Tumgik
#soccer fanfic
Text
head injury
Y/N had been an integral part of Arsenal Women's Football Club for three years. Her journey with the team had seen them through victories, challenges, and unforgettable moments on and off the field. During this time, Y/N had cultivated deep connections with her teammates, and they had become more than just friends and fellow athletes; they were her soccer family. As this season progressed, Arsenal found themselves facing a crucial match against their fierce rivals, Chelsea. Y/N, being her tenacious self, was right in the thick of the action. Her partnership with Leah on the field had always been one of Arsenal's strengths, and they synchronized like clockwork. Arsenal was known for its fluid passing and attacking style of play, and Y/N played a pivotal role in their success.
The first half of the match saw both teams battling fiercely for dominance on the field. The intensity was high, and both Arsenal and Chelsea were pushing their limits.
During a set piece, as Y/N went up to contest a header, an accidental collision with an opposing player pushed her back into the goal post, her head ricocheting off the metal post.
As the ball was kicked to upfield, everyone cleared around the goal, but the stadium fell into a hushed panic as Y/N lay motionless on the ground. Leah, her girlfriend, was the first to reach her. 
Kneeling by Y/N's side, her voice trembling as she cried out, "We need medics!" Leah shouted, her heart racing seeing Y/N's eyes closed. Leah reached out, placing her trembling hand on Y/N's cheek, hoping to rouse her. "Y/N, I need you to open your eyes for me. Hey, Y/N, come on. Open your eyes."
More teammates gathered around as panic swelled, their faces etched with worry. Jessie Fleming, Y/N's sister, dropped to the ground beside Leah. She reached out to shake her sister's shoulders, but Leah stopped her.
"You can't move her, Jessie," Leah cautioned, her voice strained with fear. "Her neck or back might be injured." Jessie nodded in understanding and opted to stroke little strands of her hair that have fallen from her ponytail, out of her face. 
Leah and Jessie tried their best to awaken y/n but nothing seemed to work.  
Finally, the team's medical staff arrived as well as medics, their expertise evident as they swiftly assessed the situation. They took every precaution to stabilize Y/N's neck and spine, carefully fitting a cervical collar around her and turning her over.
“We need some space guys.” The older medic informed Jessie and Leah but they remained in their spots. Jordan, McCabe, Kerr and a few other of their own teammates had to physically pull them back. They now stood a few feet away watching one of the medics speak to Y/N, trying to coax her into consciousness while another examined her vitals.
As the medics worked for a few minutes, Y/N's eyelids fluttered open, revealing her dazed and confused expression. She tried to sit up, but the medical staff gently held her down, reminding her not to move. Y/N mumbled incoherently, and Leah leaned closer, straining to catch her words before going right next to y/n side, hating the sight of seeing her so lost and scared. "It's okay, Y/N," Leah whispered, her voice trembling. "You had a tough collision, but the medics are here to help you."
“Y/n, you need to lay back down. Everything is going to be okay, but try not to move so much.” Jessie crouched down and spoke as she noticed her wanting to get up once again.
Y/N's consciousness wavered like a flickering flame. She struggled to comprehend her surroundings, her eyes darting aimlessly as confusion clouded her thoughts. Jessie's plea to stay still seemed to fall on deaf ears, and Y/N's movements grew more erratic.
Leah held her girlfriend's trembling hand, her voice quaking with concern. "Y/N, please, lay back down. You need to stay still. Everything is going to be okay." She desperately hoped her words would reach Y/N through the haze of her dazed state.
The medical staff worked with a sense of urgency, attempting to keep Y/N from further harm as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. They continued their assessments, monitoring her vitals, and told Leah and Jessie to try to keep y/n engaged in conversation to keep her awake.
Y/N's attempts to engage back in the conversation were sporadic and disjointed, and it became increasingly apparent that the injury was more severe than anyone had initially thought. Her responses were fragmented, and she struggled to maintain her focus.
Leah squeezed her hand, her voice trembling with worry. "Y/N, do you remember our first date? We went to that little café near your place, and it was pouring rain. You laughed when I slipped on a puddle."
Y/N's eyelids fluttered, but her gaze was unfocused. She mumbled, "Rain... yeah," but her voice was barely audible, and her response lacked the warmth and clarity it once held.
Jessie, trying to hold back tears, added, "And what about that time we played football in the park with Dad? You always said you'd be better than all of us."
Y/N's lips twitched in an attempt at a smile, but it was fleeting. "am... better," she mumbled, her words disjointed and distant. The memories, which should have elicited laughter and connection, now seemed to be slipping away from her grasp.
As Y/N's condition worsened, she suddenly gagged, her face contorted in pain, it was a distressing sight, and the medics reacted swiftly,  turning her onto her side to clear her airway and prevent any choking from the vomit that arose.
Leah's voice quivered as she tried to maintain Y/N's focus. "Y/N, stay with us. We're right here with you. Keep those beautiful eyes of yours open."
But Y/N's response was a mere groan, and her eyes slowly rolled back, her body growing limp. The medics exchanged concerned glances, realizing that her condition was rapidly deteriorating.
Without a moment to lose, they immediately placed an oxygen mask over her face, ensuring she received a steady flow of oxygen. Simultaneously, they carefully slid a backboard beneath her, immobilizing her spine and neck to prevent any further damage during transportation. Moments later, an ambulance sped onto the field. Y/N, still unconscious, was swiftly and gently transferred onto a stretcher, her body secured and placed into the ambulance. Leah and Jessie immediately followed behind inserting themselves into the ambulance not caring if they were in the middle of a match. 
As the ambulance raced towards the hospital, the sound of the siren echoed in the confined space causing Y/N to begin to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself disoriented, with the oxygen mask covering her face. In her groggy state, she attempted to remove the mask, her hands reaching up to pull it away.
Leah noticed Y/N's movement and gently placed her hand over Y/N's to stop her. "It's okay, love," she reassured, her voice soft and soothing. "You need to keep that on for now. It's helping you breathe."
"Y/N, it's okay," Jessie whispered, her hand resting on Y/N's arm. "You're in the ambulance, and we're on our way to the hospital.”
Y/N's eyes shifted from Leah to Jessie, her gaze still hazy. She attempted to speak but found it difficult. The words came out slurred and unfocused. "Why...hospital?"
Leah's fingers gently brushed Y/N's hair back from her forehead. "You had an accident on the field, love. The medics are taking you to the hospital to make sure you're okay. We're here with you, and everything will be fine."
Jessie leaned closer, her voice soothing. "Just relax, Y/N. The hospital will take good care of you, and we'll be right there beside you."
Y/N, though still disoriented and in pain, found some comfort in their presence. She nodded weakly and allowed them to reposition the oxygen mask, focusing on their voices to keep herself calm.
546 notes · View notes
multifandomfanfic · 11 months
Note
neymar insta au ???? maaaybe ex bf ney still obsessed
A/N: i love u for this anon. I'm sorry but i kind of turned the reader into a tennis fan, so i hope you don't mind! i also did not know where to end this one lol.
Neymar Jr. x reader
Tumblr media
neymarjr added to their story
Tumblr media Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by antonelaroccuzzo, versace, imsebastianstan, and 11,214,917 others
yourusername: 'mom, i am a rich man.'
caradelevingne: a serve
simoneashley: honestly i'm sorry i told you not to wear those gloves yourusername: 😘
fanaccoun1: Y/N's really showing Neymar what he's missing.
yourusername: i don't know what you could possibly mean fanaccount1: AJKSHS QUEEN
fanaccount2: not y/n posting this the day after brazil got disqualified 😭
user812: she's entering her revenge era and i am HERE for it
fanaccount3: 😍😍😍
user240: i just know neymar is regretting every decision he's ever made rn
Tumblr media Tumblr media
fifagossip
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by deuxmoi, pierregasly, and 803,237 others
fifagossip: It's been 112 days since Neymar Jr. and y/n y/l/n broke up, yet some of our sources have spotted the football player still wearing jewelry she gave him. Does this mean something? Is the star forward missing the one goal he just couldn't score? Link to the article in bio.
fanaccount4: neymar 😭😭 it's over man
user774: You have to stay hopeful! fanaccount4: once y/n does something suspicious i'll be hopeful. rn it seems like neymar can't get over her. user824: neymar can have any girl in the world--he isn't stuck on her fanaccount4: excuse me?? i'm sorry but have you ever seen y/n y/ln?? any of us would be stuck on her
user619: He probably likes the necklace. So what.
fanaccount5: so what? if you went through as publicized of a breakup as they just did, i would think you wouldn't wear that necklace unless you want people to think you're obsessed
fanaccount6: @yourusername??????????
