ᴍʏᴏ’ᴏ ⟡ ݁

Today's training was really rough, the weather is hot and suffocating, the coach is in a bad mood and really demanding since an important match is on its way, the boys are giving themselves to satisfy the coach and to be in form to beat their opponents. It's mid afternoon, the sun is beating at its highest on the pitch. Even from the grades you're sitting, you can feel sweat sliding down the bottom of where your hair stops in your neck to your shoulders and back. The heat is bearable compared to Jobe who's been running on the field non-stop, his skin and shirt soaked from sweat and his soccer socks dirty green from the grass when his knees meet the ground from exhaustion.

The heat makes it hard to concentrate on anything but Jobe. The back of your thighs are sticking to the bench and your shirt clinging to your back in an uncomfortable way. Your cheeks are flushed and your breath heavy even from doing nothing but looking at your boyfriend. The tall guy uses his shirt to wipe the sweat flowing down his forehead, showing off his glistening abs highlighted by the warm sun.  His face looks tired but relieved since the training is soon over. He raises up the lengths of his shorts even higher because its sticking to his sore skin as well. You barely chokes on your water at the view of his thick thighs, your mind going straight to imagining a lot of things you'd want to experience with these strong muscles of him. You're easily distracted by him, especially when he's training, and the weather isn't helping either.

After a few hours of hard work, the coach finally whistles the end of the training. Jobe looks exhausted as he hugs his friends goodbye. But as he finally looks at you, a warm smile spreads across his face and he jogs towards you. You let a sigh you didn't know you were holding as you smile back at him.

He greets you with a warm and sticky embrace, your body already hot from the heat (and the sight of his thighs) and his from his hard training.

- "Baby...you're sticky..." You says as he wraps his arms securely tight around your sweaty form, and he doesn't seem to give a single fuck.

- "I don't care...let me hug my girl." He buries his wet face in the crook of your warm neck, his breath hot, heavy and uneven. You accept his embrace despite feeling overly hot and you rub his back. Jobe doesn't care about the heat when it comes to you, he could be outside in the snow in only his boxers and he would be clinging to you, you, on the other hand, the heat can totally affect your mood, the heat can make you irritated and you hate when people touch you when you can feel your clothes sticking to your body and your hair clinging to your damp neck. But it's different with Jobe, because no matter what you say, he'll be hugging you.

- "Let's get home...I can't stand being in this heat a second more." He lets out a soft chuckle at your words but you can feel his nod against his neck, he presses a soft kiss to your pulse point before leaving the warm place where his face stayed and taking your hand to leave.

———

The evening went as usual, they showered, ate and went to bed. Jobe looks overly tired but he always needs his kisses to sleep... It started slow, they went to bed, he laid his head on her chest and they cuddled for a long time.

You're scrolling on social media, laughing at some dumb videos you see, Jobe is half asleep, he's always dead on his feet after his trainings sessions but today he's fighting it. He watches your face with half-opened eyes as you laugh at your phone. He then finds warmth in the crook of your neck, pressing soft, sleepish warm kisses where your neck meets your shoulder, your free hand finds its way into his curly damp hair. He smells good, his usual soap mixed with his own body scent.

His heavy body on top of yours grounds you, his thick thigh slips between yours in a comfortable way, you can't help it but let out a soft whimper as you can feel his muscle pressing against your core.

- "What was that?" He asks and you can feel him grinning against your neck.

- "Shut up." You replies in a sharp breath, he moves his thigh in subtils movements, barely there, but the simple feeling of him against you brings a warm heat in the bottom of your stomach.

Jobe bites the thin skin of your neck in a soft pace and licks the sore skin to soothe it. Your phone is long forbidden on your side of the bed.

- "Jobe...you're exhausted..."

- "I'm fine baby...relax.." His words are enough to make your body clings to him, your breath getting heavier as his hands start roaming over the thin layer of your pyjamas separating his skin from yours, his mouth still attacking your neck.

You throws your head back as he sucks on hard with his soft lips and your hips jerks against his thigh, desperate for friction, you can feel his smirk against your neck and he grinds his leg against your soaked, untouched core. You're such a whimpering mess from just dry humping it's almost embarrassing.

- "Such a needy girl, getting soaked just from my thigh...you were checking out on them all day weren't you?" He mocks you in his soft yet mean tone. You can't help but moan and nod, incapable of thinking or saying a single word. Your hips are moving desperately against his thigh, your pyjamas shorts still a barrier between you two.

