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f0point5 · 1 month

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i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

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tqmies · 7 months

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ZB1 + Jealous Sex

ZB1 after one of you is jealous!

note: legal members only (not including gunwook or yujin!) & as always, minors dni!

JIWOONG's eyebrows just furrow because, really? Did you seriously think any of these run-of-the-mill men at this party could make him feel insecure? They don't but they do manage to piss him off. Why were you so close to them? You were just being friendly? You're a liar.

You babble incoherently as he held the vibrator to your abused cunt, having climaxed more times than you could count before having it ripped away by his hands. All he did was crudely laughs at your expense. "What's wrong baby? Earlier you had no problems acting like a slut. I'm just treating you like one."

You knew ZHANG HAO was cute, everyone knew it. Doesn't mean you appreciate everyone flirting with him though.. And his seemingly oblivious act to it all has you seeing red. God, you had to teach him a lesson.

"Babe, s-slow down." He lets out, cock already spent, your eagerness to get him to cum again has him tearing up. His face red as he bites his bottom lip, letting out low whimpers. You continue bouncing on him though, fingers digging into his shoulders as you use them as an anchor. You scoff, trying not to let any moans slip out. "Think any of those girls out there could have you like this baby?"

HANBIN knows that it's not your fault, but it doesn't stop him from getting a little jealous! His friends had crashed your beach date, catching your body in its full glory in the cute bikini you donned. He swears one of them even popped a boner from it!

"You're mine," He growled, your leg thrown over his shoulder. He hadn't even managed to slip your bikini off, only pushing it to the side enough to enter his fat tip into you. Could you blame him? You just looked so good in it! "Only I get to touch you like this, right?"

MATTHEW had been begging you to join him at the gym for months and you finally gave in. Things were fine until you managed to catch a group of girls giggling at your boyfriend in a compression shirt. Leading to an argument that he found himself determined to make up for.

His tongue licked the stripe up your clit, placing light kisses on your thighs to tease you afterwards, before tongue fucking you. "Don't act silly my love, you know you're the only one I want. Those girl's can look all they want, but you're the one that get's me this way."

TAERAE felt the familiar green monster rear its ugly head into his life the minute he spotted you being asked out at the coffee shop he was here to meet you at. You immediately declined the other, but he still couldn't help but feel a little insecure. It was up to you to show him he had no reason to worry.

"Hmm," You mumble, jerking him off as you prepare to deepthroat. He whines, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you press kisses to the flushed tip. "Prettiest cock in the world attached to my pretty boy. No where else I'd rather be then here taking your load down my throat." He can't even manage to stutter a response before you're gagging on his shaft.

You can't blame anyone who hits on RICKY, people flock to him like bee's to honey. But two can play at that game, and you played it quite well, but Ricky doesn't like sharing.

"Gonna fill you with so much cum that it leaks out," He has you folded into a mating press, your walls sucking him in as you jolt from how rough he was fucking you. He was determined to drill into you until your pussy was molded for only him. "Lets see you talk to the guys with it dripping down your legs."

He doesn't get jealous, or at least that's what GYUVIN tells himself. He likes that you get along with his friends! No he doesn't mind one of his friends offering you a jacket. Or saving you a seat by them! It's all perfectly fine.

"Please, please don't leave me. I'd cry every day and- haah - I promise, none of them can treat you like I can." He begs, too busy caught up in his own ministrations that he can't even notice you're fucked too dumb to properly respond. Your back arched as his balls hit your ass with every stroke as you try to keep yourself propped up. "I'm promise I'm good enough, I'll be the best boyfriend- shit - you could ever ask for."

#zb1 smut #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 x reader #zb1 x yn #ricky smut #taerae smut #matthew smut #jiwoong smut #hanbin smut #gyuvin smut #zhang hao smut

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osachiyo · 8 months

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sugar daddy!chuuya who absolutely adores you. you're so so sweet to him, such a good girl; never disobeying him, being so nice to him, not being a brat, never testing his patience— you're just so perfect. Always giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before he leaves for work. That's why he loves to spoil you; buying you all kinds of luxurious items to keep you happy. Taking you on sweet little dates every weekend, brushing you off when you ask if it's too expensive— telling you he's got the money for it, why not spend it on his most prized possession, you?

He loves to spoil you in the bedroom as well; you're his pretty little pillow princess, taking everything he gives you and more. Your legs would be hiked up on his strong shoulders, his face buried in your plush cunt as he moans from your sweet taste on his tongue. Gloved thumbs spreading your pussy apart as he spits on it and it's downright nasty how he licks everything back up, the lower portion of his handsome face dripping with your essence and he loved it.

sugar daddy!chuuya who would buy you so many sets of the prettiest lingere, only to rip them off your body later, promising he'd buy you new ones later. He'd give you his black card, telling you to buy anything you have your eyes on, no matter the price. The only price you have to pay is that pretty body of yours, that he loves kissing, licking and touching.

sugar daddy!chuuya who'd take you shopping whenever he's free, offering to buy entire stores for you, all for you. He'd find you so cute, so eager to try on new clothing and showing it off to him, only to get your brains fucked out in one of the changing rooms, all while wearing the brand new dress you wanted to show off. His hands pulling down the straps of the overly expensive dress, exposing your neck and chest to him. Making you look at your debauched self in the mirror; your pretty lipgloss smudged from the rough kiss you shared earlier, pretty love bites covering your smooth skin, hair pulled back in a makeshift ponytail as he drills himself into you nice 'n good.

sugar daddy!chuuya who has you suck him off underneath the desk of his office. Holding your head down,making you swallow him fully as he tries to have a conversation with his boss on the phone, whispering how good you're for him. His shoe would be grinding against your clothed cunt, ruining the pretty pair of panties you wore for him.

sugar daddy!chuuya who has you in a full nelson infront of the huge window in his office, cooing at you for being so cute,so pliant 'n soft for him to ruin. Promising that he'd buy you a car after this, voice slurred and sultry as he became drunk off the feeling of your pussy sucking him in. You'd eventually be pushed up against the window, nipples hard from your tits pressed up against the cool glass as he splays a large hand on your back, arching it so nicely for him as he plows into you from behind.

sugar daddy!chuuya who suddenly feels his heart speeding up whenever you talk to him, even look at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours. He follows you around like a puppy now, eager to have your attention on him. You suddenly have one of, if not the strongest and most dangerous man in the mafia wrapped around your pinky.

©ambrosiaa— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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jaeminify · 22 days

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two is better than one — lee jeno, na jaemin.

synopsis ☆ jaemin hated sharing and he hated that he had to watch his best friend get to hold you like he would in bed. but what was he to do when you liked the two of them and couldn't decide on one?

tags/warnings ☆ threesome, spit kink, cum play, slight mention of anal; rimming (jaemin... may have a kink), slight strangling kink but towards the end.

author's note ☆ was semi-inspired by that *one challengers scene, and this idea came up... not one of my best works but i enjoyed writing it with how easy the idea and dialogue came to mind. it was also great timing with jeno suddenly going shirtless 0_0 happy readings!!! i hope everyone reading this enjoys <3 feedback and comments are appreciated <3

Jaemin loved to kiss you. To taste you, to feel you, to hold you — he loved every moment of feeling you against him. Skin on skin, sweat dripping off his arms as he touched you; he got turned on by the tiniest of things it agitated him when you weren't around.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the only one who strongly felt that way, for his own best friend harboured the same intensity as him.

"Fuck you Jeno Lee." Jaemin mutters behind his typical red solo cup, not daring to take his eyes off of you while you dance with your group of friends.

"What'd I do?" His best friend shows up in the flesh, holding out a cup of pistachios for both him and Jaemin to snack on.

Jaemin glares at his best friend before taking a pistachio for himself. He nods his head in your direction, feeling his breath get heavy when he notices how good your outfit looks on you. It didn't help that you were swaying your hips too.

Jeno follows his gaze and grins in acknowledgement.

"What can I say, dude." Jeno smirks when you lock eye contact with him, "We're just two lucky bastards."

"You're the bastard. I'm the lucky one."

"Wait till we get back home," Jeno's eyes darken when you blow a kiss to Jaemin but not him. "We'll both be feeling pretty lucky."

"Jaem!" You whine, feeling Jaemin grip your hips so harshly you were sure they'd leave bruises the next day.

You feel Jeno leave kisses on the back of your neck, delicately holding your hair up in a makeshift ponytail, feeling his bare skin against your back while Jaemin is drilling his cock straight into your core. You're trying to form coherent words but the pressure is too much. Your hands are scrambling up to tug at Jaemin's roots while the other is gripping Jeno's hand.

"Yeah, baby?" Jaemin breathes out, cursing under his breath when he feels your pussy tighten around him.

"What's wrong, Sweet Girl?" Jeno whispers into your ear, making you let out a shaky sigh. "Jaemin's making you feel real good isn't he? Doing such a great job for our Jaemin."

You can't help but nod at the praises Jeno gives, losing yourself in the sensation and the words they both shower you in. It was addicting; they were both addicting.