user005: we need your thoughts queen 🙏
yourusername added to their story
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by zendaya, neymarjr, simoneashley, and 8,790,488 others
yourusername: bonjour monaco 👋 (ft. my friends who aren't staying for the masters)
tagged: zendaya and tchalamet
sydney_sweeney: it's not our fault you like the most boring sport on earth
yourusername: rude sydney_sweeney: it's the truth
taylor_fritz: Glad to have another fan there!
yourusername: 💕 i'm counting on a win fanaccount7: 👀
user504: love how y/n isn't commenting at all on the neymar thing
fanaccount8: It's probably better to ignore it tbh 😆
user929: Neymar????
yourusername added to their story
Tumblr media Tumblr media
neymarjr added to their story
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by stefanostsitsipas98, gigihadid, chanel, and 9,654,214 other
yourusername: last week's trip to monte carlo marked the start of a new chapter in my life. i am excited for the journey ahead and to share it with all of you. until next time.
charles_leclerc: so excited for you y/n!
yourusername: thank you! charles_leclerc: of course
nicolaannepeltzbeckham: see you soon ♥
yourusername: ♥♥♥
fanaccount9: y/n really said ight im gonna head out after neymar came to monte carlo
user528: If your ex-boyfriend was still obsessed with you, wouldn't you do the same?
797 notes · View notes
dreaamerwrites · 1 year
Text
[ JEALOUS ]
rating: PG couple: cho guesung x female reader request: "can i ask you to imagine cho gue sung if he gets jealous because of one of the other players?" tags: jealousy, cake, kangin shenanigans, making out in a hotel hallway lol note: reader has had a crush on guesung for a long time. she was starting to wonder if her feelings might be reciprocated while they were apart during the Qatar World Cup, but during a welcome back party for our KNT boys, guesung begins to act very, very strange. /
You realize something is wrong immediately.
You can’t quite put your finger on how you know. He’s standing on the other side of the room, several feet of carpet, appetizers, and rowdy footballers stretching out in the space between you two. Seungho is laughing at his side. Jinsu must’ve cracked a joke, because Guesung appears to be laughing too now. But…
But you can tell something is wrong.
Maybe it’s that tight set to his jaw. (You can see it clench and unclench, an unhappy habit you know he’s been trying to break for months now, per his dentist’s orders.) Or maybe it’s his arms, crossed over his chest. He’s standing broad; feet apart, shoulders squared. He looks half-ready to fight or bolt – and yet, still, he continues to laugh between Jinsu and Seungho. As if everything is fine, as if nothing’s wrong.
His eyes briefly flicker over. They meet yours. You frown at him, trying to ask and convey:
What’s wrong?
Guesung’s expression does not change as he looks away yet again.
“Noona, did you taste this yet?!”
Suddenly a fork comes in line with your vision.
You look to your left, startled. Kangin had been chatting animatedly by your side for the last few minutes but, with Guesung looking so off, you hadn’t been able to pay much attention to the boy. The Mallorca boy smiles down at you with a broad, earnest smile, all teeth and dimples, and you immediately soften.
“No, not yet,” you reply, leaning forward to take the bite of cake he offers to you. It tastes of blueberries and whipped cream. “Are you guys even allowed to eat stuff like this?”
“Of course,” Kangin’s grin grows even wider, a truly impossible feat. “It’s Day 1 of our vacation. I deserve this today. Isn’t it good?!”
The sweetness clings to you, both from the cake and the boy.
“Yes,” you laugh, shaking your head. “It’s very good.”
Pleased, Kangin moves to take another bite for himself now. He’s settled close to you, as he had been for the last hour…
(I’ve missed you, noona! he had exclaimed, as soon as he had found you waiting in the hotel suite, still adding the last finishing touches to the makeshift welcome party you and the rest of the Seoul-based staff had thrown together.
The day had been a hectic one – their flights delayed, the airport erupting into chaos, countless fans lining up outside the hotel where the team had intended to touch base before all going their separate ways. You had been a mess then, hair still up in a sloppy bun, a pile of knotted streamers in your hands. Kangin had nearly tackled you down with a hug regardless.
You should’ve come with us, he had whined, arms still tight around your waist. Qatar wasn’t the same without you!
Over his shoulder, at that moment, you had seen Guesung walk in, face gaunt, eyes tired. He had stopped briefly when he saw the spectacle before him – Kangin hugging you in a wild bear hug, walking you backwards and nearly knocking over a bowl of confetti in the process – before shaking his head and making his way immediately towards the bar cart.)
That had been one hour ago.
And now, Kangin is still pressed into your side, curled up beside you on one of the hotel suite loveseats – and Guesung…
Well, Guesung has still not even come to say hello.
You’re trying very hard not to take it personally. It isn't as if you have any claim on Guesung. He isn't even your boyfriend, after all. You're close of course. You're close with all of them really. But… but Guesung had been different. Had felt different.
Especially over the last few weeks, throughout the World Cup campaign. You two had been talking more than ever. Constant phone calls, constant texts. You had spoken to him more over the last few weeks while he was in Qatar than you had ever before.
(And when he’d fall asleep, mid-sentence, mumbling to you over the phone about just wanting to do well, to make everyone happy, to make you feel proud of him… well, was it wrong for your heart to have flipped at the promise? Was it wrong to start to wonder if, for the first time in years, that perhaps your feelings weren’t so one-sided after all?)
You did well, Guesung. I missed you. I’m proud of you, Guesung. I missed you.
You had had so many things to tell him in-person and yet, now, you can’t even find the courage to approach him from across this very hotel room.
Was it possible for someone to feel far away, even while in the same room? How had he managed to feel even closer, when he had been oceans away before?
“You wanna know a secret, noona?” Kangin suddenly asks.
He’s pressed to your side, radiating a comforting kind of heat that briefly distracts you from how strange Guesung has been all evening.
You force yourself into a brief, small smile before turning to look at Kangin again. He has a small smudge of whipped cream on his Cupid’s bow. He looks as soft, kind, and sweet as ever. A boy, enjoying his cake, just happy to be here at all.
“Sure,” you can’t help but laugh, reaching over to wipe the cream from his lips with your thumb, endeared. He blushes sheepishly at the action, licking at his lips afterwards. This time, you press your shoulder into his instead, laughing teasingly. “What’s the secret, kid?”
This gets him back on track.
Momentarily forgetting his sheepishness, Kangin straightens up, sitting broad in the loveseat with you, shoulder firm against yours. He gives you an owlish, knowing look.
“I’ve been conducting an experiment,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
You raise a brow, licking the icing off your thumb. Kangin doesn’t bat an eye.
“You see, when we were at the airport, some of the hyungs were all making fun of… someone,” he raises a brow right back at you, all swagger now, as if he wasn’t just caught with frosting on his lip. “They all knew you’d be here, waiting for us when we got back, ya’know.”
You’re not quite sure where this is going.
“They were making fun of him, saying that… that someone would probably be soOOOooOo happy to see you,” Kangin hums, clearly pleased with himself. “He tried to deny it the whole trip. Said it wasn’t a big deal. Said he just wanted to see you just like everyone else. Said it wasn’t like that.”
Wasn’t like that. Suddenly your heart is caught in your throat.
“Kangin,” your smile falters.
Kangin’s expression transforms from faux swagger to warm encouragement in a split second. He sets his cake down onto the coffee table and, hands free now, shifts even closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“I needed to call bullshit,” he smiles warmly, no malice lacing his words whatsoever. Just pure kindness and laughter. He radiates so much softness that you can’t even admonish him for swearing. “I wanted to make them acknowledge that: nope, this is exactly like that.”
Kangin squeezes your shoulder firmly, never breaking eye contact with you.
“Noona, you deserve someone who will be honest about their feelings. You deserve someone who will be proud to have you in their life and who will fight to keep you always.”
(Just want you to be proud of me, Guesung had murmured sleepily on the fourth night.
His voice had sounded far away on the phone. You had pressed the receiver closer to your ear. You could catch what he said next just barely. It came so soft and sleep found him so quickly after that you wondered if you had dreamt it all.
Just want you to want me too, he had whispered. Just want you.)
“So I started wondering, ya’know. If this guy can’t even be brave enough to tell his friends that he likes you, then will he ever be brave enough to deserve you?” Kangin continues, this time more flippantly than before. His gaze flickers over to the side of your head but he holds you still, does not let you look away. “So I needed to run a little experiment.”
Suddenly Guesung is standing before you.
