#Football Mom

[annakasterova-malkina]

Hockey wife & football mom 🤷🏻‍♀️

The soccer society

[3dgiftsblog]

Cool american football mom license plate. See more sports mom items at https://www.zazzle.com/z/at9wmz7i?rf=238910932617410721

[teamcolorsbycarrie]

Get Ready for Game Day: Your Guide to the Latest Football Jewelry!

Get ready for football game days with a guide to the latest in football jewelry to make your team spirit shine!

Football season is just around the corner, and fans all over the country are gearing up to support their favorite teams with unrivaled enthusiasm. While jerseys and face paint have been time-honored traditions, there’s a new trend taking the football world by storm – handmade football jewelry in team colors! As the countdown to game day begins, football fans have discovered a whole new way to…

[g-cedillo]

[dorabellingham]

Little midfielder

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader

summary: when your baby wants to practice football but your husband is injured.

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Madrid, Spain — July 4, 2024

Benjamin, just two years old, was already obsessed with football. Every time he saw a ball, his eyes lit up and he started running after it, even though he was still learning to shoot.

Today, with the sun illuminating the yard, he held his mini soccer ball with determination, ready to convince his dad to play with him. Jude was sitting on the couch, with his leg stretched out and still in the process of recovering from his last injury, trying to follow the doctor's recommendations. He knew he needed a little more patience, but when Benji came running with the ball, his curls bouncing and an irresistible smile on his face, he felt his heart melt.

—Daddy, play, daddy!

Benji asked, holding the ball in both of his little hands and swinging it in front of his father. Jude looked at his son and, for a second, hesitated. He knew he wasn't ready to return to intense physical activities yet, but it was just a game with his son, right? Nothing else. A smile formed on his face, and he sighed.

—Okay, Ben, let's go. But slowly, huh?

The boy, excited, started jumping, while the man slowly got up. You, who was nearby, gave a warning look.

—Jude... you know the doctor hasn't released it yet, right?

—I know, I know. —He replied, taking the ball from your son's hands and lightly throwing it to the little one. —But it's just a light game, nothing more.

Benji, of course, was over the moon. He chased the ball with all the energy a two-year-old could have, his quick, clumsy steps around the yard were adorable to watch. Jude, even though he was trying to take it easy, ended up kicking the ball back to him with a little more force than he intended. The little boy stumbled as he tried to catch the ball, but soon got up, laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

—Look at that kick! —He joked, pretending to be the game's narrator. —Bellingham father against Bellingham son... and the father is having trouble moving, but the son comes with everything!

You, watching from afar, shook your head, laughing at the way your husband was turning a little joke into a competition. Your baby, all concentrated, made a clumsy kick, and the ball went straight to Jude's feet. He tried to resist the attempt, but the player's instincts took over. He adjusted his foot and gently kicked back. Benjamin ran after the ball, aiming to show his father his skills.

—Look, daddy! I'm just like you!

He spoke with that sweet child's voice, making Bellingham's heart melt even more.

He sent it and bent down a little to be at the baby's height.

—You'll be better than me, little one. But only if mommy doesn't let me play with you too soon!

Benjamin, not understanding the joke, just laughed and continued running. You, on the other hand, crossed your arms and gave Jude a warning look.

—You know you should be resting.

—I know, darling! —He replied, laughing —But how am I going to say no to this little midfielder of ours here?

You sighed, but you couldn't help but smile at the sight of the two of them together.

—Just don't get too excited, okay? And, Benji, without hurting daddy, huh?

Benjamin laughed, not really understanding, and continued chasing the ball. But even with the caution Jude was taking, he began to feel a slight pain in his knee, which made him stop and lean lightly on the garden fence. You noticed it right away and went to him, worried.

—See? I knew this would happen.

—I'm fine, babe!

He replied, still trying to keep the smile, even though he was starting to feel more uncomfortable.

Benji, realizing that the game had stopped, ran to his father and, with those curious eyes, asked:

—Does it hurt, daddy?

Jude revealed and messed up his son's curls identical to his, but without a cut.

—A little, but dad will be fine. You played very well, Little Bellingham.

You, helping Jude to sit on the sofa in the garden, looked at the little one and said:

—Now it's time to give daddy a rest, okay, sweetheart? Let's play something else for now.

Benjamin, despite being sad to stop the game, agreed and ran around the yard with the ball again. Jude watched his son, with a mixture of pride and frustration at not yet being 100% recovered.

—He's going to be an ace, right?

He commented to you, who sat next to him.

