxicating that you barely notice her hands moving to take your shorts off until she yanks them down with a single, swift pull. Hooking her fingers into the waistband of your underwear, she tugs them down with zero regard. A small rip sound pulls you out of your daze, and you catch a glimpse of the ruined fabric before she bunches it up in her hands and throws it behind her.
"Ale…" The desperation in your voice almost makes her lose her focus, and you can see her gaze soften for a millisecond before it snaps right back.
Before you're able to comment on it, two fingers roughly enter your pussy, and a scream rips from your throat. Her free hand grips your thigh as she spreads your legs wider with every thrust; it almost hurts. Each muscle in your legs being tested to their limits whilst she shows you no mercy.
"This is what you wanted, ¿sí?" Her deep voice cuts through your mind's haze. The pace of her fingers not letting up as each movement dragging against the walls of your cunt starts to make you lightheaded. All you can muster are whines and whimpers, which only infuriate her more.
A low groan escapes her as she keeps her eyes on your tear-filled ones. "¿Así que ahora no puedes hablar? What happened, preciosa?" (So now you can't talk?)
You whine quietly, trying to catch your breath as her thrusts slow down.
It's impossible to form a single coherent thought, let alone say it out loud, and from the way she's looking at you, it's obvious to her that you're close to your limit.
Not that Alexia cares.
The loss of her fingers hits you like a brick wall, and you feel a lone tear roll down your face as the pent-up frustration and desperation of tonight lash through your body. You can feel the painful throb of your untouched clit as the cold air swirls over it, but you know better than to do anything about it. Alexia moves off the bed without even giving you a second look before opening a drawer, and you see her holding her harness. Everything is fine until the toy she grabs isn't your usual one. No, instead it's one you've never even seen before. It looks way too big, almost obscenely large. In that moment, it finally hits you just how pissed she is at you. You feel your mouth go dry as she steps into the harness, pulling it over her muscular thighs and adjusting it to her liking. The silicone looks huge even in her hands, which is enough to make you tremble by itself.
As she makes her way towards you, your legs instinctively open wider, which elicits a low chuckle from her.
"No, amor." She coos as she stands near the edge of the bed, "Get me ready first."
It takes you a few seconds to understand what she means, and you hurriedly get off the bed, falling to your knees in front of her, and finally, you can see the sheer size of what she wants to fuck you with.
A wave of fear strikes you, and you start shaking your head, your skin burning up as the seconds tick by.
"Ale, I can't—" A shaky exhale leaves you as she edges closer to you. "That's too—"
"You will take it, cariño." Her long fingers wrap around the tip of the dildo to begin with, gradually sliding down the length as she strokes it in front of you. No matter what you say, you know there's no getting out of this.
She gently prods the head at your lips, and you reluctantly part them as she pushes herself in slowly. As she goes deeper, you can feel your jaw trembling from the strain, and your eyes meet hers in a desperate plea for her to go slower. A smile tugs at her lips as she reaches down to your cheek, stroking the warm skin tenderly as her hips move forward, plunging herself deeper into your throat.
"¿Te gusta eso?" (Do you like that?) The way she's speaking to you makes you feel so small, so powerless. With every word of hers, you feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and pooling onto the floor beneath you.
A raw, muffled noise from you catches her attention, and her jaw tightens subtly, and even in your daze, you notice. She watches as your cheeks bulge with each of her thrusts, the way you struggle around her, but are still so eager to take it all.
"Eso es…" (That's it...) She says through gritted teeth, "Solo tómalo." (Just take it.)
Your nails dig into her thigh, desperately trying to ground yourself as she continues to ravage your mouth. A sharp hiss breaks from her throat as she fists her hand in your hair, forcing herself deeper in your mouth as her movements grow rougher and more fluid. Each inch presses down on your tongue, the width and weight of it impossible to ignore.
It's so overwhelming, even more so when you feel the tip teasing the back of your throat. Each thrust makes it harder for you to breathe, but you don't stop, even with the burning feeling crawling over your chest; you want to show Alexia how much you want her.
It's almost as if she notices, and her movements start to lessen, the grip in your hair loosening.
"Tranquila…" She murmurs, and you feel her move away from you, the strap shifting out of your mouth, and you feel painfully empty all of a sudden. A thin trail of spit connects you both before she fully pulls away, and you gasp as you try to catch your breath.
Alexia doesn't move, nor does she speak up just yet. Instead, her eyes stay on you, her head tilting as she takes all of you in — analysing the damage she has done to you. The curve of her smile is so taunting, and you swear you shrink under it without even meaning to.
Her thumbs swipe at the tears that roll down your face, not from pain but quite the opposite. You need her so badly. To take you in any way she wants, however hard she wants. All you want is to feel her.
"Do you regret it?" She asks calmly as she strokes your hair idly, and you start to get lost in the feeling before she clears her throat, reminding you that she is, in fact, still here.
You know she's expecting you to have learnt your lesson, to say sorry, and promise you won't act the way you have been again. Honestly, you're not really in the position to be pissing her off even more right now. As you swallow hard, you look down at her strap and the way it glistens with your saliva in the low light of your bedroom. When you look back at her, she's smiling more, knowing she has you right where she wants you.
"No."
Her smile drops in an instant, and the delicate hand stroking your head stops in its place.
"Súbete a la cama." (Get on the bed) She says gruffly, and it takes you a moment to understand what she said.
The pain in your knees tears through your body as you stand up, every single joint in your legs screaming at you in the process. You don't know how she wants you, so you play it safe and lie on your back, waiting for her next move.
"Aun después de todo eso, sigues sin aprender." (Even after all that, you still don't learn.)
You start to open your mouth, but the glare she shoots at you warns you to shut your mouth, so you do exactly that.
Alexia kneels onto the bed, not in a hurry and clearly wanting to make you suffer for as long as possible. She moves towards you, and you sink further back into the pillow beneath you, as if trying to create more of a distance between the two of you. Alexia is having none of it, though. She traces the line of your jaw before tightening her hold, commanding your attention.
"If you want to act like a slut," her voice is so soft despite her strong hold on your chin, "then you should be fucked like one."
The room felt as if it was spinning; all you could feel was the dull throbbing between your legs and how empty your pussy felt. How badly you needed her to completely wreck you.
"Get on your knees."
You obey, you don't even try to answer back. It's a struggle to keep yourself steady in this position; your muscles feel like they're on fire.
A hiss spills from her lips as she studies every inch of you, bent over and trembling as you wait for her to touch you. A very lovely reminder of who has control. Her hand strokes the curve of your ass warmly, trailing down to your drenched cunt, and she spreads you a bit more, wanting to see all of you. The silence in the room is so thick you can feel your heartbeat thumping in your ears, as each touch of hers feels as if it is singeing your skin.
"Mírate, mi amor…" A lone finger trails down your pussy, your arousal coating her finger with ease. "All of this just from having me in your mouth and touching you a little, hm?" She chuckles, the sound low and mocking. Your face heats up from embarrassment, and you let out a sound of protest, which isn't acknowledged much to your dismay.
A warm hand presses into the small of your back, making you arch until you're almost face down on the bed. The head of the dildo is at your entrance, and before you're able to brace yourself, she slams herself inside you, not bothering to let you adjust to the thickness at all. You tried your best not to scream; instead, a strained cry tore from your throat as your fingers dug desperately into the sheets beneath you. Nothing could've prepared you for the sheer force with which she was driving into your cunt. You had taken her like this before, but the size of the strap and just how hard she was fucking you was nearly pushing you past your limit.
The obscene sound of your cunt wrapping around her filled your ears, accompanied by the low grunts coming from the older woman's mouth as she pounded you without stopping. A sharp slap on your ass makes your hips unintentionally buck towards the harness, and somehow more of it slips inside you.
"You're taking all of it, mi niña." She sounds equally proud and turned on, both of which make your head spin, as you can barely focus on anything other than how full you feel.
You feel her lean over you, her breath hot against your ear as she speaks, and you can hear the smile on her lips, "Do you like having your pussy full like this?"
A fragmented noise between a moan and a cry leaves your lips as she continues to fuck you relentlessly. As she leans back, her fingers wrap around your hair, twisting it around her fist as she yanks back sharply. You're flush against her, and at this angle, you somehow feel your cunt stretch even wider as she sinks deeper inside you.
"Así, cariño," her free hand reaches around you, her fingers rolling over your hardening nipple, and you start to feel lightheaded at every sensation filling your senses. You wanted to hold out for longer, try to show her that you couldn't be ruined so easily, but it was impossible. Your body was betraying you before your mind got the chance to catch up.
Her teeth graze your shoulder lightly at first, and a shiver ripples through you as she deepens the bite. The feel of her tongue soothing the deep mark on your skin has your eyes rolling back, your stomach coiling tightly at the sensation. She kisses your shoulder a couple of times before harshly pushing you forward, and your arms completely give out as you collapse into the sheets. She slows her pace, letting you recover just a little before pulling out of you completely. One of her hands crashes down against your ass once more, and you yelp, your voice raw and almost gone, which brings a smile to the older woman's lips.
"Boca arriba," (On your back,) her stern words are an order, and you know you have no way out of this, even if you're feeling this exhausted.
With shaky arms, you manage to push yourself off the bed and roll onto your back. Upon seeing her face, you feel a familiar rush of heat flooding through you and down to your core. Something about the way she keeps you in her sight makes all of this so much more overwhelming. Your gaze drops, and you see the strap gleaming in the low light — the evidence of what she's done to you.
During your daze, you feel her strong hands on your knees, spreading your legs wider until no part of you is hidden from gaze.
"Alexia…" You breathe out pathetically, and her eyes snap to yours, and the rest of your words catch in your throat, unable to escape.
She responds with a hum, the faintest curve tugging at her mouth.
"Please, I need—" A whine escapes your lips as her thumb roughly meets your swollen clit, pressing down firmly as she feels the skin throb beneath her.
"No me importa." (I don't care.) A sharp slap meets your clit, and it makes you cry out, the sting making your eyes prick with tears again as they threaten to fall. Her expression hardens as she watches you, the brief calm from moments ago now replaced with the same simmering anger she had been enveloped in all evening.
You don't get a chance to talk because she's already lining the silicone to your cunt before burying herself inside you again. Every inch hugged your walls as she slid further inside, and if it weren't for her grip on your thighs, you'd be trembling more.
Each thrust pulls another obscene sound from your throat, along with the sound of your pussy as it swallows every single inch of the woman above you.
"Debería follarte así más a menudo." (I should fuck you like this more often.)
The words feel like electricity hitting you, and your body replies for you as you snap your hips upward, defiantly trying to chase the thickness buried in your cunt.
"Did you enjoy acting like a whore all night?" She asks you as she groans deeply, the harness of the strap rubbing against her own clit furiously. In that moment, you're truly looking at her, and you can see just how turned on she is. Even if this was supposed to be a lesson to teach you to act right, it was obvious she was enjoying it just as much, if not more than you were.
At first, you laugh before it fractures off into a high-pitched moan as she lifts one of your legs over her shoulder, the new angle stretching you wider.
"What if I did?" You challenge her as you breathe out raggedly, and you feel her thrusts stutter for a beat before she moves closer to your face.
Her hand finds your jaw, holding you softly as she makes you look at her.
"¿Ah, sí? You're still going?"
You lean into her hand on your face, and her eyes soften unexpectedly, and her thumb strokes the skin there as her movements are slower but still reach you deep. All through this, your soft moans fill her ears, and she fights herself to try and stay angry. Yet, the sight of you—flushed and irrevocably hers—makes her stomach flip.
Her thumb glides over your bottom lip, a tender contrast to everything else. Without her needing to ask, you part your lips, and she slips it inside. It's as if your eagerness sets her off all over again, as her hips begin to move again, almost erratically.
"Dios, eres increíble." (God, you're amazing.)
An amused hum rumbles from your throat as your tongue swirls around the pad of her thumb, sucking it in a little deeper as you lock eyes. The way her lips are parted, as she tries to catch her breath, tells you all you need to know. She's trying her hardest to stay in control, but as each moment passes by, it continues to slip from her grasp ever so slightly.
"All of this," she begins hoarsely, "belongs to me, amor." Her thumb slips out from your mouth, and you pant quietly, catching your breath. A spark of defiance flashes across your eyes as you bite your lip before you speak.
"Are you sure?" You whisper, half as a taunt and half in a plea.
For a heartbeat, neither of you says anything. The air between you becomes charged, and Alexia surges forward. Her mouth crashes against yours, messy and urgent as her tongue expertly rubs against your own. You moan into her mouth, each sound spilling from your tongue uncontrollably and begging as each roll of her hips sends vibrations through your cunt as it desperately clenches around the thick girth of the silicone. Your fingers thread into her head as you pull her closer, attempting to meet her force equally, but each time you fall short. Lips wrap hungrily around your tongue, sucking possessively, making you subconsciously clench even more around the dildo slamming inside you. A strained moan leaves your mouth and slips into Alexia's before she pulls away suddenly to get a better look at you.
"Solo yo puedo follarte así." (Only I can fuck you like this.) Each word is punctuated by a snap of her hips against yours, and you can subtly feel a low heat building up gradually in your stomach.
"Say it."
A pleading sob leaves you as her thumb strokes your clit again, and you feel your eyes roll back slightly. "O-only you."
"Only I what?" It's humiliating. You feel so exposed and completely under her control, and you know this is all you've ever wanted.
"Only you can fuck me like this," you manage to repeat, and the smile on her lips sends a jolt through you.
"Muy buena."
Her mouth finds yours again, softer this time, without the urgency of before. She wants to savour all of you, her lips brushing against yours with a type of tender possessiveness you're not sure you've ever experienced before.
There's a slight change in angle as she moves inside you, and it has you crying out against her lips, your pussy clamping down hard on her strap in strong pulses. The sound of your cunt being ravaged, accompanied by the sinful noises erupting from your throat, has Alexia's body shuddering against you.
"Joder, mi amor." Her words dissolve into a low guttural moan as the harness grinds against her throbbing clit, the splintering heat of her orgasm wrecking her more than she anticipated. As your body convulses underneath her, you feel the wind ripped from your lungs at the sight above you; each raw and uncontrolled sound that falls off the older woman's tongue has you feeling dizzy. You've never seen her like this — so utterly consumed to the point where she has lost herself like this. Without wasting any time, you cup her cheek tenderly, and she leans into your hand, her eyes half-lidded and still so full of love.
A tired laugh falls from your mouth, and she smiles at you before leaning in and capturing your lips in hers, slower and unhurried. Your moans from before are now tapering off into content hums, mingling with her faint groans as her hips rock slowly into yours. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against yours. Her thumb strokes delicate circles on your jaw before leaning down to kiss the warm skin there.
"No sabes lo que me haces," (You don't know what you do to me,) she utters quietly, sounding completely drained, and you can definitely relate.
