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vanderilnde · 2 months

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rugby player soap fucks you after a win. that’s it. extension from this post of mine

cw for dubcon smut, noncon exhibitionism, and gross johnny + simon

“Did ya see that, hen?”

Johnny’s words come out stifled behind his mouthguard. He smiles, and it’s bulky, a little dim-witted in how he darts his tongue out, licking up a wash of blood that sluices down his lip. His eyebrow is split and his nose is bent out of shape, his cheeks all swollen and ruddy.

He pulls you into a crushing hug, shaking like an ebullient dog that’s unaware of how big it is. His jersey, a royal blue, turns cobalt with his sweat. It sticks to his skin and outlines his chest, peeling off of your shirt when you sheepishly pull away.

The pitch is glutted with celebrating teammates and their loved ones, but the broadcast camera is raptly focused on you and Johnny. On the grudging hold he has on your waist and the unwieldy trophy he’s just won for his team.

Johnny grins like it’s a challenge. Like he wants to make the camera turn away. He forestalls the protests on your tongue by sinking into you for a hard kiss, bruising, and almost brutal in its force. It’s like he hasn’t separated himself from the game yet. Like he doesn’t want to compartmentalise you from the barbarous sport he plays.

The scruff of Johnny’s stubble tickles you as you try pushing him back, try twisting out of his hands. But his fingers, as bandaged and torn as they are, press dimples into your jawbone and keep you in place. Keeps you squirming and shameful beneath the dissonance of celebration.

He peels away with a kitten lick, pressing a wet smooch to the corner of your mouth. He’s smiling, pulling your jeans against the bulge beneath his spandex-like shorts, chuckling.

“Scored that last try for you, hen,” he pants. Spits out his mouthguard and passes his tongue over his bloodied teeth. “Did’ja see it?”

Johnny stinks of iron musk and sweat. He hands the trophy away and uses both hands to pull you close, clemently kissing your jaw.

“I did,” you hum. You consciously lilt your voice upwards, telling it to Johnny how he always needs to hear it. “You did so well, Johnny. So good.”

He whimpers into your neck. Just barely gyroscopes his hips against you.

“Did it for you,” he slurs. Johnny’s words are all soft, melting on his tongue as if he’s drunk. As if his brain is belated and stuck in the grip of your praise. “Did so good, right? A’practiced so hard.”

You take the bait that Johnny has given you, petting him, because if not, he’ll get ratty and make a scene. You pull back and cup his face, preening under the cornflower blue of his eyes and the puppy-like dip of his lips. You smile. “So good. I’m so proud of you.”

Johnny is half-lidded and dizzy, nodding to himself, swallowing your praise like an empty-headed dog. Impatience and lust are written into him—you can tell by the darkened shade of his eyes and how hard he clutches your hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, leading you through the stadium entrance, shouldering past fans asking him for autographs and photos. “We’ve time before the team goes for dinner. Nobody’ll be in the change room.”

Your cheeks flare with the implication of Johnny’s words and how purposeful they are. Marked by firm determination, leaving no room for objection.

He tugs you like a puppy pulling its owner. Excited, working against its leash, your feet struggling to catch up. Johnny pulls you into his team's changing room, slamming the door shut behind you. The sound of you getting pressed against the lockers is thin, tinny, and fleetingly impairs you. When you reorient, Johnny has his skinned knee between your legs and against your pussy. His hand palming his cock through the tight material of his rugby shorts.

“Johnny,” you pant, “what if someone comes in?”

“Let ‘em,” he huffs out a laugh. “What’re they gonna do? Ban me from the league? I just won us a trophy. ’m on top of the fuckin’ world, baby.”

Annoyance cycles in your stomach at his lack of consideration. You try wiggling out and mewling, but the thigh between your legs is an immovable object. Your clothed clit catches on his sinews at every angle, pushing a gasp out of you regardless of how you twist and turn.

“Haud y’r wheesht,” he barks. A hint of aggression bleeds into Johnny’s words, and that makes you pliant. “We’re just celebratin’, hen, no need ta ruin my win.”

Your eyes are on the door while Johnny shucks down his shorts. It rolls down his thighs and he leaves it at his knees, too eager to toe off his cleats and pull it all the way off. He stands awkwardly now, a little stilted because he can’t stretch his legs all the way, but that doesn’t stop him from bevelling his thigh into you and flexing, grinding into you.

Johnny peels your shirt—a replica of his jersey—off of you, and kisses you deeply. You can taste the salt and blood crusted against his lips, feel his small smile.

Johnny spins you around and folds you over the bench. Your knees bruise against the rubber flooring and your chest flattens against the cold wood, your brain reeling in the gross implications of it, whatever Johnny and his friends get up to in this locker room.

He rips down your jeans, almost popping the buttons off, almost burns your skin with the denim, and settles himself behind you. Johnny grabs a fistful of your ass and spreads you open, swatting your pussy with his other hand.

“Johnny…” you mewl, and he chuckles. Gives you a waggle, slipping his large hand over and thumbing your clit.

“Thought you were feart of bein’ found?” He asks, lowering to his knees and kissing your dewy folds. “Why’re y’being so loud?”