His hands are all over your body, gripping your breast in his large hand, circling your hard sensitive nipple with his thumb, caressing your rib... He's almost half asleep, and yet he can't seem to stop touching you. He can feel how wet you are, how you need him. His free hand finds its way down your stomach, between your core and his thigh, he presses his middle finger against your clothed clit, massaging it in slow, hard and torturous circles.

- "Jobe.." you choke on a moan, you can barely think straight, only whimpering his name and stuffled words, a tear rolling down your cheek as you grind pathetically against him. He kisses your tear away and kisses your temple as he plays with your clit.

- "you close already sweetheart? I didn't even touch you properly, always so needy for me..." His words only could send you to the edge, you wraps your arm around his neck and pull him closer to you, your breath uneven and loud as you make a mess of you pyjamas shorts, getting them soaked.

- "Jobe please... M'close..." you shut your eyes tight as the heat in your stomach becomes unbearable while his fingers torture your poor buddle of nerves, he doesn't even have to penetrate you to make you fall apart.

- "Let it go my love... I'm right there..." and with that, you come on his fingers with a soft cry. You face is wet with tears and Jobe soothes you with sweet nothings, caressing your sides and holding you close to him.

Jobe had a long and tiring day, however, he still makes you his priority and makes you cum before he falls asleep when you need it.

You guys cuddle for a bit, legs tangled in the sheets, your thighs sticky and his leg still between yours but in a comfortable, intimate way now. He kisses your lips and forehead softly before falling asleep.

The Spanish team is getting ready for their match against France which will be decisive for the final. The players are expected a lot and they pressure themselves way too much, they're scared to deceive their country, and to ruin all the efforts they made to get there.

They're all stressed, even terrified, and the tension at the training camp is almost suffocating, shouts and groans of frustration are constant. The heat in the middle of the summer in the US only makes it worse, the Spanish are irritated and get tired quicker than usual.

Being the physiotherapist of the team, it's one of your job to make sure everyone's okay and to stay near the pitch if something happens and someone needs you.

———

12th of July 2026, the demi-final against France is in 2 days, the air is hot and humid, Luis de la Fuente is shouting instructions while the players are running all over the pitch, The sound of balls being hit echoes through the stadium as well as the exhausted and annoyed growls of the players. You're in the grades, looking at the training, checking on the players, you scroll on your phone from times to times.

Ferran Torres got hurt at yesterday's training, just a thigh cramp, nothing too bad, but it may worsen if he's going to harsh on himself.

The boy is infuriating, never listening to what you're saying, he's stubborn and too proud to admit when he's hurt or needs anything. He always pushes himself way too hard, scared to deceive his family, his team, the whole country, and most of all, himself. 

You know damn too well, by stories you've heard during your studies years that players like him don't get anything but badly injured.

One thing about him is that he's such a tease, everytime you tell him to go easy, to be careful, he only smirks and says "Yeah I will, can't promise though." and he leaves like this, with a fucking proud smile on his face, knowing he'll clench his teeth during massages after training, suffering because of his stubbornness.

The thing is, Ferran isn't confident, you're not so close to him but you can see right through his proud smile and flirty eyes. He's been receiving a lot of criticism lately by supporters, telling him he's not enough and worthless in the team. Those has been really playing on his mood, his confidence and self-love dropping low. Everyone can see how this is affecting him, he tries to keep his head up, laughing with his teammates, but his eyes show another kind of pain.

He trains every days a week, putting too much pression on himself, his friends telling him to calm down, to go easy, but he pushes them away and tell them he's fine.

———

The footballers are practicing their penalty shootout while you're talking to another physiotherapist of the team. Everything's seems to go well when suddenly you look up and see Ferran falling on his knees to the ground, holding his bruised thigh, he shoots a sword and lays to the ground violently, you can see he's in pain, unable to move his leg, the pain too intense. You sigh in annoyance, walking to him, knowing he went too hard on himself, once again.

You go to him, you both leave the pitch, he leans on you to walk, his arm around your shoulder to keep his balance, his legs unsteady by the pain the cramp caused him. This time, he doesn't look so proud.

The walk to the physiotherapy room is silent, but the tension is omnipresent. You can hear his loud ragged breath and his soft groans when his leg gets too pressured.

When you arrive, you get the table ready for him, putting on clean paper for him to lay on, water if he's thirsty and your other usual stuff.