A breath of laughter escapes you, and you nuzzle her cheek gently as you say, "I think I have a pretty decent idea…"
Before she's able to reply, you move your hips upwards, and the small contact makes her gasp slightly before she lets out an amused groan. Her lips hover above yours before she whispers a small, "Eres imposible." (You're impossible.)
It's a short-lived kiss, but it's just about what you can handle in your current state. Eventually, Alexia pulls back, her eyes trailing downwards between your bodies. Her gaze lingers on the aftermath of it all for a few moments, wanting to appreciate the number she did on you. Then, at an agonising pace, her hips begin to move away from yours. She drags herself out of you in a way so that you can feel every last inch leave your tightness. A broken sound catches in your throat, something between a gasp and a moan, as you feel your cunt clench as if to keep her in you just a bit longer. The emptiness you feel is almost too much, and you watch as you're finally separated, not realising how hard you're breathing.
Another thing you don't realise is that Alexia's eyes are back on your face again. Her breathing falls into a steady rhythm, a sharp contrast to your own, but her expression tells another story altogether. The way her lips curl into that smug grin of hers, accompanied by that ever-present simmering heat that seems to be building the more you both keep quiet.
"You need to stop doing that," you sigh, lazily covering your eyes with your forearm to break the intense eye contact. She chuckles to herself, and you feel her get up off the bed, presumably to clean herself up first—leaving you until last because it's always her favourite. You go to turn onto your side with a loud groan as you feel your entire body aching so much, to the point where you're not sure you'll be able to physically get up without help.
Alexia watches you fondly whilst she wipes down the silicone, smiling to herself, amused as you continue to grumble your many complaints. She's about to say something cocky, but a flash of light on the nightstand steals her attention. It's your phone, with a new notification. Seemingly, you're still too out of it to notice, so she types in your password to see who on earth could be bothering you at this hour.
11:57 PM
Kika: I really didn't mind staying… I could've gone for another round of UNO if you know what I meannnn ^.^
You: Do you want me to die or something
Kika: Is she pissed then? Did our hard work pay off?? ;)
—
1:24 AM
Kika: Your lack of reply tells me all I need to know
Kika: And you're welcome btw!!! I'm here all week
She stands there, staring at the screen in silence for a few long seconds. A muscle in her jaw ticks as she feels the calm wash away from her completely.
"Cariño…"
You turn onto your right side with a confused mumble, and then your eyes drop to her hands. Your heart almost flies out of your mouth.
The older woman drops your phone back onto the nightstand with a dull thud before turning away to walk over to the drawers, picking up her harness again.
"Babe, let me explain fir—"
She cuts you off flatly. "Get back on your knees."
xlangdon!sister series masterlist | the pitt masterlist
wc: 3.2k
summary: with an assist from huckleberry, you and trinity decide what friendship does and doesn't look like
contains: smut adjacent, mdni, afab!reader, lots o yapping, abrupt ending sry i don't love writing smut that much
a/n: uh oh :) this is part 4 of my langdon!sister!reader series. it would behoove you to read the 3 previous parts before this, but tbh you could enjoy it as a standalone. thank u to everyone who loves this series, i see your messages and comments and i hold every single one close to my lil heart | beautiful divider from @andromeda-graphics
This friends thing with Trinity is easier than you thought it would be.
You were afraid it'd be too messy, that the Frank of it all would be too much for Trinity and she couldn't handle it.
Since that night in your apartment —when she apologized for lashing out— you've seen her twice. Once at coffee, around six in the morning, before her shift at the hospital. A second time after your shift at the bar, at a 24-hour diner with an adorable little buffer named Victoria Javadi.
There's an unspoken agreement that neither of you broach the subject of your brother, though you did allude to your Wednesday family therapy appointments at his facility with Abby and the kids when scheduling your next hang-out. All in all, Trinity doesn't ask, and you don't bring it up.
There are worse ways to handle uncomfortable subjects, right?
All this to say: at the diner the other night, Trinity told you that her roommate, Dennis, looks like a "sickly Victorian Muppet", a description which sent strawberry milkshake flying out of poor Victoria's nose.
When you rap your knuckles on the door to Trinity's apartment, you're expecting a Muppet to answer.
Dennis Whitaker —Huckleberry, as Trinity so lovingly refers to him— does not look half as goofy as Trinity described. Maybe his eye bags are a little more pronounced than others, and sure, he does kind of look as though he exists in a perpetual state of bracing for impact.
Upon first glance, though, he seems fairly normal.
He steps aside and allows you in. Almost as soon as you cross the threshold, the faint sound of running water hums from the other side of a wall.
"Santos should be out soon," Dennis bobs his head, stepping out of your way with an urgency you didn't realize you were asking for. "She says she's not taking an 'everything shower' —whatever that means— so you can make yourself comfortable."
"Thanks," you flash a bright, unassuming smile, then slide your bag off your shoulder. You perch on the edge of the sofa, a well-loved if not slightly misshapen lump of cushions on the far wall of the living room.
You take a long look around, drinking the place in. Open floor plan, like most of the newer apartments in the city, adorned with warm colors and mismatched tchotkes. Trinity explained how she offered Dennis her spare room on a whim, after finding out he didn't have a place to live. So you feel comfortable assuming the lion's share of the decorations are hers.
Dennis stands at the open fridge, then calls over his shoulder. "Can I get you a drink? We have water and…" he trails off, and you notice he cranes his neck to see deeper into the fluorescent shelves. "One singular beer."
"I'd love a water, actually," you say, crossing your ankles. "Don't want to risk it with that beer."
"Yeah, I honestly think it's been here since before I moved in," Dennis snorts, then pours you a glass from a Brita filter.
As he lowers himself into the tattered armchair angled towards the sofa, he extends the glass. You accept it with a bright, grateful hum, then take a sip.
Over the top of the glass, you spy Dennis fiddling with the arms of the chair, tapping his fingers on the worn upholstery. His eyes flick around the room, basically everywhere that isn't you.
"I'm not gonna turn you to stone, you know," you venture, setting the glass on small IKEA table beside the couch. "You can look at me and talk to me and everything."
"You sound like a Barbie doll commercial," Dennis laughs, then his eyes meet yours. "I'm sorry. Felt weird to try and make small talk with the elephant in the room."
Somewhere in the apartment, you hear the squeak of a faucet being turned off, but you barely notice it. You furrow your brows, an innocent smile still hanging on your lips as you try to decipher what Dennis might mean. "There's an elephant?"
He clams up then, freezing in place like a video call with a poor connection. "I, uh…" he titters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I shouldn't have said anything. Just… um… nevermind."
"No," you urge, not impatient but certainly firm. You hate being blindsided. "What elephant, Dennis?"
"I just mean with the whole…" he throws out a fruitless gesture. "Langdon thing."
You've never heard your surname spoken with such weight.
You picture your big brother the last time you saw him, nearly a week ago. He looked good. Really good. He bounced Penny on his knee in the Family Room and told you about how he's started writing in a gratitude journal. You still haven't told him about meeting Trinity, but you almost did. Which was more courageous than the week before.
"Oh, no, that's not an elephant," you assure Dennis, digging your fingernail into your thighs. Through the cotton of your ankle-length skirt, the pinching feeling keeps your tether from snapping.
You frown, then meet Dennis's eye. "Is it an elephant? Has Trinity said anything to you about it recently? Because I thought we… I thought we were on the same page about it."
"And what page is that?" Dennis asks, though not impatiently. You can tell that, despite their not having roomed together for too long, Dennis cares for Trinity. He wants to protect her.
And you? Well, you're the sister of a man who filled her with a raging, lingering self-doubt her first day at a new job. Dennis isn't giving you the third degree or anything, but his curiosity is valid.
As uncomfortable as it might make you.
"The page where we're not really talking about it," you deflate, rubbing the back of your neck with both hands.
"Talking about what?" Trinity strolls into the living room from down the hall. She brightens upon seeing you. "Hi."
"Hi," is your weak response. You can barely take a moment to appreciate the way her jeans hug her hips, her purple-and-white striped t-shirt so adorably 90s with the black plastic choker around her neck.
Dennis's face harbors a guilty grimace. "I-I was gonna head out to Amy's in a few, so I think mayble I'll just do that now," he springs up out of the armchair, then takes strides fast for the door.
As he gathers his keys and wallet, Trinity stomps over to him and corrals him between the entryway table and the door. They speak in hushed, sharp whispers, but you still pick up pieces of the conversation.
"What the hell did you say to her, Huckleberry? Why is she making the same face I did when you told me how yogurt is made?"
"I just… I might have…" Dennis shoves his wallet into his pocket hurriedly. You can see the whites of his eyes, even from across the room.
"What? What did you say?"
"Maybe it's better if you just ask her, Trin, I'm… I'm sorry, okay?" He fumbles behind him for the doorknob. You're fairly certain Trinity is threatening him with violence as he slides out of the apartment. Something about shoving an avocado where the sun doesn't shine.
It'd be hilarious if you weren't slowly filling with dread.
The door shuts behind him, inflating the awkward tension in the room like a stretched-out balloon.
Trinity's back flattens against the door, and she looks on at you with perhaps the most awkward, thin smile you've ever seen her make. "Hi," she says.
"You said that already," you swallow. Your lips twist in the side of your mouth. Bottling things up has never been your strong suit, so you dive right in. "Trin, do we need to talk about the whole thing with my brother again?"
Trinity shakes her head. "No," she says, more insistent than convincing. She crosses the room and plops down on the couch. "No, I'm fine, I swear. Huckleberry just asked me about it the other day and I sort of skirted around the subject so he probably thinks it's some unresolved thing that we're avoiding."
"But it's not something we're avoiding," you prompt.
"Right," Trinity's shoulders loosen and she leans back into the couch.
"Because we've already hashed it all out," you add. "So there's nothing left to talk about."
"Exactly," she agrees, still not getting it.
"Remind me when that was again?"
Crystalline eyes snap to yours. "What?"
You settle back into the sofa as well, lifting a leg and tucking it under your rear.
"When, exactly, did we resolve all of it?" You ask again. "Because if you're coming home and bitching to your roommate about me, then I wouldn't call that resolved."
"I'm not—" Trinity's face flares with a frustration you've only seen when she's at the hospital, but she seems to better herself before it can take over. "I wasn't bitching to Huckleberry about you," she explains, calmer now. "He asked me about it. And I said it was still kind of weird, being your friend, and knowing that your brother is… is…"
"What?" You attempt. "A drug addict?"
"A person," she sighs, bringing her legs up to the sofa cushion. She sits criss-cross applesauce, in a way that might reduce her to a petulant child if you aren't trying to figure out what she's saying. "A real person, with a life a-and a family," her voice climbs when she gestures to you. "A person who makes mistakes and has triumphs and laughs at jokes and cowers in fear just like the rest of us. It was easier pretending he was just some asshole who I might never see again."
Still, the question remains. "Why couldn't you just talk to me about it?"
"Because… we're trying this friends thing, and it felt unfair to put on you," Trinity slides the throw pillow from behind her back and places it in her lap, holding it close.
You're not sure what to say to that, so you stay quiet. Simultaneously, you feel glued to the sofa and miles up in space, looking down on this moment with the daunting realization that this isn't something you can fix. It's not in the scope of your control to move Trinity past the conflict with Frank.
After a beat, Trinity speaks.
"You should be a lawyer," she says in that recalcitrant, half-teasing tone that's desperate to claw out of the pit of a difficult conversation. "That was a real Elle Woods moment you just had there, dragging a confession out of me and everything."
"Thank you, I appreciate that," you point your nose in the air in a half-hearted joke before nudging her shin with your hand. "But seriously. I don't want to do the whole pretending-everything-is-okay, silent-festering-resentment thing with you. I told you I wanted to be your friend, and I meant that. I thought you did too."
"I do!" She hangs her head now, hands looping behind her neck. "I do. I did. I—"
"You did," you whisper, scooting away on reflex. "As in, you don't want to be my friend anymore?"
"No, no, that's not it," Trinity reaches for you. In a blind, knee-jerk panic, she catches your hand. "I want to be your friend," she says your name. The consonants are soft on her lips. When she looks up, her eyes lock onto yours. "I'd be an idiot to not want to be your friend, okay? I just…" she sighs.
You could throw her a lifeline. Try to finish the sentence. Give her a word bank to choose from.
But your hyperempathy doesn't stretch to your tongue in this instance. You need her to say it, need to know it comes from Trinity, not from some suggestion of how she might be feeling.
You follow her eyes down to your joined hands. Her thumb swipes over the back of your hand, like that was the sole purpose of its creation.
Her fingernails are painted a dark blue, almost black color. The crescent moon ring she wears every so often scratches against the smooth skin of your palm.
"I think this is something I need to work through on my own," Trinity concludes. Her words come out almost choked, like she regrets them the second they leave her mouth.
"What does that mean?" The wrinkle of your brow tightens your expression even more. Your skirt parachutes out as pull your own legs up onto the sofa. No longer a couch, it's a threadbare buoy in rough waters, carrying the both of you at the beck and call of the waves.
Jesus, you think. At least you're not being dramatic about it. "You don't want to hang out anymore?"
"No," Trinity squeezes your hand firmly until you look at her. "No. That's not what I meant. I just meant that this whole bullshit with your brother is mine to figure out," she explains. "And in the meantime, we don't have to avoid the subject completely, but how about I work on detaching you from him? Meaning, I won't bitch about the complexity of the situation to Huckleberry. Because, apparently, he can't keep anything to himself."
You squeeze Trinity's hand back. "You're more endeared by Dennis than you are annoyed," you tease, to which Trinity rolls her eyes. "No, seriously! Underneath all that angry, alt-girl bravado, you're a softy, Trinity Santos."
She shoves your arm away. "Whatever!"
Her hand presses your shoulder, and you lean in to the touch. Warmth on warmth, so dangerous and so tempting. Trinity's lips looks so fucking soft. Supple, bubblegum pink lines. You might have been tipsy the night you met her, but their flavor still dances in the back of your mind. Strawberry vodka and salt.
You remind yourself how treacherous it'd be if you gave in, the perfect yoke to yank you back into the moment.
All of sudden Trinity's looking back at you in the same way.
"I'm not a softy," she husks stubbornly.
"Whatever," you mirror her tone from earlier, then trace the lines of her face with your eyes.
You're friends. You both agreed to that. Both agreed to even try harder at it. It doesn't matter how synchronously safe and exposed those gorgeous gemstone eyes make you feel. It'd be a stupid, thoughtless regression to lean over and kiss her right now.
But then why is it the only thing you can think about?
You realize then that liminal space is an impossibility with Trinity. You're either nothing or something… and right now? Right now her apartment is empty. Right now her hand lingers on your shoulder still, fingers digging in to the plush skin of your back. Right now all the other stuff that you just talked about feels so embarrassingly insignificant.