—He will! —You replied, smiling. —But only if you stop hurting yourself and teach properly.

Jude chuckled.

—Yeah, I'm trying...I just need a little more time.

As you watched his son play, Jude knew he needed to take the recovery process seriously. He wanted to be able to play with your son, train with him without any limitations, but he also knew that this would only be possible if he was patient now. And as stubborn as he was, the smile on his mini copy's face was the perfect reminder of why it was worth waiting and doing things the right way.

[c0ffee1]

midwest emo world

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[housecow]

Who says you have to be one or the other? I think you could have lots of fun transitioning between a housebound cow on oxygen and the fattest soccer mom possible. Maybe it’s all in the timing, maybe start out as a housebound cow and shift into soccer mom mode later.

okay, this is hot as fuck. getting to experience the limits of what my body can handle and then losing a portion of the weight—not too much, just enough to be easily mobile again, managing my health as well. but i’m still, what, 350-400lbs?

the whispers i’d hear from the other parents… “she’s such a fucking cow,” “how much do you think she weighs?” “there’s just so much… flab!”

and little do they know this is my lightest from the last few years. that i’d been 600lbs at some point, needing help up from bed and from anywhere i’d plopped down to feast. that my husband had plumped me up to obscene numbers, reveling in the fact i was dependent on him for almost everything.

my present soft, full, wobbling figure is the result of hard work. not only to get active, but in denying both myself and my spouse. we know what we want, but it’s for the kids now! they need a mom that can keep up with them. sure, i get winded easily, can’t see my feet or even past my tits, but this is an improvement!!

others just see my huffing and puffing as a failure, when it’s the opposite. it takes dedication. the extra wide folding chair i pull out at every soccer game was bought with pride, and the way my husband squeezes that back roll he gifted me is comforting.

sure, it still takes a lot of food to keep up with being 400lbs… i still eat like a pig. sonic shakes at every game and countless fast food runs before 3:30pm school pickup. i RSVP to neighborhood/school bbqs and they have to spend double the amount on food (we chip in!) but it’s all a labor of love!

plus, when it’s just my feeder and i, he gets to tease me about it all. talks about how hot it was when i needed the walker. how much of a shut in i was compared to now—“remember when you couldn’t even drive because your belly was in the way?”

he’d lay a hand on my still-formidabile tummy, stretched out from the hundreds of lbs and a few of his kids. i know he wants so badly to get me back there, i can tell what he’s thinking. and if he started that process—funneling every night, telling me what to eat and when—i wouldn’t be able to stop him. but we’re responsible :3

[midwestemoloser]

"what's your taste in music?"

Oh god oh fuck I have to admit to it

[divingsave]

i refuse to download threads but i just saw this in the suggested bit on insta and 💀

[skeeverboy]

this is my flow chart for what emo album you should listen to depending on your mood. if your current mood or favorite emo album is not pictured let me know and i may create a sequel

[3dgiftsblog]

Great football mom tshirt. See more sports mom tshirts at https://www.zazzle.com/z/as55ylcl?rf=238910932617410721

[zombvic]

BLUE IS THE COLOR (mason mount x reader)

summary : in which y/n and mason argue about their newborn babys favorite football team

face claim : not needed

notes : im a sucker for dad fics and as of right now mason is my no1 pookie 😝 also imagine hes still in chelsea cause i refuse to support any other london team #loyal (god i miss prime chelsea). ALSO.. if u dont support barcelona or chelsea .. idk i dont think youll like this fic so mby pretend its ur teams xxx except for Madrid 😊 (i dont hate madridistas but yk im a culer soooooo) im also now seeing that the font is apparently purple but im slightly colorblind so js ignore that thanks xx

pairings : mason mount x reader (dad!mason mount)

"NO SHOT, my baby is NOT supporting Barcelona" The Chelsea midfielder argued. You and Mason have been together for quite some time already (five years to be exact) and you've recently welcomed your firstborn son, Nicolas Mount into the world.

You were born into a family full of FC Barcelona fans, so naturally, you became one aswell. Even after meeting your boyfriend, a Chelsea player, he couldn't change your mind. Thankfully, these two teams are in different leagues so you don't have to worry about having an aneurysm everytime these two played eachother (except for the champions league and thats also just a maybe)

This was a conversation the two of you have had multiple times, even before your baby was born. It was always shrugged off but now, that your son is here. It was time to decide.

"How about everytime Barcelona plays, he wears their jersey but any other time it's your jersey?"

"I'd look unloyal and like im joining Barcelona" (ironic isn't it) the brown haired man laughs.