Johnny waits for a second, giving you time to think of a reply, but with the first sound to leave your mouth he’s licking a fat stripe up your pussy, collapsing your words.

He laughs at himself and it sends vibrations up your spine. Your bones are grinding together, your nerves filaments of live wire under Johnny’s hands that dig divots into your thighs and his mouth that sucks on your clit, tonguing your sticky folds.

He spits on your cunt, spreads the wad of saliva around with his tongue. He pulls you into his mouth and suckles, moving his wet lips against your dewy ones.

You stretch your arm back and tug on Johnny’s fleecy mohawk, scratching your fingers against the dew-skinned, shaved parts of his head. He expels a groan against your clit and you mewl, pushing into him, wiggling so his nose buries further, his tongue plunging into you and licking a stroke up your walls.

You’re quivering now, shaking against the cold bench and Johnny’s hot mouth. A knot of energy crackles in your stomach as he wraps his lips around your clit and slurps.

“Gonna come on my mouth, hen?” Johnny pants, but pulls away before you reply. Punches a whine out of you by spinning you onto your back against the bench, pulling his cock out and giving it a few tugs, his dick so hard it droops with laden weight and a slaver of precum.

“Or would’ya rather do it on here?” He asks, stroking himself. His balls low-hanging in front of you, the fat head of his cock all ruddy and red and flaring as he pinches it.

You stare, dull-headed, with your mouth hanging open and a hazy film behind your eyes. Johnny giggles.

“Cannae think with this in front of ye?” He smears his cockhead on your lips. “Sweet girl. So cute.”

Johnny winces and pulls away. He swings one leg over the bench, settling himself on top of you. His cock is a heavy mass of muscle between him. Swinging, bobbing in place. Dumb and drooling with precum that drops onto your navel.

He slips himself between your puffy folds, panting like a dog. Equally as impatient as one, squeezing his cockhead past your first ring of muscle, writing off your small cries of pain. He thinks cupping your cheek offsets the burn—still, Johnny’s cock is so heavy and so big inside you. Spreading you open, stretching you out. Making a home inside your belly.

You hic his name, and he shushes you with a kiss. Johnny weaves into short, quick thrusts, because pulling himself to the tip means losing most of your warmth, and he can’t have that. He settles on barely rolling his hips, focusing on burying himself deep, folding himself into a frog position if that means fucking you meaner.

“Takin’ so much cock, bonnie,” he moans into your neck. “So good. So good.”

Johnny’s ears turn pink and his eyes turn glassy. He keeps rocking inside you, his cock filling you out so well, so full, your thighs shaking and damp with slick. He fingers your clit, and in his pace, wild and unfettered, you wrap your legs around his waist like a cobbled together leash that you use to pull him closer.

Johnny grows feral at that. He slaps his balls harder against you, biting your shoulder. Sweat and blood rolls down his cheek and onto your face, augmenting the icy gold of his first place medal. It drags along your chest with each of his thrusts, turning into a ball of liquid fire as your body saturates with sweat. Johnny leans down, his lips slick as he kisses you, the push and pull of his hips ripening into a more jagged, desperate rhythm.

“Gonna fill y’up, hen,” he pants. There’s a strong dissonance that impairs you, echoing within the locker room. Johnny’s degenerate moans and the slap of skin against skin. The pitched sound of the wind being knocked out of you, the sticky sound of your cunt getting spread open on his big cock.

Something else poises itself on Johnny’s tongue, something impure, but it gets shaved-off as he cuts himself off with a long, flinty moan. Johnny quivers as he comes, and that pushes him deeper as he fills you with his warm ropes.

He presses down on your clit, pushing the rise of your orgasm out of you. Your spine curls off the bench, your nails digging divots into Johnny’s arms, your mouth hanging open and a rough wave of pleasure curling over you and breaking into your skin. Your orgasm is so consuming it burns, eating you whole.

It chews you up and spits you out. You tremble around Johnny’s softening cock as he peppers kisses down your sternum, and while you reorient, you see an unearthly spot of colour in the corner of your eye. It isn’t composed of matter—it’s big and blurry and hides between two rows of lockers.

Then, you realise the drapery England flag, the absence of a Scottish one.

The man who stands in the corner is blonde and huge and has his fat cock out, curling his fist around it, pumping. He’s so quiet, an ambush predator as he just stands there, continuing to beat his dick even after you make eye contact with him.

He turns to Johnny, grotesquely smiling.

Johnny returns it.

#johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap/reader #cod mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish

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arlertwhore · 16 days

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need more paige fics on here it’s criminal atp 💔🥲

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige invites her sneaky link to a team dinner, but she has an appetite for you.

warning(s): smut, dom paige, sub reader, more power play, pussy eating (p a munch), fingering, spit kink, mommy kink, nastiest public sex ever.

word count: 3.9k, if i read the estimate right.

author note: unedited - based off a request. ty sm for the love on my first post, it made me feel like writing this 🤍 I check every noti and read every comment!! enjoy, inbox open, yk yk. MINORS DNI

Paige wouldn't confess to it openly, but she knew her feelings for you had underwent a significant adjustment following your whole jersey stunt. She — nicknamed Paige Da Pimp by her teammates for her playboy attitude, was not the type to get smitten for girls, and especially not the ones she had just been hooking up with in a casual sense, but after photographing a memento of you in the jersey post-fuck to keep her sustained for her busy week away of back-to-back games, practices, training... etc, all that athlete jazz, she had come to the agonizing realization that it was the biggest mistake she had ever made. And if there was one thing to note about Paige, she HATED mistakes.