This time, Kangin lets you look up, look away. Lets you look up into Guesung’s face, to find his expression pinched and unhappy, his big hand brushing Kangin’s off of your shoulder with focused intent.
Guesung grabs your arm and lifts you up and off the couch.
“We’re going,” Guesung grits out. “Now.”
“Guess I know my answer now,” Kangin laughs loudly, a full-bodied laugh. You can see he has some whipped cream still left on his chin, too, that you hadn’t noticed before.
You glance between the young boy and Guesung in confusion – but Guesung doesn’t give you a chance to squeak out another question.
He leaves behind a laughing Kangin and pulls you further and further away, his hand firm on your arm, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls you through the crowd of people, his steps so wide that you nearly trip over your own feet to keep up with him.
Heungmin is laughing now, just as loudly, and you can see Jinsu and Seungho doubled over in the corner.
Guesung does not spare anyone a second glance.
He does not even spare you a glance until you’re out, finally, standing in the hotel hallway, the suite room slamming closed behind you. Your back hits the wall.
“I’m – what – what’s going on – ” you sputter, Guesung’s hand still tight around your arm. “Guesung, you’re hurting me.”
He drops his hand immediately, as if burned. Still, he does not look at you. He stares down at his hand instead. His chest is heaving and his expression has morphed from frustrated anger to one of disbelief, as he stares down at his palm. He clenches it closed into a fist, his knuckles white.
Just want you to want me too.
“Sorry, I’m – I’m sorry,” Guesung is muttering now, voice low and gravelly. Thick with something uncomfortable. “I shouldn't have – sorry, I grabbed you. I shouldn’t have – ”
You can hear the party even through the thick hotel room door that separates you from the rowdy footballers. You can almost hear Kangin laughing, still.
Be brave, he’d probably tell you.
Be brave, he’d probably tell the both of you in this hallway.
Slowly, you raise your hand to cover Guesung’s closed fist. His hand is so big, compared to yours, that you can barely cover half of it. You raise your other as well. Cradling his fist in both of your hands, you smooth your thumbs over his clenched knuckles. You can feel him shiver at the touch and finally, finally… you buck up the courage to look up.
To look at him.
Guesung stares down at you, towering over you with his height. He blocks out the hotel light behind him, still breathing heavily, shoulders shaking, and, for once, all you can see is him. The hotel room, the laughter, the party: everything fades away. There is only you, and there is only him.
The silence is deafening.
His mouth is pressed into a thin line. His expression is still unreadable, guarded and unhappy, but the beauty mark just below his eye is so endearing that you can’t help but soften, despite yourself.
For the first time that evening, you think you may finally understand what was wrong all along.
I miss you, his eyes seem to scream. I missed you!
You let go of his hand to reach up to cradle his face carefully instead.
“It’s okay,” you whisper into the silence of the hotel hallway. “Don’t be sorry.”
Be brave!
“I missed you too,” you admit quietly.
The change in his expression comes so swiftly that you can barely register it before he crushes you against him. He presses your face into his broad chest and wraps his muscled arms around you tightly, desperately. He holds you so close that your own chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. His breath is warm and harsh against your ear, a faint whine of unhappiness rising up when you wiggle in his arms, trying to free your own arms so that you can wrap them around him. Only when your arms circle his waist does he finally let out a ragged, relieved sigh.
Still, he does not let you go.
“I hated it. All of it,” he mutters into your hair. “Everything in there. I'm sorry. I hated that Kangin was the first one you saw. I hated that he was with you all night. I hated that we didn’t speak and that you didn’t look at me and that you were looking at him and –”
He’s rambling now, all nonsense and tight breaths.
You smooth your hand down his back. Follow the curve and dip of his spine. Rub soothing circles into the base. He seems to melt into you at the touch, though he’s careful not to rest his weight onto you.
You don’t think you’d mind it, really. You tug him closer, still.
“I didn’t know,” you whisper back quietly. “I’m sorry too.”
This stops the rambling.
Guesung seems to go still in your arms. And then, unwillingly, reluctantly, he slowly pulls back. His hands are locked behind your back so neither of you can go very far, but he pulls back just enough to get a better look at your face. You’re not sure what you look like. Your hair feels like a mess, from being pressed up against him just now, and you’re sure you’re flushed as well – but…
But Guesung looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
And, damn, if he isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen as well.
His mouth is red and his cheeks are flushed. He stares down at you with such intensity that you want to squirm under his gaze, but still he holds you in place. You swallow. His hair has come loose, the pomade softening, and a few strands fall into his forehead. You want to push them back. You want to hold him closer. You want him to…
“You didn’t know?” Guesung asks softly, breaking your train of thought.
You shake your head slowly. He licks his lips. Watches you watch him too.
“You didn’t know that I’ve missed you like hell for the last few months? You didn’t know that the first person I wanted to see after our Portugal match... was you?”
Guesung’s gaze never leaves yours.
This time, you do shiver.
“You wanted to see me first?” you reply shakily, a slight tremor in your voice.
Guesung sweeps one hand up from your waist to the side of your neck. Normally he runs cold, you know, but today he is warm, skin hot against yours. His thumb smooths over the slope of your jaw, the touch purposeful and tender.
“I always want to see you first,” he replies, just as shakily, his voice giving him away.
You cannot hear Kangin laughing anymore. You do not hear anything but the sound of Guesung’s soft voice and your own heart thumping loudly in your chest. It’s time to be brave now.
“Good,” you reply.
You tilt your face up to Guesung. And then, staring into his eyes, you lift yourself up onto your tippy toes, rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean up and into him.
When your lips find his, the first kiss is unbearably soft.
A barely there brush of your lips at first – but then there's a second, and then a third.
By the fourth, Guesung is hungry as he pushes you back further against the wall, one leg slotting between yours, his big hand cupping your cheek to tilt your mouth up and open for him even more.
“Missed you,” you murmur between kisses, his tongue catching your bottom lip. You shiver when his other hand stops at the small of your back, thumb sweeping across the stretch of skin there that appears as your shift lifts just slightly. “So proud of you. ‘M so proud of you. Wanted to tell you all night.”
He shakes in your arms at this, holding you closer, his thigh warm between your legs.
“Proud of me?” he mumbles back, pressing another kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours. “Missed me?”
You nod, dizzy now, breathless as he kisses you in earnest. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you give the strands a light tug, pulling him back slightly. When he tilts back, you can see him clearly now. Mouth wet, pink with your lip balm, his hair even more mussed than before. He’s heaving now, chest rising and falling with each desperate breath.
You can taste that cake still – blueberries and whipped cream clinging to the backs of your teeth – but you can taste Guesung too, you think. You lick your lips.
He seems to melt at the sight.
He sags against you, pressed firmly against you, wedging you between his thighs and the cool wall behind you.
“Did you really?” he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.
For someone who just kissed you as if their life depended on it, a flash of uncertainty shines in his eyes.
Oh, Guesung…
You decide to be brave enough for the both of you.
“I did. I’m so proud of you. And I missed you so much,” you answer steadily. Your hand in his hair is gentle. You brush the strands back slowly, carefully. Breathe in his cologne and let yourself get dizzy with it. “Wanted you. So much.”
Guesung looks dizzy himself.
He nudges his nose against yours. You’re sure the position must be uncomfortable for him, towering so high above you but leaning down so that he can reach you, like this. He does not seem to care. The uncertainty in his eyes seems to be fading now.
“Really? You wanted – want me?” he clears his throat. Presses himself closer to you, all heat between your legs, shuddering when your fingers card through his hair, nails grazing the nape of his neck. He tries to laugh shakily. “Even more than Kangin?”
The joke catches you so off guard that you let out a helpless, breathless laugh.
“Is that really a question?” you ask, looking down at the predicament you two are in briefly before looking back up at Guesung. Do you see this right now? is what you should really be asking. Instead, you decide to humor him. “Of course more than Kangin. More than anyone else. Always. I wouldn’t be out here kissing Kangin like this!”
This seems to appease him.
He crowds against you even closer, nuzzling your nose with his, sneaking a quick kiss to your cheek.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Only kiss me like this. Only want me. I know I only want you.”
You know there will be lengthy conversations after this. You know the two of you will need to discuss your feelings properly – will need to iron this out and speak like adults, rather than kiss-drunk kids who want only to be wrapped up in each other’s arms. You know that that will all come...
But for now, you let yourself have this.
Be brave.
“Only want you,” you promise, voice soft. Reassuring. Guesung is warm and solid in your arms.
He is everything you could ask for at that moment.
He is everything you could ask for always.
“I promise.”