You playfully roll your eyes at Mason's remark, knowing that this debate wasn't going to end anytime soon.

"Oh come on, Mason. It's just a jersey, it doesn't determine his loyalty at this age, just the fact that he's not a Madrid fan"

"But it's the principle, Y/N. We can't have our little boy supporting a rival team right from the start," Mason chuckles, ruffling Nicolas' tiny hair as he sleeps peacefully in his crib.

You lean in closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Fine, how about this? We let him decide when he's old enough. Until then, we can take turns dressing him up in each team's gear. That way, he'll grow up knowing both teams and make his own choice."

Mason considers your proposal for a moment, a smile forming on his face. "Alright, deal. But I'm warning you, I'll be teaching him all the Chelsea chants in the meantime," he jokes, kissing your forehead.

"Okay but he has Catalan blood? He's gonna be a Culer by default"

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna be sick of both teams and become a Juventus fan by the time he can decide" The man jokes while looking at his son.

"Still better than Madrid"

yapfest part two, i put out a poll and yall said i should do this but idk if its good 😭 anyways hope you enjoyed

[samkerrworshipper]

lap dance | alexia putellas x reader

the stripper r x post world champs alexia that everyone has been desperate for in my inbox, made for my horny girlies! wrote this instead of listening to my english lecture 😝 so enjoy the pure smut

warnings: strapons, smuts, cunnilingus, lap dances, stripping 18+ dni

You could feel the adrenaline and one shot of tequila you’d been given coursing through your body as you walked up towards the room you’d been assigned. The dressing gown that was covering your body very quickly started to feel a little bit too thin. You passed a lot of women, some still in their playing uniforms which told you they were players, some were similarly dressed to you, some were workers and security. Nobody paid much attention to you, why would they, you were background noise to them, not a person that was made to be looked at, or not at least like that. You let your heeled feet waltz down the hallway, trying to strum up as much confidence as you could, trying to lift your head from the floor so you looked like you were supposed to be here.

You peered up at the numbers across the doors in the hallway, watching as they slowly ticked closer to the one that was written on the piece of paper in your hands. When you finally did make it to the door you took a deep laboured breath, this shouldn’t have been stressing you out, it was your job, you did this for a living, but for some reason tonight it felt different, like there was more pressure on you. You’d trembled when you’d read the name of the woman you were to see, her reputation preceded her and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated by the thought of being in a room on your own with her. You mustered up the courage to bring your hand up to the door, knocking on it three times before taking a step back, waiting patiently for it to be opened up.

It didn’t take very long, a few seconds at most before you heard the lock unclick and the door swing open. The woman met you in the doorway, wearing her playing jersey, playing shorts and her medal slung around her neck. Her mostly washed out pink hair was a mess around her shoulders, unkempt, like she’d just climbed out of bed, which you supposed she probably could have. It was nearing 4am now and it wasn’t unlikely that between the partying and celebrations she’d tried to get a wink in, you didn’t really believe so, more just blamed in on the fact she’d just played a full game of soccer and probably partied her heart out, the celebrations were still taking place downstairs, the steady sound of music coursing through the hotel carpet.

“Do you plan to stand in my doorway all night?”

Her voice was hoarse, probably from the alcohol and partying, it added a different level of sexuality to her voice, deepening it, making it rougher.

“Sorry.”

You gulped, your voice sounded so meek in comparison to hers, normally you were cocky, confident but she had an effect on you, made you second guess every single thing that you were feeling or thinking.

“Don’t be sorry, are you coming in or not?”

Her lip curled up into a sardonic smile, her head tilting at me from her spot leaning against the door, her mouth hanging open and sinful thoughts plaguing my mind of just how much that mouth could do.

“Yes, sorry.”

You tucked your head back down towards the floor, letting her open the door further to you and you taking some very tentative steps into the space. She clicked the door again behind you, the click sending a jolt of shocks across your body, the sudden realisation that you were alone with the woman in her hotel room starting to set in.

She walked out in front of you, swishing her way past your body over into the corner, where a lone armchair sat. She sat down, her legs settling in a manspread and her elbows falling down onto them, her eyes falling onto you. You could feel her gaze, and suddenly you felt so self conscious, something you’d never experienced before, your job was to strut around half naked, self consciousness was something that you’d lost over the years, but now it was all you could feel.

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got on underneath that robe?”

Her voice was thicker, still coarse and almost grainy but less so, like she was trying to emit her dominance in the situation.