Although she hadn't seen it that way at the time, which was totally understandable since it was just a sexy photo, Paige knew she was acting brainless for what she did. You were cute, fucked well, really turned her on, and she liked you as a hook-up, but she knew better than to genuinely like people, girls, in a serious sense while committed to her career. It'd never work out, and it was something she was very forward about the first time you hooked up. Paige had taught you her many rules, making it clear that she was the one in control due to her media appearance. She expected the feelings aspect to be the other way around but had soon found herself blushing as her team teased her about you relentlessly for being her lock-screen and gawking at a TikTok of you, sharing your daily routine. Sure, Paige knew the lockscreen aspect might've been pushing it, perhaps another misstep, but it was faceless due to her penchant for privacy in your affair, and she used it motivationally for her jampacked week, not as a new means to stay fixated over you.

To the tall blonde, that pictured depicted the prettiest girl in the world wearing her jersey, a visual testament to the hard work and perseverance that had brought Paige to where she was.

So, the photo served as a reminder to keep pushing forward despite how difficult it got. Though Paige surely did like you, she was also very cognitively astute, and knew that whatever feelings she had unfortunately accumulated for you would automatically dismantle due to the demands and stress of her career. She might have panicked over her feelings if you guys had an upcoming visit, but since both of your schedules were full, it became a wait-it-out game where you had both been thinking of each other as you tended to your daily lives. Before her Tuesday game, Paige examined her lockscreen before tossing her phone and running onto court, kissing upwards of the arena, plausibly sending the kiss off into the sky, presuming it would fall wherever you were. The net had tried to decipher the action to no avail. You

were at work and witnessed the moment when it had occurred, so the kiss had been retrospectively received. The cycle repeated each day: you worked, studied on breaks, went to the gym late, then came home, and studied again. The sole reason you were able to remember Paige outside of all else was because you waitressed and they played her games on TV occasionally. It was cruel to think you had some good sex just a few days ago before being forced back to your life. Paige was your only escape and you both didn't have any time in the world to see each other. You couldn't shake the thoughts that with each missed day to spend, because you guys were casual, you were running out of time. Like she was going to leave and find somebody better and more convenient. It was mundane to say the least, but that all changed on Friday night. By the end of the week, Paige soon realized there'd been no point in hiding you from her team. Her fans, the media especially, sure, but you two weren't a secret amongst the knowledge of the team.

Some of them: KK, Azzi, Aubrey, and Ice had even spoken to you and met you three months back at the party, where you first met Paige. You were hammered out of your mind and ranted to them about how much you wanted Paige. They had all discussed how hilarious you were here-and-there after Paige gave you a chance. Paige herself had missed you greatly, so she figured it didn't matter if she invited you to a team dinner.

Her friends were inviting their friends too, and it wouldn't have looked weird if fans or the media noticed. So that's how you found yourself scrambling through your closet at 8 PM, clothes strewn around the room as you searched for your black dress, which was Paige's favorite color on you. You had hurried through your assignments on break at work and left early just to make it there, hating that Paige had sprung this on you randomly.

This is something one would need aforemention for; you had to be more perfect than usual. Hair, makeup, nails, dress, behavior—for crying out loud, you were representing Paige freakin' Bueckers, and that meant you couldn't be tardy or shabby in any aspect. You simply had to be PERFECT. You didn't wanna get replaced by someone more convenient for her, and you knew she had only made this gesture because she missed you: typical Paige wouldn't even consider bringing you to a team dinner, so you thought she was crazy for even offering, knowing this opportunity might not arise again if you didn't show tonight.

As you arrived, you could see the team and some other faces present at the grand table. Thankfully, you did look better than the guests, and even though you were aware, you were still incredibly nervous. Seeing Paige's face, giggling with a teammate sat across from her, was the only thing that kept your high-heeled cladden feet advancing, heart pounding senselessly in your chest. The fullness in the restaurant didn't make you feel better, and with all eyes on you, you felt they knew your secret. You were right: most of them did, and as you reached the grand table, the entire team glanced at you knowingly. The last time you saw them all was at the New Year's party three months ago, before the fact you acted on behalf of Paige. It was majorly awkward now, seeing them sober, knowing you had rambled to all of them, especially KK & Azzi, about how badly you wanted Paige. You being here proved Paige had made your dream come true.

"Get over here, weirdo," Paige called out, and at the sound of her voice, you chuckled, feeling the tension ease. After not touching her, tasting her, holding her—seeing her for what felt like years, you had yearned more than ever to kiss her, to do everything to her that you hadn't had the chance to do in the past week, but due to being in public, all you could do was hug like friends in-case others knew who she was and were recording. It was bumming. You engulfed her in a big hug, smaller arms wrapping around her toned body as you tenderly whispered, "Wanna kiss you so badly. Missed you so much, Peanut Butter."