"Kiss..." You mutter," barely able to speak up with how entranced you were by the both of them as you always are. Jeno glanced at Jaemin who was too focused on being sucked in by your cunt that he didn't hear your words.

When he feels your hand on his chest, Jaemin looks over at you. Immediately he recognises the look of your hooded eyes and clingy hands, reaching for any feeling of skin you could get. You just needed them near you.

"Hi baby," Jaemin leans forward, nuzzling his nose against yours before he showers kisses all over your jawline and at the corner of your ear. "What do you need, Angel? Want more of my cock? Need us both?" He whispers, grinning when you whimper and move your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Think she wants a kiss." Jeno smirks from behind your head, you can feel the cockiness drip out of his words. His arms tighten around your waist. "From who, baby?"

You reach out to grab Jeno's neck while the other pulls Jaemin's arm.

"Both... Both of you please..." You whine, looking completely worn out and ruined by the both of them. You feel Jeno's cock harden behind your ass and grind harshly against him as you try to not lose your rhythm with Jaemin's thrusts.

"Need you both, right now..." As if you had enough, you tug them both down to meet your lips and the three of you start relentlessly making out.

Jaemin's hot grunts are swallowed by your lips while Jeno's tongue tries to take control of both you and Jaemin.

The makeout session, dare you say was hotter than having the both of them pound into you but that thought is quickly thrown away when Jeno pulls away, allowing Jaemin to take control. Your bottom lip is licked then sucked by Jaemin before he kneads your stomach, moving his hands from your middle to your ass, unbeknownst to you, spreading your ass apart.

You let out a surprised yelp, gasping when you feel Jeno's finger prod at your second hole, causing you to nearly clamp down onto Jaemin, making him yell.

"Jesus, fuck." Jaemin hisses, quickly pulling out to cum on your stomach. You whimper when you feel something warm.

"More," You sigh, clutching Jeno's arm when you feel him rub his tip against your rim. "Jeno— Jeno please."

"Please what, baby? Use your words. Remember what I taught you."

Jaemin snickers between your legs, using his forefinger to scoop up his cum on your stomach.

"Like she can think straight when I'm here."

Before you can respond, Jaemin hovers over you with his fingers right above your lips. With a smirk, he tilts his head.

"Open your mouth for me, Angel. Could you do that?" He smiles widely when you follow his words, sticking out your tongue too so he knows you consent to what he's about to give you. Jaemin feels his cock grow hard at the sight of you.

"Such a princess, getting fed so good by the both of us huh?" Jaemin lets his cum fall onto your tongue, then leans down to kiss you.

"Fuck, okay. Can I have a moment? My cock feels like it's about to burst."

You carefully pull away from Jaemin, not without leaving one more peck on his lips, making him grin. Then, you shift on Jeno's lap.

"Need me?" You smile innocently, almost making Jeno cum right then and there but he feels your slickness with his tip and groans.

"Good, huh? Prepped our pretty girl nicely." Jaemin taunts from behind you, leaving a delicate kiss on the top of your head.

"Need you to spread your legs a little wider for me baby, can you do that?" Jeno murmurs, knowing how you'll respond. He only ever asks because he wants to hear the answer. Wants to hear it from you, especially. "You're an obedient girl, aren't you?"

You nod, helplessly going limp. "Just for you— Only for you and Jaemin."

Now that you were facing Jeno, Jaemin had the pleasure of fondling with your tits to see how you'd react to him. Of course, with such pleasure on your upper body, your natural response is to moan, whine and clench your cunt when Jeno glides himself into you, feeling himself so close to release already.

"Oh," he moans. "Oh, shit— oh baby."

"Jeno..." Your voice rises an octave higher when Jeno hits a spot that makes you grow weak into Jaemin's arms.

The latter has no issue with you almost completely lying on top of him. He's having fun playing with your clit while he kicks at your earlobe, whispering dirty words into your ears, enjoying the way you crumble under the both of them.

"Just like that baby, take Jeno's cock so well. You're so greedy Angel." Jaemin murmurs, smirking when Jeno hisses at the way you grind against him.

"Jeno... Jeno—" Youvgasp when you feel Jaemin's tongue against your rim, once again, it was always either of them taking turns to tease you when you were already on the edge.

"Fuck!" You scream, clawing your nails up Jeno's chest as you clung onto his shoulders now that Jaemin's body wasn't directly behind you for support.

His hands, however, were nothing short of greedy. He squeezed your ass, spreading them apart once again before he dived back in to taste you.

"So fucking sweet baby. Be a patient girl and take what Jeno gives you," Jaemin's raspy voice is a threat to your orgasm because right as he finishes his sentence, you're desperate to cum, and Jeno can feel that. "Let me taste you, yeah? Focus on Jeno first."

But you can't.

The pleasure from Jaemin's hot tongue frantically prodding and licking at your rim has you screaming the loudest you've probably screamed in a while, making Jeno have to clamp his hand over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. Just as you are, Jeno looks gone. He looks so fucked out and in awe at the way you move your body that he isn't even bothered to try and hide how dazed he is. All he's thinking now is how he wants to have his cock buried in your cunt for days— as long as you'd let him.

"Like what Jaemin's doing to you, huh baby?" Jeno rasps out, his free hand sliding up to rest around your neck, making you moan against the hand that's covering your mouth.

Jeno's eyes darken when he feels you kiss his palm, licking eagerly as you thrust up to meet his cock halfway.

"There's our little slut." Jeno whispers, getting close to his orgasm while you're already on your second. You arch your back, moving slightly away from Jaemin's lips — which he dislikes, without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your hips to pull you even closer to his face.

"Babygirl loves our attention, doesn't she?" Jeno taunts, smiling when he sees tears roll down from your eyes. Without hesitation, Jeno leans forward to lick at them, swallowing your tears as he tastes them before kissing your lips.

"Don't hold yourself back, gorgeous." Jeno continues, "You don't have to pretend like you're a saint like you always do baby girl, cause deep down," He leans down to reach your ears, "you're just a little cocksleeve for Jaemin and I, aren't you? So hungry and eager to have us inside of you... Can't even function straight without wanting to fuck us."

All you can do now is moan, because the pleasure feels too good. It feels too fucking good to even try to say anything to deny his words. He was right anyway.

Jaemin gave your hole one last kiss before he stood back up behind you. When he sees your mascara running down your face, he knows you're almost gone, and he's quick to rush to your aid, cooing sweet nothings.

"There you go pretty girl, just a little bit more for us, yeah? Think you can do that baby? Hold on a bit more?"

"Don't think she can, Jaemin." Jeno grins, giving you one last thrust before he pulls out to jack his cock off. The two boys spare a split second of eye contact before they smirk at each other, understanding what the other wants with no words.

"Think you deserve an award baby," Jaemin smiles, "Want his cum?"

You snap out of the trance you're in to look up at Jeno's cock. No matter how many times you've fucked him, and how many times you've had him in your mouth, Jaemin and Jeno's lengths never failed to leave you speechless.

"Want to taste you, Jeno. Want your cum." You slur, carelessly getting out of Jaemin's grip as you crawl your way below Jeno's cock, letting it rest on your face before you start to kitty lick his tip. "Please, please Jeno. Need you, want you."

"Baby's so fucking clingy today," Jeno hisses, letting his cock rest in your mouth. "Want me so fucking bad, huh? Take everything I give you baby. Want you to swallow everything— Shit shit shit."Jeno falls back to lean against the wall he's standing by when your tongue plays with his tip, knowing that's all he needed to cum down your throat.

Finally, the three of you clean yourself up and make your way over to your bed. You, passed out in the middle, clinging onto both of their arms as you wear Jaemin's shirt to sleep.

The two boys, just as worn out as you, start to doze off with the comfort of you next to them.

"You were right.".

Jeno raises his head to look at his friend, a confused look on his face. He was still trying to get the look of your face out from his head to stop his cock from hardening.

He huffed, "what?" whispering so he wouldn't wake you.

Jaemin turns to his side to leave a kiss on your cheek, smiling when you turn to face him and rest your head on his shoulder.

"We're both just two lucky bastards."

#nct dream smut #nct dream scenario #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #lee jeno one shot #na jaemin smut #na jaemin one shot #jaemin smut #nct dream oneshot #nct hard hours #nct smut

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cherryredstars · 5 months

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1k Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Bathroom Sex, Jealousy, Penetrative Sex

Summary: A little warm up before the game starts.

Word Count: 695 (Not Edited)

You were always such a tease.

He almost tripped over the ball as he watched you, a scowl distorting his face. Today, the boys and girls soccer team had a game. It wasn’t unnatural for the two teams to practice together, going through drills and pair training. But usually, you and Miguel would pair up together, going toe to toe. A way to help build up the competitive nature within the both of you before a game.

But here you are, giggling and smiling with one of his teammates. You have a wide smile on your face, eyes on the ball as the two of you fight over it. You keep bumping into Peter’s side as you try to steal from one another, a loud yelp escaping you when you almost trip over the ball. Eventually, you steal the ball, his teammate falling to the ground as you kick it into the empty net. You whoop out in victory, smiling and sticking your tongue out childishly at your opponent before helping him up. It makes Miguel’s blood boil as he watches.