"Sit down" you order him, it's not a question, you don't leave him a choice. You don't even look up at him, you know his damn face will get you on your nerves. He whimpers as he sits, trying to get comfortable

"Take off your shorts." You say coldly, you're pissed because you know it's his fault, his leg is still sensitive from yesterday and yet he did as he pleased.

You can hear his insufferable smirk as he speaks, hiding such sad eyes of him. He takes off his shorts, keeping his boxers without arguing.

"Calm down lady, I'm not an easy man." He teases, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't fucking start ferran. Your stupid jokes ain't doing a work on me this time." You turn around and go to him, your hands wet with massage oil. He notices that you avoid his gaze, his jaw clenched.

"You know I didn't do it on purpose." He shouts while laying down.

"Excuse me? What were you thinking about? The match is only in 2 days. It's not an amical game Ferran. It's the goddamn World Cup! And you can't play with your health like it's nothing!" You wrap your hands around his thick thigh, applying pressure on his tense, cramped thigh. He groans and flinches, his hands clenching in a fist. His lips are pressed in a thin line

"I know that, I know what I'm doing with my body! I know my limits. I'm not an idiot." He shouts back, his voice laced with pain an indescribable intensity.

You laugh ironically. "Yeah, of course you do, that's why you're pushing yourself way too hard until you won't be able to play at all." You don't look at him, but you can feel his hard gaze on you, your body freezing slightly.

"I have to prove them what I'm capable of. I need to train harder, to get better, to prove them wrong." He looks at the ceiling, right in front of him while you relaxes the cramp tensing his leg. His words make you stop and think twice before you speak. You know he's in pain, not just physically.

"You're a good player, you can't let their words affect you that way, you're gonna get hurt just to prove them wrong, and you just won't being able to play at all. They'd be the one winning against you Ferran you know that." Your voice soften, realising you might have been too harsh on him, he doesn't need it when he's already in a bad mood. You know how people's opinion can change and affect someone.

You both stay silent for the rest of the massage seance, his teammates still training outside, far from where you are. His breath is heavy and hitches when your fingers finds his bruised spots, letting out soft uncontrollable whimpers. The tension is suffocating, none of you daring to say a word. As you massage his body, he seems to relax, his breathing softening and eyes closed.

"Ok I'm done." Your voice is emotionless, you leave your spot to wash your hands, he sits up, still in his boxers and his sweaty shirt, he looks at you, your back turned to him.

You turn around to go back to the table to clean it, he's still sat on it, you can feel his glaze on you, following your every moves.

"Stop looking at me like that." You say, feeling your cheeks burning, you clean up the space, your each moves close to him. His eyes on you are too intense, it's too much for you. You're still mad at him, annoyed by his stubbornness and his fake proud act.

As you pass in front of him, he catches your wrist, you look at him, his eyes deep and pained.

"Please..." he whispers, begging.

You just look at him, not moving an inch. He brings you closer and wraps his arms around you, tightly.

Your heart jumps a beat, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You're surprised and taken off guard. Your body is hesitant, but your arms wrap themselves around his neck in return.

His breath is heavy, his eyes closed as he smells your scent deeply, as if to remember your scent. His grip is tight and warm. You realise that his insecurities are way deeper than you thought, he must have really need that hug.

"It's okay...you're okay...I'm right there." You whisper, he's shaking slightly against you, you slide your fingers in his long soft hair.

"I'm so fucking weak...I'm so sorry..." he whispers quietly, almost like he's ashamed of it, saying it like an embarrassing secret, an embarrassing truth. He rubs his face against the thin skin of your neck, looking for warmth and comfort like a kitten.

"No you're not. Don't let those people put you down." It makes you something seeing him like that. Nobody deserves this kind of treatment.

His hands grip you tightly, holding you like he needs you, like you're the only person he's got right now.

He leaves your neck and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes half-opened, his breath hot against your lips, you have to look up to look at him in the eyes. His glaze is so strong you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest.

He leans in, looking deep in your eyes for your approval, when he sees no sign of rejection, he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You let out a soft unintentional whimper, you can feel his smirk reappearing on his lips as he takes your face between his hands to kiss you deeper.

He bites your bottom lip softly, you gasp and part your lips, he takes this as an opportunity and slides his tongue into your mouth, you don't even fight for dominance, you let him kiss you like he wants to. The kiss gets deeper quickly, both of your spit mixing, your tongues dancing together.