/
Bonus cut:
Several minutes later, after a few more lengthy, hungry kisses:
Guesung fixes his hair, ruffling the strands between his fingers, as he gazes at you thoughtfully. You raise a brow at him, as you readjust your shirt, trying to tuck it back in from where he had pulled it loose.
“What is it?”
He purses his lips, a curious look in his eyes.
“You tasted like… blueberries. Do you always taste like berries?”
You pause.
And then, schooling your expression into the most neutral one you can manage, you sniff: “Did you get to try the cake we got for you guys? It’s blueberries and cream. …Kangin fed me some. Didn’t you see – ”
(Really, you both had tried to straighten yourselves out in vain. What was even the point of trying to straighten out your shirt again?)
You yelp when Guesung reels you back in, big hands immediately grabbing onto your hips as he pulls you closer, staring at your mouth with intent, chasing you for another kiss.
“I’ll kiss it away. Gonna kiss you til you taste like me instead,” he growls roughly, mouth open and wet against yours.
You can only laugh into the kiss in agreement.
1K notes · View notes
inejschumacher · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Day 12 of Via’s Taycember
pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader
wc: 1k
cw: verbal abuse, anger, depression, guilt
an: listen ik this would’ve been better suited for last year but wtv
The boos from the crowd filled Trent’s head on the field when he let yet another winger get past his futile defence. They filled his head as he walked off the field in shame, not daring to look up, ignoring the outstretched hands and the mouths hurling insults at him. They filled his head as he quickly changed in the locker, then hid himself in a corner as Klopp went over their game, disappointment heavy in his voice. And when his eyes found Trent cowering in his corner, they filled with pity.
I've been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that
Trent had been having a hard time adjusting to the changes in the team, his more common position as a defender rather than a midfielder. He’d shone so brightly in that position, making the right tackles, intercepting the ball on vital plays, getting it to the right-wingers and forwards, really proving to everyone that he knew what he was doing. He was a vital part of this team and kept it winning.
But now it seemed as if he was rusting, that shine long gone. He felt as if he was getting worse every game, letting more and more opposing players successfully attack his team, getting the ball past him and scoring those vital goals. He didn’t know who to turn to, talk about his feelings and try to help himself from within, especially with you. He had no idea if you’d even care if he came home after his wretched games, his never-ending training sessions. But it was you. You would never judge him or turn him away. He should've come home that first day, a deep regret filling his wounded soul even more.
Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down and maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway
He pulled the car to the side of the road, trying to calm himself down. His hands were shaking very violently, his breaths were short and useless, and his vision became blurred to the point of near blindness. He felt consumed by his fears, trying so desperately hard not to follow them all the way down that deepening chasm inside of him and drown himself in whatever lay at the bottom.
Somehow, he made it to your house, not able to remember the drive back or even restarting the car from that spot off the road, but there he stood in your doorway, so out of place in the welcoming entrance with his fidgeting self. He didn't know what to say to you when you opened the door, no sound able to escape his lips, but he’d still made it to you.
I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying
You didn’t need him to say anything; you understood perfectly what he needed. You pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around you as you rubbed his back and head, and you felt him sob into your shoulder.
They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that
All Trent ever heard, from the so-called fans, from the whispers of his teammate’s families, was that this was just something in his mind, made-up and easy to overcome. Because he’d made up the idea that he was struggling mentally himself, an easy fix he should’ve done ages ago after the first game as a failure. It only served to make everything worse, as he lost even more focus, on the ball, on the other players, on his own team, who now looked at him with a mixture of disgust and disappointment. Perhaps the occasional pitiful smile, but even then, what was the point?
It all came to a head when he finally lost control of his growing anger and yelled at a particularly cruel fan who kept berating him, voice loud and clear from the sand no matter where he was. It had taken several of his teammates and the referee to pull him away from the shocked fan, who only stared at Trent as he was dragged away to the locker room to isolate himself from the crowd and cameras and let him dispel his anger and guilt in private.
When Klopp came back in to check on him, he’d not expected to see a sobbing Trent on the floor, leaning against the lockers, with tears streaming down as the regret of losing control of his anger and being a horrific defender and losing Liverpool their games came out in a wave of emotions.
I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here pouring out my heart to a stranger but I didn't pour the whiskey
He thought back to when he’d shone in the academy and captained the junior-level team to glorious victory over and over again. They’d thought he’d shine brightly on the senior team, which he’d done in the Champions League finals at such a young age.
But now, it seemed he’d chase that success so far it just turned right back around to the beginning, where he’d struggled to even kick a ball. Where before he’d excelled better than his fellow teammates in the Academy and junior teams, now he was sitting at a desolate bar, spilling out his troubles to the stranger sitting next to him over an empty glass, devoid of the whiskey he’d planned on pouring to soften their minds a little.
And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town
An afterparty, celebrating a winning game hard-fought by everyone on the team, Trent included. For once, his defending wasn’t too bad, enough to stop the attacking opposition, enough to get help from his own teammates. They might’ve won by a singular goal, a beauty of a shot by Mohamed Salah, but a win was a win, so welcoming after such a difficult season fighting for points in the mid-table.
But even then, Trent felt that chasm in him stay like an open wound, so, so deep, blackening his heartbroken soul. He could only think about you, your warm hold, but he didn’t know when he would ever be able to be embraced by you like that again. It seemed like the only time he ever saw you was a film screen as a flashback, so loving but trapped behind a cage of a screen, never able to break through. Or perhaps it was he who was trapped.
Somehow, he finally fell into your embrace once more, he spoke the words he needed to get out, to tell you without any room for thought otherwise.
And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying. At least I'm trying
56 notes · View notes
segredosjogados · 1 year
Text
My first Richy fic
Ok, things you need to know:
1. This fic was written first in Portuguese. I don't feel comfortable in posting in Portuguese, but if you'd like to read it Portuguese, let me know 'cause I can post it.
2. I like to write in first person, this is one of those. 
3. +18 /sexual themes, high graphic description 
🥘🎶💓 welcome to my wicked mind 🐦⚓️💕
Richarlison left the room following the delicious smell of lunch being cooked in the kitchen. He tried to guess where that cuisine came from, which didn't smell Brazilian or English.
"Good morning my love!" I said with a wide smile on my face, stirring a pot with a bunch of vegetables inside.
"What are you doing this morning? I thought you were still sleeping, but I woke up and you weren't in bed." he commented as he opened the fridge and took out a jar of green juice, drinking straight from the top of the bottle.
"For fuck sake Richarlison, that's fucked up! Grab a glass to drink the juice, please!" I complained, throwing the dish towel at him lighltly. Richarlison drew back and pretended to be in pain. I looked right into his face in disbelief at the drama "Seriously, now drink all the juice and wash the jar" I demanded, pointing to the pitcher and the sink.
"I won't do it at all, I'll put it back here" he replied, opening the fridge again to put the juice.
"No you fucking won't. The sink is over there and you will wash it, so…" I answered back, hitting the wooden spoon on the pan, making a loud noise that made him jump.
"You talk like you don't put your mouth on my p-" he replied and I cut him off as quickly as possible.
"Richarlison!" I was mortified with embarrassment, even though there was no one there. He had a point, but that didn't justify it. "Would you please - " I tried to ask, but he cut me off again, this time moving his body closer to mine, putting me between him and the kitchen counter.
"Why doesn't that complaining little mouth of yours do something better?" he whispered, brushing his lips from my neck to my ear, making my entire body shiver and my legs shake. Not to mention my beyonussy  who was desperate and sparkling. I tried to focus on the pan in front of me, on low heat, and the vegetables simmering. But that melee touch was too lit and it was going to burn.
"Is it? What do you want that mouth to do? It needs to be very specific," I whispered back fiercely, trying to rationalize my brain and the fireworks between my legs.
"You could use that attitude and get down on your knees real slow" he started, putting a hand on my shoulder, pulling me down. I obeyed, bending my knees and reaching up to his waist. "Now you open that little mouth of yours that talks a lot and put it to good use" he said, picking me up by the neck and gripping my hair. I didn't have time to think twice and pulled his shorts down - and he was only in shorts - and used my hand to gently pull the little pombo out and pumped it a few times before putting it all in my mouth, deep throat really. He felt the pressure and placed his hands on the counter in front of him, trying to keep himself standing while I did him just the way he liked. Hearing his moans was music to my ears, trying to keep his posture and low voice when I knew he just wanted to whisper in my ear, like every night. But I let him try to maintain his posture, using my tongue to try to pull the best sounds out of his mouth. I kept my eyes closed because I'd rather feel than see, but when I opened my eyes and looked up, he had his eyes tightly closed, his head half turned back and his chest rising and falling, breathing hard. I knew it wasn't long before he came and that I was going to need to hold on tight.