But it isn’t anything to worry about, not really. Not when he has you trapped between him and the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips to keep you up as he slides into you. You mewl, all that fight and competition leaving your body as you suck him in. You lean forward, whimpering into his neck as he bottoms out with a groan. The sound vibrates in the empty bathroom, and you press your face more into his neck to muffle the sounds. Miguel coos down at you mockingly, watching how your body instantly accommodates him and sags.

“Where did all that energy go, hm?” He whispers into your ear. You whine again, quickly moaning out when he pulls out and thrusts sharply into you. “You had so much energy when you were fucking around with Peter.”

He gives you more rough thrusts when you don’t answer, and you throw your head back against the wall. Your mouth is wide open, moaning and whining as you close your eyes. It makes Miguel hum in satisfaction. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts, only going faster. Your hand drops to his chest, pushing him away weakly.

“M-Miguel! Not so rough! I still have to p-play!” You struggle to say, interrupting yourself with gasps.

Miguel only rolls his eyes, but he still listens and softens his thrusts slightly. But he doesn’t slow down his pace. If the two of you want to get off in time to clean up and get to the field before the game starts, he needs to get the two of you to come fast. His hand trails down to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles that have your back arching. You clutch onto his arm desperately, body tensing as you feel your release building to its peak. Your legs around his hips have him in a vice grip as you moan out his name, walls clenching as you finish.

Miguel is quick to follow, the feeling of your tight walls fluttering doing him in. He buries his face into your neck as he groans, pumping his release into you with slow thrusts until he stills. The two of you stay still, catching your breath for a few seconds. Miguel slides out slowly, setting you down to the floor. He grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser, handing you some as the two of you wipe off. When the two of you finish, you readjust your clothing and walk over to the mirror.

From behind you Miguel smirks, “I think you can walk just fine. Don’t know what you were fussing about.”

You scowl at him from the mirror, undoing your fucked-up ponytail and fixing it. “Shut up, you jealous fuck.”

Miguel scowls at you, ruffling his hair and deeming himself presentable. Ugh, men. He grumbles something under his breath about you making shit up, flicking the back of your head. He walks towards the bathroom door, sticking a finger back at you. “Twist an ankle!”

“Take a ball to the nuts!” You shout back.

God, you hate him.

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dollsorwhatever · 6 months

Text

More Cleo

Some more Cleo updates since my last post about her on here! I mostly post on twitter nowadays but I like to keep this account somewhat up to date, especially since I can be more long-winded here lol "Casual" Cleo (rerooted Ghoul Spirit Cleo) is finally finished! She's been mostly finished for a month or so but I dragged my feet doing the hair rings lol.

They're inspired by a set of wig rings found in the tomb of Sithathoriunet (Middle Kingdom, 12th Dynasty), shown here at The Met and here in an earlier Met exhibit, displayed on reconstruction wigs.

I couldn't find any metal beads in the right sizes or color (and I wanted them to be the same shade of gold as her accessories) so I made these myself with a handful of coffee stirrers that I painted and cut into little rings lol Other than the hair rings, she's been given a pair of shoes since my last post (Goreganizer Cleo's shoes with the Skullettes dremeled off and painted), a new choker that I made by cutting MB Cleo's ponytail holder into separate pieces, sanding off a few parts and reassembling it (the cartouche on it actually spells her name btw!), a Gloom and Bloom Cleo purse that I painted to match her shoes and a new clasp on her kilt made with a G1 Cleo vanity bracelet. Also, it was pointed out to me yesterday that the hieroglyphs on this top (from G1 I Heart Fashion Cleo) spell out to say "oh my Ra" phonetically lol. A nice touch that I never noticed! And I also finished up this Cleo a while back but never posted her here lol

Her headdress is a heavily altered and repainted Monster Ball Cleo headdress; I just wanted the "core" of the headdress so I removed everything but the cow horns and sun disk with my dremel, then drilled a hole through the back and pinned it to her head lol. The bracelets are all g1 Nefera bracelets that I repainted (as well as Nefera's necklace) and her shoes are from Skulltimate Secrets Cleo but repainted to match the rest of her accessories, and the hair rings are repainted G1 sig/Howliday Cleo bracelets. The first two 'tiers' of hair are her original rooted hair, but the longest tier is an extension that I made and pinned to her head. My general idea is that this is something she'd wear for temple ceremonies or religious events, or as a model for portraiture and statuary that represents her as an embodiment of Hathor? Not sure! My SS2 Cleo custom got some small updates shortly after my last tumblr post about her, mostly just her new headdress and new fishnets that actually fit her lol

And finally a group shot of my current Cleo lineup:

Skulltimate Secrets Cleo (far left) and Goreganizer Cleo (second to the right) are still WIP but they look good enough to be part of the shot! I also have a partially rerooted Monster Ball Cleo waiting for a new fit too, but there's no room on this display for her and she's barely dressed anyway lol

#monster high #monster high g3 #cleo de nile #ancient egypt #mh #cleo #skulltimate secrets #ghoul spirit #goreganizer

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taerple · 4 months

Text

JOHN PRICE - GIVING HIM A BLOWJOB

— warning: in no way this is meant to sexualize anyone, this is all entertainment purposes only. thanks for reading.

warnings: blowjob’s. harsh language. shit gets extremely wild.

Kneeling down in front of his jeans, maintaining an eye contact with him, he held your hair in a ponytail, while your hands went to open up his belt, pulling down his jeans a bit, you gripped his girth through the cloth making him moan in silence.

Giving a kiss through the cloth, he threw his head back, getting impatient to have your lips around his thick girth, your eyes filled with tears as he’ll thrust his length inside your mouth, using it like his own personal hallway.

Gripping your ponytail, your hands wander around the hem of his boxer, getting excited to see him dripping from his pre-cum, having an eye contact with him. He slightly lifted up his hips to allow you to pull down his jeans along with with his boxers, his cock almost slapping you in the face while you pulled down his boxers.

Gripping his cock with both of your hands, you gave it a little squeeze while giving it kitten licks.

“Take it inside your mouth.” He demanded while his eyes darkened, angling his cock near your mouth, giving you a sign to suck it. Blinking innocently, you gave a kiss on his angry tip, as he softly groaned, taking him half inside your mouth, feeling his tip to your throat already, fresh tears started to show up, bobbing your head in a rhythm.

You choked as his tip touched your uvula, still keeping his cock deep inside your mouth, cupping his balls with your hands, giving them the attention they needed, hollowing his cock deeply. Pulling out, you took some breath while slightly breathing heavily before taking him back inside your mouth, sucking him in a pace which increased than before.

“Aren’t you enjoying this a little too much?” He teased, holding your jaw before dropping you for a moment. “Let me show you what this cock can truly do.” with that, he pulled back and pushed back deep inside your mouth, getting the outline of him through your throat.

Keeping your hands on his thighs, you tapped it continuously, feeling him deep throating you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, hm?” He mumbled while holding your ponytail and continued thrusting inside of you, his hips repeatedly drilling inside you. Making tears run down your eyes, slightly tasting your salty tears, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth, you sucked him harder while rolling your tongue around it as you felt his pre-cum spilling through your throat.

He growled and pulled out, jerking his cock in front of your face, as he sprunt his seeds on your face and mouth as he came hard, collecting his cum through his cock, he pushed it inside your mouth, making you taste himself.

“Don’t you dare waste any of it.” He said before pulling out and wiping your tears away with his harden cock. “We aren’t done yet, love. Now strip.”

—

A/N: I just finished watching SIX and the ending?!… I wish they never cancelled it. that scene got me crying for hours straight:,) iykyk…

#captain john price #captain price x reader #cod mw3 #cod x reader #john price #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price smut #all fake #barry paul sloane #barry sloane

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ilguna · 7 months

Note

Can you do prompt 11 from aisle 1 with peeta or finnick? Like reader or whoever u choose is almost killed in the games then they get yelled at n stuff🩷🙏

☼ bloody flowers (Peeta Mellark) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, blood, ehh gore, weapon use. peeta’s mean.

wc; 2.3k

prompt; 11. yelling at them because they thought they’d lose them.

notes; no katniss, roles for mockingjay are reversed.

—

“I’m going to try to tap a tree.” You tell Peeta and Finnick, breaking the silence.

Finnick is on his feet, slowly wading further into the saltwater, carefully rubbing it on his skin to ensure he’s got all the poison out. He barely looks over his shoulder to acknowledge what you’ve said, nodding. He’s having a hard time speaking, his throat is raw from the amount of fog he breathed in.

As you get to your feet, brushing the sand from your skin, Peeta looks over at you, eyebrows drawing in. “Let me make the hole first. You stay with him, you’re better friends.”

“That’s not…” You shake your head, but he’s heading into the jungle, knife in hand.

When you turn your head to look at Finnick—afraid that he’s heard what Peeta said—you can’t find him immediately. You shuffle forward in the sand, eyes searching the water. You spot him beneath the surface, easing your anxiety.