This friends thing with Trinity becomes a whole lot harder the second you let instinct shove logic from the driver's seat.
When you bridge the miniscule gap between your body and hers, you realize there's no turning back.
It's not a soft, slow, new kiss. No, your lips crash into Trinity's like two cymbals, messy and loud and overt. You collapse atop her body, her legs stretching out beneath yours, her hands digging into your hips, encouraging you to spread your legs.
You can't straddle her in your long, cotton skirt, so you groan in frustration. Laughing into your open mouth, she tugs the elastic hem over the ledge of your hips, and your knees find either side of her waist.
There's only breath and heat as you kiss her, whining into her mouth, flicking your tongue out to lap up that softness you've craved for weeks now. Trinity's hands slide over your satin panties, kneading circles into your rear. She swallows your moans, her tongue lapping against yours.
This is sloppy and needy, nothing like the reverent, exploratory comfort from that first night. No, this is two magnets slamming together. After far too much time apart.
"Fuuuck," Trinity draws the word out, along with your name, stretching each syllable as you tug on the hem of her striped shirt. She raises her arms in humankind's quickest detour. You're hurried and indelicate as you yank it over her head and chuck it to the side. "This is crazy, right?"
"Mmmhm," you hum, kissing her cheeks and down that deliciously angled jaw. "Can't say that I care. Do you?"
"Not even a little bit," Trinity agrees, guiding one of your hands to her breasts, where a plain white t-shirt bra separates your palm from her skin.
You glance down at her breasts, then back up to her eyes. She nods.
"I want you to," she assures you, so you mimic the shape of the underwire, dipping below the fabric and cupping the bottom of her round, plush breast.
Her hips grind into yours in response. You slide your other hand under her back, undoing the clasp in a singular movement.
"Not your first bra removal, then, huh?" She teases, and you laugh as you look at her in an amused, yet sobered, manner.
"Take my own off every night, Trin," you giggle, rolling your eyes as her bra fells the same fate as her shirt.
You notice her nipples puckering at the sudden air exposure, but decide to be nice and refrain from teasing her about it. Your lips find her neck, kissing over her choker necklace and down the column of her throat. Your weight presses her further into the sofa, your right knee shoving between her jeans. You notice her hips arching, grinding into your knee, searching for friction.
"Fuck," Trinity gasps your name beneath you. "You're so good at this."
"Always the tone of surprise with you," your breathless cockiness surprises even yourself as you lick down her sternum, still massaging her breasts and rolling your hips into hers. You're two gears on a clock, fitting perfectly into each other's grooves.
"Can I…" Trinity paws blindly at the bottom hem of your shirt. You hum in confirmation, and she tugs it over your head.
Holding yourself up with your palms on either side of her head, your breasts spill out of your bra by the tricky work of gravity. Your bra falls to the wayside in an instant and Trinity tugs your face back down to hers. Your chest presses into hers, two spools of skin tangling together.
She kisses you for a long time, holding you to her by way of a palm cupped around the back of your head. You're buzzing on dopamine and adrenaline, chemicals coursing through you, spit mixing with hers. Twisted more and more into each other until you form an impossible knot.
You and Trinity. You can't bring yourself to think much about anything else, about the questions lingering in the air and the webs you've precariously weaved.
Eventually, you'll have to tell your brother about this. Eventually, you'll have to ask Trinity how she feels about the Frank of it all, about your connection to him, about how he's become a symbol of her self-doubt. It will all undoubtedly disentangle in a great, big, heaping mess. You hate a mess. It breaks you out in stress-hives and you struggle to fall asleep.
But once you wind up in Trinity's sheets, the space around you sweaty and blurry and liminal, you decide maybe messy isn't so bad.
⠀ ⠀ authors note ! well, i fear this is short but this is my debut so.. enjoy :oo
girlfriend!trinity who would pick you up anytime and anywhere because she doesn’t trust anyone, even your own friends to bring you back to her in one piece.
girlfriend!trinity after a long shift she just wants to be as close as possible to you because you’re the only thing that makes her exhaustion melt
girlfriend!trinity who would let you lay on her stomach when you had a bad day, while playing with your hair :((
girlfriend!trinity when she finally convinces you to visit her in the ER but immediately regrets it because they start asking you “embarrassing” questions about your relationship
girlfriend!trinity would keep a polaroid or your old highschool yearbook photo at the back of her phone and in her wallet
she left her man at home, she don’t love him no more
pairing: narp!azzi x wnba!paige
synopsis: there’s a couple weeks until paige’s season starts, and she decides to treat herself to a night at the bar.
warnings: sexual content, cheating (not between p + a)
wc: 3.3k
author’s note: hi this is only my second time writing smut but i was listening to this song and had an idea, so i just HAD to act on it. it’s pretty short, but i hope you guys enjoy it anyways. happy gameday. i think im going to bawl my fucking eyes out. i love you guys, please send feedback <33 btw this is like lowkey straight filth <333 so <333
…
the bar is pretty empty that night, minus a couple of stragglers. it is a weekday, after all, and most people don’t spend their time drinking when they have work the next day. usually, paige doesn’t even do it, but she has a couple of weeks before the season starts back up, so she decides to treat herself.
she’s nursing a beer as she watches an nba game that was playing behind the bar tv, when she feels the breeze of the door opening. it’s not usually cold in dallas during april, the summer heat already creeping its way through the clouds, but the nights weren’t exactly warm yet, either. the bell that sits above the door rings, and the most beautiful woman paige has ever seen walks in.
she’s tall, almost as tall as paige, and she’s wearing a tight black skirt with a lacy pink tank top. her curly hair bounces as she walks, and her lips are plump with lip gloss. she sees paige checking her out, her lips tilting up into a smile as she walks towards her.
there were a dozen other open seats behind the bar, but paige doesn’t mind. maybe the girl was lonely and just needs company. she orders a long island, and turns to paige, offering her name. “i’m azzi,” she says, her two front teeth sticking out like a bunny’s.
paige smiles, too, raising her hand for azzi to shake it. “paige,” she said.
azzi nods. “i feel like i know you from somewhere,” she says, studying paige’s face as if she was trying to pinpoint when she’d ever seen her.
paige was a big name around dallas. most people knew her, so it was nice for a girl not to freak out and immediately try to fuck her for once. that had happened far too often, and sometimes, paige allowed it, sleeping with them if they were pretty enough.
“you might,” she said, shrugging, but didn’t explain why. she didn’t have a big ego, per se, but she definitely knew how attractive she was, and she’d always taken advantage of it. “whatchu doing out here so late?” she asked.
azzi shrugs, probably not wanting to overshare with a stranger. “no reason,” she mutters. “you?”
paige chuckles, taking a sip of her beer and licking a stray drop from her lips. “i asked first,” she said. azzi stares at her, eyes already filled with heat.
azzi exhales deeply after a moment, sighing out. “why do you care?” she asks, taking a sip of her own drink.
the blonde shrugs, pointedly swallowing when she sees azzi studying her neck. “didn’t say i did. you’re just too pretty to be out here at an old bar all alone in the middle of the week.”
azzi hums. “i could say the same about you.”
paige smirks at that. “you think i’m pretty, azzi?”
azzi glares at her. as if that was even a question. “even you think you’re pretty, paige. pretty fucking obvious.”
the blonde is taken aback at her bite in her tone, but also, extremely turned on? she leans in close to azzi, the brunette’s breath catching at her surprise. azzi body tenses beneath her, and paige bites the space beside her ear. “yeah, i do,” she whispers, before leaning back against the counter and taking another sip of her beer.
azzi blurts out, “i’m here because my boyfriend fucking sucks,” before downing her drink in one go.
paige’s eyes widen at the admission, but she smiles at the sudden declaration. “yeah?”
azzi nods once, swallowing. “need something better,” she says, and paige immediately nods back before she waves the bartender down to close her and azzi’s tabs.
azzi tries to protest, but paige insists. “got more money than i know what to do with, baby. it’s on me.”
azzi blushes at the pet name, but she obliges anyway. they stumble out of the bar, tipsy, but alert enough that they know exactly what they’re doing. paige wraps her arm around azzi’s waist to guide her to her car, and azzi shivers underneath her.
as soon as they make it to paige’s car, paige holds her passenger door open for azzi to enter. once she slides into her own seat, paige leans over the middle console to hold the back of azzi’s neck. “nice car,” azzi says stupidly.
she tries to remember where she knows paige from again. “paige, i swear —“ she’s cut off by paige thrashing their lips together. and azzi immediately melts into it with a surprised moan, the kiss quickly deepening. “need you to fuck me. now,” azzi begs, swallowing as she pulls away from paige.
paige licks her lips, shaking her head as she smirks. “not here, az,” she says. “just gotta wait for a minute. can you do that for me?”
the brunette nods, but whines at the thought of having to sit through a car ride, the insides of her legs already wet with slick. azzi freezes as paige leans over her, and she thinks paige is going to kiss her again, but instead, she pulls azzi’s seatbelt down from the opposite side of the car to buckle it. she taps azzi’s leg once in reassurance, buckling her own seatbelt before putting the car into reverse.
when they make it to paige’s house, azzi’s jaw drops. even for texas, the house was huge. paige chuckles at the girl’s reaction, unbuckling her own seatbelt before reaching over to unbuckle azzi’s.
“come on,” she starts, “unless you want me to fuck you in this car while you stare at my house.”
azzi audibly whined at the thought, and really, she wouldn’t have minded that, but getting fucked inside the house seemed even better. “inside, please,” azzi says.
paige smiles, stopping azzi from opening the car door on her own. azzi waits in the car, confused at first, but smiles when she sees paige open her door for her.
as soon as the front door shuts behind them, paige presses her lips against azzi’s, tugging on her shirt. “take it off,” azzi says between kisses, and paige smiles before pulling it over her head. she’s delighted to see that azzi isn’t wearing a bra, immediately thumbing her hardened nipple as she kisses down her neck.
azzi keens, chest rising up and down underneath paige as the blonde sucks a mark into her neck. she pulls paige back up, needing her close, before looking up at her. “take me to your room,” she whines. “please,” and paige nods grabbing azzi’s thighs with ease, feeling the younger girl’s slick soak her shirt.
“so desperate for me already, baby,” paige says, and azzi leans down to kiss paige as they walk through the house, reminding herself to ask paige for a house tour in the morning. she’d like to do it now, but she needs relief immediately.
paige gently sets azzi down on the edge of the bed, and she tries to kiss her again, but azzi stops her. “need to see you,” she whines, and paige chuckles before pulling off her shirt and bra.
azzi’s eyes widen, paige’s upper half on full display. paige leans back over her, and azzi can’t help but wrap her hands around her biceps. “holy shit,” she mutters, feeling how solid they are.
paige simpers, kissing azzi again. “like what you see?” she asks, and azzi immediately nods.
paige kisses down azzi’s body, leaving marks in her track. when she meets her tits, she licks around the peaks, soaking them with spit before pulling at them with her mouth. “fuck, paige,” azzi moans. “feels good.”
“i know,” paige mutters, continuing to work at them until they’re sore. she keeps going down azzi’s torso. when she gets to azzi’s piercing, she smiles before thumbing at it and pressing a kiss to it, to which azzi whimpers, completely needy for paige.
the blonde reaches azzi’s skirt. “can i take this off?” she asks, kissing right above the edge of the piece of clothing. when azzi nods, trying to force paige down, paige slaps her hand away. “need to hear you say it, azzi,” she demands, looking just as desperate as azzi.
azzi groans at how long paige is taking to get where she needs her. she almost pushes the blonde away to put her fingers inside herself, but she knows paige will probably do it better anyway, so she finally whines out, “please. need it off.”
paige rolls the skirt down azzi’s legs, smiling when she sees that her view isn’t obstructed by any underwear. “god damn, azzi,” she whispers as she gets to her pelvis, sucking marks into it. “so pretty for me.”
she’s so close to where azzi needs her most, and azzi tries to push paige’s head down, but paige pulls back to sharply smack her thigh. and jesus christ, it’s hot. “be patient, mama,” she huffs out, leaning down to kiss the inside of her thighs.
azzi doesn’t interfere with paige’s process again, (even though she’s pretty sure she could come untouched at this point), because she doesn’t want to drag it out longer.
paige finally breathes on azzi’s cunt, and azzi tries her legs around paige’s head at the shiver that rises up her body from the sensation, but paige uses her arm to firmly hold her legs apart. “stop tryna make this longer than it has to be,” she mutters from between azzi’s legs.
finally, she licks a stripe up azzi’s cunt, lapping up her arousal and wrapping her lips around her clit, repeating the process a few times.
and it feels good, but azzi needs more. she figures asking is a good way to get what she needs, so she whines out a “need your fingers.” when paige acknowledges her words with a groan but doesn’t change her movements, azzi adds a shaky “please,” tears already forming in her eyes from how overwhelmed she is.
paige pulls away for a second, and azzi’s pussy clenches around nothing. she whines again, immediately needing paige back, and paige coos, using one hand to rub her thigh comfortingly as the other moves over her cunt. she starts with one finger, rubbing circles around azzi’s clit as she laves into azzi’s pussy to ready her. “you sure?” she asks.
azzi almost nods again, but remembers to use her words to get what she needs. “please,” she begs. “can’t wait.”
“okay. you’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?” paige asks, not wanting to hurt azzi.
azzi struggles to speak, but keens out a quiet “yes,” and paige smiles.