Paige chuckled softly at your clever play on words, sighing, "I know, I know," as she caressed your upper back, cautious of moving any lower, "Thanks for gettin' it, angel."

You smiled, feigning contentment as you released Paige, mindful that your embrace couldn't linger for too long, lest it provoke any speculation. She kindly helped you remove your dress coat, like a gentleman, and allowed you to sit on the inner side of the booth, assuming her new spot on the outer beside you at your right. To your left was a girl whom KK had invited — she sat sorta close, but far enough at the perfect proximity for Paige, in one very swift movement, to place the coat upon your lap and rest her big hand onto your thigh behind the eyes of everybody else present.

The blonde leaned in, her breath warm against your ear and body pressed flush against yours as she rasped, "As long as they don't see, right?" hand inching up your thigh, her inflection, voice, and touch sending shivers down your spine as she stroked your inner thigh preciously. "Paige!" you growled quietly, "Get a grip—this is unlike you." Paige knew you were right. She was losing her marbles because she liked you so much and couldn't control herself for any longer after having to for an entire week. She needed to have you. It was a blooming sign of her ensuing limerence for you. And she just loved that look in your eye too, all high-strung and panicking at the mere touch of her fingers—it was intoxicating.

You screwed your eyes shut briefly as her middle finger pressed against your clit, lightly; barely moving, edging you. Exhaling deeply, you struggled to get your eyes open, forced to pretend nothing was happening as banter and conversation and laughter flowed around you.

Eventually, you knew you would have to join in, but right now, you were consumed by the sensation of Paige's touch. And when she jested, "Hey," lowly, the sound sent tons of slick oozing out of your wet pussy, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore. Her long, delicate finger teased your little clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout the entirety of your body as you struggled to remain still, quiet, and maintain your composure.

It almost set you off when Paige's foot began to play with yours as she admitted, "I couldn't stop thinking of you all week," in this way of raw carnality and blatant desire you hadn't ever witnessed Paige showcase. It was just pure fucking, usually. A fuck that you didn't have to act totally sexy for all-the-time since it was just a mutual thing. This, whatever Paige was doing tonight, was something very different. Her words — "About how I'd get to touch you, taste you, and how your body would look and how you'd sound. Fuck," she says in a low grunt resemblant of pain. "I can't wait for you again."

Paige stopped briefly, and you didn't know whether to be thankful or upset, groaning out in response. Paige tutted thrice. "You aren't gonna look at me when I'm talking to you?" she chided. "Be a good girl, angel, use your manners so I can give you what you want." You were utterly bewitched by her words. Her touch. Her voice. Her body against yours. Her aura. She was just so captivating. Today, she had foregone her glasses, leaving just her raw, intense eyes to pierce through you. Clad in her post-game attire—a sleek black Nike Tech outfit, her hair styled in the signature front braids and ponytail—you couldn't deny the magnetic pull she had on you. You found yourself afraid to look at her for too long, fearing that the sheer intensity of her presence would send you over the edge. She almost did. You were right. When you looked at her, she smirked at you, locking eyes with you in a gaze that was indescribable. The way she looked at you had changed. "Just like that," she cooed, "Keep your eyes on mommy just like that." You let out a small whine, squishing your legs together to unwaver what felt like a climax. You felt like you were going to explode. Leaning forward, you took a second to recollect yourself as Paige's fingers continued to service you. Around you, the conversation was flowing, and as the head of her team, Paige easily inserted herself into it by introducing you to everybody. "Guys, I want you to meet Y/N L/N, Y/N L/N, the team and friends." Used to celebrating excessively, they all clapped for you, and Paige tapped your side with her free hand, urging you to sit up and be polite. You waved to everyone, adorning a smile that had taken every morsel of energy within you to present. "Long time no see, huh?" KK instantly began, "Let's hope you don't drink too much tonight and spill any secrets about how much you want Paige." Laughter filled the air, including yours. Relaxing against the booth, you tilted your head back, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Paige's fingers began to intrude your entrance, their movements smooth and tantalizing, causing you to clench around them. "Don't gotta be lit to tell you, K," you giggled, diverting your attention to the conversation that had just begun, while also trying to ignore Paige's relentless fingers.

You just didn't know how she could do it so seamlessly -- her beautiful big blue eyes had managed to look utterly focused, absorbed in KK's story as if she hadn't been scissoring you open with purpose in each fervent stroke of her fingers into you. A contented grin was fixed on her face, seemingly listening to KK's recount of the first time she met you intently, but that was not the case whatsoever, and you two were the only ones aware. Paige rested her head upon your shoulder, her left arm hooking around your waist to grab her Shirley Temple, to take a sip.

She raised the glass, offering you a sip, and you disguised a moan in a hum when she began a come-hither motion against your g - spot, savoring the cold drink to assist in cooling down your rising body temperature. "You like that?" she asked, early not referring to the drink. Her tone was cunning, smirk suggesting she knew the effect she was having on you.

You managed a smile, maintaining your composure. "Mhm. I like it." you uttered, your voice resonating with an underlying force, each word carrying the weight of your struggle to sound controlled.