With that, you leave him be. You trust that he won’t accidentally drown himself, since he’s the best swimmer out of your group. And he’s going to need some time alone, after losing Mags to the fog in the jungle.

It was quick, you didn’t even have time to intervene. Finnick saw that you were struggling to carry Mags down the slope, after the two of you had switched, because Peeta was entirely too heavy to be leaning on you for support. In the brief break you took to regain your strength, Mags kissed Finnick goodbye and walked straight into the fog.

What happened didn’t register until Finnick was pulling you to your feet, ordering you to grab one side of Peeta, so the two of you could work together. You don’t have to say anything to Finnick to know that he’s hurt, the look on his face alone is a dead giveaway.

You find your melted jumpsuit strewn in the sand, alongside Finnicks and Peetas. It had been ripped off of you by Peeta, who was so desperate to get you in the water, that he’d forgotten how much it’d hurt being submerged. It could’ve been worse, you weren’t covered in nearly as much of the fog as Finnick had been.

You crouch next to Peeta’s suit, flipping it over to find the mockingjay pin still holding on tightly. You unhook it from his clothes, and move to pin it to the front of your undershirt to hold onto it for him. You then reach to touch the gold necklace to make sure that it’s still hanging around your neck.

The floatation belts seem to have not been affected by the fog at all. They look brand new, actually. You pull it around your waist, buckling it back on. As much as you’d wish to leave it, you’re not the best swimmer in the alliance. Peeta and Finnick are far better, which is why they’ll feel comfortable enough to leave theirs behind.

You stand again, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the soreness throughout your body. And then, you reach to pull the hair tie out to let your hair down, which has been severely damaged by the fog. Barely touching it, clumps come out, stuck between your fingers. The sight is only slightly nauseating. You comb your hair the best you can, watching as the collection grows. When it seems to have slowed, you pull your hair back into a ponytail, and fling the dead hair into the trees.

Speaking of which, Peeta’s found a good one ten yards in from the beach. You can hardly see him through the trees, but the sound of him drilling is unmistakable. You keep an eye on him the best you can, but Finnick splashing around is distracting.

He stretches, slowly, testing his limbs to see if they’re working properly. Gradually, he begins to swim, which is mesmerizing to watch. It’s nothing like the way you were taught to. There’s a rhythm, a pace. He dives, surfaces, rolls like a log of wood in water. He sprays from his mouth, and then he’ll sit underwater for minutes at a time.

When he finally comes back up, he looks better than he did earlier. He pushes his hair out of his face, walking in your direction.

You offer him a smile, “Feeling better?”

“Considerably.” He says, eyes finding the pin on your tank top. He touches it, squinting slightly. “Left the token, huh?”

“He knew I’d grab it.” You wave him off. “Let’s go help him, he’s going to need the spile.”

Finnick leads the way into the jungle, you follow behind him, fiddling with the necklace. He holds the trident to his side, the pole bouncing off his thigh when he takes steps too hard. You briefly look away to pop the locket clasp open, suddenly afraid that the fog might’ve damaged the delicate photos inside. You slam straight into Finnick’s back, having to catch yourself on his shoulder.

A question raises on your tongue, but he presses a finger against his lips to keep you quiet. He looks upward, into the branches that belong to the trees that hang above you lowly. You follow his gaze curiously, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of what’s been watching you.

You press your lips together, your left hand falling from your necklace, and your right readjusting the sword in your hand. There’s a mass of orange monkeys weighing down the branches. More than just five or ten, there’s easily two dozen, sitting there, waiting for one wrong move.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen them. There was a pair of them right after you’d escaped the fog, Peeta had pointed them out. Those ones retreated, not wanting anything to do with the three of you. These ones don’t have any intentions on leaving.

“Peeta,” Your voice wavers slightly, Finnick glances at you. You take a breath, “I need your help with something on the beach.”

“Just a minute (Y/n). I think I’ve just about got it.” He tells you, still occupied with the tree. “Have you got the spile?”

“I do, but we’ve found something you might want to see.” You murmur, noticing how the monkeys are reacting to Peeta’s movements. They don’t care if you move. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”

“I don’t want to lose the tree.”

“We won’t, we’ll be right back.” You tell him, motioning for him to come toward you.

He lets out a sigh, but listens. You chew on the inside of your cheek, listening to the noise he’s making. Still, the monkeys don’t move, because that’s not what causes them to be aggressive. He’s only five yards from the beach, when his movements become stiff, eyes darting up for a second.

It’s enough. The shrieking begins, as the monkeys all begin to move at an impossible speed to jump at him. They slide down vines, leaping large distances, fangs bared, claws shooting out. One word comes to mind.

“Mutts!” You snap, shoving past Finnick to get to Peeta.

You swing the sword carelessly, hitting the vital parts of the monkeys the best you can with the amount flying out of the trees. When you make it to Peeta, the two of you switch weapons, him slapping the knife into your hand for you to take so he can begin to do real damage with the sword.

Peeta’s got a better technique, bringing down almost as much as Finnick is with the trident. He’ll spear the mutts, and then fling them aside, off into the trees. The three of you form a triangle formation, trying to kill them efficiently. Only, you can’t keep up with your knife, they’re forced to cover you.

You feel a pair of teeth sink into your thigh before Peeta’s slicing through the throat, forcing the jaws to unhinge. The air grows heavy, from the trampled plants, the scent of blood, and the musty stink of the monkey mutts that hound you.

Peeta swings at one of them, and instead of landing the hit, the monkey secures the sword, and throws it into the trees, permanently making it out of the question. Then, it grabs a tight hold of Peeta’s arm, and swings him out of the formation, in the open. Where another monkey spots this, sprinting for the kill.

You begin to run for him, throwing the knife at the mutt that’s racing you. The mutt manages to dodge the attack, and you’re about to throw yourself at Peeta to save him, when someone else beats you to it, first. A woman materializes out of a tree, screaming loudly as she throws herself into the monkey, arms wrapping around its body.

It sinks its fangs into her chest.

Finnick’s trident hits the monkey with such force that it makes a loud squelching sound when the trident collides with its body. The mutt releases its jaw, Peeta kicking the body off.

“Come on, then!” Peeta shouts. “Come on!”

The mutts don’t seem to be interested anymore, retreating into the trees the same way they had done before. You reach to grab Peeta, hands shaking, when he suddenly points toward the beach, eyes hard.

“Go.”

Your mouth pops open, eyebrows drawing in, but you don’t argue, walking the five yards out of the jungle, onto the beach. The two boys follow behind you, with Finnick carrying the woman, who you’re able to recognize as the morphling from District Six, when you get a good look at her.

Finnick lays her in the sound, and Peeta follows behind him with your knife. He kneels next to her, cutting open the wetsuit that covers her chest, revealing the four deep wounds. Her blood is slowly emerging out of them, staining her skin. You’d say she’s fine, if it weren’t for the damage the monkeys did inside of her body.

She’s gasping for air, struggling to breathe. This could mean a punctured lung, maybe even her heart. Her skin is shaded a sickly green, sagging to reveal each one of her ribs. This is caused by years of abusing the pain medication.

She takes your hand shakily, squeezing tightly to ground herself. You lean over her, moving the hair out of her face.

“I’ll watch the trees.” Finnick says before walking away.

Peeta settles in the sand, voice soft, “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.”

She stares at Peeta, hanging on to every word.

“One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.”

Her breathing is growing shallow, calming, dying. Her free hand dips into the wound on her chest, touching the blood as she swirls it on her skin, the same way she had in the Training Center.

“I haven’t figured out a rainbow yet. They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air.”

She lifts up the bloodied hand, painting a flower on Peeta’s cheek.

“Thank you,” He whispers. “That looks beautiful.”

Her face lights up, as she makes a small squeaking sound. And then her hand falls back onto her chest, giving out her last huff of air. The cannon fires. Her hand loosens in yours.

You sit there in the sand, watching as Peeta carries her into the water, carefully settling her on her back. She floats toward the Cornucopia, and when the Gamemakers are sure she’s a good distance away, the hovercraft appears to take her away. The claw drops, carrying her into the night sky, and she’s gone.

You get to your feet when Peeta comes back your way, but with the look on his face, you’re not exactly eager to touch him.

“What were you thinking?” He asks you. “Running at me like that. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Your mouth opens as you shake your head. “I—the mutt was coming right for you, I thought—”

“You thought what, (Y/n)? You were going to kill it with this?” He asks, holding your knife out for you to see. It’s stained red, sand sticking to the blood that refuses to dry. “Oh no, that’s right, you threw it at the mutt.”

You stare at him. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“No, not okay!” he shouts. “Were you even thinking?”

“I just—”

“I don’t need you trying to be the hero.” He tells you. “I had it handled.”

“I’m sorry, Peeta.”

“Don’t do it again.” He says, shaking his head. “It’s hard enough keeping you safe when you’re not running into danger. So don’t start doing it on purpose.”

“I won’t.”