“good girl,” she praises, and azzi moans at the sound.
finally, paige slides her finger into azzi, her cunt easily accepting it thanks to her arousal, and azzi’s hips raise at the sensation. paige uses her tongue to move in sync with her finger, sucking at her clit before adding another.
her fingers work in tandem with her mouth, the arousal dripping directly from azzi’s cunt onto paige’s tongue. paige moans at the taste of her, and azzi hears her muttering from in between her thighs. “tastes so fucking good, azzi,” she says. “does he ever fuck you like this, hm? he tasted you, yet?”
azzi shakes her head, but when she realizes paige can’t see her, she whines out a shaky “no. never, paige. only you.”
paige smiles to herself at the thought, knowing that she’s the first person to ever taste azzi.
she kind of hopes she’s the last, too.
she feels azzi starting to shake underneath her and pulls away for a moment to look at her. the loss of sensation hits azzi immediately, and the tears start falling harder. “come back,” she begs. “need to come, please let me come, paige.”
paige kisses azzi’s lips before settling back between her legs, kissing her one more time before muttering out, “let go for me, azzi, wanna taste it.”
azzi’s orgasm hits her like a bus, and paige eats her through it. azzi tries to push her away, but when paige doesn’t get the hint, too pussy drunk to notice, she whines out “too much, paige. too much,” through her tears and paige pulls away, kissing back up azzi’s body to kiss her lips.
she wipes azzi’s eyes with her thumbs, and azzi tries to meet her lips, but she’s too spent to move. she’s never come that hard in her life.
when she finally opens her eyes again, paige is hovering over her, eyes searching her face. “you good?” she asks sincerely.
her eyes are a little blurry, but azzi nods, still not able to find her words. she weakly wipes at her eyes, and paige wipes the excess tears. they don’t say anything for a few minutes, azzi closing her eyes once more to fully regather herself. when she opens her eyes, paige is staring down at her smiling. “there you are,” she says, holding azzi’s face.
finally, paige rolls off of her, muttering out, “so, your boyfriend.”
azzi groans in annoyance at the mention of that fucker. she rolls over, hiding her face in paige’s neck as she sniffles into it. “his name’s jacob,” she admits. “stupid fucking name.” embarrassed she adds, “he’s never made me come. not a single time.”
paige’s eyes widen. suddenly, she wanted to smack that man across the face. she also wanted to make azzi come, like, a billion more times. “damn,” she breathes out, surprised. she’s never struggled to make a girl come. “you still with him?
azzi leans up onto her elbow. “not after tonight,” she whispers, brushing a stray hair out of paige’s face before kissing her again. she takes a few minutes to regather herself, catching her breath as she startes at the ceiling.
she remembers paige hasn’t come yet, and throws her leg over her as she deepens the kiss. she hears paige whine underneath her, clearly needing relief. she kisses all around paige’s face before meeting her lips once more, finally moving down her body.
she sucks a dark bruise into paige’s pale neck before licking it, and repeats the process as she gets down her body. when she sees paige’s hardened nipples, she pulls at them, and paige stifles a moan, cradling azzi’s head and throwing her own back. “feels so good, fuck azzi.”
azzi pauses. when she reaches paige’s waist. “i’ve never done this with a girl before,” she admits before sitting up on her knees, settling her hands in her lap nervously. “can you teach me how?” she asks meekly.
paige moves onto her elbows, cradling azzi’s face before sitting up and pulling her into her lap. “you don’t have anything to worry about, mama” she says, kissing azzi’s lips. “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, either” she adds sincerely.
azzi shakes her head, immediately shutting that down. she appreciates that paige doesn’t expect to receive anything, because she’s gotten used to that with jacob, but she really does want to know what paige tastes like, wants to know how it’ll feel to have paige squirming underneath her. “wanna do it, please,” she says, leaning down to suck another bruise into her neck.
she kisses paige again, but this time, she’s on a mission. she makes her way back down paige’s body, and when she gets back down to paige’s jeans, the calvin klein logo of her boxers sticking out, she looks up at her pointedly.
paige shakes her head, but asks nicely anyway. “please, azzi.”
azzi smiles, unbuttoning them before slowly pulling them down her legs. she kisses paige over her boxers, which are completely soaked through from her arousal, and she tastes wonderful.
azzi would love to eat her out right there, through her boxers, but she wants to see all of paige, so she reaches her hands up to pull them off. azzi feels like she could come again just from tasting paige, but she decides focusing on getting the girl underneath her to come is more important.
“need you to help me,” she breathes into paige’s cunt before kissing it once.
“mm. you got it, baby,” paige reassures her. “jus’ do whatever feels natural,” she says, holding azzi’s head. she sits up on her elbows to watch, holding azzi’s hair back so it doesn’t get in the way.
at first, azzi tries to replicate what paige did, but she eventually just does whatever comes easiest to her. she tries scissoring her fingers against paige’s clit, and when that elicits a positive reaction, she repeats it, this time licking into paige’s cunt, too. paige is already whining, begging for more, and azzi smiles. “‘m i doing good?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
paige, oblivious, breathes out a “yeah,” before pushing azzi’s head further between her legs. azzi tries a finger, and when it slides into paige’s cunt easily, she adds another.
the noises between them are filthy, paige’s pussy squelching as azzi fucks in and out of her. she wants to drag this out, but she needs to know how it feels to make paige come — like, immediately — so she starts moving quicker, sucking paige’s clit as she adds a third finger, paige whining at the stretch. “so fucking good, az,” she cries, “please don’t stop.”
azzj continues, her jaw beginning to become sore from working up paige so much, muttering out, “don’t wanna stop.”
she feels paige starting to tighten underneath her, and she starts going faster, needing to taste it immediately. once she feels paige right on the brink of it, she finally speaks again.
“come, paige. please. come for me,” she begs, and paige obeys. azzi tries to work her through it, but paige is too sensitive and pulls her hair, bringing up to her mouth instead, moaning as the waves move through her body.
when she finds her voice again, she rasps out. “think i need to marry you after that, shit.”
azzi giggles, impressed to see how spent paige is. she looks at paige’s body, realizing how many marks she’d left, and her eyes widen.
she rolls off paige, her arms too tired to hold her up any longer. “best sex i’ve ever had,” she mutters. “consider jacob gone,” she adds, staring up at the ceiling before closing her eyes.
paige scoffs at the mention of him, clearly jealous, and she playfully tickles azzi before kissing her again. azzi relaxes into it, but when paige starts moving down her body, she realizes she’s about to try and fuck her again. azzi pulls her back up, muttering a “chill,” as she giggles. “i’m too tired.”
paige groans, dropping her head into azzi’s shoulder, and azzi laughs before kissing the crown of her head. “you’re so cute.”
paige hums happily, settling beside azzi before turning on her side to wrap her arms around her, and azzi’s delighted when she gets to use her bicep as a pillow. the other settles on her waist, and paige presses a couple of kisses info azzi’s shoulder. “by the way,” paige starts. “that was definitely the best i’ve ever had, too,” she admits. “you’re a natural. think i’m gonna keep you.”
azzi giggles, sucking a mark into paige’s bicep. “think i wanna keep you, too,” she mutters, before a wave of realization hits her.
post nut clarity, if you will.
“holy shit,” she whispers. “you’re paige bueckers.”
paige uses her arm to pull azzi closer, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “shh,” she coos. “we’ll talk about that tomorrow.”
they fall asleep like that, and when paige wakes up the next morning, azzi’s still there.
“we broke up,” she says, leaning down to kiss paige. paige fist pumps internally, and azzi glares at paige, before adding, “also — hello? you weren’t planning on telling me who you were?”
paige shrugs. “nah. i think you liked the mystery, though.”
azzi shakes her head at the stupidity, but she nestles back into paige’s side.
should paige have felt guilty about fucking a girl so good that she immediately broke up with her boyfriend? maybe. but she couldn’t. staying with that guy — jared? jackson? paige already forgot — would be a disservice to azzi. really, she’d made the best decision of her life.
— You agreed to keep your relationship with Alexia a secret, thinking you could handle it. But when she ties Kika’s hair before your first El Clásico, doing the pre-game ritual she used to do only for you, the jealousy hits harder than you expect. So, Alexia decides to remind you that it’s just you who she wants.
tags/contains:: 18+, mdni, hair pulling, strap r!receiving, rough sex, dom!Alexia, secret relationship, dirty talk, tldr: you get jealous that alexia ties kika’s hair before a game so she makes it up to you by using her hands as a ponytail in bed, not edited or proofread, 6.5k words
inspired by hair tie— ty for the inspiration! @elliesanqel
masterlist | do not repost or plagiarize
When you were newer to the team, Alexia took you under her wing – adjusting your shin guards, including you in team banter, buying you snacks randomly, giving you a ride to training whenever you needed it. Everyone joked that she was your "team mom" or "older sister," which always made you uncomfortable because that wasn’t how you ever saw her.
To you, she was never the “team mom”... mainly because you had a massive crush on her.
And with every nice thing she did for you, and every game you played with her, your infatuation with the Barcelona captain grew. You never said anything to her or to anyone about it though because you never thought that you’d have a chance. She was seven years older, and your captain. There were also probably a hundred thousand other girls who were lined up for her.
Besides, you always thought she just saw you as another one of the younger players who she felt responsible for. No matter how badly you wanted to believe that the way she was treating you was different or special, it just felt safer to assume you weren’t.
Then came the night after the team party. She had offered to drive you home, like she had so many times before, and you, a little too drunk and reckless, agreed. You don’t know how it happened but somehow your inebriated self thought it would be smart to confess your massive crush on her, which turned out to be the right thing to do because soon enough, you were making out in her car.
And luckily for you, you started dating Alexia after that.
Alexia and you agreed that you wouldn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t about shame, just… caution. You were still figuring each other out, and with the age gap, the team dynamic, Alexia just ending a previous long-term relationship, and her being your captain, you didn’t want complications.
Besides, you were only a few months into dating. It just felt right to keep it a secret until you two were dating long enough to figure out your relationship dynamic.
Keeping it a secret was okay for you, even thrilling at times. Sneaking kisses in the locker room when no one was around, catching her hand just for a second too long, playfully patting her ass to see her jump. Alexia played along but was always the careful one.
So careful, in fact, that she never treated you any differently from the rest of the team. She teased the others the same way she teased you, adjusted their shin guards before matches, and even took different teammates out for coffee or dinner to check in on them. You never questioned it. That was just typical Alexia. That was what made her a good captain. None of it remotely bothered you.
That was until Kika arrived.
You liked Kika. She was funny, full of energy, and a ridiculously good player. The two of you hit it off immediately, even making plans to hang out outside of training. Everything was fine… until you started noticing how close she and Alexia had gotten.
Alexia always made an effort with new players, but this felt different. She was always touching Kika, throwing an arm around her shoulders, picking her up and spinning her around like it was nothing. They had inside jokes, little moments of shared laughter that you weren’t part of. You tried not to let it bother you. When you brought it up casually, Alexia just shrugged and said she saw Kika as a little sister, but something about it didn’t convince you. Maybe it was because months before when one of the players was teasing her about you, she said the same thing.
But your last straw came right before a game. You had approached Alexia like you always did, holding out your hair tie and giving her that familiar look. By now, it had become a ritual.
You had grown superstitious over the past season, convinced that whenever Alexia tied your hair before a match, she passed some of her midfield skills onto you. It sounded ridiculous, but the results spoke for themselves. Almost every time she did it, you either scored or assisted.
Alexia never questioned it. She always agreed, sometimes teasing you about it but never refusing. She liked doing it, or at least you thought she did.
It had become a quiet moment between the two of you, something intimate before a game that never gave away the nature of your relationship to others. It was one of the few intimate, personal things you could do in the locker room without getting an eyebrow raise.
However, this time, she held up a hand before you could even get closer.
"Wait, Kika asked me to tie her hair too." Alexia said it casually, as if she didn’t know just how important it was to you. “I’ll tie your hair after I do hers.”
You froze, dumbfounded, staring as she turned to sit beside Kika, brushing her hair and chuckling about something.
You were seething. You’ve been trying to keep your jealousy in check, always convincing yourself that Alexia was just being the good captain she always was, but this just felt different. It wasn’t just that she turned you down; it was the way she did it so easily, like it wasn’t even a second thought. She knew how much this meant to you, especially today. This was your first time starting against Real Madrid.
Superstition aside, you also needed that quiet moment with her to keep your nerves grounded before an important game. You took a deep breath and made your way to Aitana instead.
“Can you tie my hair?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.
Aitana’s face lit up with surprise. “It’s your first time asking me,” she said, grinning as she patted the space on the bench beside her. You sat in front of her, letting her use her comb to brush your hair up. Aitana was happy to help you out, knowing how important this superstition was to you, even feeling honored you allowed her to take part in it but her curiosity got the best of her.
She snuck a glance toward Alexia, who was now playfully tugging on Kika’s ponytail, laughing at something she said. “Are you just asking me cause Alexia’s not available?” She asked, as she began tying your hair up neatly.
You huffed, rolling your eyes at the sight of your girlfriend playfully pulling Kika’s hair. “No, I just thought you’d be luckier this time,” you lied.
Aitana hummed, smiling. “Aw, that’s cute,” she commented. “Seriously thought you were only going to me cause you got replaced.”
Even though you knew Aitana was teasing, it stung a bit. You pouted. “Not at all,” you responded, loud enough for Alexia to hear. “Especially since you’re my favorite Ballon d’Or winner.”
Aitana laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, okay,” she said, tapping your shoulder to signal that she was done. “Since you’re such a kiss ass, I’ll give you one of my lucky headbands to wear.”
You smiled at Aitana, thanking her as she handed you one of her headbands. “Thanks, Aitana!” You gushed loudly before wrapping the tiny girl into a hug.
You surreptitiously looked over to see if Alexia was looking but she was too busy playfully swatting Kika with a brush. Oh, she’s so gonna pay for that.
A goal, three assists, a nearly perfect passing rate, and a Player of the Game title later, you were practically beaming as you were getting interviewed about your performance.
After all the talk about the game and the team’s performance, you made sure to throw in a comment about how you couldn’t have done it without Aitana helping you out with your pre-game superstition, joking with the reporters that you were gonna have her do your hair every game from now on. Everyone in the team seemed to poke fun at it, teasing Aitana that they also wanted their hair done before every game now.
Alexia didn’t react differently, laughing along with everyone else, completely oblivious to the fact that you had been rubbing it in her face that you were pissed off at her and even pointedly ignoring her after the match.
She only noticed something was off when you told her you were grabbing your stuff from her car and hitching a ride with Jana instead, who had asked you to go out for some drinks.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she followed you to her car, confusion all over her face. “Are you mad? What did I do?” she asked, genuinely baffled. “Why are you riding with Jana? I thought you were staying over for dinner.”
You pulled your overnight bag from the backseat of her car and slung it over your shoulder. “If you think you did nothing wrong,” you said vaguely. “Then maybe you didn’t.”
Alexia groaned. “Can’t you just tell me?” she pressed, her tone edging into frustration. “Why are you in such a pissy mood? We literally won today because of you. We should be celebrating.”
“I know,” you shot back, shutting the car door. “Also, just so you know, Aitana will be doing my pre-game ritual from now on.”
Alexia blinked, still lost. She stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing,” you shrugged. “I just think she’s luckier, that’s all.”
You tried to move past her, but she was faster, pressing both hands against the car on either side of you, caging you in.
“Cariño,” she huffed, exasperated. “I’m tired from the game. I’m starving. I just wanna go home, order takeout, and cuddle. Can you please just tell me what the fuck I did wrong so we can make up and do that already?”
Before you could answer, a voice called out. “Capi?”
You both turned to see Sydney standing a few feet away, looking awkward. Her eyes widened slightly as she registered that you were the one Alexia was practically pinning against a car.
You both stepped apart immediately.
Sydney hesitated. “Uh… was I interrupting…”
“No, no, it was nothing. I was just—”
“She was just putting her bag in my car,” Alexia cut in smoothly. “She needs a ride, and who am I to say no to the MVP, right?”
Sydney gave a cautious laugh. “Uh… okay…” She didn’t look convinced. “Jana and Ingrid are getting dinner and asked me to find you guys.”