And it didn't take long.
When he came, his knees were shaking and I concentrated on not laughing and not choking.
The feeling of him in my mouth is always unique. It never matters if I feel my throat burn and tears run down my cheeks, it's always a unique feeling.
When Richarlison let out the "ahhh" I knew my job was well done.
I got up, I kissed his neck and suck his weak neck spot and warned him "Next time you want to hold this attitude with me, I'll earn something"
"It's like you boss me around" he teased, trying to pull away from me. "What are you doing for us to have lunch anyway?" he asked, as if nothing had just happened.
"So what? Do you even care about it? It must have burned already" I went to look at the pan and saw that the sautéed vegetables were already too sautéed indeed.
"If you have an attitude with me like that again, you'll kneel again," he snapped, looking straight into my eyes. I got close to him, face to face, our breaths mingling.
"Bet" I replied in a low voice.
"All fours" he replied, in his turn, with a firm voice.
I knew this was going to be a hunt.
227 notes · View notes
iovejoao · 1 year
Note
hi! i was wondering if you could possibly write something about comforting joão or diego after losing a game. if you can't that's ok! tysm <3
just hold on, we're goin home — d. lainez
tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy! cw : slight angst, sad diego <;/3
diego had a game today and they lost very badly, 3-0. you were watching from the stands, wearing his jersey, cheering him on whenever he retrieved the ball. but then the other team kept scoring. kept pushing him out of the way, making fun of his height. you could tell he was frustrated with himself in the last half of the game.
when the game ended, you immediately left your seat in the stands and made your way to the locker room. you waited patiently for him by standing against the wall looking at your phone. you looked up when you saw someone come out of the locker room. it was memo. he gave you a soft smile before saying, "hey, he's not doing too good. let him cool down a bit but he'll be out soon". you gave him a smile back and thanked him before he walked out to meet his family. that's when he finally came out of the locker room, his duffle bag in one hand, a water bottle in the other, and a towel draped around his neck. his gaze softened at the sight of you as he walked toward you.
"hi amor, you did really good today, y'know?" you said as you wrap your arms around his neck. he didn't say a word, but he put down his bag next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "let's go home, hm?", you said letting go of his embrace. he nodded in return, keeping his head down. on the way to your car, he offers to drive and you let him. he puts his things in the back seat before sliding into the drivers seat. the car ride is completely silent. he kept his eyes on the road, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the middle compartment. you decide to take his hand and intertwine it with yours. for the rest of the car ride, you both sat in comfortable silence with locked arms.
when you get home, diego sets his stuff down and sighs while walking up the stairs. "i’m going to take a shower," he says quietly. you nod, putting your bag down and walking up the stairs into your shared room. you take off your jewelry and change into your pajamas. you sit at the edge of your bed while you wait for your boyfriend to get out of the shower. when he finally exits the bathroom, he comes out with only a towel wrapped around his lower body. "bathroom is all yours, angel,"  he says as he walks to the dresser, trying to find his clothes. you hum in response, and make your way over to the bathroom. you kiss his cheek on your way to the bathroom and dash over to wash up. diego gets dressed and settles himself into bed. you finish getting ready for bed and walk over to him to lie down. "are you okay, handsome?" you asked, concerned. "estaré bien, mi amor. today's game just ticked me off. "we were doing so well the first few minutes," he sighs as he moves closer to you and rests his head on your shoulder. you pulled him in closer, kissing the top of his head. "i know, baby, but you can't bring yourself down for it. you did so well today, don't let one game let you down," you say as you run your fingers through his hair. he loved when you would play with his hair, it helps him calm down. "te quiero mucho, y/n," he says as he wraps his arms around your waist and slowly falls asleep.
"i love you too, diego,"
327 notes · View notes
kpdlvr · 1 year
Text
— son heung min masterlist
Tumblr media
s — nsfw
f — fluff
a — angst
Tumblr media
Gestures | f, c, very wholesome
Playful Mornings | s, f, a little sensual
Sonny x actress reader | request
Still a Winner. | request
Sonny x gf!reader | request
Long smut | request | s, f
Sonny x Brazilian gf | request | f, comforting
After game fight | request | a, some fluff
Teaching reader korean | request | short but fluffy
243 notes · View notes
pulisicz · 1 year
Text
lavender haze pt 2 - christian pulisic
i feel the lavender haze creeping up on me
Tumblr media
summary - during your date with christian, you both talk a little bit about your personal life’s, and you two realize that you want to give a relationship between you a try.
pairing - christian pulisic x fem!reader
song inspo - lavender haze (taylor swift)
warnings! - none
word count - 800+
note - again, i’m so sorry i have made this fic so long. i am proud of it though, so there’s that.
also, i tried making this part short and sweet, so i hope you like it!
part one
-
the second you walked into the restaurant, you immediately fell in love with it. the vibe was amazing, and the smell of the food was incredible.
you got seated at a table and began to look at the menu.
"everything here looks so good, it's impossible to choose".
christian gave you a little chuckle before putting his own menu down.
"i recommend the grilled cheese and fries. it's simple, but there is just something about the way they make it that just makes it so good".
so, just like christian recommended, you ordered the grilled cheese, and he was definitely right about it being amazing.
"so, you play for chelsea, right?"
the question came out of your mouth before you had time to even think what you were saying through. christian looked a little surprised at your question, and blushed a little and hid his face.
you started to panic, hoping you didn't make this entire thing awkward.
"i indeed do, ms swift".
smooth.
"how the- how do you know?"
you were genuinely confused on how he knew. the only time you even talked about your sister was while you were on the phone with her and her name, but taylor is such a common name, so how would he have known.
"your sisters boyfriend come over to the bar last night to get you, and he was not even trying to be discreet about it".
then the events of last night flashed in your head. you and christian both laughed the whole situation off. if you were on a date with anyone else you might have been worried about the public finding out, but it was christian, someone who dealt with the same things as you. plus the two of you got so well together, it was almost like you were normal people, not a famous soccer player, and not the sister of a famous pop singer.
lunch was going great, both you and christian had both ordered vanilla bean ice cream, and you were talking about your lives, and what hobbies you had. you both liked to read and were very much introverts, you both likes board games and harry potter. it was nice talking to him.
just as you were about to get the check your sister texted you.
taylor: you doing okay? make sure you get to the hotel in time for you to get ready, okay?
y/n: we are getting the check now, then we are going to a nearby park for a little. i'll be back in time don't worry.
christian refused to let you pay or split the bill, which was both frustrating and sweet.
once you two got to the park, you found a bench to sit on.
everything was so normal with christian. you had been on many dates in the past, but none have been this casual. most of the time you would go out to dinner, and it was filled with awkward conversations, or the guy would just ask about your sister. it was refreshing to be on a date with a guy who cared about you.
after another 10 minutes, you and christian started walking around the park trail. the flowers were blooming and the weather was perfect. the two of you found the most beautiful fountain, and you threw coins into it making wishes.
next thing you know, christian turns to face you and he places his hand carefully on your cheek, cupping it to bring your face up to meet his. he then carefully connects your lips to his.
it's like he read my wish
-
christian deepened the kiss. what was once a soft, careful kiss, became passionate and messy. his hand snaked around your waist, as your hand wrapped around his neck.
you just wanted to stay in this moment forever.
but all good things must come to an end.
christian was the one to break the kiss, both of you out of breath. you and christian leaned your foreheads together, smiling like little kids. there was something so magical about the moment. was it because of the fancy fountain in front of you, maybe. but it was a meaningful moment, nonetheless.
"was your wish the same as mine?" he asks out of the blue.
"considering my wish was what just happened, i think it would be safe to say we did, in fact, have the same wish".
you gave christian another peck on the lips before you two started walking back to his apartment.
"how long will you be in london for?"
"my sister has 6 shows here, so i would say like, 2 weeks?"
christian smirks and looks up at the sky. he was already planning more dates with the two of you.
"are you free tomorrow night?"