He looks over your face, judging whether or not you’re being truthful, when his eyes dip toward your chest. His face smooths, holding his hand out, palm up. “Give me the pin.”

Wordlessly, you unhook it from the cloth and place it in his hand. “I didn’t want to lose it.”

“That’s fine.” He says, closing the distance between the two of you. He directs your chin up carefully, raising his eyebrows. “You know I love you.”

“I know.” You whisper. “I’ll be more careful.”

He presses a kiss to the middle of your forehead. “That’s all I ask.”

—

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on October 31st, at midnight!! everyone is welcome to join :)

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the-froschamethyst4 · 7 months

Text

When your Daughters classmates mistake you as her Older Sister

König Headcanons

——————

Y/n was getting her 5-year-old daughter ready for school. Today was Field Day and Y/n had volunteered to be a chaperon for her classroom

Getting ready was easy and telling your husband was also easy, he hardly listened in the morning time because he was in a hurry to get ready for work

"König, don't forget that I'm going to Heidi's school today for Feild Day." "Huh? Okay, yeah, that's fine-have you seen my belt?" "King, are you listening?" "Huh? Yep totally-where are my boots?" Y/n rolled her eyes know her husband was not listening to her. "I dated Ghost before I met you-HEIDI LET'S GET GOING!!" "Wait what? WHAT DID YOU SAY!? LIEBE!!"

As they walked into the school, Heidi took her mom to her classroom, Heidi's classmates all ran to Heidi to go get ready for the field day

"Heidi, your sister is awesome, she helped me put my hair up." "Sister? I don't have a sister." "Yeah, the girl that walked in with you."

Y/n has something called a 'baby face' people mistake her age all the time, she was in her early 30's (Just go with it) and some people have mistaken her as 25-year-old before

Some people even questioned König if he knew her age, OBVIOUSLY he did know

Y/n held a hair tie in her hands as she helped another little girl with her ponytail, apparently her mom did her hair last minute and it didn't turn out so well

"There you go all done," Y/n said with a smile on her face. "Thank you," the girl ran off.

The other moms there in the classroom were kind of jealous of Y/n because of her looking younger than them and that all the kids went to her for things and not them, some were even their own kids

Y/n went and stood next to the other moms as the teacher went over the drill for field day and put the kids off in teams with the moms there, once Y/n's name was called and she listed off the names of the students that will go with her some of the kids who names didn't get called where disappointed

Heidi held her mom's hand as the other kids were surrounding her and acted like Y/n was their mom to where it even bothered Heidi that the kids won't leave her mom alone

"Are you Heidi's older sister?" "Umm~ no...I'm her mom." "But you're young." "No, I'm not...I'm like thirty, I'm not that young." "My mom is fifty." "My mom is forty-three." "I thought for the longest time, you were her sister."

'Longest time' you mean literally 5 minutes ago. Y/n thought it was funny that the kids thought she was Heidi's older sister

"I see the ring now." "How did you meet, Heidi's dad?" "How old is Heidi's dad?" The kids asked ridiculous questions about Y/n and König, Heidi told some of them to stop bothering her mom while Y/n just brushed her daughter off

Y/n helped the kids put on sunscreen and watched as the kids went and played the actives that were set up for them. Heidi and a kid were racing in Potatoe sacks and Y/n laughed when Heidi won. Like her father Heidi is highly completive

Feild day was soon done, the kids whined about how they may not see Y/n again

"I'll be back soon; you guys have the holiday party coming up soon and I'll be here." Y/n smiled to the kids. "But that's in a month," one whined. "Yeah." "Mama," Heidi called. She tugged at the car door handle wanting to be let in. Y/n groaned and unlocked the door for her. "I guess that's my que to get going, bye kids." "Bye, Heidi's mom!" the kids yelled.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #könig x you #konig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig

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inuyashaluver · 6 months

Note

hi hi!! can i request a mlt one where she meets single parent reader, they fall in love and then reader + kid go to her games to support her!!!

my girls - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which maya practices at a park and your daughter steals her ball, when you go to apologise, the both of you are star struck

warnings: so. long. swearing

a/n: ITS MAYA BABY!!! thanks so much for the request, hope you enjoy, got a little carried away, whoopppss❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, maya have to thank your daughter, ellie for your introduction to each other.

you always knew you wanted to be a mother, and so, at 20, you decided to go to a clinic and become one alone.

sure it was hard to balance the baby and work as a physio, but the continual support of your friends and family made it worthwhile. and your daughter, was one of the best things that happened to you, and you couldn’t help but say maya was one of the best things that happened to you as well, maya feeling exactly the same.

ellie, was in her ‘terrible-twos’ stage, all round meaning she was a little shit at the moment. she was a mini you, your attitudes and mannerisms completely passing onto her, she was definitely your daughter, something that your clients loved to tease you about as she sat in on their appointments.

you had recently discovered that your daughter had quite a fascination with balls, specifically, soccer balls. everytime you put on a football game, your daughter stares at the screen in front of her, completely entranced and copying their every move. you can’t help but think maybe you’ve got a future, famous footballer on your hands.

—

one day, you had taken ellie to the park on an early, sunday morning. the air was crisp, you and your daughter were completely bundled up amongst the cold, matching red noses and cheeks prominent on your features. walking hand and hand, you take her towards the equipment, watching her every move.

“mummy, look!” ellie giggles, going down the small slide, dressed like a small snowman. “wow, baby!” you exclaim, lifting her in the air and pecking her pink cheeks repeatedly, her little giggles bringing a big smile to your face. you hold her hand around the equipment, pushing her on the swing, playing on the playground with her, whatever she wants.

you watch her play, a bright smile evident on her face, until you see her face light up and she bolts away from you. your eyes widen, she’s running towards a girl on the field next to the equipment. she’s wearing a hoodie and shorts, her hair tied into a loose ponytail, she dribbles the football up and down the field, doing her own drills.

all you kept thinking as you ran was: “when did my child become this fast? i need to put her in football” you chase after her, “ellie, no!”, she continues to sprint towards the mysterious girl, finally stopping in front of her and pointing at the ball. the girl looks down at her surprised, “oh! hello, little one, is your mummy around?”, ellie looks up at her with awestruck eyes, nodding her head slowly at the girl's words. she continued to point at the ball that was stopped under the girl’s foot, “do you want this?”, ellie didn’t speak, just nodded her head.

at this point, you were lightly jogging, carefully watching the interaction between the two. the girl lightly kicks the ball towards ellie, ellie grabs it with her hands and sits on the ground, the older girl quickly sitting down cross legged in front of her. “what’s your name?” the girl questions softly, “ellie” she gives her a toothy grin, “hi, ellie, i’m maya” she returns the grin. “ellie!” you finally reach them, absolutely breathless. you stand with your hands resting on your thighs, breathing laboured and difficult, staring at the ground.

“i’m so sorry about her, she really loves football and-” you look up from the ground, looking at one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen. “hi” maya breathes out, she thought you were absolutely breathtaking. “hi” you reply shyly, kneeling in front of her, hands on ellie’s small shoulders. “what did mummy say about strangers?” you quirk your brow at the small girl in front of you, she just looks at you with a guilty smile.

“stranger danger!” she exclaims, you nod your head in response, “yes, good girl!”, you weren’t too caught up in the interaction, the girl in front of you seeming trustworthy. “but mummy, she’s pretty” she pouts up at you, your cheeks go slightly pink, “yes she is pretty, but still a stranger” maya in front of you stared on with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “oh, sorry! i’m maya” she cautiously sticks her hand out, you immediately take it and gently shake her hand, “(y/n), and ellie, obviously” maya nods her head with a smile.

“now, ellie, we’re not strangers, so it’s okay” ellie makes a small noise of understandment before focusing her attention back on the ball in front of her. “not to be rude or anything, but how old are you? you seem very young to be a mum” she asks, scared she may have offended you, “no, you’re not being rude at all, i’m 22, young but worth it, i think” you shrug with a giggle, maya smiles at you brightly, “ah, i see”, “and how old are you, maya?” you question, “i’m 21” you nod your head, both of you just softly smiling at each other.

the attraction you felt for each other was obvious, both of you wanted to get to know each other better. “sorry if this is weird, but um” she scratches her neck sheepishly, “would you like to, maybe go for a coffee, only if you have time of course!” she rushes her words, not even stopping for a breath. you can’t help but smile at her shyly, “i’d like that”, she returns your shy smile, it only grew when your daughter rolls the ball over to maya expectantly, all of you could sense a special connection forming.

all of you had walked to a nearby coffee shop, ellie holding onto your hand tightly as you walked. you engaged in small talk with maya, conversation flowing so smoothly, you felt as though you’d known each other your whole lives. when you’d found a table, ellie insisted that she sat next to maya, tightly gripping her hand. maya smiles at her so brightly, your heart soared.