Alexia shook her head, smiling at the teenage Swede. “I’d love to, but Y/N’s in a hurry cause she has to meet her landlord, and I have to drive her.”
You shot her a look in disbelief that she was blatantly lying to Sydney just to trap you in the car. Alexia met your gaze with a pointed one of her own. “Right? You said your landlord said something about a leak.”
“Yeah… my landlord…” you muttered through gritted teeth.
Sydney still looked skeptical but nodded. “That sucks, but we should all hang out soon.”
Alexia beamed at her, reopening the back door and gesturing for you to put your bag inside. Reluctantly, you tossed it in, playing along for Sydney’s sake. The second Alexia shut the door, she immediately opened the passenger side and motioned for you to get in.
You forced a smile at Sydney before climbing inside, seething at Alexia’s trickery. The moment she got into the driver’s seat, you groaned, already beyond irritated.
“Drop me off at my place,” you said flatly. “I’m not in the mood for dinner with you.”
Alexia frowned as she pulled out of the parking lot. “What is up with you? You never act like this. What did I do?”
“You don’t think you did anything wrong, so why does it matter?” you shot back, crossing your arms and staring out the window.
Alexia groaned. “Obviously, I fucked up, but can’t you just tell me what I did?” She complained. “Is it because I told Pere to sub you out at the 80th? You were obviously tired and Sydney needed minutes too, you know.”
You scoffed. “Why the fuck would I be mad about not playing a full 90? I was exhausted.” You retorted. “I want Sydney to get her minutes in too, y’know?”
“Then what is it?” Alexia demanded.
You ignored her. Alexia sighed, feeling annoyed by the fact that you were choosing to be passive-aggressive instead of talking it out with her. She looked over to you, hair still damp from your quick shower after the game. You were dressed in your typical, post-match gear of sweats and a tank top but this time, you had a new thin headband hanging from your neck.
She furrowed her eyebrows, as she looked back onto the road. “Since when do you wear headbands?” She asked sincerely. “Those don’t look like mine either.”
You rolled your eyes ignoring Alexia, who hummed in thought as she tapped her steering wheel. “Oh, is that one of Aitana’s?”
“Yeah, what does it matter?”
Alexia hummed again. “Nothing, I just… didn’t notice you wearing it a while ago on the pitch.”
“Yeah, cause I’m sure your eyes were somewhere else.” You muttered it under your breath but Alexia was still able to hear most of it.
She frowned. “Huh? What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing,” you responded, much to her annoyance.
At the stoplight, Alexia reached over, resting a hand on your thigh. “Come on, baby. Just tell me what I did wrong.”
You finally looked at her. Her eyes were soft, searching yours. As much as you wanted to stay mad, you just sighed and turned away again.
“You just seem into someone else,” you admitted quietly.
You continued to ignore her, perceiving Alexia’s genuine confusion as feigned perplexity. Why does she have to play dumb about it?
She started thinking, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Is this because I hugged Ona after I scored?”
You didn’t respond. She glanced at you, then back at the road. “Because I said ‘you too’ to a fan who called me pretty?”
Still nothing.
Alexia sighed, drumming her fingers on the wheel. She chuckled. “Because I stole a fry off Ingrid’s plate at lunch?”
You clenched your jaw. It was obviously none of those things. Alexia took another look at you, gaze falling once more on the headband around your neck. Then she realized.
“Wait… are you jealous of Kika?”
Your body tensed before you could stop it.
Alexia let out a small laugh. “No way. Is this about me tying her hair?” She shook her head, still grinning. “Cariño, it was just a ponytail. You think I’m cheating on you because I tied someone else’s hair?”
That was it.
“It’s more than that, Alexia.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through her amusement. You turned to her, face clearly pained.
Her smirk faded.
“You’ve been paying attention to her all day and ignoring me.” Your voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw underneath. “You used to always hug me a lot before a game but now you just hug Kika and Patri and everyone else, and you don’t even hug me or even give me a pat on the back.”
“And you’ve also been joking around with Kika a lot and you don’t even bother to tell me what your inside joke is. I just feel like a third wheel whenever I hang out with you two.” You felt kinda embarrassed showing her your jealous side like this but you couldn’t help but explode at her poking fun at you being upset.
You paused to breathe, cheeks growing flush. “And yeah, I’m mostly mad cause you didn’t tie my hair before this game.You know how important that ritual is to me.” You explained. “Especially now. It was my first time starting against Real Madrid and you just left me hanging.”
You turned away from her again. “I just feel replaced and forgotten, okay?” You said, voice low. “I agreed to keep us a secret cause I thought you’d at least do a good job of reassuring me about your feelings.”
Alexia exhaled, nodding as she gripped the steering wheel. She finally understood. In trying so hard to avoid showing favoritism toward you as her girlfriend, she had gone too far in the opposite direction: ignoring you without even realizing it.
The truth was, she had only been spending so much time with Kika because the Portuguese player was the only one loud and energetic enough to keep her distracted. It was easier to let Kika shove her phone in her face, forcing her to watch ridiculous TikToks, than to risk staring at you too much, making it obvious to everyone how much she wanted you.
She sighed again, her voice softer this time. “I’m genuinely sorry, cariño.”
You didn’t respond.
Alexia reached over, squeezing your thigh gently. “How can I make it up to you?”
Silence.
“Just tell me what to do,” she added, eyes flicking to you briefly. “I don’t want you feeling like this.”
Still, you said nothing, arms crossed as you stared out the window. Alexia sighed, accepting your silence but refusing to let it stay this way.
By the time you got to her apartment, you were still upset. You had tried arguing with her, insisting she take you home, but Alexia had ignored every protest, pulling into her parking spot like it wasn’t even up for debate.
Now you sat at the edge of her bed, back turned against her. You tapped through your phone, eyes scanning the Uber app for a car to ride, hoping you could still meet some of your teammates for some drinks. You knew if you went home, Alexia would just follow you there and badger you. At least with friends, there was no way Alexia would talk to you about it or even follow you; she was way too cautious about keeping your relationship a secret.
Behind you, Alexia was changing into a tank top and soft cotton shorts. As your girlfriend peeked at you, checking to see if you were still upset, she immediately sees you trying to book an Uber. “Cariño,” she groaned. “Don’t go.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond.
She walked over and crouched in front of you, putting her hands on top of your phone so that you’d be forced to look at her. Her hazel eyes searched yours, earnest and a little tired.
“I’m sorry I brushed you off earlier,” she said. “You know I wasn’t trying to ignore you. We agreed to keep things quiet, so I was just trying to play it safe. That’s all.”
You looked at her, jaw tense. “I know but you didn’t even bother talking to me before the game and you know how important that game was to me.”
Alexia exhaled, slow and quiet. “You’re right. I should have. I’m trying now, though. Can we please just... stop fighting?”
“It’s too late, Alexia.” You said it low, averting your gaze from her. “Let’s just talk about it some other time. I’m not in the mood to talk.”
She held eye contact for a while before deeply sighing. She just stood up, gave a small nod, and stepped away. You assumed that was the end of it; Alexia never liked fighting. You returned to your phone, starting a message to Jana to let her know you’d catch up soon.
Alexia sighed again as she walked towards her closet, reorganizing some things. Once she left the room, you felt more at ease texting your friends, telling them you’ll be booking an Uber to the bar to meet them. You presumed Alexia left the room to do some chores; she always got into tidying whenever you two fought. She said it helped her clear her brain and calm down.
But your time alone in her room was short-lived. Just moments later, your girlfriend was back and you were suddenly feeling the bed dip beneath you as she crawled onto it.
“What are you doing?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder.
Alexia settled on her knees behind you, already running her fingers through your hair. “Let me tie it up for you,” she murmured.
You turned slightly, confused. “Now? What’s the point?”
“Just let me,” she said, tone even. “Then you can go, if you still want to. I just want to know I did something to make things right. Even if it’s inconsequential.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. Your attention returned to your phone, typing half a sentence before her hands began to move again. Fingertips gliding gently against your scalp with a slight firmness to them, massaging, tugging through tangles with careful ease. You felt your shoulders drop and your eyes flutter, your body betraying you.
Alexia noticed.
She smiled faintly as she worked, kneading slow circles into your scalp, brushing your hair back before gathering it into a neat ponytail. Her fingers moved with precision, like she had done this a hundred times.
Then she paused.
Her hand tugged gently at your hair, tilting your head back slightly. Her face was close now, just beside your cheek. You could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me make it up to you,” she whispered. “I’ll show you that I only want you.”
Before you could answer, she tilted your head to the side and pressed her mouth to your neck. Her lips were soft and warm, taking in the flesh of your neck between them. You gasped, resting your phone beside you, afraid you’d drop it with your now trembling hands.
While one of Alexia’s hands held your hair in a firm ponytail, the other slid around your waist, creeping up beneath your shirt. Her fingers grazed the edge of your bra, moving slowly, deliberately. She traced the lace of your bra with her fingertips, teasing you.
You should have stopped her and snapped at her. You should have told her that sex wasn’t gonna make you less upset and jealous, but something about her mouth on your neck rendered you speechless and weak.
Her hands slid higher, fingers curling over the fabric of your bra cup before tugging it down. Your breath hitched as she took your breast out of your bra, letting it hang over the bra. She cupped your bra with her hands, feeling the plush flesh against her palms. Then, sge rolled your nipple between her fingers, teasing, as her mouth slowly latched to your neck again.
You bit your lip, torn between moaning and moving away.
Alexia’s hand let go of your hair as she used both her hands to swiftly take your top off of you. She threw it off the bed before she continued planting wet, deep kisses on your neck, both hands playing with your nipples, rolling and pinching them in between fingertips.
Her mouth peppered kisses from the base of your neck to your ear. You could feel her lips on the curve of your ear and the warmth of her breath emanate into your skin. Her breath sent a shiver through you. “You wanted your hair tied so badly, yeah?” she murmured.
Before you could even respond, Alexia pulled you by the waist, moving you further into the bed. She got up from the bed as swiftly, moving back to the side of the bed where your feet were still hanging. Her expression was unreadable, but her hands were impatient, tugging at your sweats and sliding them down with a rough kind of urgency. You barely had time to react before her hands gripped your thighs and pulled you toward the edge.
Suddenly, Alexia had placed her hands under your thighs, pulling you towards the end of your bed, now just clad in your underwear. With fluid control, she flipped you over, easing you on to your stomach. Her hands positioned your legs apart, hips raised, body exposed to her entirely. You gasped as she gathered your hair again, holding it tight like a makeshift ponytail.
You gasped as Alexia took a handful of your hair, pulling your head back with it. She gathered all the other loose strands, using her hand as a makeshift ponytail. You could feel the stinging pain radiate through your scalp, making you wince. “You want this, cariño?” she asked, voice low and close. “Is this what you’re in such a bad mood for?”
You bit your lip, then felt her weight settle against you, the front of her body pressing into your cunt. She pulled your hair a little harder, hips rolling into yours, and the sensation made your breath hitch. That was when you felt it, the bulge underneath her shorts. It was undeniable. You could easily tell from the shape of it, the feel of it against your clothed cunt.
Did she actually put on a strap while I was pissed off at her.
“Answer me,” she whispered in your ear in a calm voice, distracting you from your thoughts.
You gulped and hesitated, only for Alexia to pull back again on your hair. You gasped at the stinging pain. “Yes,” it came out hoarse and strained from your throat.
Alexia smiled as she adjusted so her hand was balling up your hair closer to your scalp, making it less painful. It was a looser grip but she was still in control of you clearly. She used the same hand to push your head down onto the bed. You moaned out as you felt her fingers press from behind you. She teasingly traced the folds of your cunt that were now soaked and clinging to the almost translucent fabric of your underwear. A whimper escaped your lips as she used her hand to pull your underwear to the side, your wetness practically dripping as she did.
Alexia licked her lips subconsciously as she let go of your hair, swiftly pulling down her shorts to expose the silicone member attached to your waist. You were able to look back behind you without your girlfriend holding your hair, and your eyes widened as you saw that it was the translucent dildo that you both never bothered using because you always thought it was too big for you.
“You’re gonna take all of this for me,” Alexia said. “I want you to take all of this in so I forget about how big of a brat you’re being even when I already apologized for nothing.”
She pulled open the drawer beside the bed, grabbing the familiar bottle of lube. Without hesitation, she poured it over the length of the thick toy, spreading it with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes met yours and she smirked. “Take a deep breath, cariño.”
You inhaled deeply, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you felt the tip of the toy press against you. “Now exhale.”
Your breath left you in a shaky moan as Alexia pushed forward, driving the toy inside you in one deep, controlled motion. The force sent you sprawling onto your forearms, cheek against the sheets, hips still tilted up for her.
She started a slow rhythm, her hands firm on your hips, then one hand tangled roughly into your hair again, keeping your head pressed down onto the bed. As soon as she was more confident about her thrusts and her pace quickened, she pulled your head up with a practiced grip, your back arching with the pressure. A smirk grew on Alexia’s face as you moaned out loud at the pain you felt with your hair being pulled.
“Even when you’re being a pain about it,” she murmured, breath catching with effort. “The way you get jealous? It’s so hot.”
Another string of moans spilled from your lips as she kept driving her strap into you. The room echoed with the slick sound of your wetness and the sharp slap of her thighs against your ass. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as the thick toy stretched you open and your head throbbed with the pain from the hair pulling, and somehow, the sting only made the pleasure sharper.
“It’s hot because I get to remind you just how much I want you,” Alexia growled, voice low and ragged from exertion. “I get to remind you I’m the only one who gets to pull your hair like this. The only one who gets to fuck you dumb with my dick.”
Alexia always loved dirty talk but not like this – not so raw, so unfiltered and filthy. The edge in her voice made you tremble, made your moans louder. Her grip on your waist tightened, anchoring you in place as she picked up her pace, every thrust deeper, rougher. With her other hand she pulled on your hair firmer, keeping a steady control of you.
The head of the strap kept nudging at your cervix, pushing you closer to the edge. It was the first time that a strap was so massive that it was practically filling you completely; you knew you’d have a bruised cervix after this but right now, all you could feel was Alexia and every inch of her inside you.
“F-fuck,” you moaned, tension twisting tight in your stomach like a knot ready to snap. Your back arched instinctively, hips grinding in small, desperate movements, chasing every inch of sensation. Alexia saw it in the way you moved, the way your thighs trembled. A knowing smirk curved her lips as she let go of your hair, letting your face drop against the mattress.
“Put your hands behind your back,” she said, voice calm but commanding.
You didn’t even think twice. Moving quickly, you brought your arms behind you, wrists meeting at the small of your back. Alexia’s large fingers wrapped firmly around them, holding you in place.