You pulled at the tie at your waist, you’d made the decision to pick a red set, spanish colours. You shrugged the robe off of your shoulders, letting the silk pool at your feet. You’d never felt so insecure in your own skin, allowing your eyes to lift up to the older woman’s. She wore a rather tantalising smirk, her pearly teeth showing to you. You bit down on your lip, nibbling on it slightly as you waited for her to say something, normally you’d initiate, or you’d start something but something about this felt so different, so much more personal than you knew it truly was.

“Come here.”

Her voice was commanding, so much so that you couldn’t help but propel yourself forward towards the woman, only stopping when you were a few centimetres away from your own legs knocking against her knees. Her hand reached up to you, coming into contact with your knee and rubbing your milky skin softly with her olive palm.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes were curious, they betrayed everything else she was portraying to you.

“Y/n.”

She smirked at you a little bit, nodding as she continued to roll your skin through her hands, like you were putty in her hands.

“I’m Alexia, although you probably already know that. How old are you, y/n?”

Your name rolled off of her tongue so perfectly, her spanish accent mixing with the coarseness of her tone sent your mind to places that you could never explain.

“19.”

There was only a ten year age difference between you and yet she felt so much older, so much more experienced, so much more accomplished than you ever would be.

“So young, how long have you been in the business?”

You gulped, Alexia seemed so genuinely interested in you, it was weird, you’d never had a client take any particular interest in you.

“17.”

It wasn’t an age you were proud of, and normally you wouldn’t openly admit that to client, but something about Alexia made you feel like you had to be honest with her.

Her hand kept at your leg, rubbing it ever so gently.

“You want to be here?”

You nodded at Alexia, absolutely no hesitation in your mind.

“Okay then sweet, why don’t you do a dance for me.”

Her voice was so calm, like she was talking about her breakfast. Her hand released from your leg, pushing you a few centimetres away from her, allowing you the room to make up your mind. One of her eyebrows rose, a small chuckle leaving her lips as her eyes raked over your body for the first time, admiring the red lingerie that accentuated your body perfectly. The pieces that you’d picked hugged your curves perfectly, you looked like a goddess. She let out a drawn out exhale, which was enough to give you some confidence, enough to perk you up a little bit.

Alexia waved you over to her lap, walking forwards so you were standing inbetween her legs, looking down at her.

“So pretty.”

Her words were murmured, a chesty whisper that was meant for only you.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed her, swivelling on your heels so you were facing nothing but wall. She quickly grabbed your hips, pulling you down directly so you were sitting on her lap. You gasped slightly at the sudden contact, it was nothing you weren’t used to, hell some clients threw you around like you were a ragdoll, but it surprised you all the same even though you knew it was coming.

“I know calm, bebita, calm.”

Her words were cooed directly into your ear, her hot breath brushing against the hairs on your neck. She gently wrapped her arm around your waist, running her hands from your knees to your hips at an agonisingly slow pace, you unconsciously opened up your legs on her lap, completely opening yourself up for her.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

My words were soft, a whisper, she grunted in response, her hot breath continuing to brush against your neck. You took a quick breath to relax yourself before leaning down against Alexia, pressing your ass down against her lap, beginning to grind up and down on her. Alexia, involuntarily, bucks her hips up into you almost immediately, and you smile at your achievement. Her hands begin to guide you, up and down her body as you grind down onto her, slowly finding your rhythm and rocking back and forth on her body. This is something you know you are good at, something that you know how to do.

Eventually you build up the confidence to reach down to your side, pulling Alexia’s hand from your hip and bringing it up to your breast, letting her hand graze over the silk and lace. Alexia palmed her hand over your tit, her hand almost big enough to hold it in one hand. You leant back into her, letting her hand explore the material and skin, her fingers pressing down, squeezing your breast, she huffs into your ear, clearly affected by your motions. It was normal, you witnessed it at work all the time clients getting hot and bothered, however, this wasn’t just any client, this was Alexia Putellas, world champion, the very woman you gushed over when she appeared on your tv, the same woman who was now panting in your ear.

You feel some worry wash over you as you continue to dance on her lap, using your heels to help you grind down harshly against her bare legs. You shouldn’t be getting wet over a client. Was she a client? Is she paying for you, or is the Spanish team paying for you? A million thoughts were running across your mind, so many unprofessional thoughts. You didn’t allow yourself to engage in sexual acts with a client, just a dance, so this must have been more than that. You were thinking so hard, your brain in another dimension that you didn’t even realise Alexia’s hand running down over your clothed heat. The only thing that managed to snap you out of your trance was when Alexia’s palm rubbed down against your covered clit.