Thankfully, Azzi had interjected KK's story, prolonging it, and you anticipated that Azzi's sociable nature would keep you from speaking for a while longer. However, just as you expected the social buffer, a waiter approached for your order. Being a waiter yourself, you understood why she was there, and you blurted out, "Water," upon her arrival, eager for her to leave as quickly as possible. Fuck! you thought, That seemed bitchy. You resolved to tip her later to make up for it, but you couldn't have cared less in the moment. Your head was spinning; Paige's ring finger had begun to circle your clit precisely, at a steady pace, in a touch and speed you couldn't replicate no matter how hard you tried. Her middle finger had been gathering your wetness and smoothing it over your clit, intensifying the sensation, intensifying the situation.

"So then, besides this intro story, Y/N, why don't you tell us about yourself? You know, the real you?" Paige prodded, her tone laced with subtle encouragement, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she attempted to coax you into speaking. "U-uh," you stammered, clearing your throat, "studying at UConn." It's a line you're programmed to say regularly, especially at work when dumb college goons try to hit on you.

The prompt silence urged you to continue speaking, but you wanted to curl up and pretend to be asleep. Your hole clenched around nothing, and you tried to avoid looking at Paige, fearing you might cum on the spot like you nearly had earlier. Gathering your strength, you said, "I'm studying to become a nurse. I'm from the city just over, but I'm, uh, you know... just an average girl."

You, being at a dinner and getting finger-fucked wasn't just stuff average girls did.

Nothing was average about this dinner experience. Not even the amount of wetness you had accumulated, which had become so much that it began to trickle down your leg. To have the amount of need you were suppressing literally oozing out of you, you moan, an audible one, but mask it as a cough before raising Paige's drink to your lips, taking a sip, and then placing it down. You could hear Paige laugh hushedly from your side, relishing in the power dynamic. "My throat's so dry," you quickly add to compensate for the odd noise, hoping to divert attention away from your unintentional reaction. "Did the questionin' make you nervous?" KK teased yet again, her tone playful as she pointed out, "You're breaking a little sweat."

You wanted to jump for joy. Finally, you had an excuse to excuse yourself. "Oh no, am I?" you replied, trying to hide your relief. "Lemme go make sure my makeup's good, P."

Forced to stand before you could exit, Paige did, and as you rose to your feet, she made sure you saw the image of her fingers in her mouth, sucking your wetness off them.

This, combined with all you had just endured got you weak in the knees as you stood up and made your way out. The sensation of her touch lingered, leaving you feeling so worked up that you felt like you were going to implode.

You weren't even wearing any makeup. You rarely did outside of work. Inside of the bathroom, feeling rather empty, you briefly considered touching yourself but rendered that option pointless seeing as you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself how Paige did you. You also always failed to replicate it too. Instead, to cool down your body and thoughts, you resorted to flushing your face with cold water. By the time you finished, Paige had appeared in the doorframe behind you, nearly as tall as it was.

"You got sick, I had to take you home, here's your coat," she said, recounting the tale you'd explain for leaving early, flinging the coat at you with a brisk motion, one of an athlete.

You caught it, but urgency pulsed through you. If she wanted to test you, you would test her. High heels clacking as you strode over to the taller blonde, you pressed her against the bathroom door, your kiss fueled by an intense need. The taste of yourself on her tongue drove you crazy and you couldn't deny how intoxicating it was. Her knee was nestled between your legs, and she pulled back to rain kisses down your neck, her voice filled with fervor as she questioned, "Why the hell aren't you wearing panties, hm?" In a rush, but with purpose, you responded, "Can't you see I'm dressed exactly how you like, P? It's all part of the plan."

She picked you up, your body clinging to hers as she placed you on the counter of the sinks. You made out fervently, her strong body no longer pressed against the door, leaving you both vulnerable to potential intruders. This was dangerous, extremely so. Paige kept letting you take dominance, even if it wasn't as blatant as her own, and it was exhilarating. When you placed your legs upon the counter, high heels on, your tits dropping below your dress with your pussy on display, clenching and unclenching as you pleaded, "I want your mouth," Paige couldn't resist. As she dropped to her knees, she reasoned that she was already in too deep to back out. The vodka in her Shirley Temple convinced her it was fine too, and fuck, it felt beyond fine. Her eyes remained locked with yours as she began by licking your hole, teasing the tip of her tongue inside before traveling up to your clit, prodding at it expertly.

"You taste so good," Paige murmured against your clit, sucking it.

"How would all your good-girl Uni friends feel if they saw you like this, hm? Legs spread like the slut you are, begging for my mouth."

Paige was losing control. She was spiraling. You looked too slutty, too good, and the situation was too risky for her not to take a picture of this. Removing her phone from her pocket, she handed it to you, and you already knew what to do.

You eagerly begin a video recording of Paige devouring you, capturing every salacious moment with fervor. Her mouth and tongue work tirelessly, exploring every inch of your dripping sex, her fingers sliding effortlessly into you, curling and stroking in the harmony with her oral ministrations. You moan uncontrollably, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body. As Paige's tongue dances over your clit and her fingers plunge deeper, you writhe and squirm on the counter, unable to contain the ecstasy building within you.