She pushed your wrists deeper into the curve of your back, forcing your face and chest into the sheets. The position felt humiliating in the best way, like you were giving her complete control of your body. The mattress was cool against your cheek, the contrast sharp against the heat radiating from your skin.
Alexia moved behind you with ruthless precision, her strap hitting deep with each thrust. Her hips met the backs of your thighs with a wet slap, over and over. Your moans came louder now, obscene and desperate, as the sensation became almost too overwhelming. Her grip on your wrists only tightened, steadying you as your body started to shake beneath her.
Your head pressed further into the bed, cheek dragged across the sheets, makeup smeared into pale linen. But none of it mattered to Alexia. If anything, it turned her on seeing you dishevelled and leaving your mark on her pristine bed.
“You like that?” Alexia said with some roughness to her voice. “Being held like this. Now do you believe me when I say I only want you? That you’re the only one who I get to fuck like this?”
You tried to answer, but only a muffled whimper came out. Your body was already betraying you, back arching harder, thighs quivering under her touch. Alexia just laughed softly and adjusted her grip. “Good girl,” she whispered, before slamming her hips into yours again, harder this time.
“Alexia!” You moaned out loud as you felt the tension in your stomach build up even more, almost pushing you over the edge. “I’m going to cum.”
She smiled, propping one leg up on the edge of the mattress to give her more leverage and control. She let go of your wrists to hold on to both sides of your waist, firmly keeping you where she wanted you. She continued to thrust against you. The sensation of the base of the strap bumping against her own clit was also pushing Alexia towards an orgasm, but she didn’t wanna cum until you did.
Just as your orgasm surged closer,your phone suddenly rang. The sound sliced through the moment like a knife. You flinched. Alexia stilled mid-thrust, glancing at the screen lighting up beside you.
It was Jana.
Just as your finger hovered above the decline button, Alexia spoke up. “Answer it. She might still think you’re still on the way to meet them.”
You hesitated, biting your lip, then reluctantly took the call. Awkwardly angling your body, you glanced back at Alexia — her strap still steady inside you, her gaze unreadable. She simply raised both brows and nodded at the phone.
“Hello, Jana?” you said, putting the call on speaker, since holding it to your ear was impossible in your current position.
“Hey, are you on the way?”
“Oh, I don’t KNOW–” you gasped, the words escaping louder than intended as Alexia suddenly thrust into you again You looked back at her, eyes wide in disbelief. She just smirked, continuing her rhythm, slow but deliberate. You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow a moan.
“Oh my god, what happened?” Jana asked, alarmed. “Did you slip? It sounded like you saw a ghost.”
“N-no, I just…” You couldn’t continue your thought, trying too hard to focus on choking down your moans as Alexia thrusted into you. “I just gotta finish something real quick.”
Jana paused, then asked, voice audible confused. “Wait, so, are you still coming?”
Alexia let out a quiet laugh at the phrasing. You shot her a glare, but she only shrugged. You struggled to form a coherent sentence, brows furrowed as Alexia picked up her pace again. “Uh, I think – uh…”
Alexia chuckled again before bending over slightly, resting some of her weight on your back as she plucked the phone from beside you. “Jana, she’s gonna have to cancel.” Alexia said, speaking for you.
“Alexia?” Jana’s voice through the phone said, audibly confused. “Wait what happened? Is she okay?”
You looked back, breath caught, locking eyes with Alexia. A mischievous smile curled at her lips. “She’s fine,” she said sweetly. “She was just shocked now because I asked her out on a date.”
“A date?!” Jana shrieked, voice crackling through the speaker. But before she could say more, Alexia ended the call and tossed your phone aside. Her eyes found yours again.
“No more sneaking around,” she said, her voice low and certain. “And you don’t have to act like a possessive, jealous mess anymore.”
Alexia’s smile grew more mischievous as she rested her hands on your hips again. “Now, let me fuck you like a good girlfriend.”
You smiled, dazed and breathless but the expression barely lasted a moment. Your face contorted again, eyebrows knit together, a sharp gasp escaping your parted lips as Alexia thrust into you once more. Her thrusts were fast and unrelenting. Each stroke was deep, purposeful, her hips snapping forward with precision and hunger.
You could feel your moans grow louder, any attempt at control long gone, your voice trembling with every punishing thrust.
Alexia could feel the tension coiling in her core, her own orgasm building rapidly. But she held it back. Her rhythm grew messier, less measured but it didn’t lose its urgency. If anything, she fucked you harder, grunting low under her breath as her thrusts remained quick and relentless.
Your moans turned to desperate, near-incoherent sounds, your hands now gripping the sheets like a lifeline. Each movement of her hips drove you closer to the edge until one deep thrust completely sent you over it.
Your entire body arched, a broken moan of her name spilling from your lips as the climax crashed into you like a wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. Pleasure flooded every nerve, and your limbs went slack beneath her.
Still, Alexia didn’t stop right away. She kept thrusting, riding the high of your release, chasing her own. A few more messy, fast strokes… and then she cursed under her breath, the tension finally snapping inside her.
She stepped back with shaky legs, pulling the strap out of you slowly. Then she collapsed beside you on the bed, her body half-draped across the sheets, chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath.
You were still on your stomach, eyes fluttering open only when you felt her gaze. You turned your head just enough to meet her eyes. She smiled at the sight of you, exhausted and used, covered in your own sweat but still utterly gorgeous with cheeks flushed and lips swollen. She felt that you were always at your prettiest whenever she just fucked the living shit out of you.
“Did that make it up to you?” she asked, breathless but cocky, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“No,” you responded, pouting before pointing at your disheveled hair. “Does that look like a ponytail to you?”
A couple days after the game, you were back to training. You had expected things to be a little different, expecting Jana to have spread the news already but it just seemed normal… a bit too normal.
Everyone seemed to not want to bring it up, staying quiet as you walked into the locker room. But there were subtle hints that told you everyone knew.
Patri winked at you when you passed by her. Ingrid tried to act normal but she nudged Mapi in a not-so-subtle way, wiggling her eyebrows and pointedly looking towards Alexia shortly after. Jana widened her eyes at you with an annoyed look, probably pissed you didn’t call her back to tell her everything.
You did your best to pretend not to notice, not knowing how to react to it. When you thought about being more public with Alexia, you didn’t think about how much teasing you’d potentially face with your teammates.
After putting on her boots and straightening up her clothes, Alexia walked up to your locker, putting a hand up on the door of your locker. She smiled warmly at you, eyeing you. You felt a blush spread across your cheeks, suddenly feeling everyone’s eyes on you.
You blinked at her. “What?”
She nodded toward your wrist. “Hairtie,” she smirked. “I know it isn’t a game but I just wanna do it for you.”
You hesitated for a second, but she gave you that look — the are you gonna make this weird or not? one — and you sighed, turned around, and handed it over. Alexia started tying your hair with practiced ease. No teasing, no flirtatious whispering. Alexia knew that your relationship was known by all your teammates at this points but that didn’t mean she had to put on the PDA everytime. She was still a captain after all.
The second she finished, there was a beat of silence.
Until Aitana, who had been previously left out of the loop by the other teammates, pulled back from Ona whispering to her. She had a shocked look, visibly surprised by the news that you two were apparently now dating.
“Wait… so is the hair tying a kink?” Her voice came out a little too loud, cutting through the silence.
The room erupted.
Cata let out an actual shriek. Patri nearly fell off the bench laughing. Everyone started laughing loudly as if they had been holding in the entire time.. Even Pere paused in the doorway, eyebrows slowly rising.
Alexia just looked at you with a smile, “She’s not completely wrong.”
The locker room exploded again. You covered your face with both hands, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
“No more secrets, right?” Alexia said as she shrugged, clearly enjoying herself.
a/n: sorry this took too long. i was TIRED ASF after a job i had to do last saturday and had to rest the day after then i had class and yeah whatever. i hope this is worth it! i started doubting myself with this fic and nearly did not post it so please BE NICE and dont send hate if u think this sucked ass aaaaa
masterlist
taglist: @write287 @idonhaveablog12345 @ace-of-baked @maeshoneyles @pinkygirliee @haloo256 @wosolipa @tenyleas @lynchloverr @footy-lover264 @kellyscooneycross @rikuwashere24 @barcelonafem24
— @gozzi-1154 @floppy-03 @daniwhatwhat @sapphicdarlingx @dfwspky @miss-americana22 @lilibach @liloandstitchstan @tikitakatia @beeversblues
hey queen <333 love love loveeee your writing so much, im obsessed w how you write abby. so, i'd like to make a request: an abby headcanon/fic with bigtitty!reader? it'll cure my endless back pain from my ddd's.
thank you for doing the lord's work.
pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader
mdni, smut, titty worship, perv!abby:3
a/n: period sis me too.
⟣ with the physiche abby has, she doesn’t need to worry about her boobs being an inconvenience, but she sees how yours are very much an inconvenience- to you. not to her oh no.
⟣ say abby loves your tits is a bit of an understatement, she’s shameless about checking them out, if you’re wearing a low cut top while talking to her, you can always see her eyes are glancing down every few seconds, and she doesn’t hide it either.
⟣ ”helloo? abs?” “i can hear you.” she says as she continues to stare.
⟣ she knows how much you struggle with finding your bra size and tbh she would try and help you, considering she works out and has knowledge on comfortable active wear, her being a fixer she would find you some nice bras that suit your taste and your size.
⟣ that being said, if you two are ever working out together, seeing your titties jiggle and move around is like a reward for her. she’ll insist on helping you do your arm reps, even though she is not focused on your arms.
⟣ “just a few more, you got this. lift higher that’s it babe.”
⟣ she is also a massive perv, so she would offer her ‘massages’ on your back after, innocent enough, and then she’d tell you “take it off” unclipping or pushing up the fabric so she could have full access to your “back” and then her hands would push you on your back, “abs..” “relax. just gonna massage you here, i know they hurt.”
⟣ lays her head on your built in pillows, likes when you play with her hair, taking her braid out and running your fingers through her hair.
⟣ miss pervy abby of course sneaks in a grab or a grope whenever she walks by or when you’re cooking. then plays dumb. “what? shouldn’t have worn that shirt.”
⟣ then you get used to it, abby uses them as personal stress balls, which may or may not lead to something more.
⟣ she sees you do the “bounce” test before you two go out testing if the shirt will hold your tits, then she comes in and says something like “nah.. the shirt’s too tight. it still covers them.” “thanks abs that’s clearly the end goal.”
⟣ ohh boy the massages she gives though.. the way her large hands grope you and squeeze you they almost cover your whole tits, and then she loves to worship them in her mouth, sucking your nipple gently and then gently nipping, you both k ow how abby can’t help herself when it comes to your perfect body.
⟣ straight up asks “let me see em.” whenever she feels like it. “come on give me a show.”
⟣ you never say no, but damn it gets you flustered. the way she’s only like this with you and especially at the gym, she’s always looking at you and no other girl there.
⟣ not just because of your rack but because every girl wants her and they can fantasize about abby the way she is with you.
Hi pookies!! I know y’all have been waiting for this, again I am not an expert at smut but I took some of y’all advice and this is what happened. Sooo I hope you guys enjoy and please please please leave feedback!! It’s really helps! I think this turned out pretty well written! Send in requests, I post after every wings game also my graphics cooked thank yew. Have fun;)
@izzih22 🤍
— — — — — —
Cw: s m u t!!!
Word count: 6,370
Pairing: No established relationship, Paige and Azzi are around 27 and 26, set in LA.
Leave feedback and u get a cookie :)
**********
The air in the room was thick with that strange, unshakable stillness that follows a night game—the kind that clings to your skin like leftover adrenaline. The hotel’s AC hummed softly, but the real light came from the slice of moon spilling through the barely drawn curtains, silvering the edges of everything it touched. Somewhere outside, Los Angeles was still buzzing, but up here, it felt suspended.
Azzi sat down on the bed across from Paige’s, legs folding under her with casual ease, her warm-up still hanging loose on her frame.
“It’s so crazy being here,” she said, eyes flicking over the room before settling on Paige. “Y’know… really here. After all these years.”
Paige peeled off her jacket, tossing it onto her bed. “Yeah… I get what you mean.” She leaned back on her hands, studying her like she wasn’t sure if she should smile. “I mean, what’s it been—five years?”
Azzi nodded slowly. “Five years since we shared a court”
The first game of the USA tournament had been a blowout—72–103 against Canada—but the scoreboard didn’t matter. Not compared to the quiet, electric fact that this was the first time they’d seen each other off a competing court since college. No tunnels filled with WNBA camera crews. No jerseys declaring their loyalties. Just the two of them, stripped of that noise. They had lost contact when Paige got drafted, from teammates to just..respectable silence.
“Still,” Azzi said after a beat, her voice softer now, “seeing you tonight… I almost forgot what it’s like playing with you, not against you.”
Paige’s gaze flickered to her in the moonlight. God, she looked different—but not. Same eyes. Same calm. But without the overhead glare of stadium lights or the Mystics’ red and blue stitched into her skin, she was just… Azzi. The real one. And it hit Paige in the chest harder than she’d expected.
She didn’t plan on saying anything. But the thought had been scratching at her all night, from warmups to the final buzzer, and now—here in the hush of a shared room—it pushed its way out.
“You know…” Paige shifted forward a little, elbows resting on her knees. “I used to have a thing for you back then. Like, during college. Fact is, I almost told you the night we won that championship.”
Azzi blinked, her head tilting just slightly. A small, amused breath left her, but her eyes didn’t waver. “You’re telling me this now?”
Paige’s lips quirked into something between a smirk and a wince. “Guess I figured it’s been long enough to admit it.”
Azzi didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly, propping herself on her palms, eyes flicking down for just a second like she was deciding if she wanted to step into that space Paige had just opened.
“I—” she started, then stopped, her lips pressing together in a small, self-conscious smile. “Okay… I guess I should be honest too.”
Paige cocked her head, already grinning. “Oh, should you?”
Azzi laughed quietly, but it was the kind of laugh that carried nerves under it. “Yeah. I had a crush on you too. Back then.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted, a slow smirk tugging at her mouth. “Oh, you did?”
Azzi nodded, her gaze dropping to the comforter she was absentmindedly tracing patterns into. “Mhm. I just… never said anything. You were—” She paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s briefly before darting away again. “You were Paige Bueckers. You had that whole… thing about you. Confident, easy with people, always knew exactly what to say. I figured the last thing you needed was me throwing a crush in the mix.”
Paige chuckled, leaning forward on her knees like she was closing the distance just to make Azzi squirm. “You think I always knew what to say? That’s cute.”
Azzi’s lips curved. “Well, you looked like you did.”
“Yeah, that’s called faking it so no one knows you’re actually losing your mind,” Paige said, her tone light, but her eyes didn’t leave Azzi’s.
There was a beat where neither spoke, the air between them filled with the faint hum of the AC and the distant noise of LA nightlife through the window. Paige was the one who broke it, her voice softer now.