“so what do you do?” maya questions, slowly stirring the sugar into her coffee cup. “i’m a physiotherapist” you say cheekily, grinning at her brightly. “wow! that’s awesome!” you giggle at her words, “nah, not really” you wave your hand at her, “and what do you do?” you lean forward, resting your head on your clasped hands.

she gets slightly nervous at your closeness, “um, i’m a football player” you widen your eyes, “no way!” you exclaim, she winces at your volume, putting her hand over your mouth. “mummy, shhhhhh!” ellie holds her finger up to her mouth, the two of you look down at her, giggling profusely.

“sorry, that’s amazing, maya! for what club?” she smiles shyly, “manchester united” ellie whips her head from her colouring page, “mummy!” she grunts, opening her mouth but she can’t get her words out, but you know what she’s saying. “her favourite club” you grin, maya looks down at her with a bright smile, “you’re a smart girl, ellie” she laughs when your daughter nods her head, she gently pats the top of it before turning her attention back on you.

the rest of the day went exceptionally well, you’d spent at least 4 hours with maya and only wanted more, but your daughter fast asleep in her arms meant it was time to go home. maya walks you to your car, placing ellie into her car seat and doing her seatbelt up. “you’ve done this before” you give her a surprised grin, “cousins” she shrugs cheekily, standing in front of you. she’s slightly taller than you, so you look up at her slightly with a smile.

“i’d love to see you again” you say, lightly squeezing her arm before letting go. her breath hitches at your action, “me too,” she breathes out, your smile brightens, you grab your phone from your pocket, she does the same and you exchange numbers. “you know, you a physio, me a footballer, match made in heaven, don’t you think?” you give her a light slap on her arm, your smile never ceasing, “you know, i think you’re right” you match her energy. she pulls you into a tight hug, lasting for a couple before she reluctantly pulls away.

“see you around?” maya questions, lightly gripping your hand, you give it a gentle squeeze, “absolutely.”

—

and you did see her again, you started dating after about 4 dates. your relationship was pure, loving and genuine. you’d been dating for about a year and a half, it couldn’t have been any better. you and maya absolutely loved each other, positively head over heels. it also helped that ellie was absolutely obsessed with the girl, her face lighting up everytime she walks through the door. she eventually moved in, it might have seemed quick but it just felt right.

you’d managed to get a job at manchester united as one of their physios. maya always made an excuse to come and see you.

“baby, my hamstring is playing up” you look up to see your girlfriend leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms. you shake your head at her gently, gesturing for her to lie down. you get up to examine her, lightly helping her stretch, maya always sending you smirks when your hands roamed over her body, clearly different from your regular client consultations.

“okay, baby, you’re good” you grab her hands to pull her up but she just pulls you down on top of her, “baby, no” she whines out, “it hurts” she pouts at you. you laugh at her expression, giving her a quick kiss on her lips, maya’s hand immediately going to the back if your neck and holding you there, deepening the kiss. you hum into her when her hands move up your shirt before you pull away, you knew you’d get walked in on knowing your luck.

“sorry, baby, i don’t want you getting in trouble” you breathe against her lips, quickly pecking them one more time before moving off her and going back to your desk.

“you’re no fun” she huffs out, a scowl evident on her face before she gives you a quick kiss on your lips, going to walk out of the room back to training. “i love you” you sing out, she shakes her head at you, “yeah, yeah, i love you too” she sticks her tongue out at you and you return the gesture.

—

it was game day for manchester united, a grand final in fact. you and ellie had been hyping maya up, telling her that she would do amazing. the girl was convinced you weren’t watching the match, you told her you’d be working in the back in case anything happened, in reality, you had a little surprise up your sleeve for your special girl.

you and ellie sat in the friends and family section, wearing your ‘le tissier’ jerseys, matching grins plastered on your face. “you excited, ells?” you remark at your daughter's bright face, her eyes focusing on the pitch in front of her. she nods her head enthusiastically, “where’s may may?” (a nickname she loved to call maya), she sits on your lap, looking around in search of your girlfriend. “she’s coming, lovey, we need to be patient” you coo, gently hugging the small girl on your lap. she nods in understanding, playing with your fingers and rings.

surely enough, the girls started coming out, you and ellie cheering loudly when you see your favourite girl. maya hadn’t seen you both yet, she was so focused you watch maya with a proud smile, watching her stern expression as she high fives the opposition, taking her position. ellie was so focused, you couldn’t believe how stimulated she was. the game was intense, but manchester united managed to secure the win.

the girls and the crowd cheer loudly, ellie screaming and jumping on the chair, you hoist her up on your waist so she can get a better look. ella sees you first, her eyes widening and immediately rushing to get maya. the girl drags her over to your direction, maya immediately perks up and sprints over to you, bundling the both of you up into a tight embrace. “my girls!” she exclaims, “le tissier jerseys, huh?” she smirks, giving ellie a loving kiss on her head until she turns to you, pupils wide and kissing you passionately, pulling away when she feels a little hand on her cheek.

“my mummy, may may” she frowns, “ellie, we share mummy, darling” she explains, giving the girl another kiss on her cheek. she lets out a little squeal, you laugh at the interaction. kissing both of them on the cheek. she takes ellie from you, holding her on her hip and talking to you until she gets called to receive her medal.

“can i take her?” maya looks at you cheekily, you laugh and nod, watching them both walk over to the podium, maya puts the medal on ellie’s neck, taking her quickly to the rest of the team, all of them excited to see her. you have access to the pitch, you walk on and take numerous photos.

they hoist up the trophy, celebrating with one another. maya runs over to you with ellie hand in hand, both of them with matching grins. maya lifts her up again, you gently take the medal off ellie and drape it over maya’s neck, “congratulations, beautiful” giving her a quick kiss on her and ellie’s cheek, ellie seems to doze off in the girls arms, maya finally gets to kiss you the way she wanted, leaving you absolutely breathless. she loved her girls. and you definitely loved yours.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: my best girls, love you to bits

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yourname: you’re the cutest, i love you

↳ mayaletissier: milf

↳ yourname: WOW OKAY

↳ mayaletissier: my ultimate, dream milf

↳ yourname: maya.

↳ mayaletissier: sorry

read part two here!! [part 2]

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #maya le tissier x reader #maya le tissier

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razorblade180-heated · 4 months

Text

Pretty Face

Disclaimer- Nsfw

Yang:Weiss, I have a profound and serious question. Top or bottom? And I mean spiritually.

Weiss:That last part doesn’t make this profound.

Yang:But I am serious.

Weiss:..I’m a bottom at heart.

Yang:How much so?

xxxxxx

Weiss couldn’t help but slowly think back to a “special” encounter with Jaune. She had really gotten all dolled up for him. Her hair was freshly curled to give her ponytail a drill shape. Icy blue eyeshadow with carefully managed mascara and lipstick to match. All that money and effort in makeup for the soul purpose of it running down her face.

She could barely breathe or hear the music in their hotel room over the sound of her throat closing around her boyfriend’s length. Not that she was listening to it. Her ears only cared about the constant sound of a gruff “good girl” that kept her eyes watering and on knees. Her carefully done hair felt the firm grasp of his hand controlling head, keeping it right between his legs while her own dripped more than the spit that ran down her chin. Weiss was an utter mess, but the sultry gaze looking down at her told such a beautiful lie that she couldn’t resist.

“That’s it. Keep making that pretty face.”

Gods, she wanted this moment to last forever; this feeling that dulled her mind and flooded her senses. Right to the point flood poured down her throat. Her entire body felt warm and overwhelmed. She couldn’t even tell who this was for anymore, until the answer came sliding out of her mouth. As she took a first proper breath after what felt like ages, her face remained right where it was, lapping up what dripped from the swollen tip, before moving onto leaving her lipstick all over on the package responsible for the taste in her mouth. She could still feel her ponytail under his control and Weiss was just fine with that.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you~” a twinge of pain on her scalp hit as she felt his grip tighten. Silly her. How could she forget? “Daddy. Thank you, Daddy.”

“Anything for my girl. Now then, your makeup isn’t finished yet.”

Weiss dragged her tongue all the way up along his girth before filling her throat again, her head bobbing as she devoured him; until her makeup was finally perfect.

xxxxxx

Yang:Weiss?

Weiss:*bright red*……I ask and provides; or rather, indulges my more conservative side. Let’s leave it at that.

Yang:You were totally having a flashback to something but I won’t pry too far. I might have to share my own dirty laundry otherwise. *walks away* thanks for indulging my curiosity.

Weiss:….*pulls out scroll*

Jaune:Hey Snow Angel. Everything okay.

Weiss:Yeah. Just…thinking.

Jaune:About?

Weiss:If……If you can help me with my makeup later?

Jaune:….

Jaune:Of course. I’ll make sure you look real pretty.

#rwby #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #jaune arc #rwby whiteknight #I just wanted practice writing head

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months

Text

𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎

older! college coach! steve x fem! reader

summary: your mysterious coach was always hot headed and pushed you harder than the other girls, after losing an important game, you both find ways to release your frustrations.

triggers: 18+ ; steve is thirty and reader is early twenties and plays basketball in college. smut, light use of pet names, no y/n, steve is a dick to reader and has a huge one, biting, hickies, p in v no condom. Very slight mention of blood, indication of simp behavior at the end.

“Hustle girls!”