The sensations are overwhelming, driving you to the brink of madness as you teeter on the edge of blissful oblivion. "Film yourself," Paige murmurs against your pussy, and you obediently turn the camera toward your face and heaving chest. The lens captures your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the dazed look of ecstasy in your eyes as you surrender to the euphoria of Paige's mouth and fingers.

"M'gonna cum, baby," you whine, bucking your hips with a primal urgency against her face, desperate for release. "Yes, yes, please," you whimper, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak. "I need it, Paige, I need to cum." As the climax washes over you like a tidal wave, you cling to Paige's head, holding her against your pussy as your body convulses with the force of your release.

With a satisfied smile, Paige grabs a paper towel and tends to you, then looks up to the camera from her knees, tongue teasingly licking off the remnants of your arousal. You hastily rearrange your clothes, staying put on the counter as Paige rises from between your legs to place her lips against yours. Paige's lips kiss with tender urgency that feels like unspoken intimacy and connection. As her mouth melds with yours, you feel the lingering heat of desire between you guys. In that fleeting embrace, there's a sense of vulnerability and trust, as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the electrifying sensation of her lips against yours. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a silent reassurance that you're in this together, navigating the waves of need and indulgence as one.

But then again, you're recording, so the moment, while still undeniably sexy, lacks the sweetness of intimacy. Paige takes the phone from your hand, filming as she guides you off the counter by your hand, only to drop it suddenly, spinning you around and pressing you against the cool surface. With her lap pressed against your ass, she asserts control, her hand firmly guiding your hips as she captures the action in the mirror.

As you grind back against her, you breathe out softly, "We're defiling this place, P," your voice laden with desire.

She responds in kind, her voice husky with arousal. "You're right, angel. Come on." With a firm grip on your hair, she pulls you back up until you're tilting your head to meet her gaze. Without hesitation, she delivers a fast, open-mouthed kiss that feels less intimate this time, followed by a daring act of dominance. She spits into your mouth, and you swallow, the act captured on camera for all to see.

With a shared glance, you rearrange yourselves, a tacit acknowledgment passing between you as you hastily fix your appearance. The urgency to flee the restaurant is palpable, both of you acutely aware of the need to escape before anyone catches wind of the steamy encounter that just unfolded in plain sight.

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yellowducc · 2 years

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NHL emphasis on the L

#reverse retro 22 #colorado's is so bad that i genuinely cycled through 2 other possible teams before i realized it was their's #the stars are only saved bc their regular logo is like powerpoint wordart to me #i think panthers would be higher if i didn't mistake it briefly for being the ducks jersey #rangers might only be so high bc i’m a homer #blogging to an empty room #hockey tag

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bellawoso · 2 months

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Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

Read part 1 : here

Much to your Diego’s dismay, you did not end up calling Alexia, instead the jersey, adorned with a number that could change your life, was left screwed up at the back of your wardrobe.

You were going to call Alexia.

Until one of your other friends heard about it, and told you about the backlash and hate you would receive from some of Alexia’s devoted fans. In the end, you decided it wasn’t worth it, it was only a few years since you escaped your depressive cycle, you were not ever going to risk entering it again.

Truthfully, you regret ignoring Alexia, every time anyone hits on you, you always compare them to the blonde, Diego often calling you “pathetic” as you only spoke to her for 2 hours.

However, you realised that it’s too late to call her, and think of how weird the blonde would think you were if you called her a month later.

As once again you debated calling the midfielder, your door suddenly slammed open.

“¡Hola chica! Look I have tickets!”

As you inspected the tickets in Diego’s hand, your face contorted to one of disappointment;

England vs Spain tickets.

Fuck.

———————————————————————

Your England top had arrived just in time, you were going to wear a Spain one after Diego convinced you that you would be beaten up by the first Spaniard who saw you, you guess the England-Spain rivalry ran deep.

However, it felt a betrayal to your country to be clad in the red jersey, so you ordered one last minute, luckily you weren’t completely oblivious when it came to football, you knew of how Leah Williamson had captained England to a Euro’s victory.

So there you were, in blue denim shorts and your oversized Williamson Jersey almost reaching past your shorts.

It felt like you were cheating, which was stupid, you met Alexia for 2 hours, to push away the feeling of guilt you slipped on a jacket and made your way downstairs.

Diego only rolled his eyes, and sighed in disapproval at your jersey choice.

———————————————————————

Alexia was excited for her return which she had been informed of a month prior to the match, but everyone on the team had noticed a change in the captains mood.

Except only Jana knew the cause for her sudden sadness.

Alexia didn’t understand why your rejection stung so much, maybe it was because the two-time ballon d’or winner wasn’t used to it, or maybe it was because the whole two hours you were together, she had imagined a relationship with you. It felt too real, and she cursed herself for grieving something that never happened in the first place.

She pushed all of those thoughts to the side, and instead focused on the match ahead of her, it was only a friendly, but the idea of being able to hold the win over Lucy and Keira’s heads when they returned to Barcelona felt euphoric.

What she didn’t expect was to see you in the crowd, worse of all, in a Leah fucking Williamson jersey.