“So wet bebita, all for me?”

Her voice was teasing, gentle but cheeky, like she was trying to edge some kind of fire out of you, some kind of passion, and it worked. You lived for this kind of attention, this kind of adrenaline. You swivelled around quickly, diving into her lips. Her tongue quickly pushed to your lips, requesting entry that you very quickly granted. She grabbed your hips, lifting them up so your legs were placed on either side of her hips, so you were straddling her waist. The only sound in the room was the sound of you and Alexia’s mouths against each other, her lips very quickly asserting dominance in the kiss, her hand finding its way to your chin and gripping it brutally.

She tasted like tequila and champagne, a combination that was welcome to your tongue. Your mouths matched each other perfectly, working against each other in synchronisation. Your hand fell to the hem of Alexia’s jersey, tugging at it. She seemed to get the memo, reaching down to meet your hand at the hem and tugging it quickly over her head, only breaking your kiss for a split second to throw the jersey somewhere across the room. You continued grinding down against her hips as her lips continued their assault on yours.

Eventually, when Alexia’s actions really begin to get to you, you slid yourself off of her hips, ungracefully landing on the floor between her legs and beginning to press a series of kisses to her torso, her abs rock hard under your lips, a perfect contrast to the her soft lips. Her breath hitched when your mouth connected with her clothed mound, making you smile up at her with hooded eyes, your eyelashes fluttering up at her innocently. Her pupils were completely blown, her hazel eyes meeting your own from your spot on the floor.

You ever so carefully hooked your fingers in the band of her shorts, tugging them down her muscular thighs and calves, leaving her glistening, beautiful sex right in front of your face. Her breathing quickens almost immediately the second your lips make contact with her heat, your soft pillowy lips pressing down gently on her clit in a quick peck. She moaned almost immediately, her back arching against the armchair as you let your head dip lower, your tongue darting out of your mouth and sliding perfectly through her wetness, you leave open mouth kisses all over her thighs and pussy. You lick a thick stripe up and down with your tongue, revelling in the way that she moaned deeply at your ministrations. You begin to suck on her clit, leading her to take your hair in her hands, tugging you up further into her pool of heat. You continue to suck shamelessly on her clit, enjoying the amount of pleasure that she was getting from your throat and the amount of pleasure you were getting from her hand being entangled in your hair.

She begins to get frantic with her thrusts against your face, and as soon as you begin to bite on her clit it was clear that she was teetering on the edge, her legs shaking wildly on either side of your head and her thighs tightening around your head as she began to hump your head, grinding down against your lips furiously chasing her own release. You moved down, pushing your tongue into her pussy and it was apparently enough to send Alexia over the edge, her legs spasming and her cunt convulsing around your tongue, illicit moans and dirty words flowing freely from her mouth as you kissed her cunt gently and licked up the cum leaking from her hole as the aftershocks ran rampant through her body.

As her body began to still she pulled you up off the carpet by your hair, reaching out for your waist and bringing you to come and sit down on her lap. She pulled you into a gentle kiss, her lips moving gently against yours and absorbing the taste of her on your tongue. Alexia pulled at your bra, reaching around to the back of the red lace and unclicking the clasp, helping you to pull the straps over your shoulders and then fling the bra somewhere onto the hotel room floor, joining Alexia’s shorts and your robe. Alexia’s hands immediately went to your breasts, rolling the flesh in her hands and groaning at the feeling of your pebbled nipples in her hands. Every touch from her hands set you on fire, a wave of incredible shocks that went straight to the wet patch between your legs.

Alexia’s kiss slowly got more heated, her energy rejuvenated and apparently her sexual desire heightening again. One of her hands travelled down to the band of your panties, snapping it against your hips, Alexia clearly finding joy in the moan of mixed pain and pleasure that you enjoyed so much. She smirked against your lips, her practised fingers dancing across your skin drawing intricate patterns over the surface.

You moaned easily into her mouth, the feeling of her hands pinching and prodding at your skin being absolutely delightful. It lit a passion inside of you, a fire that couldn’t be put out, not until Alexia was finally touching the parts of you that needed her the most.

“Please.”

Your words were muffled by her lips, but she understood them, understood exactly what you needed, she still wanted to tease you though, still wanted to work you up.

“What do you want bebita? What do you want from me?”

You moaned again into her mouth, your hips rocking against her lap and your body leaning into wherever her hand would lay itself, chasing her, chasing anything she would give you.