“Box her out!”

“Are you fucking kidding me 22?”

His workout tank was ringed dark around the hem of the neck, glistening drops of sweat travel from the column of his neck down into the gray cotton blend fabric.

He was pissed. When wasn’t he?

A rogue strand of hair escapes from the style he had down to a science, red blotches flashed across his cheeks and neck, veins poked out from his vacation tanned skin.

Last night's game ended horribly. And today you were all paying the price for it.

With only 10 seconds left on the clock in the 4th quarter, the play he had drawn up on the marker board was the exact same one you had been practicing since your first year at college. Only this time you were getting the ball after Mel faked to Blair, with just enough time to shoot that beautiful three point shot you had been perfecting since high school.

The squeak from the black expo marker under his thick fingers wrote out his code: Hawkins for the play that was drilled into your brain by coach for the last year.

“Run it just how we’ve been practicing, I’m telling you it’ll work.”

Mel’s fake out didn’t work and you had gotten the ball late. Each dribble from the floorboards into your sweaty palm felt like a heartbeat. The girl guarding you swatted at the ball, missing just barely as she attempted to make a steal, trying to force you to foul her when she had the ball to waste more time and grant you your fourth foul, ending your playing time.

A quick move around her and a cross to your left hand had her stumbling over her ankles like Bambi, and you cut to the three point line, lined up your Nike’s to the hoop like your dad had taught you, and arched the ball into the air.

The buzzer was blaring when the orange ball left your finger tips, tongue poking out and your ponytail fluttering behind you. the gymnasium lights were hospital white, piercing your eyes and making you see dots as you landed on your feet, your competitor reaching for the ball at the last second.

Anticipation filled your lungs as the ball circled around and around the rim. The girls and coach all rose from the bench and waited with hands on their heads or holding hands watching the ball spin.

And with a sick twist, it fell out. Landing to the floor with a silent thud as the bleachers erupted into a nascar loud roar.

Bulldogs: 60 Pirates: 58

He was furious.

Clipboards snapped on his khaki thighs as you all sat on the wooden benches of the sweaty walled locker room. He didn’t yell, he didn’t speak to anyone other than glaring into the ceiling.

“Pack your shit, bus leaves in five.”

No times for showering or debriefing, you and your teammates were hustled to the bus as he snapped his fingers, let’s go let’s go let’s go!

Refusing to let the bus driver stop to get water or any sort of snacks on the way home. “They don’t deserve it.” He preened, looking at your sad faces with a disapproval that cut so deep it had some of the girls in tears.

His mossy green eyes stopped on yours and the disappointment brewed to hatred, his eyes burning emerald, he blew air through his nose and clenched his knuckles, “none of them.”

Mel had thrown up twice during Coach’s infamous Hellfire Sprints. Her and her boyfriend Trevor, who was practically your 5th suitemate, had stayed up until dawn doing pulls from a tequila bottle and hitting his dab pen.

You hadn’t slept either.

Laying on top of your comforter with wet hair and lotion slicked skin, racking your brain with how the shot felt a tiny bit off from your fingers, how coach’s eyes looked like a fucking demon’s when he glared at you on the bus.

How the Sunday morning practice, which was usually laid back and games of pig and watching game tape, was going to be hell on earth.

“22 if I have to tell you one more time to move your ass I’m cutting you from this team do you hear me?”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself faster to touch the black line, beating out the other girls by a full few seconds.

After the sixth set of sprints he had you all go to the workout room and max out on squats. Your legs shook and nearly buckled under the heavy weights. And all he did was stand behind you and tell you how pathetic you looked, he shook his head and scoffed.

“We’re gonna stay here all day til you rack this up, don’t care if you fall on your ass— you’ll do it.”

His breath fanning your ear drove you mad. Spearmint gum and that rich boy cologne he always wore stung your nose as you grunted in defiance.

Through bared teeth and burning lungs you extend your legs to stand.

You wanted to kick him in the dick, make him shut the fuck up for once, but you bit your tongue. Driving the bar up and slamming it loud against the rack Looking back at him with a glare in your eyes, you wouldn’t let a single tear wet your eyes, never giving him the satisfaction.

He looked you up and down quickly, but his eyes felt like hot pokers dragging against your skin. Before he crossed over to another one of your teammates to add more weight to their bar, he dipped his head, and muttered just above a whisper, “Thatta girl.”

You didn’t know much about him but what you did know was that he kept to himself.

Coach Harrington was only a few years older than you, he had a small mustache that he more than likely grew to make himself look a little older than he was.

From what your suitemates had found out by spending hours scouring online archives from his hometown local newspaper to his social media footprint that didn’t exist— and even going as far to stalking his ex girlfriends Instagram— he had played college ball at Perdue for two years before blowing out his knee and ending a full ride scholarship and any rumored possibility of making it to the NBA.

From locker room gossip, you had learned that he drove a black Jeep Wagoneer, and lived in one of the newer apartments downtown.

The university had paid double what they had for the last coach's salary to get Harrington through the doors. The athletic director, Mr. Hopper, had picked him to coach because he was one of the best. But all he was to you was a fucking asshole.

The other girls had ooed and awed over him, the other teams coaches flirted with him before the games, trying to get his number and find out more about the brooding coiffed hair hottie. And maybe you would feel different about him if he wasn’t such a raging prick.

But he wouldn’t budge.

He didn’t get personal with anyone on the team, barely even talked to his assistant Dustin. Refusing to call anyone by anything other than their jersey number or their last name.

Practice lasted for three hours. And by the end of it his voice was hoarse and gruff. Having screamed practically during the entire time.

It wasn’t anything new. He was always high strung and losing his shit when it came to the girls, but mostly you bore the brunt of his anger.

He always used you as an example on what not to do.

“You’re doing it wrong 22,” he’d bellow, his voice echoing loud across the empty gym, his arms crossed tight across his chest, muscles popping under the strain of his tight gray shirt, “drive to the left then cut right, this isn’t fucking hard… do it again.”

You did as you were told, fighting through anger that seeped through your skin and riddled your face with shaking muscles of anger, a twitch to your eye.

You were pissed and had had enough. Not only were you the youngest captain your school had ever seen, you were averaging triple doubles nearly every game.

Showing up to practice early to shoot free throws and leaving late to make sure all the equipment was put away. Spending weekends in the gym running drills or pushing weights instead of at the nearest rager popping pills and snorting coke like everyone else your age.

You put in the work and it showed, but he couldn’t see it.

It was equally frustrating and heartbreaking.

When practice was finally through and all of the girls had either thrown up, left mid practice to go to the nurse or screamed that they were quitting, the locker room was an endless groan. Muscles were slicked over with the menthol burn of icy hot, and sore shoulders wrapped with bags of ice. Tape was torn from ankles and jammed fingers wadded up and tossed into a nearby waste bin. Sniffles were heard from some players and you stood in a sports bra and shorts when Coach Harrington entered the locker room.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we’ll be back here in 3 hours to run more Hellfire Sprints.”

The girls groaned and slammed lockers, bitching under the breath.

“Hey!” Coach Harrington shouted, a thin vein bulging in his forehead, matching the ones in his arms, as he stood with his hands on his hips, the retro fit of his athletic pants swishing under his thick hands. “You want someone to bitch to? You can thank your captain.”

The room falls silent as all eyes land on you. And your breath hitches in your throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Me?” You question, “what the hell did I do?”

“The question you should be asking yourself is what you didn’t do. How did you sleep last night knowing you blew that game for your teammates?”

A gasp escapes from your lips and you stare at your Air Forces to hide your pained expression.

“Now, the rest of you get recharged, be back here at 5 o’clock, I don’t want any excuses.” As the room starts to file out, through the heavy wood door, Coach Harrington still stands in the middle of the room, eyes burning holes into your skull, “22 meet me in my office in 10, we need to discuss your position on this team.” He turned on his heel and headed through the doors, pushing them open with a straight arm and his pants swishing down the hallway,

You wait til everyone has gone, Mel giving you a slap on the shoulder, her skin unusually pale on her olive complexion under her charcoal braids, “good luck.”

Lifting your chin you nod and wave, throwing an oversized crew neck over your head and pushing your arms through the holes. Gym bag strewn over your shoulder and you pull your socks up a bit before making the long trek down to Coach Harrington’s office.

Contemplating what you would do when you walked through his office and he kicked you off the team, your long basketball career over because your coach couldn’t fucking stand you.

Never in all your life had you had a coach like him. He pushed you to the limits and started to make you despise the sport altogether.

And since you were about to be booted off the team, you didn’t have anything to lose.

The gold plate reading: Coach S. Harrington- Women’s Basketball on the large mahogany door nestled between the cream cinder block walls almost made your stomach lurch. He never asked anyone to come to his office, not even when Zoey got pregnant last semester and had to quit.

Nerves shook your fist as you knocked on his door, your other hand fumbling your car keys around the silver ring.

“Yeah.” He barked curtly, anything but friendly.