———————————————————————-

Spain were one nil down at half time. which was frustrating for Alexia, having to watch from the sidelines with promises of being brought on for the final 45 minutes, however as she stepped on the pitch, her attention was drawn to a white jersey, in a sea of red, only a few rows up.

You stuck out like a sore thumb, it was extremely hard to miss you. So when Alexia laid eyes on you, her heart stopped for a second, and the screams and cheers of the stadium became muffled sounds in her ears.

As you turn around to face Diego, Alexia can just make out the England captain’s last name on your back, bile rises to the Spaniard’s mouth and she quickly turns away.

A newfound determination to outdo the English Captain, to try prove to you that the only jersey you should be proud to wear should be hers.

Call it jealousy. Maybe. But whatever it was fuelled Alexia to score 2 more goals by the end of the match.

2-1 to Spain.

When you saw Alexia step out on the pitch, your breath immediately hitched in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit, which received a knowing chuckle from Diego.

“You fumbled amiga”

Honestly, you regretted teaching him some English slang, he used it against you constantly, and often laughed at himself after seeing you scowling.

When the match ended, Diego was quick to drag you to the stands, he was a big fan of Aitana Bonmati, and wanted her signature badly.

Although you were happy for him when the brunette midfielder came over to where you two were, you froze at seeing Alexia’s friend from the match, who was walking over with Aitana.

When Jana laid eyes on you, she knew what she had to do, she was quick to sprint off and get Alexia, who was talking to Lucy and Keira, and teasing them of the loss.

Alexia was no where near as nervous as you were, the blonde didn’t need to be, you rejected her, even though she was positive that you were returning her flirty comments at the past match.

The Spaniard was sure that you were in the wrong, you should feel guilty for leading her on, so she was quick to confront you when she saw you.

“You didn’t call, and I’m pretty sure I told you to wear better clothing colours”

You internally cringed at how straight to the point the blonde was, and couldn’t help but blush as she called you out for ignoring her.

“I’m sorry, I was nervous and by the time I felt ready to call, I figured it would be too late”

“I don’t know if I’m more upset about you didn’t call because you were nervous, or the fact that you have Leah Williamson’s name on your back”

“Get me a better one then” you replied, whilst looking down at her jersey and back at her with a grin.

Alexia quickly stripped off her jersey, as you took off yours too, luckily you wore a tank top under it, Alexia’s eyes quickly dropping to your exposed chest.

“Your not subtle you know?”

“Who said I was trying to be?” The blonde was quick to reply back.

You only chuckled in response, and slipped on Alexia’s jersey, doing a little spin “How do I look?”

“Beautiful, much better wearing the jersey you belong in”

You weren’t sure if Alexia truly meant that, or if her extremely forward words were due to English not being her first language, but either way your face flushed deep crimson in retaliation to her comment.

The click of a pen lid being taken off woke you from your trance, and you peered up at Alexia, who tugged you closer by your waist, and quickly scribbled down her number once again.

“Pot favor, call me this time, promise?”

“I promise Ale, I will even let you choose the colour scheme of my outfit when we go out” you quipped back with a smile.

With a smirk, the blonde midfielder threw the England jersey on the floor, and walked away to meet Jana so they could walk into the locker room together.

Diego quickly ran towards you, only to pick you up and swing you around.

“I told you she would want you amiga! Your a snack!”

“Diego please never call me that again”

“Shut up! You should be thanking me, with out me, she would have never re-given you her number”

———————————————————————

A/N : I am halfway through writing part 3 🤍

#Spotify #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #aitana bonmati #jana fernandez x reader #jana fernandez #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #england women #england lionesses #spain women's national team #spain wnt #england wnt

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pucked-bunnie · 13 days

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and, what about you? ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x reader genre: angst warnings: stressed quinn ⎜over-thinker quinn ⎜ synopsis: everyone knows the captain takes care of everyone, of everything - but who takes care of them? word count: 2.1 k authors note: Quinn was the clear winner of the poll, and this is essentially just filling my need for words of affirmation and how I hope someone takes care of our dear captain, it's a little shorter than normal but i hope you all still enjoy. (UNEDITED)

The crowd roars as the Canucks win the game - the group of boys flooding the ice to congratulate each other, tapping on helmets as they make their way to the locker room.

“I’m gonna head down to the locker room, meet you there?” Natalie shouts over the sounds of the blaring alarms and music - you nod quickly, your eyes locked on the captain skating over to his goalie, patting him firmly on the helmet hovering for a few seconds clearly praising Thatcher's game. The two teammates make their way over to the bench, the coach pulling Quinn to the side.

You watch Quinn’s shoulders slump a little and he nods his head, his coach patting him on the shoulder as he lets him walk down the tunnel into the locker room. You say quick goodbyes to the other partners in the area, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Your phone dings in your hand, the screen lighting up with a text message.

quintin 😍: I’m gonna be a little longer than expected, I have to cover Brock's interview.

pookie ♥️ ️ : Okay, take your time.

You find a spot beside the entrance to the locker room, pulling out the AirPods tucked into your bag. Knowing Quinn him saying he was going to take longer then expected meant it was going to be over an hour before you would be seeing him. You scroll through your tiktok, making small conversation with the passing players as they join with their families making their own way home.