"only for you, mr pulisic"
131 notes · View notes
cityzenchick · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Here we are starting 2024 and it's time to reflect on all the amazing footballer fanfiction we have read here on tumblr in 2023! 👏
Firstly a huge thank you to those writers who regularly post their superb 'free' stories for our enjoyment (nomatter what club or player they are writing about!!) 🫶
How lucky are we to be able to read romantic angsty smutty fics about the players we love (and lust over🥵!) - gifted to us daily by our favourite tumblr writers?? They enable our sexy footy dreams to come true via their ideas and creativity! 🥰
So, next time you read a chapter or imagine on here that you love, don't just ❤️ it - let the author know they are appreciated and let them know which bits you loved best 😉 👏👍
Tumblr media
Footballer Fanfiction is my Addiction ⚽️❤️💋
Tumblr media
12 notes · View notes
halalspamhabibti · 5 months
Text
An odd nightly encounter (Maldini vampire AU) (Drabble)
Tumblr media
Description: Daniel Maldini starts doubting his normality
Notes: -I had this silly concept idea of Paolo Maldini being a vampire, even though I'm not a vampire fan at all, so I thought I'd Drabble with it using his son. -sorry if any one is OOC, I'm not that familiar with the players in this. -English is not my first language!! -just a Drabble! -mayyybe I'll write a part 2
-----------------------------------------------------
In the middle of the cold and pitch-black night, Olivier was frantically yet quietly running after he had somehow managed to successfully steal something from the AC Milan headquarters,the tall and muscular Frenchman was running as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast, not only due to his notorious pace but also because he could barely see anything, before he could reach the car waiting for him, he froze right in his tracks in front of nothing but a pair of big, inhumanly bright, crystal teal eyes that didn't exactly convey a certain emotion, they even looked somewhat confused and surprised, but still stared piercingly through him, as soon as he retained his senses, he hurriedly turned on his flashlight and aimed the white beam straight at the eyes to see who or "what" they belonged to, and to his relief he immediately heard a familiarly cute groan of pain, not only did those eyes belong to a human, and that human was his young teammate, Daniel.
"Dani!" Cried Olivier in confused relief, he began to feel a bit frustrated at this odd interruption of his plans, "wh-what are you doing out all alone at this hour?" Olivier asked quickly without much thought, "me?" Daniel questioned while he finished rubbing his eyes after they were hit with the light, "I'm just taking a nightly stroll not too far from home, what are YOU doing frantically running in the middle of the night? And straight from Casa Milan?" Olivier panicked internally as he took into thought who Daniel's father is, not only did he fear being directly reported to the sporting director, but having THE Paolo Maldini disappointed in you is something nobody would want, without much thought into his excuses, he immediately tried to clear things up and shift the focus to something else, "w-well I'm just taking advantage of the empty streets to take a jog, y'know? Besides, at least I brought a flashlight with me, how come you're walking around in the black darkness? You wouldn't be able to see anything! Seems pretty suspicious to me..." Dani looked around, Olivier almost seized the opportunity to say goodbye when Dani suddenly became nervously excited to say something
"look, this is supposed to be a secret, but I can't help but tell someone, I can actually see in the dark, isn't that amazing?"
"Makes sense when you have glowing eyes that scare the hell out of people trying to jog, now that I remember, this isn't the first time I've seen them glow" Olivier replied with a bit of forced laughter, he was now fully relieved that his case was off, but then it fully hit him, "but it doesn't make sense..." he wondered, "there is no condition on earth that gives people the ability to see in pitch-black...how is that possible?" "Well my parents told me I was blessed with strong eyes like my father, and that they fed me lots of carrots as a baby" Daniel explained, in an honest and confident voice, there was no sense of deception in his tone whatsoever, this is truly what he knows
"Dani...that's not..that's not a logical explanation" Daniel stared for a bit after a moment of realization then he "now that I think about it, it really isn't, but that's all I've known.."
"Have you ever been taken to a doctor?"
"Of course, but none of it was ever about my eyes" Olivier thought for a moment, though he was sleepy and exhausted at this point, so his brain wasn't really on it's full motors, and then it looked like he
had come to a conclusion, more important a conclusion that'll make Dani forget about Olivier's odd "jogging"
"Dani, have you ever thought about how sharp your teeth are? they're like fangs.."
"Yes? What does that have to do with it?"
"Well I'm just saying, sharp teeth, along with night vision and glowing eyes, these are all traits of a vampire,no? Maybe your parents haven't told you yet?"
"...Olivier..you're nearly forty..you can't be believing in folktales.."
"Not if there's one standing in front of me"
"Oh for God's sake Olivier, if I'm a vampire then how the hell can i stand in the sun completely unharmed?"
"Well you could only be HALF vampire"
"So you mean-"
"yes! It would explain so much about your father!"
"Like what exactly?" Daniel had no idea why someone technically old enough to be his parent was still suggesting that he and his father were vampires, and at this time of night as well, he had become frustrated but was too tired to be visibly angry,
"Well, it would certainly explain his graceful aging...and his-"
"Olivier...please...I'm too tired for this,if my father is a vampire, then how come he can use a mirror just fine?"
"Well there has to be an explanati-" Olivier couldn't finish his sentence before he had to yawn, now he realized how late he was, and he remembered that his partner in crime was waiting for him in the car, "why don't we both go home and discuss this later, I really need to sleep" suggested Dani, "yes,yes,that's exactly what I was going to say" Olivier blurted hurriedly
"Ciao"
"Ciao"
Each one of them parted ways, with Olivier making sure Daniel is out of sight before he started running back to the car.
9 notes · View notes
emwritesfootball · 2 years
Text
Heels | Anyone You Like
Tumblr media
A/N: Definitely not a comeback, so don’t get your hopes up (sorry!) - just had a thought about a footballer I can’t actually write about so I used my imagination a little. Also, thank you for over 1200 followers; I can't believe so many of you follow this barely-updating blog! Enjoy x
Pairing: Anyone you like x Fem!Reader
Warning: unprotected sex, teasing
Words: 683
- - -
You slip on your favourite pair of heels, twisting and turning in front of your full-length mirror to get a glimpse of the complete outfit. It was rare that you wore them, as wearing heels put you a few centimetres over your boyfriend. Luckily, he loved the height difference when it came to special occasions like tonight and you never felt like you had to compromise or shrink yourself in his presence.
The sound of his voice saying your name alerts you to his presence and you turn, a smile instantly forming on your face as you catch sight of him standing in the doorway. His suit is tailored specially for him and you know he’s spent just as much time in front of the mirror as you have to perfect his look - after all, the star player can’t attend the awards dinner not looking his best.
“Hey,” you whisper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you drink him in. He’s doing the same to you, the colour of his eyes darkening with desire that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. “You look good.”
“So do you.” The nickname he has for you in his native language falls from his lips and your stomach dips at the word. “I see you’re wearing my favourite shoes.”
“Special occasion,” you hum, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. “I know how much you enjoy the end of the night.”
He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You know that’s my favourite part of these things.”
***
Teasing him has always been your specialty, and tonight is no exception. Both of you are always touching each other in ways that look innocent enough to anyone on the outside looking in, but by the time the dinner is over,  you’re practically jumping out of your skin. 
It’s a ritual for you at this point: the moment the two of you are inside, he takes a seat on the sofa, spreading his legs as he watches you closely. You stand in front of him, slowly unzipping your dress.Your gaze is locked with his as the dress falls to the floor, leaving you standing in the matching lingerie set you’d put on just for this moment. 
You saunter over to him, standing in-between his legs. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, swallowing hard as his hands slide behind the backs of your knees and up your thighs. He squeezes your ass and you let out a moan, your eyes fluttering closed. You let his hands explore your body until you can’t take it anymore, resting a hand on his shoulder to brace yourself so you can straddle him. He lets out a grunt that you feel vibrate throughout your body, taking the opportunity to brush your pantie-clad pussy over the growing bulge outline on his fancy trousers. His grip around your hips tightens as he groans your name, tilting his head back to give you access to his neck. You take it, pressing kisses to the exposed area, making sure to mark him in the spot you like. His hands unclasp your bra and you pull back to slide the straps off and expose your tits to him. 
Your body responds to him like it always does, the feel of his mouth on your pert nipples going straight to your pussy. He groans your nickname again as he switches to the other nipple, the scrape of his scruff across your skin sending shivers down your spine. 
You’re still wearing the heels when he finally fucks you, his shirt unbuttoned and open, his pants unbuckled and around his ankles as you sink down on his cock repeatedly until you’ve reached your orgasm at the same time he does. You fix your panties that had been pushed to the side, the feel of his cum dripping out of you turning you on again. 
“Meet me in the bedroom,” you whisper in his ear, climbing off him and making your way to the bedroom to get ready for the next round.