“So… all that time, we were both walking around with the same secret?”
Azzi tilted her head, meeting her eyes again. “Guess so.”
Paige let out a low whistle. “Man… we could’ve been dangerous.”
That earned her a genuine laugh from Azzi—quieter than Paige’s, but warmer. “Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, shrugging one shoulder. “You and me, back then? On the same team, winning everything, already in sync on the court. Add the off-court part?” She leaned back a little, smirk widening. “Would’ve been over for everyone.”
Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”
Paige grinned. “Yeah, but you missed it, huh?”
Azzi hesitated just long enough for the pause to mean something. “Maybe I did.”
Paige didn’t push after that. She just let the words hang there, watching how Azzi sat a little straighter now, how the moonlight caught in her hair. The years between them felt thin all of a sudden—like the version of them from college was still somewhere in the room, pacing just outside of reach.
Azzi glanced toward the window, her voice quieter when she spoke again. “It’s funny. We’ve both had all this life since then—different teams, different cities—and yet… this still feels…” She searched for the word, eventually settling on, “Familiar.”
Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like we never actually stopped.”
Their eyes met again and stayed there this time, a little longer than necessary. Not tense. Not awkward. Just that low, steady hum of recognition you can’t fake.
And then Paige smiled, slow and deliberate. “Guess we’re finally saying the things we should’ve said five years ago.”
Azzi smiled back, her voice just above a whisper. “Guess we are.”
Paige let her weight sink back onto her palms, eyes drifting over Azzi like she was relearning her. The braids were the first thing she noticed—long, a little wavy at the ends, curls spilling from them in light shades of brown and a little blonde, catching in the moonlight when she moved her head. They were nothing like the two neat braids she used to wear on game days, but they suited her. Made her look older, sure, but also softer. Maturely gorgeous.
“You changed your hair,” Paige said, her tone casual, but her gaze lingering.
Azzi lifted a hand, fingers brushing lightly over one braid as if to check it. “Yeah… been like this for a while. Easier for me now.” A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. “You noticed?”
Paige gave her a look that was almost teasing, but not quite. “Course I noticed. Hard not to when it’s this good.”
Azzi’s eyes flickered down and then back up, maybe to deflect. “And you… you’ve got tattoos now huh. Not too scared anymore I guess”
Paige glanced down at her left arm, twisting it a little under the light so the ink shifted. Black lines and shading curled over muscle—abstract shapes, a cross, a few words tucked in places only visible up close, some Bible quotes that were her favorites. “Yeah. Got it done during the off-season last year. Kept adding to it.” She smirked. “Not bad, right?”
Azzi’s lips curved. “It’s… different. Makes you look…” She hesitated, then settled on, “Like you’ve lived a little.”
Paige chuckled low in her throat. “Oh, I’ve lived. Don’t worry about that.”
That earned her another soft laugh from Azzi, but it faded into a quieter kind of stillness. The kind that wasn’t awkward—just full. They’d gone years without speaking, and yet here they were, trading small details like they were catching up over coffee, not sitting in the dim hum of a hotel room with the city pressing in beyond the glass.
“You know,” Azzi said after a moment, voice thoughtful, “I think part of why I didn’t tell you back then… is because I didn’t want to mess it up. The team, the rhythm we had. I was scared it would change everything.”
Paige tilted her head. “And now?”
Azzi’s gaze held hers for a beat longer than before. “Now… I guess I’m wondering if that was a mistake.”
Paige let a slow smile spread. “Could’ve been. Or maybe it’s just… timing.”
Azzi arched a brow. “Timing?”
“Yeah.” Paige leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees again, eyes locked on Azzi. “Like maybe back then, we weren’t supposed to. But now? Different story.”
Azzi’s fingers stilled on the braid she’d been absently toying with, her breath catching just enough for Paige to notice.
It was subtle, but the air in the room shifted right there.
Paige moved without thinking too much about it—just eased forward until she was sitting at the edge of her bed, close enough to see the way the moonlight painted tiny highlights along Azzi’s cheekbones.
“You keep looking at me like that,” Paige murmured, “and I’m gonna think you’re still crushing on me.”
Azzi’s lips curved, but there was a flicker of shyness in it. “Maybe I am.”
Paige’s grin turned slow, deliberate. “Good to know.”
For a moment, they just stayed there—close, watching each other like neither wanted to be the one to break the line they’d finally crossed back into.
Paige didn’t rush it. She just let the pause hang between them, watching how Azzi’s shoulders rose and fell with her breathing. Then she shifted—slow enough for Azzi to see it coming—and crossed the narrow space between their beds.
The mattress dipped under her weight when she sat down on Azzi’s, close enough that their knees brushed.
Azzi’s head tilted slightly, one of her braids sliding over her shoulder. “You’re just gonna sit here like you belong, huh?”
Paige smirked. “Didn’t hear you tell me not to.”
Azzi shook her head, but her smile gave her away. “You always did have a way of getting what you wanted.”
“Mm,” Paige said, leaning in just a fraction, her voice dropping. “Guess I still do.”
The hum of the AC felt louder now, like it was the only thing keeping the room from boiling over. Paige’s eyes lingered on her, slow and deliberate, tracing over the curve of her jaw, the way the moonlight caught the subtle gold in her skin, the soft movement of her fingers still playing with a braid.
“You smell the same,” Paige said suddenly, a little grin tugging at her mouth. “Like… whatever that lotion was you used to use. You still got it?”
Azzi blinked, a quiet laugh slipping out. “You remember that?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, her gaze dipping just enough to make Azzi’s stomach flip. “You used to drive me crazy with that. I’d catch it in warmups and…” She trailed off, smirking like she’d caught herself saying too much.
Azzi’s voice softened, curiosity edging it. “And what?”
Paige held her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting. “And I’d forget the play we were running.”
Azzi shook her head, but the blush at her cheeks was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Paige said, leaning just a little closer, “but I’m honest.”
For a second, neither moved. Paige could see the slight flare of Azzi’s nostrils when she took in a deeper breath, could feel the faint warmth radiating between them. She wanted to touch her—badly—but she didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, she murmured, “It’s weird, huh? How easy it is to sit here like this. Like no time’s passed.”
Azzi nodded slowly. “It’s… nice. And a little dangerous.”
Paige’s grin spread. “You say that like you’re warning me.”
“Maybe I am,” Azzi said, but her voice was quiet now, almost like she didn’t want to ruin the way Paige was looking at her.
Paige let the silence stretch for a heartbeat, then shifted again—turning slightly so their thighs brushed, her arm draping loosely over her knee, close enough that her fingers almost touched Azzi’s.
“You think we’d have been good together?” Paige asked, her tone softer now, less teasing.
Azzi’s lips parted just a little, her eyes dipping before finding Paige’s again. “I think… we might’ve been unstoppable.”
Paige’s smirk deepened, but there was a heat in her eyes now, steady and locked in. “Guess we’ll never know… unless we find out.”
That landed. Paige could see it in the way Azzi’s breathing shifted, in the way her fingers stilled completely.
And still, Paige didn’t move in. She just stayed there, close enough that Azzi could feel every ounce of what she wasn’t doing—yet.
Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige’s mouth just a little too long. Paige caught it, of course — she caught everything — but didn’t say a word. She just sat there, steady, her knee pressed against Azzi’s, her arm draped casual but close, like she was daring her to close that gap.
And then Azzi moved.
Not quick, not hesitant — just slow enough for Paige to feel every inch of it. Her weight shifted toward her, her braids sliding forward over her shoulder, the faint scent of her lotion curling into Paige’s chest. When she stopped, their mouths were maybe a whisper apart — no more than the space of a breath.
Close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of Azzi’s exhale on her lips.
Close enough that pulling back would mean admitting too much.
Close enough that leaning forward would change everything.
Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth, then back up. “You trying to start something?” she murmured.
Azzi’s voice was barely there, but steady. “Maybe I am.”
Paige’s jaw flexed. She’d been holding herself in check all night — watching, teasing, testing the edges — but that? That undid her.
Her hand slid up the side of Azzi’s neck, fingers curling into the base of her braids, and she pulled her forward hard enough to erase the space.
The kiss hit like it had been waiting five years to happen — no soft testing, no polite brush. Just heat. Paige’s mouth claimed hers instantly, deep and greedy, her thumb stroking over Azzi’s jaw as she angled her head for more.
Azzi didn’t melt into it, though — she met her, pressing forward with equal force, one hand fisting in the front of Paige’s shirt like she was holding her in place. Their mouths clashed, parted, clashed again, tongues tangling in a rhythm that felt more like a fight than a dance, neither giving an inch.
Paige’s other hand slid down Azzi’s side, over the dip of her waist, gripping her hip and pulling her closer until their knees knocked and their thighs pressed. Azzi responded by sliding her own hand up Paige’s inked arm, fingers tracing the edge of the tattoo before curling tight around her bicep.
The air between them was gone — nothing but heat and the ragged sound of breath between kisses. Paige tilted her head, deepening it, sucking lightly on Azzi’s bottom lip before dragging her teeth over it, earning the faintest, muffled sound in response.
That was all the encouragement Paige needed. Her hand slid lower, splaying over the small of Azzi’s back, pulling her flush, chest to chest. Azzi broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, their foreheads touching, both of them still gripping like letting go wasn’t an option.
Paige’s voice was low, rough. “Five years, Az. Five years and you kiss me like that?”
Azzi’s lips curved against hers, breath still fast. “Guess I was holding back too.”
Paige didn’t answer — she just caught her mouth again, harder this time, both hands in Azzi’s braids now, holding her right there as the kiss turned frantic, messy, unstoppable. Azzi’s fingers slid under Paige’s shirt, nails grazing the warm skin at her waist, and Paige groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them.
It wasn’t careful anymore. It wasn’t patient. It was all pent-up want spilling out in touches that were everywhere at once — Paige’s hands roaming over her back and shoulders, Azzi’s tracing the line of her spine before gripping her hip again and pulling her closer still.
By the time they finally broke for air, both of them were breathing like they’d just come off the court, foreheads pressed together, neither letting the other go.
Paige’s smirk was faint, but her eyes were still dark, locked on Azzi’s. “You know you just made it impossible to stop now, right?”
Azzi’s lips brushed hers, the barest tease of a touch. “Good.”
Paige didn’t break eye contact when she moved.
Her hands slid from the back of Azzi’s braids down to her waist, firm and deliberate, guiding her forward until she was straddling Paige’s lap. The mattress dipped slightly under their weight, Azzi’s knees sinking into either side of her hips, and suddenly the air felt thinner.
Azzi’s hands found her shoulders for balance, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt. The position put them so close that their noses nearly brushed, their mouths just a breath apart. Paige could feel the heat radiating off her, every tiny shift in her weight sending a low thrum through her body.
Her voice was low, almost teasing, but steady. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted you right here?”
Azzi’s answer came with a quiet, unshaken confidence, even as her eyes dipped to Paige’s mouth. “Probably as long as I’ve wanted to be here.”
That was it — Paige closed the last inch, their mouths colliding in a kiss that was nothing like the first. It was deep, searching, like they were both determined to make up for every minute they’d lost.
Paige’s grip on her waist tightened, holding her in place as her tongue slid against Azzi’s, drawing a quiet gasp from her. Azzi's right hand sliding up to cup the back of Paige’s neck, her thumb brushing over the edge of her jaw like she needed to feel her as much as taste her.
The kiss slowed for a moment — not because they wanted to stop, but because they couldn’t help lingering, learning the shape of each other’s mouths. Azzi murmured something against her lips, too soft to catch, and Paige smiled into the kiss, letting it break just enough to ask, breathless, “What?”
Azzi’s eyes opened, dark and unguarded. “Worth the wait.”
Paige laughed softly, the sound rough in her chest, and pulled her back in. The kiss turned hotter, more urgent, their mouths parting and finding each other again with a rhythm that was messy in the best way. Azzi’s fingers slipped into Paige’s hair at the base of her neck, nails grazing lightly over her skin, pulling a low hum from her.
The position made every movement magnify — when Azzi shifted to get closer, her hips brushed against Paige’s in a way that sent a jolt through both of them. Paige’s hands roamed up her back, over the curve of her shoulders, before sliding down again to hold her tighter, thumbs pressing into her sides like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her drift even an inch away.
The room was quiet except for their breathing — uneven, tangled — and the faint, wet sounds of their mouths meeting and parting. Paige let one kiss break just long enough for her lips to graze Azzi’s cheek, her words low and almost a growl. “You’re killin’ me sittin’ like that,” she murmured, her voice low, gravel threaded through the heat.
Before Azzi could ask what she meant, Paige’s hands slid — deliberate, steady — to grip the backs of her thighs. That casual strength lifted her just enough, guiding her forward and down until her hips found the ridge of Paige’s bent knee.
The shock of pressure stole Azzi’s breath. A sharp, unplanned sound escaped her throat, and Paige caught it with her mouth, swallowing it like she’d been starving for it.
“Fuck…” Paige exhaled against her lips, kissing her again — deeper, wetter, like she’d decided there was no going back now. Her hands didn’t just hold Azzi there; they urged her in slow, controlled movements, the pressure beneath her rubbing exactly where her body had been screaming for friction.
Azzi’s fingers tangled in Paige’s hair, pulling lightly, but every pull only made Paige guide her harder over the pressure, her knee pressing up just enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.
Paige kissed like she had a point to prove — not rushed, but all-consuming, every brush of tongue and catch of teeth syncing with the subtle drag of her knee under Azzi’s weight.
“You feel that?” Paige muttered between kisses, her breath hitching against Azzi’s cheek.
Azzi could only nod, the motion tiny, desperate, her forehead pressed to Paige’s as she rode the steady, teasing rhythm Paige was dictating with her hands. The friction through her clothes was maddening — not enough to finish her, but enough to burn every nerve raw.
Paige’s thumbs stroked slow circles into the backs of Azzi’s thighs, grounding and inflaming her all at once. “Good girl… just like that,” she whispered, voice dipping low enough to make Azzi’s stomach tighten even more.
Azzi didn’t know what she wanted more — for Paige to keep her exactly here, or to push her over that line they’d both been tiptoeing around for years.
Azzi’s hands were everywhere now — not frantic, but searching, insistent. Her mouth broke against Paige’s every few seconds, breathless gasps between kisses that had gone from smooth to stuttering. She rocked down, slow at first, then harder, the muscle of Paige’s knee pressing exactly where she needed it.
Her fingers bunched into Paige’s shirt, nails catching on the cotton as if she could rip it over her head without even thinking about it. Paige’s hands caught her waist, not to stop her movement — not yet — but to guide it, dragging her forward, back, forward again until Azzi’s breath hitched against her mouth.