“Fuck, ma’am, fuck me please.”

Alexia smirked against your lips, detaching them and reaching down to your neck, latching them onto your soft skin and beginning to suck and bite at the sensitive spots that littered your neck.

“Such good manners I think I can do that for you, get up on the bed for me niña bonita, on your back, panties off.”

Your whole body shook with her words, you immediately leapt off of her lap, jumping straight onto the bed as to not disobey her, flipping yourself over so your head was resting on the pillows and your legs were laying open for her, you quickly pulled your panties off, slipping them out from under your ass and down your legs, readying yourself for her as she’d asked.

Alexia stumbled around the foot of the bed, picking up something from her suitcase, you very quickly discovered that something was a strap on, one with a rather large clear dildo attached to it. Alexia very quickly pulled the strap on, adjusting the harness quickly so it was fastened to her hips before jumping up beside you on the bed.

She leant over the top of you, her face mere centimetres away from your face as she smirked down at you, her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. With a split second her lips were no longer hanging above your own, instead pressed to your wetness. It was pure ecstasy, enough to throw you over the edge immediately. Alexia was gentle, clearly working you up to what was lying between her legs.

You were a soaking mess, your back arching against the sheets and sinful moans flowing like a waterfall from your mouth. Alexia slowly began to work a knuckle into you, when she found no resistance she began to pump the finger in and out, gently working in it and out of your wetness.

“Alexia, please, fuck, more.”

Alexia obliged your request, beginning to work a second one in, again finding no resistance and beginning to piston the fingers in and out of your hole, curling them gently upwards. She was pushing you, edging you up, but you knew that this wasn’t the main event, this wasn’t what she was building up to. So you let her work you up, moans and curses cascading from your lips as Alexia’s fingers put you in a near drugged up state, pure pleasure fueling your body. She pushed you until you were a stuttering mess, before removing her fingers completely.

She moved up your body, coming up to meet you in a tantalising kiss, her lips were a dream, the mix of alcohol and pleasure on her tongue something so inexplicably perfect that you were sure it had to be a imagination.

Alexia’s mouth was perfection, sliding against yours in complete rhythm.

“Do you want me to fuck you bebita, pound you into the mattress?”

You moaned shamelessly into her mouth, nodding your head quickly, you pleasured haze not being enough to stop you from telling Alexia just how much you wanted that.

“Please, fuck, Alexia, please fuck me.”

Alexia once again smirked sardonically against your lips, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards.

You felt the silicone rubbing against your folds, gently caressing the wetness before locating your hole, Alexia pushing just the tip in, leaving you desperate for more. You whined at her, making your displeasure at her teasing evident.

“C’mon bebita, use your words, ask me for the rest.”

You felt a furious blush rising on your cheeks, you pushing your head into your shoulder as you suddenly felt very shy from the words of the footballer.

“No hiding from me, tell me what you want, and I’ll give you it.”

Alexia reached down to your face, pushing it out of your shoulder so you were face to face with her, hazel eyes bearing down on you.

“Please fuck me, please fill me up.”

Alexia obeyed your request immediately, thrusting her cock into you fully. You moaned at the stretch, Alexia stilling her movements to let you adjust to the sudden, but very welcome intrusion. As soon as you nodded at her she began moving, starting with slow and deep strokes, you mindlessly pushing your hips against hers to meet her at every single thrust, it’s magical, indescribable pleasure. Alexia’s hands come up to your breasts and her mouth once again finds your neck, attacking it brutally and leaving marks and bites all over it. You can feel yourself beginning to come undone, and it is then that you realise Alexia’s medal is still dangling from her neck, the gold piece of metal swaying back and forth between her breasts as she quickens her thrusts, beginning to pound in and out of you. It’s a beautiful sight, something no artist could capture.

Your legs begin to tremble, a clear sign that you are nearing your high and just as you are about to tell Alexia you are going to cum, she removes contact from you completely, leaving you vulnerable and wanting on the mattress.

“Alexia.”

You whine at her, your pussy clenching around air, instead of Alexia’s cock that a few mere seconds ago had been filling you to the brim.

She circled your hole with her tip, teasing, you’re grateful for the contact but also so desperate for more.

“Beg for me amor.”

This time you felt no shame asking for what you wanted, felt no shame telling Alexia that.

“Please Alexia, put it back in, please give me your cock, I’ve been good for you haven’t I? Fuck me, please? Please make me cum, I’m trying so hard to be good for you, I’ll be so good, please.”