69 notes · View notes
penwieldingdreamer · 8 months
Text
Right, so even though I'm swamped with work right now and the WIPs on my computer keep piling up like crazy, I've had another idea keeping me awake at night. 🫣
It's been ages since I stepped a foot into the football/soccer scene but I've been to a game again a few weeks ago and I couldn't elp but have that fixation again. 🙈 it might take some time until I can get ready to post it but at east I can start planing the action
So here it goes:
Tumblr media
Pairing: Mario Mandžukić x reader
Plot: Reader is Mario's childhood friend ever since he came to Germany. They've been to most of his games and when he signs a contract with FC Bayern Munich they couldn't be more proud of him. The night of the Champion's League final their relationship gets physical, st least to the point of him blowing off steam when he can. The next season is a tough one for Mario and before his last game in the German Championship Final he isn't allowed to play and leaves for an early holiday trip, stopping all contact with the reader. Unbeknownst to him he'll be meeting a surprise the next time they cross paths again a few years later.
4 notes · View notes
multifandomfanfic · 1 year
Note
could you do something where ronaldo is your ex and you broke up because he cheated but he saw you with another man at a party and he got really jealous??
Cold Air
Tumblr media
Word Count: ~2.2k
A/N: I hope you enjoy! Sorry this took so long and sorry if any descriptions of Qatar are inaccurate. Just suspend reality for a bit :)) (also, I proof-read this, but it hasn’t had a second pair of eyes look at it)
Tumblr media
The city lights passed by your car as you made your way to the club. The World Cup was in full swing and, today, Portugal had beaten Switzerland by five goals. You wrinkled your nose. Portugal. As good of a team they were, any mention of their team, and especially a certain player, left a foul taste on your tongue. 
It wasn't like you didn't love Ronaldo. You did.., well, you had loved him at one point. Months ago you had been positive your relationship was going to last forever; you were living together, you went with him to his events, and you were even certain you had spied an engagement ring in his bag once. All of that was squashed within seconds thanks to Ronaldo’s unlocked phone and a few Instagram DMs. 
Within days, you had moved out of your shared house and into an apartment far away from Manchester. Ronaldo agreed to pay the first year of your rent in return for you not going public about his infidelity, but you took the high road. You did not need his help and, after what he did to you, you decided that you did not want to have any connection to him any longer. Enough was enough.
But here you were, in Qatar, the day his team beat the Swiss.
Your phone vibrated and you dug it out of your purse. 
I'll have to leave a little early tonight, Emi texted you.
What? Why?
Coach wants us to get at least eight hours of sleep before some extra practice in the morning. He explained, I'm free to do whatever you want tomorrow night.
You groaned and slumped back into the car seat. Great. Just great. The only reason you were going to this club was to celebrate Emi’s friend’s birthday, whom you had never met. In fact, you hardly knew anybody on his team. You had spent so much time with Portugal and Manchester United that you hadn’t become acquainted with any of the other teams. Besides, you had only been seeing Emi for a couple of months. 
“Is this it?” your driver asked. 
“Yes, this is it,” you sighed. The cold night air raised goosebumps on your skin as soon as you pushed open the door. It was refreshing and briefly distracted your mind from the awkwardness awaiting you inside.
The bouncer opened the rope as you approached. The club’s exterior was lit by LED lights, beckoning people to venture inside. Quite a crowd had amounted outside, drawn by the possibility of seeing a world-class futball player in person. They watched you as you entered the building. Who were you? And why were you here?
The interior of the bar was as exuberant and bright as the exterior. The only difference was the number of people crammed within its walls. Bodies were pressed against each other, moving to the music blaring from the speakers. Two bartenders were hurriedly making drinks for the growing crowd. They had been instructed to prioritize the futball players and serve them first, but they were struggling to keep up with that demand.
You scanned the throngs of people. One or two of the men close to you looked familiar, but the lights were set just dim enough that you couldn’t distinguish people from a distance. Their forms blended into one, swaying mass.
Person after person bumped and shoved you (whether on accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell) as you forged your way to the bar. Surely, there were too many people in the club to be safe, but nobody paid attention. They were all having fun. You were the walking embodiment of dread.
You tugged on the end of your dress. It wasn’t yours–one of the players’ girlfriends had lent it to you–and it wasn’t exactly your taste either. The color was off and it fell awkwardly on your thighs. Anyone who knew you would know the dress was not your first choice. 
“Excuse me?” you asked the bartender closest to you, “Can I get one of those?”
The mixture of alcohol he was making was taking all of his attention, and he made no effort to respond. You groaned, leaned against the bartop, and began people-watching. There was no sight of Ronaldo or Emi. You weren’t expecting Ronaldo to be there, but you could never be too sure. 
“Y/N!” a familiar voice called from behind you.
You turned around and smiled, “Emi!” 
He pushed his way through the crowd, nodding and grinning at his friends. You recognized none of them, despite going to many of Emi’s games. Maybe you were too stuck in the past.
Once he reached you, Emi grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. 
“It’s so good to see you,” he said, leaning over slightly and began kissing your neck. Several people’s eyes landed on the two of you. 
“Babe, please,” you whispered, “Not in public.”
He stepped back, “Why not?”
“I just don’t feel comfortable with it, ok?” you replied. To be honest, you had no idea why it made you so uneasy. People looking at you was one thing, but something else was off.
Emi smirked and loosened his grip on your waist, “Fine. But I will be seeing you tomorrow night.”
“It’s a date,” you chuckled. He left you one more kiss on your lips as he started to back away. He smiled and nodded his head goodbye. Before you knew it, Emi had disappeared into the mass of people.
The bartender continued to pay attention to other patrons, leaving you drinkless and bored. There was a full-length mirror behind the back of the bar. You examined yourself in it, rubbing off the lipstick that had made its way off of your lips and adjusting your hair so it fell just right on your face. A figure began to form behind you. Someone was making their way to the spot to your left. The way the lights were positioned and flashing, you could not tell who it was.. that is, until they spoke.
He ordered two of your favorite drink and, like clockwork, the bartender had them finished within seconds.
“You look good,” he almost mumbled as he took the first sip from his drink. His eyes scanned your figure, soaking in every aspect of how the dress fell on your body. You could have slapped him, “Although, I wouldn’t peg you as the type of girl to wear something like that.”
“What do you want, Ronaldo?” you spat. His face changed for a moment at the use of his last name instead of Cristiano–what you used to call him–but, within seconds, it was back to his usual, sly look. On the other hand, you could feel your face turning red. Months of pent-up rage and regret flooded back into your head. Why had you come here? Why did he have to be here?
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said as you picked up your drink. You slammed it back down on the counter. A little sloshed over the edge and the bartender immediately wiped it with his towel. He scowled at you but smiled at Ronaldo. You pushed the glass to the farthest point on the bar that you could reach. You refused to drink it. That would make it seem like you were diving in.
“I asked you what you wanted,” you seethed, arms crossed across your chest, “Can you answer my question?”
He rolled his eyes and looked around as if you were the only person in the room who did not know what he was going to say. He then leaned closer, “You could do much better than an Argentinian. That’s all I wanted to say.”
You froze. Your mouth hung agape, your mind was apparently empty of any good comebacks. After a moment you managed a “Are you kidding me?” and a small, all-too-exaggerated laugh. The audacity this man had. He cheated on you, not the other way around. 
“Do you think I’m joking? I’m just stating the obvious, darling,” Ronaldo smirked. He leaned against the bar, drink in hand. Triumph was written all over his face. 
You pulled out twenty dollars from your purse and slammed it onto the bar to cover your drink. You stood up straight, staring your adversary in the eyes. 
“I’m done with your bullshit, Ronaldo. Do I need to remind you whose fault it was that we broke up? It wasn’t me!,” you shouted just loud enough so the people closest to you could hear, “Have a good life.”
You stormed past him, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way to the back. Your feet carried you past the mob of bodies. Instead of annoying you, they acted to your benefit, creating an almost impenetrable sea for Ronaldo to cross to get to you. You made it to the back exit swiftly and, without hesitating, escaped the room.
The chilly air greeted you like an old friend. Your dress was hardly enough to keep you warm, but it didn’t matter. Compared to the inside of the bar and its patrons, it felt more friendly and calm in the frigid night.
You pulled out your phone and started searching for an Uber to take you home. You began walking down the alleyway, enveloped in the screen in front of you rather than paying attention to your surroundings. That was why you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a cold hand grab a hold of your arm.
You whipped around and tried to strike the attacker with your bag but, after a moment, you saw that it was none other than Ronaldo. Despite recognizing him, you still managed to hit him with your purse. You ripped your arm from his grasp and backed up. You weren’t truly scared of him, not at all, but he repulsed you so much that you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as you possibly could.
“What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed.
“Y/N, listen to m–”
“No, tell me what you think you’re doing!”
“I don’t know what I–” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and shifting his weight.