The friction was maddening. Every shift sent heat curling up her spine, made her knees weaken even though she was straddling Paige. The kiss faltered entirely when Paige flexed her thigh just right, and Azzi’s head dropped to Paige’s shoulder, muffling a sound she hadn’t meant to make.
Her grip on the shirt tightened, tugging upward, desperate for more skin, more anything — but Paige’s voice was there, low, steady, cutting through the haze.
“Uh-uh,” she murmured, a thumb pressing into Azzi’s hip to still her just enough. “Not yet.”
It wasn’t a rejection, not in her tone — it was a promise, one that made Azzi’s whole body shiver in frustration and want. Paige kissed her again, slow and deliberate, keeping her perched right at the edge, nowhere to go but exactly where Paige allowed.
Paige’s lips broke from Azzi’s just long enough to breathe, her hands sliding over her waist and down the curve of her hips. She gave a soft, low chuckle, letting her thumbs drag lightly over the edge of Azzi’s shorts.
“Pull these off for me, okay, sweetheart?” she murmured, tapping gently on the fabric damp, her voice soft but commanding.
Azzi’s hands trembled just a little as she nodded, lifting them over her hips and rolling the waistband down. The soft gasp that escaped her lips when her skin hit the cool air of the room made Paige’s chest tighten with need.
“Good,” Paige murmured, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, tasting her, memorizing every curve. Then, in a swift, smooth motion, Paige tugged her own shorts down, letting the warm, bare skin of her thigh meet Azzi’s.
Azzi froze for a heartbeat, just letting the sensation hit her before a shiver ran through her. Paige caught it in a hum, tilting her head to kiss her neck, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back to hold her close.
“Over me,” Paige whispered, nudging her forward gently. “I want to feel you.”
Azzi shifted carefully, sliding herself onto Paige’s bare thigh. The friction hit immediately, making her gasp into Paige’s mouth, clutching at her shoulders to steady herself. Paige’s hands moved down to her hips, guiding her movements, lifting her just slightly, rocking her slowly.
“Like that…” Paige murmured against her lips, thumb brushing over the line of Azzi’s hip. “Slow… you feel so good.”
Azzi’s moans started quiet, shaky, but soon grew in rhythm with the gentle push and lift of Paige’s hands. Every press of her body against Paige’s thigh made her head spin, every gasped breath into Paige’s mouth pulling a low groan from her.
Azzi's eyes locked on hers, lips brushing hers between murmurs and sighs, guiding her with careful pressure. “That’s it… just like that… Don’t stop—please.”
Azzi’s hands tangled in Paige’s hair, nails grazing lightly, every motion building a tension so acute it was almost painful, but so right. She rocked with deliberate, slow movements, letting Paige’s thigh press into her, Paige’s hands steadying her, controlling the rise and fall, until she was trembling, building, aching for release under Paige’s steady guidance.
Paige’s eyes stayed locked on Azzi’s as she shifted her grip on her hips, tilting her forward just enough so the pressure of her bare thigh pressed into her in all the right ways. Azzi’s breath hitched, hands clutching Paige’s shoulders as she rocked against her, hips moving in a rhythm dictated by Paige’s steady hold.
“patience,” Paige murmured, voice low, rough with need. Her thumb brushed teasing circles along the side of Azzi’s hip, dragging her closer.
Azzi could only nod, her lips parting into a soft gasp as she moved, trying to ride the heat Paige was giving her. The friction alone was enough to make her knees tremble.
Paige didn’t stop. Slowly, deliberately, she slid one finger along Azzi’s slickness, brushing just the edge at first. Azzi froze, a sharp, startled gasp breaking past her lips, and Paige caught it in a hungry kiss.
“Shh…” Paige whispered against her mouth, letting the tip of her finger slip inside slowly, teasing, careful, inch by inch. Her other hand cupped Azzi’s jaw, tilting her head so their eyes stayed locked.
Azzi moaned into her, the sound shaky and desperate. She pressed down harder against Paige’s thigh, grinding just enough to feel the added pressure, letting her hips roll with the guidance Paige was giving. Her hands fisted in Paige’s hoodie, nails grazing the fabric as if she could anchor herself in the moment.
Paige’s lips trailed along her neck, murmuring her name softly between strokes. “God, you feel so perfect… just like this,” she said, her voice low and throaty. Her finger moved with deliberate slowness, matching the rhythm of Azzi’s hips, teasing her, making her body tighten around her.
Azzi’s gasps grew louder, uneven, broken by shallow breaths. Her movements stuttered, hips rocking almost uncontrollably as Paige’s finger and the hard ridge of her thigh combined to drive her higher. Every inch, every deliberate press and slide, was building her toward a desperate, aching edge.
Paige’s eyes stayed locked on hers, dark and commanding, watching every reaction, every tremor, every gasp. “You like that, don’t you, Az?” She said, almost teasing.
Azzi couldn’t answer — all she could do was shiver, rock, and gasp into Paige’s mouth, feeling herself coil tighter and tighter, every nerve on fire, every motion guided by the woman under her.
Paige’s gaze didn’t leave Azzi’s as her hands moved up, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Azzi’s breath hitched, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair.
“P-Paige…” Azzi stuttered, her voice trembling,
Paige’s smirk was slow, knowing. “I know.”
Before Azzi could react further, Paige peeled the shirt up over her head, tossing it aside. Her hands skimmed over Azzi’s bare skin, fingertips ghosting along the curve of her waist, teasing every nerve.
Azzi murmured, hips rocking slightly, pressing against Paige oh my God. “Feels… so good, just being… like this.”
Paige leaned in, capturing her mouth again, but now her fingers pulled away from Azzi, sliding to the waistband of her own boxers. With a low groan, she pushed them down, freeing her thighs to spread and anchor Azzi more firmly.
“Now,” Paige murmured, tugging gently at the hem of Azzi’s shirt, making her sit back slightly. “I want all of you on me.”
Azzi shivered, a mix of nervousness and hunger in her eyes. “okay,” she whispered, pulling it off, letting Paige’s hands help slide it over her head.
Paige smiled, teeth grazing Azzi’s shoulder as she leaned her back against the mattress. With one fluid motion, she guided Azzi over her, helping her lay flat, back to the bed, their bare skin pressing together for the first time.
“Look at you,” Paige murmured, tracing a finger along Azzi’s spine, down her side, watching her shiver. “So perfect… just for me.”
Azzi let out a low, shaky laugh, pressing herself closer. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Paige’s lips captured hers again, slower this time, savoring, tasting, letting her hands roam. Both of them were bare now, throbbing with need, every nerve raw and alive. The heat between them was unbearable, electric, ready to consume them entirely.
Paige’s lips hovered over Azzi’s core for a heartbeat, just looking, just tasting the anticipation thick in the air. Her fingers lingered on Azzi’s hips, steadying her as she lowered herself, letting her breath ghost over her clit before brushing it lightly with her tongue.
Azzi’s back arched instantly, a sharp intake of breath shattering the quiet. “Oh… god…” she whispered, hands tangling in Paige’s hair. “Paige… fuck…”
Paige smiled against her, teasing, letting her tongue trace tiny circles, drawing out every gasp, every whimper. She took it slow, torturing her deliciously, letting her lips hover just over the sensitive spot, dragging lightly before dipping lower.
Azzi’s fingers dug into her hair, tugging gently but insistently as her hips rolled down, searching for more friction against Paige’s lips and tongue. “ Oh god…” she moaned, voice shaky, uneven.
Paige groaned, loving the way Azzi’s body moved against her, like it was made for this. She shifted subtly, rocking her hips against the mattress, trying to get friction against her own thigh, teasing herself while keeping every movement dedicated to Azzi.
Her tongue moved with painstaking slowness, flicking, circling, dipping — every pass coaxing more sounds from Azzi, each gasp and moan urging her to go just a little harder. “You taste so good Az… every inch…” Paige murmured, voice low and thick, almost a growl as she pressed her lips against her, fingers sliding to spread her more for access.
Azzi’s head fell back, lips parted, every breath coming in shallow gasps. Her hands clawed through Paige’s hair, tugging, holding, desperate for more, for release, for friction, for everything Paige was giving her. “Paige… I’m… I’m—oh fuck—so close,”
Paige didn’t rush her, didn’t let her go just yet. She kept her movements slow, aching, torturing her in the best possible way. She teased her, sucked lightly, licked in tiny, precise motions that made Azzi shiver and tremble. Every brush, every flick, every press of her lips made Azzi’s body coil tighter and tighter.
Azzi’s hips started to buck lightly, uncontrolled, hands in Paige’s hair, moans spilling out in ragged gasps. “Fuck…” Her voice broke halfway, a guttural sound of need and surrender as she teetered on the edge.
Paige groaned, one hand bracing at Azzi’s hip to guide her, the other still threading through her, holding her in place even as she shivered and quaked. The friction against her own cunt was a delicious burn, but every thought, every motion, every groan was about Azzi — making her come undone, slow and shattering, while Paige took it all in.
Azzi’s body finally trembled, the first wave hitting hard. She let out a strangled cry, fingers clutching Paige’s shoulders, pulling her impossibly close, every nerve on fire. Paige hummed against her, soft, possessive, letting her taste every sound, every shiver, every desperate gasp until she came down just enough to kiss her softly, letting her lips brush along Azzi’s in a quiet, intimate aftershock.
Paige stayed on Azzi just long enough to feel every shiver, every tremble, every ragged breath, but she didn’t linger. Azzi’s gaze locked on hers, eyes wide and glistening, mouth parted in soft gasps as her hands fisted in Paige’s shoulders. “Paige… don’t stop…” she murmured, voice raw, almost pleading.
Paige smirked against her lips, letting her teeth graze the side of Azzi’s neck before she lowered her mouth back down, teasing, pressing just enough for friction while her own hips rocked lightly. She was deliberate, controlled — not letting herself go fully yet, just edging, tasting, feeling Azzi’s body coil tighter around her.
“Mm… you’re killing me,” Azzi whispered, hips rocking involuntarily, stuttering as Paige guided her. Her hands clutched at Paige’s hair and shoulders, pulling her closer, desperate for more.
Paige groaned low, letting her lips brush along Azzi’s neck, tongue flicking at sensitive spots, fingers teasing just enough to keep her on the edge. And then, with a smooth, careful roll of her hips and a low, guttural murmur, Paige let herself slip over the edge, shivering, thrusting slightly into Azzi as her climax hit in a sharp, scorching pulse.
Azzi gasped against her, breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts, eyes fluttering as she clutched Paige’s shoulders, still trembling with aftershocks. Paige didn’t stop to recover fully — she was already coaxing her, grinding and guiding Azzi against her thigh, keeping the rhythm slow, torturous, and perfect.
Azzi moaned, head tilting back, lips brushing hers in a messy, wet kiss, riding the wave of her own building need. Paige’s hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, guiding her gently but insistently.
Every movement was synchronized — every press, every glide, every teasing flick of lips and tongue — until Azzi’s gasps and moans grew frantic, her body trembling in perfect time with Paige’s control, every nerve fired and raw.
Paige kept her steady, murmuring her name, kissing, teasing, holding her close, letting her ride out wave after wave of desperate need — until Azzi’s whimpers finally turned into a ragged, shuddering release, body quaking atop Paige, hands clutching at her shoulders as if she could anchor herself to her.
Paige held her through it, soft and possessive, lips brushing hers, murmuring praise between ragged breaths. Just so Azzi was on the edge again.
Azzi shifted slightly atop Paige, hips still tingling from the first release, and Paige’s hands slid to guide her closer. “Come here,” she murmured, low and throaty, letting her thumbs drag along the curve of Azzi’s waist.
Azzi’s breath hitched, trembling slightly as she obeyed, hips brushing against Paige in just the right way. “Like… this?” she whispered, voice shaky, warm, full of need.
Paige’s grin was wicked, soft, and slow. “Better,” she said, rolling her hips to press the slick heat of her thigh against Azzi’s once more. Then she leaned her own thigh up and across, guiding Azzi to match — slow, deliberate, until the two of them were grinding together, flesh against flesh, slick against slick, every movement amplified by the closeness of their bodies.
Azzi gasped, pressing her chest to Paige’s, hands threading through her hair, tugging lightly as she rocked. “Oh my god… Paige…” her voice was ragged, broken by the shivers racing down her spine.
Paige kept her steady, hips adjusting just enough to make Azzi gasp again, moaning into her mouth as they kissed, lips messy, tongues brushing. Paige murmured, voice low, thick with need. “God, you’re so perfect”
Azzi’s hands roamed down Paige’s back, gripping her hips, urging her impossibly closer. “Y-yes… fuck… don’t stop…” she whispered, rocking harder, grinding against Paiges cunt in small, shuddering motions. Every movement sent delicious friction through them both, heat pooling, muscles tightening, and gasps spilling out like fire.
Paige guided her with careful movements, hips tilting, pressing, shifting slightly to maximize the friction, letting Azzi take the lead while she subtly controlled the pace. Her hands cupped Azzi’s cheeks at one point, pulling her down into a kiss, tongues tangling, lips parting in ragged gasps.
Azzi let out a strangled moan, nails dragging lightly along Paige’s shoulders. “Shit…Paige” Her voice broke on the edge, body trembling in response to the slick, perfect connection.
Paige hummed against her, a low, possessive sound, grinding just enough to push her closer, her hands moving to cup her hips, fingers digging in lightly. “Let go, Az. Lemme feel you, okay?” she whispered, guiding her still.
Azzi’s back arched, chest pressing into Paige’s as a loud, breathless cry tore from her throat. She shook against her, just as Paige came undone at the same time. Her hands clutching at Paige’s shoulders, every nerve on fire, every gasp dragging them both higher. Paige let her ride it out, holding her close as she did the same, whispering praises between ragged breaths, letting them shiver and melt together .
Paige’s forehead rested against hers, both of them panting, sweat-slick and trembling. The world outside their room didn’t exist — not the village, not the court, not the years of missed chances. Just this heat between them, the taste of each other still lingering, the raw, spent pulse of their bodies pressed together.
Azzi’s lashes fluttered as she tried to steady her breathing. “That…” she whispered, voice hoarse, “wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
DPaige smirked, thumb brushing lazily over the side of her hip. “What, perfect?”
A soft laugh broke from Azzi’s throat, and Paige felt it against her own chest. She kissed her once — slow, lingering — before finally letting their bodies ease apart, though her hands refused to leave her.
Azzi rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, still feeling the echo of Paige everywhere. Paige leaned on her side, watching her with that same maddening focus she’d worn on the court — like she was already planning her next move.
“You’re in trouble now, Az,” Paige murmured, voice low and warm.
Azzi turned her head, meeting her gaze. “Why?”
Paige grinned, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “Cause I’m not letting you disappear for another five years.”
Azzi’s smile softened, but there was a dangerous little glint in her eye as she pulled Paige closer again. “Good. ’Cause I wasn’t planning on letting you, either.”