When the kiss finally breaks, a string of saliva is connecting your lips. His hands still cupping your face. Your cheeks are burning hot. He's smiling like he already won the World Cup, you hate it.

"Drop that smile. Asshole." You're embarrassed by the way your body reacts so easily to him.

"Language." He warns softly before taking your lips in a deep kiss once again. He grips your waist with one hand while the other tilt your head to kiss you better. His hand on your waist lowering to your lower back, squeezing your ass then gripping your thigh, bringing it to his hip. You're almost straddling him. He grips your hips with both of his hands to make you straddle him completely.

You freeze, not wanting to hurt his leg even more.

"Don't do that. You're hurt."

"I'm okay. I can handle it." He reassures you, you're not completely convinced.

"Ferran...they might catch us..." you warn softly, not sure.

"Please...I need you...I promise it's fine, nobody will catch us, I swear." He looks up at you with those soft desperate eyes and you can't even fight back.

You sit on him, feeling his hardness pressing against his tight boxers. You whimper at the feeling, your panties already soaked. He lets out a soft groan too, his nose crunching. His grip on your hips tighten, grinding you down on his covered length.

You take a grip on his shoulders to keep your balance, your legs already shaking from the pleasure of being rubbed against him. He's so desperate yet so gentle. He bites on the soft skin of your neck, leaving a soft purplish mark.

You take his chin between your fingers to pull him back into another kiss. You grip on the edge of his shirt, pulling it up, he helps you and takes off your shirt back. He smiles as he does. You try to unbutton your pants, your hands shaking as you struggle to do it. He grips your hands slowly and pull them away, unbuttoning your pants for you, his breath is as heavy and warm as yours.

You pull your pants down, only standing in your underwear now. He lets out a low, deep growl and pull you closer to him, his face burying between your breasts, he inhales your scent deeply, kissing the warm and soft skin of your chest. You throw your head back and grip on his hair strands to pull him closer. He takes your right nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly and soothing it with his soft tongue while his hand massages your free boob. He then does the same with with your other breast. You grind harder against him, your panties soaking his boxers.

He's hard as a rock, groaning against your breast as he sucks on your soft nipple. He can't take it anymore. He growls and slides your panties to the side, lowering his boxers. His dick springs free, the tip slapping against his stomach. Your eyes open wide, your mouth is dry, he's long and thick, you look unsure, a little hesitant. He looks up at you and soften at your expression.

"Hey...you okay?" He asks carefully.

"Yeah..I'm fine." You take a deep breath and buries your face in the crook of his neck.

He caresses your hair gently to relax you, you relax against him, taking the time you need.

He grips your hips and pulls you down on his length slowly, teasing your clit with his tip, only caressing and teasing your slit. You whimper loudly and bites on his neck.

"Please...Ferran..." you beg him, desperate for him.

"I'm right there... be patient..." he whispers as desperate as you. His eyes are forceful, passionate and vulnerable.

He wraps his hand around his base, bringing his tip to your entrance. He puts his hands on your hips carefully, lowering you on him. You whimper at the feeling, taking deep breath as you lower yourself on him, taking every inch slowly. You whimper and your walls clench around him which makes him groan.

You wrap your arms around his neck and sit fully on him, you're still being careful not to sit on his sore cramped thigh. He groans at your tightness and helps you ride him. You're slow at first, taking your time to adjust to his size, then you're faster, needing to feel him completely. You're a whimpering mess as much as him. He moans in your neck, his hands gripping you tightly.

Your legs start shaking as you support your own weight to ride him, he looks up at you and pull you into a deep kiss, swallowing all of your moans. The kisses become sloppy, messy and wet.

"I'm close...fuck..." He whispers in the crook of your neck.

You clench around him at his words, even more turned on, your eyes start getting watery from how excited you are. He kisses your cheeks and pull you down completely on him.

"Can I?...please…" he's basically begging, needing you so much. You nod, tears rolling down your tears from pleasure.

He then spills inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed, you whimper at the feeling and cum at the same moment.

"Oh fuck…" he whispers under his breath.

Both of your breath are ragged, you stay seated on him, feeling him softening inside of you. He kisses your neck to soothe you, you hold him back, your head resting on his shoulder. You stay like this for minutes, not talking. Just feeling.

"You got hurt just to fuck me or something?" She jokes, unable to speak well. He laughs and kisses your neck again.

"Didn't need to, I knew I'd have you one day or another."