“You don’t know what you’re do–”
“Y/N, would you just listen to me, please?!” Ronaldo finally begged. He stood with his arms extended to you, silently pleading with you to let him speak, “Please?”
You checked your phone and then crossed your arms, “You have two minutes, Ronaldo, then I never want to see you again.”
“That’s fine, that’s perfect,” he took a step back. He looked at the sky as he took a deep breath. The stars were shining down on the two of you, illuminating the alleyway just enough that you could see Ronaldo’s breath and the sweat dripping down his face. What was bothering him so much?
He sighed, exasperated with his own thoughts, “Y/N, I.. you know I love you right?”
You did not reply, nod, or shake your head. You kept your eyes glued on him but, on the inside, your stomach was turning. This conversation could lead nowhere good. In the months since your break-up, you had thought about getting back together plenty of times. Yet, in reality, you could never let yourself do that. He cheated on you once. He had broken your trust. That could not happen again.
“I know you do. And I know, I hope, that deep down you still love me,” Ronaldo continued, trying to get any reaction out of you, but none came, “I will never love another woman as much as I love you. You were the light of my life, the thing that made me smile every single day without fail. You enchant me, Y/N,  and I went and screwed everything up. Will you forgive me?”
You scoffed, your arms only crossing tighter in front of your chest, “Don’t give me this ‘I love you most ardently’-esque crap. You cheated on me, Ronaldo. I have proof!”
“And I regret it every day! Y/N, you don’t understand how much I’ve beat myself up over this. I love you! You make me happy!”
“Ronaldo, if I really made you happy, frankly, we would not be in this situation right now,” you said, pursing your lips. You shrugged, “I am sorry, but I can’t forgive you.”
With that, a grey sedan drove to the end of the alleyway behind you. You checked the description on your phone–it was your ride.
“That’s me,” you said. The amount of water vapor in front of Ronaldo’s mouth only increased as he grew angrier and more confused. His mind was running, trying to find some solution to have you back, or to get you to at least forgive him, but he could not find one.
“Can you at least call me Cristiano?” he finally called out as you started to walk away.
You turned around. After a moment, you nodded, and made eye contact with him once more, “Alright, Cristiano. As I said earlier, I hope you have a good life.”
356 notes · View notes
dreaamerwrites · 11 months
Text
[ (just a) bad day ]
Tumblr media
couple: son heungmin x reader rating: PG tags: hurt, comfort, talks about beheading (yeah) from the drama my liberation notes. notes: the newcastle game was a massacre. i don't have the heart to have him say "i'm alright, i'm fine" because he wouldn't lie like that. but i just need to know that heungmin will have someone hold him tight and take him home. please listen to agust d's snooze, that's what i had quoted at the end. thanks. please support son heungmin's future. it will get better.
/
Before the final whistle blows, you are already down the tunnel, down the hall, expression grim as you scan the treatment room. Ryan finds you like this, his own expression ashen, having aged ten years through the match himself.
He’s in Treatment Room A. Hesitation. …I think he wants to be alone.
You thank Ryan but pay no heed to the message.
He’s not the one you need to see.
/
“Don’t.”
It is the first word shared in that dim, empty room and it forces you to stop in your tracks. Heungmin’s voice is rough and torn and tight. Your hand falters by the light switch before, finally, falling back to your side. You let him sit in the darkness, face illuminated only by the faint light that hums above the emergency exit.
You can barely recognize him in the darkness, but still you go to him.
“Don’t,” he repeats, more forcefully this time. “Stop.”
Still, you go to him.
From where he sits, his knees bump against your thighs and he resolutely refuses to give way. You step into his space regardless. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, his face finally comes into view. He has screwed his eyes shut now, mouth pressed into a grim line. You reach up to trace the faint scar above his eye, but hesitate, not quite touching him just yet.
You’ve been through so much.
What can I do to make this better?
Tell me where it hurts. I would take it all away if I could.
The words sit on the very tip of your tongue but you swallow them down. They are not the words he wants or needs to hear right now. He does not need to hear you ask how he feels or if he’s alright or if this is still the game that he has loved his whole goddamn life. He does not need your sympathy. He does not need your pity.
Right now, all he needs is…
“So. Bad day, huh?”
Your comment seems to come as such a surprise that he chokes out a pained laugh despite himself.
The sound is so sudden that it seems to startle the both of you equally – and then Heungmin’s eyes are open and he’s staring at you, eyes shining, disbelief clear as day on his face.
“What?” he chokes out, half-laugh and half-groan.
The pain is still evident on his face and this time you let yourself touch the scar. You press down on it slightly, tracing it with the very tip of your finger. He slowly reaches up, long fingers wrapping around your wrist. You half expect him to push your hand away.
He doesn’t.
He lets you linger there, his grip warm around your wrist and your touch gentle against his skin.
“Yeah,” he finally whispers back, incredulous laughter gone now. Something softening in his expression. “Had a real shit day today.”
You let your hand slide down until your palm cradles his cheek. He moves with you, grip never leaving yours as he leans into your touch. He swallows thickly and you can hear it in the silence that sits between you. Your own eyes prickle with the heat and promise of oncoming tears, but you swallow that down with him too.
His hair is still damp from the showers and he smells of your shampoo. A stray droplet lands on the back of your hand. Still, you do not move away.
“I know,” you whisper into the darkness. “I know.”
(You had been watching a drama a few months back.
The woman on the television screen had a crazed look in her eyes, sitting across the cafe table from her blind date, explaining why she was dubbed the Pick Up Girl by all of her friends.
Once, with my friends, we were talking about what true love was. I was reminded of something I saw in a textbook when I was a child. It was about a woman who ran to pick up the severed head of her husband in her skirt.
When I was young, it was too gruesome for me to understand. But now, as an adult, I found myself agreeing. Yes, I would pick it up. I would have to pick it up. I can’t let it fall to the ground, I must catch it in my skirt.
Heungmin had burst out laughing, then. The man sitting across from her in the scene appeared horrified, but Heungmin had only appeared delighted.
He had pressed a loud raspberry to the side of your neck then.
“Would you catch me too?” he had teased, nosing into the crook of your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, mouth dragging along the skin there as he laughed loudly. You had laughed back, shivering at the ticklish touch.
It had been a joke then.
But today, you were reminded of it.
Perched in the stands, watching his team go down in flames. Watching the light leave his eyes as more and more fans exited the stadium. Watching as his shoulders heaved beneath the heavy weight of loss and failure and disappointment.
Several family members had looked away by then. His agent had slumped back in his seat, scrolling through his phone anxiously, clearly anticipating the press and media that would be awaiting him at the end of the tunnel.
Only Heungmin’s father and you had kept watching.
You did not look away. You refused to look away. Even when the booing only grew exponentially in volume, even when his teammates fumbled yet another horrible, horrible ball. You kept your eyes on the game, you kept your eyes on him. Only when his number appeared on the screen to be subbed out, did you finally let out the breath you had been holding.
Heungmin hadn’t spared a second glance towards your box when he was subbed out. You couldn’t blame him. He probably hadn’t had the heart to look.
If he had looked… if he had looked back at you…
If he had looked back: he would’ve seen you looking right back at him. He would’ve seen you finally, slowly, sitting back down in your seat, his father taking his seat beside you as well.
His father hadn’t said much in the box – he never did.
But when his hand had found yours in your lap, grip tight, you knew he was saying more than words ever could.
Thank you. Thank you for watching Heungmin until the very end. Thank you for catching Heungmin, even when the world waits to tear him apart, limb by limb. Thank you. Thank you.
If your throat hadn’t been so tight, you would’ve responded: Don’t thank me. I will always watch him. I will always catch him.
Instead, you had simply covered his hand with your own.
The truest love there ever was.)
Heungmin finally shifts. He parts his legs, lets you slide between them until you are flush against him, even from where he sits on this treatment table.
You let both of your arms reach up and around his neck, wrapping around his shoulders, his own dropping to fold around your waist. His grip is almost painfully tight as he burrows into you, solid and warm. His heartbeat thrums in your ear and you match your own breaths to the sound.
“I know,” you repeat again, voice muffled against the soft fabric of his tee. “I’m here, I’m right here.”
He holds onto you like a man drowning.
I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.
“Let’s go home.”
/
Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay
221 notes · View notes
agerzionn · 8 months
Text
own advertising for my first ever wattpad book :)
(i’m sorry if its bad written 😭 as i already said, this is my first wattpad book )
1 note · View note
ssvspal · 1 year
Text
requests
hey loves, please request things as i want to fulfill your needs! (im about to publish p.1 to a series today so look out for that! its about gavi)
1 note · View note