Your words seemed to be enough for Alexia, the woman began to wildly thrust into you, her hands and lips restarting their previous movements up again, this time with more edge, more urgency. This time when you found yourself on the edge Alexia didn’t retract her movements, instead wheyour legs began to tremble she began to fasten her movements. She fucked you like she knew every part of your body, like she knew you like the back of her own palm.

“Alexia, fuck, fuck, going to cum, please let me cum.”

She nodded at you and that was enough permission for you, enough fuel to send you plummeting over the edge into an exquisite orgasm, like you’d never experienced. You saw stars, your vision going pitch black as the pure pleasure coursed all the way through your bones and body, sending shocks and unmeasurable amounts of pleasure that Alexia had given you.

Alexia slowed her movements, although did not cease her thrusts completely, slowly bringing you down from your high. As soon as the big wave faded you regained your vision and enough of your sense to feel just how overstimulated you were. You mewled at Alexia, pushing her away from you and she slowly but surely withdrew, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling your head into her chest as you came down from your high.

She placed gentle kisses on your forehead and jawbone, watching lovingly as you slowly came back to earth, slowly beginning to regain more energy. You gazed up at her, a post orgasm dazed bliss being the only thing displayed on your face. You looked at Alexia, realising she had now removed her explicit appendage and was lying beside you on the bed, bare beside the medal that she still had hanging around her throat.

Everything about how she was treating you was so intimate, so gentle, so unlike anything you ever experienced with your other clients. To most of the people you serviced you were just another body, just another sex toy to be hired out and paid, you gave people a show, serviced them and then they left. None of them were this gentle, this wrapped up in your own contentment.

“How are you feeling?”

Alexia’s words were soft, a lot softer in contrast to the words that she’d been moaning at you a few minutes ago.

“Sore, but good, how about you?”

Your voice was just as hoarse as Alexia’s now, lost from your moans and screams.

“Not too sore?”

There was the underlying theme of worry in Alexia’s voice, something you were so unused to.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

Alexia nodded, leaning down again to press another kiss to your forehead.

“I should probably leave, I don’t want to be a bother.”

It was the truth, you didn’t want to distract Alexia from her victory or make her feel like she had to care for you. Just as you were about to remove yourself from her arms she stopped you, pulling you back down to her chest tightly.

“Nonsense, unless you want to leave you are very welcome, I want to make sure that you are okay, that was a little rough and it would be understandable if you were feeling a little bit spacey.”

You bit you lip, this was so irregular, you were a stripper, a sex worker, you weren’t supposed to have this kind of niceness, weren’t supposed to be granted these kinds of kindness.

“It’s my job, I feel fine, I can go for round two if you want.”

There was a little bit too much bite to your tone, enough for Alexia to tighten her grip on you.

“I know I don’t know you, but regardless of whether or not this is your job it’s okay for you to feel sore or like you want to take a breather, I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

Alexia was being so tender underneath the dimly lit lamplight.

“I feel good, I promise, I don’t think I’ve ever cum harder in my life, and I’d love to do it again, in the shower?”

Alexia smirked at you, chuckling at your admission.

“That is definitely something I won’t object to, but first, let’s just take a breather, I know you say you're fine but just let your elder have a moment to breathe.”

Conversation between you and Alexia flowed so freely, like you’d known each other for years, like you weren’t two bedmates that would most likely never see each other again after tonight.

“Okay grandma, take your time, I’ll just go get myself off with the shower head.”

You jumped off of the bed, running towards the ensuite and not missing the sound of Alexia’s feet pattering after you, chasing you into the bathroom, raring to go again, something that you were less than objectionable to.

[dorabellingham]

First day of school

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader x baby boy

summary: when it's your child's first day of school but you're very attached

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a day of mixed emotions at the Bellingham house. Benjamin's first day of school had arrived, and you were ready to accompany the little boy to school in Madrid. Ben, only five years old, had a look of doubt and fear on his face. He understood a few words in spanish, since he had contact with the language on a daily basis, but his natural language was English, and this barrier only made him more apprehensive.

The morning began with careful preparation. You chose Benji's favorite backpack, with dinosaur characters, and Jude prepared a special snack with your son's favorite snacks. However, the expression on the little boy's face remained the same: he was not at all excited.

When you finally left the house, with the little boy holding the hand of each of his parents, Ben looked at you with a pleading look, as if trying to say without words: "Why are you doing this to me?". On the way, you and Jude exchanged encouraging glances, knowing you were making the right decision, but also feeling your hearts ache.

As soon as you arrived at the preschool, Jude got down to Benji's level and explained.

