(+18)W illiamson vs Williamson

Warnings: (+18) smut, fingering (r receiving)

..

You loved Leah with your whole heart. You really did.

It had never been a doubt in your life. The warm feeling began growing in your chest when you first met her at a Pepsi campaign shoot a year ago.

She was cocky, you were cockier. She liked that. She said she enjoyed being challenged, liked to be pushed and pulled, and liked how you were the one person she allowed to do that to her.

That dynamic ruled your relationship, which started as a friends-with-benefits arrangement. It worked because you didn't play for the same country or the same club, so having a low-maintenance relationship was functional.

It served its purpose.

It gave both of you someone to call whenever you were in the same city.

But then it became something more. You found yourself sending her pictures of your cat, then you began taking pictures of books you were reading, telling her how much a particular sentence reminded you of her.

You were drunk when you confessed your feelings, but it was okay because Leah was drunker. You had sex, but neither of you could remember it. The only thing both of you could remember was the aching headache you woke up with the next day, and how, since then, you both just...became a thing.

There wasn't any big declaration, you were just dating. It grew naturally.

Same thing with how Leah proposed two years later. You were on one of your rare breaks together. It was a sunny day on a beach in Greece, and Leah casually asked if you'd like to be called Williamson.

You said yes. A week later, you signed the papers.

It was easy. it always was when it came to Leah. She wasn't dramatic; she was honest, straightforward. You were, too. That's why you guys matched.

Your relationship was intense yet steady. No unnecessary drama, no pointless arguments.

But oh, it was so much different when it came to how you two were on the pitch.

You were both captains-Leah for the Lionesses, you for your country.

When the game started, you shook hands, shared a smile, and then turned your backs to each other. Williamson and Williamson.

The media loved how it absolutely didn't seem like you two even knew each other when you were on the pitch. Both of you were absolutely ruthless, only one goal in mind: score goals and keep clean sheets.

The green of the pitch didn't match the red of love.

They were supposed to be separate things. They shouldn't mix with each other.

..

It was a heated game.

You were losing.

Ninety minutes were up, and the referee added three minutes of stoppage time.

You weren't very nice when you were playing, and you were worse when you were losing.

You were running, ball at your feet, only two or three players in your way to the goal. You were ready to take a long shot when Leah rushed past you, ready to put herself in your path.

You ran faster, ball on your left foot as your right one slipped past her calf. She fell. You didn't mean to, but her body was in the way, so you stumbled awkwardly, almost hitting her knee.

The knee. The one she tore her ACL on years ago.

You obviously didn't mean it. You would never purposely hurt anyone badly, let alone Leah, but it happened. You almost stepped on it.

The referee blew the whistle, and you took a step back, ready to help Leah to her feet again. But then Leah got up, her brows furrowed, the veins on her neck showing.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" she said, getting closer. She looked mad-very mad-which made you angry as well.

Did she think you seriously did that on purpose?

"Oh, it seems like we have a Williamson vs Williamson situation right now," came the commentator's voice over the stadium speakers.

"Oh come on, I clearly didn't mean it," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, you fucking did," she said, pointing a finger at you. Her chest was puffed out as if she were trying to make herself look taller.

It worked.

"Don't be such a baby. It's a fucking game, it happens," you said.

"Fuck you-"

Greenwood showed up, you didn't see her coming. She was holding Leah's face and telling her to back off. You kept your ground, looking Leah straight in the eyes. Fuck her if she thought you would seriously do that on purpose.

"Fuck you," you echoed back to her. Then you turned your back on her as the referee got in the middle of it.

"Give me my fucking last name back!" she shouted, looking at the back of your jersey.

"You can keep it, idiot!" you called back over your shoulder.

..

You snapped your hair tie in half as you walked to the locker room. Your teammates were patting your back, telling you that the team would come back stronger next time, which you agreed with-you couldn't not do it. You were the captain.

You were the last one in the showers.

You needed the hot water running down your neck, dripping down your back. It was a domestic game for you, so you didn't need to go back with the rest of the team on the bus. Instead, you could stay as long as you wanted in the locker room and just go home after.

You hated to lose. It was one of the worst feelings ever. It was friendly, but whatever, it still felt sore. You were replaying everything that went wrong in the game: every pass you did wrong, the times you were too slow.

You clenched your fists, your fingers digging into your palms. Your nails hurt your skin, they would have drawn blood if your nails were longer.

You screamed when you felt cold hands against your body, but then her shampoo scent hit your nostrils. Leah.

She kept her hands on your naked hips, pulling your body against her clothed one. "Keep it, idiot? Really?" she murmured in your ear.

You smirked, letting yourself be pulled into her. "You were the one who asked for your name back."

"Mm," she hummed, kissing your neck. "I didn't mean it, though."

"It seemed like you did," you said. "You were coming at me, your face was all red."

"You know my knee is a sensitive topic," she said, her fingers trailing down, closer and closer to where you needed them most, your cunt was wet already, ready for her.

"My wife telling me to give her name back is also a sensitive topic," you breathed as she filled you, slowly, teasingly.

"Your wife is a bit hotheaded," Leah whispered, quickening the pace of her fingers and taking your skin of your neck between her teeth.

"Guess that's a Williamson trait, then," you said, moving your hips against her fingers.

"Kind of is, yeah," she said, her breath hot against your ear. "But you know what else is a Williamson trait?"

"What?" you managed to ask, your voice catching as she found exactly the right spot. She always did, and she knew it.

"We don't stay mad at each other for long." She held your jaw so you were looking at her. "Especially not over something that happened on the pitch."

You lifted your head up, brushing your lips against her cheek. "We always fight when we play against each other...we're idiots.

"Completely idiots," she agreed, pressing her forehead against yours. She was getting wet, the water dripping down on her as you dripped down her finger with your own wetness. "But we're married-can't forget that."

"We're married idiots who happen to be really good at football." You moaned as she added a third finger. This woman was gonna be the death of you.

Her and her stupid fingers-and knee.

"Speak for yourself. I'm the one who won today," she teased, her lips found your neck again, sucking it, and leaving a mark. Leah loved to mark you up.

"Don't push it, Williamson," you warned, but you were suddenly quiet when Leah's thumb found you clit, massaging it sweetly. "Fuck-more."

"Yeah?" Leah said, a smirk growing on her face. "Gonna make you cum right here, make you remember why you have that name on your back, why you're mine."

And Leah did exactly that. In the steam and heat of the shower, you were just two people who loved each other as much as you loved winning and competing.

Well, some days more than others.

..

a/n: i hope you gus enjoyed it!! <3

let me know what u think!!!