Turning the enormous brass knob, you keep your eyes to the floor when you step into his office. For being down an abandoned hallway, it was almost cozy. The walls were painted fire engine red to match your school's colors. His college degree was framed and hanging on one wall, along with signed pictures of Michael Jordan that you knew cost more than your car.

The oak desk was neat with a MacBook and cup of pens and pencils. A markerboard hung the expanse of one wall covered in scribbled plays and code names.

It smelled like musky expensive leather and cologne and neatly stacked paper Pictures from his glory days were on the shelf behind him, and he cleared his throat when you stared at him flying through the air towards a hoop.

His hair was messy, tufts of brown sticking up, like his fingers had been raking through it so many times out of frustration that the flexible gel wasn’t holding anymore.

He peers at his screen without making eye contact with you, fingers tapping noisily on the keys.

“Do you hate basketball?”

His question has your head spinning. And when you don’t answer right away he asks again.

“N-no,” you stutter, voice shaky and on the verge of screaming at his stupid question.

“Sure about that?” He seethes, still not looking up from his laptop as he clicks away furiously on the keyboard, “The way you played last night could have fooled me.”

Moon shapes indent your palm as you try to keep it together without ripping his head off like a praying mantis “It was a mistake.”

“We don’t make elementary mistakes,” he says slamming his laptop closed and peering over his desk at you through his thick eyebrows, “a fucking third grader could have ran that play better than you did.”

Your throat is dry and chalky as you try to stick up for yourself, being accustomed to keeping rage boiled hot in your belly, “I-I’m..”

His torment continues, pointing around the room at the awards from the last few years, “We’re a nationally ranked team, and your performance last night was embarrassing, and pathetic!”

A single tear threatens to slip down your cheek, and he notices the watery look in your eye, and licks his lip, but he keeps going.

“I expected more out of you, 22– you let your team down last night, and most importantly, me.”

You burst before the dam does, annoyed and sick of his threats, sick of his constant nitpicking of every move yoj make, “That’s not anything new.”

“Excuse me?”

“You treat me like I’m a dog! It’s almost like you want me to quit, you don’t bitch at any of the other girls like you do to me, and I’m tired of it!”

“Watch your mouth.” He points, eyes squinted and nostrils flared.

“No! I work my ass off for you, come in early and stay late. My game has improved and I’m top of the charts for scoring and rebounds, yet you fucking hound me and are constantly cutting me down.”

He doesn’t say anything so you keep going.

“Last night could have ended with us winning and you wouldn’t give a flying fuck, you’d still make us run your dumbass drills, you’d still wake up and find something wrong with what I do— stop taking your failed career out on me!”

he slams his fist into his desk and stands up quickly, the picture frames wiggle as his chair hits the shelf. He crosses the small office in one long legged step coming to stand before you as your back hits against the heavy door, he points a thick finger into your face.

You struck the last fragile nerve he had like a guitar player busting a string playing a solo. Any reserve he had left was gone, his eyes clouded over into hue deeper than a dark forest.

His hot breath fans your cheek, spearmint intensely strong with each bite of his words.

“Don’t you ever talk to me about my personal life again, you got that? You,” he surges pointing into your shoulder, “are supposed to be a leader for this team, and right now you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat not getting her way.”

The tear you were holding back spills over over your lashes and, his eyes break from yours to watch its southward path on from your cheek to your chin. A low grown rumbles in his throat.

“I’m not a brat!” you scream at him, wiping your cheek hastily, “you’re crazy, and we all hate you!”

His eyes stay moody and dark as he peers into your face down the slope of his nose, “really?” he says no louder than a whisper, “you hate me huh?”

A thick hand wraps around your ponytail, and his body crowds yours into the door, back flat as it would go despite your curves.

Your breathing is erratic, bubbled into your throat with anxiety like you might throw up. His face is so close to yours you can see the definition of each of his eyelashes, and tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

He’s staring at you with pure hatred, like he’d kill you if ever given the chance, and you’re almost embarrassed by the way your pussy clenches.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, mouth barely moving and barely an inch from your own, his eyes only leave yours when your mouth opens to speak.

“I fucking hate you, Coach Harring—”

His mouth slams into yours with such force your teeth clack together and the taste of blood trickles on your tongue. Your back is pushed flush against the door, likely to bruise from the force alone.

His full weight is pressed against you, his taut body firm and rocked with muscles. He locks your hips in place with alarge hand, fingers gripping your skin beneath your sweater.

Firm and taking what he wants without a second thought, his lips are intoxicating. The roughness of his mustache tickles your lip in an itching way, more than likely leaving a burn behind in his feverish take on your mouth.

His hair is soft in your grip, and you nearly roll your eyes thinking about his hair care routine, but you find yourself rolling your eyes in a different way when you feel his cock bulging through his pants.

Thick and heavy against your thigh, if you had to take a guess it was probably as veiny as his forearms were. And you stifle a moan when it kicks up.

His teeth bite at your lip and you yelp in pain, a noise that only drives him further into you, his hand tightens around your ponytail and yanks your neck further back so your head hits the door.

His shirt is fisted into your hand and you pull him further into you, sliding your tongue against his—sharing the taste of your fresh blood and his spearmint spit.

You scratch at his scalp with your dull nails and he fights back a melty groan.

“Such a fucking brat.” He breathes, as his fingers work the hem of your crew neck up, his fingers feel like lightening strikes against your body, and you welcome the dulled pain with a moan, “Need’t be put in your place.”

You whine when your sweater hits the ground with a soft thud and the cool air of his office ices over your still sweat slicked skin. His lips suck deep bruises into your throat, and his fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down in a hurry.

Expert fingers find your clit and he smirks when you whine for more, “thought you hated me?”

You pout when his fingers come to a halt, eyes flicking open to see his confidence boasting on his stupid perfect face.

“But this pretty little pussy doesn’t, does she baby?”

“Coach,” you moan out for him, his title on your lips in a sloppy whine make him harder than he’s ever been.

His thick fingers dip into the silky warm folds of your pink pussy. The combined noises you make, echo loud in his office. “Fuck baby,” he groans, his fingers sucking up into your gummy walls, he pops them out licks the juicy wetness of your arousal from them. “So wet honey, all this for me?”

Your fingers pinch at his sweats and pull them down in a swift motion along with his boxer briefs. He’s hung more than you thought. Making any guy you had been with previous look like something in a funny museum.

His abs are sculpted and dip into a hard cut v, leading to a small patch of trimmed hair, housing the longest, thickest dick you’ve ever come across.

And you were right it was veiny.

The pretty mushroom pinked head was presenting a pearl of pre cum, so pretty it could make an angel cry. When you try to lower yourself to wrap your lips around him, he stops you.

“Not today,” he groans, fisting his hearty length, your eyes going dumb watching him, brain numb and drunk on him already, “not enough time.”

He wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you up against the wall, your bare back stings against the rough cement wall, he’s grabby, his lips pressing heat into your neck, his moan tingling your skin.

With a quick shift of his hips, your tight pussy sheaths his thick cock. And you scream out.

“Shit, fuck honey..” he’s fighting to keep composure as you are practically lifeless against the wall. His thrusts are filled with purpose and want as your ass is slammed harder and harder into the wall, clapping along like a round of applause, ankles crossed around his lower back at your Nike socks and the laces of your air forces bouncing in tandem.

He’s sweaty and grunting, with each pull from his cock brings more deep and pretty noises from you and he sucks into your shoulder again, knowing damn well his mark will last for weeks. One you’d have to explain to your friends and your teammates, and your boyfriend.

He didn’t know if you had a boyfriend and frankly he didn’t give a fuck, you were his for the time being and he would do as he pleased.

He was fucking you stupid and you were letting him, holding his neck in a lazy grip as he hammered into you, and when you tightened around him, he knew you were close, “look at me,” he begs of you, “you’re gonna come for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you choke out, barely registering what he’s saying from the tight coiled pleasure of your orgasm ready to fire away.

His cock drags slow as your eyes connect, yours lazily spilling over with fresh tears, “who’s makin’ you feel this good, 22? Huh?”

“Y-you Coach!” you whine, nearly ready to crumble under his thick fingers when he rubs your sensitive clit.

“What was that baby girl?,” he croaked, holding back his release, “couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck oh fuck mmm you, Coach Harrington! Fuck I’m coming!”

Your orgasm breaks and it’s like a dam has busted, his dick is soaked by your arousal and he’s losing any bit of cockiness he had left when your face smooths and your lips blur a pretty round ‘o’ as you hum and your body tingles.

He follows not far behind you, muttering sentences that make no sense, drunk on your pussy as he paints your walls with his release.

You’ve never seen him look hotter, his forehead rests on your chest as you both catch your breath. For a split second he shows you a sly smirk, like he actually was enjoying himself.

“you might just be my fav-”

before he can finish, before he can pull out and offer you a towel, a loud knock scared everything in him stiff. Besides his cock that went instantly soft.. his blood ran cold.

His face stares at the door, and you stare at him, your grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Steve?”

*let me know your thoughts on this, should there be a part 2? I love hearing your comments ♥️

#steve x female reader #steve x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve fanfic

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