—Benji, you're going to make lots of little friends here. Mommy and daddy will be waiting for you at the end of the day, and I promise that if you're a brave boy, we'll go to the Bernabéu on Saturday. How about that?

He tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, hoping that would cheer up the little boy, but he just looked at his father with those big, sad brown eyes, clutching his backpack tightly.

You also got down next to your husband and caressed your son's little face.

—It'll only be a few hours, my love. Mommy will be here before you know it. And look, you'll get to play and learn new things! Remember how you always ask about things? Here you'll get lots of answers.

You gave him an encouraging smile, but your little boy didn't seem convinced.

—I don't want to stay, mommy. I don't want to.

He repeated softly, while holding his parents' hands tightly.

The teacher, who was watching patiently, approached, smiling warmly.

—Hola, Ben! Mi nombre es Carlos. ¿Te gustan los dinosaurios?

He asked, pointing to the boy's backpack.

Benjamin looked at him suspiciously, but nodded slowly. He understood a little of what the teacher was saying, but he still felt lost.

—¡Genial! Tenemos juguetes de dinosaurios aquí adentro. ¿Quieres ver?

The teacher continued in spanish, trying to gain his trust.

You gave your son a gentle push to encourage him, but Benji was still hesitant. Jude, noticing his son's anguish, gave him an understanding smile.

—You'll do great, champ. Just a few hours, and then you can tell us everything you did, okay?

After a few more attempts at convincing, Benjamin slowly let go of your hand and followed the teacher with small, uncertain steps. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched your son enter the preschool for the first time without you or Jude around, while your husband lightly squeezed your shoulder in support. It was a big step, both for Benji and for you.

However, as you began to walk away from the entrance, you could hear Benji calling.

—Mommy! Daddy!

He had tears in his eyes, holding a toy dinosaur that the teacher had given him. Your heart broke when you heard your son’s call, and you looked at Bellingham with a look of despair.

Jude took a step towards the entrance, but then turned to you and spoke softly:

—We have to trust that he’ll be okay. It’s the first step, remember?

You nodded, your eyes full of tears, but took a deep breath and waved to your son, smiling and blowing kisses from afar. Benji looked at them, confused and sad, before being taken back by the teacher, who was distracting him with the toys.

——

At home, you tried to distract yourselves, but you both found yourselves looking at your cell phones, waiting for any updates from school. For you, every minute felt like an eternity.

—Babe, I can’t take it anymore...

You murmured sadly as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

—Can we pick you up earlier, sweetheart? —Jude said, his large hands caressing your back. —I feel like they took a part of me.

Bored, you walked around the house, tidying up your son's toys and checking to see if his room was in order, as if that would help you feel more connected. Jude, on the other hand, kept himself busy with training videos, but with each notification, he quickly checked his phone.

Finally, after hours that seemed like days, the phone rang, and the school informed him that Ben was fine, although he had cried a little at first, which was normal for the first day. He had gradually fit in with the other children and was starting to feel more comfortable. You looked at each other, both sighing in relief.

—He's my son, it would be very difficult not to become popular on the first day.

The man gave an almost correct wink, he was finally learning.

—It doesn't even seem like you were crying half an hour ago, Jude Victor.

You said, laughing softly, but the feeling of relief was so gratifying.

When they went to pick up Benji, he ran into your arms, and Jude immediately picked him up, hugging him tightly.

—How was it, champ?

Jude asked with a smile, while Benji snuggled into his father’s chest.

—It was… weird. —Benji replied, still confused, but he seemed less sad. —The kids spoke differently.

You stroked your son’s curly hair and smiled.

—But you’re learning to understand what they say in spanish, aren’t you, my love?

Ben nodded slowly, looking a little more confident.

—The teacher gave me a dinosaur.

Jude laughed and looked at you.

—See? You even got a new dinosaur! You know, we’re going to the Bernabéu this weekend, like I promised. How about it?

The mini copy of Jude smiled a small but genuine smile when he heard that. He loved the stadium and the idea of ​​going there with his father always excited him. You crouched down next to Jude and looked into your son’s eyes.

—We’re so proud of you, Benji. You were so brave today.

You kissed his forehead, and he smiled back, finally relaxing.

As you walked to the car, Ben held his parents’ hands tightly, and you and Jude exchanged knowing, happy looks. You knew there would still be challenges, but that first day was the beginning of a new phase for your family.

[princessgiggles333]

shout out to Hazel Callahan for being the only one to have a first and last name in the Bottoms movie