Eventually you spot the reporters leaving, a few more team members filing out behind them, the crowds slowly dwindling in the main lobby, though Quinn was nowhere in sight.

pookie ♥ ️ : everything alright? reporters left twenty minutes ago.

Your message is seen quickly, the ellipsis popping up into your text thread before disappearing, the cycle repeating a few times before the bubble disappears, no response from Quinn.

“Hey what are you still doing out here?” A familiar voice says as a body stops in front of you, you glance up at Brock giving him a soft smile as you take out an AirPod.

“Oh, just waiting for Quinn.” You respond quickly, “He said he was covering interviews, but they left a while ago.” You note softly, Brock tilting his head in confusion.

“Quinn wasn’t doing interviews tonight.” Brock eyebrows drop in a frown, his eyes darting back to the locker room before back down to you. “No one else is in there, if you wanna head in?” He suggests quietly, patting your shoulder before jogging over to his waiting girlfriend, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she greets him excitedly.

You watch them for a few more moments, the happy couple leaving hand in hand before you turn towards the entrance, glancing around as you walk into the large room, it’s easy to spot the captain, his arms resting on his knees, his hockey jersey in the basket in the middle of the room, the rest of his gear still strapped to his body.

“Babe?” You call softly, taking slow steps towards the deep in thought man, his hand raking through his hair a few more times before you call out for him again, “Quinn?”

His head snaps up at your voice, his eyes darting around the empty room before focusing on you. “Oh shit.” He curses under his breath, his hand moving to undo the velcro straps of his chest pads.

“Quinn, are you okay?” You question as you drop on the bench next to him, watching as he rushes to take off his remaining gear.

“Yeah, of course.” He says quickly, shooting you an apologetic grin as he pulls the pads over his head. “Just got lost in thought.”

You glance over to Quinn every now and then as he makes quick work of his uniform, pulling on a large hoodie and sweatpants, grabbing his phone and wallet from the shelf of his locker before turning towards you.

“I’ll shower when I get home.” He promises as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek, his fingers twining with yours as he grips your hand tightly. You wrap your other hand tightly around your joined hands, lifting them to press a kiss against the back of his hand.

“You played amazing today, Quinn.” You praise, letting your hands drop to swing between the two of you as Quinn leads you both to the garage, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so much for this team.” You continue, Quinn shaking his head, his hand releasing yours as you both climb into the car.

“We still have play offs to get through.” Quinn says with a long sigh, his eyes focusing in front of him as he pulls out the parking space, making his way out of the garage. Quinn’s body stays tense as his eyes remain forwards, his focus anywhere but on the way you watch him, your eyes looking over all his signs of discomfort.

Quinn stays silent for the fifteen minute drive back to your apartment - game nights usually meant your boyfriend stayed at your place, Elias and Quinn enjoying the time apart to wind down.

You follow behind Quinn as he makes his way to the elevator, his hand not reaching for yours like he normally would, his body pushing him to make it into your cozy apartment. He unlocks your front door with his spare key, dropping the bag from his trunk besides the front door, kicking off his sneakers.

You sneak in behind him, softly closing the door as he runs his fingers through his hair, his hands rubbing at his face. “Quinn, I want you to answer me honestly.” You begin softly, leaning against the back of your couch, your hand clasped in front of you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” He asks, his hands dropping from his face, “of course I am.” He answers quickly, he tries to smile, to erase your concern, but his smile falters as you remain silent, your brows furrowed in concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He says, “I mean I’m living the dream right, playing my favourite sport for a living, captain of the team I’ve played on for six years, we’re going to the playoffs and I’ve got a beautiful girlfriend to top it all off.” He continues his voice carrying a sharp edge to it.

You continue the silence, hoping that maybe making him face the discomfort will give you a look into his mind.

“What do you want me to say?” He finally asks, throwing his hands in a shrug.

“I don’t know… I just want to know what’s going on inside your head.” You respond, “I want to be able to help relieve some of your stress. I wanna be able to take care of you if you’re not feeling great.” You add, watching as Quinn’s mouth drops in a frown.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.” He snaps, his tone more hostile than expected, your body pushing off the couch as you move to step forwards, your boyfriend taking a step away from you. “I’m supposed to take care of you” He says, pointing towards you for emphasis, “That’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of things at home and at work, that’s what a good leader does.”

“And, what about you?” You question softly, your arms crossing over your chest, a feeble attempt at trying to keep yourself together. “What about you, Quinn… Who takes care of you?”

You watch the emotions flash over Quinn’s face whatever facade he had kept going for the past twenty four hours faltering.

“Babe, you have so much on your plate right now, so much responsibility… let me take some of it, even just for a little while.”

“Why?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Because that’s my job.” You answer, “Because if you’re not going to take care of you, then I will. Because relationships are about lifting each other up but sometimes we just have to catch each other when we fall.” Your words are gentle as you step towards him.

“Quinn, it’s okay to fall sometimes.” Your heart sinks as you watch his face crumble, a heavy sob escaping his chest as you close the distance, pulling his body to yours. Quinn remains stiff as you wrap your arms around his neck, his face dropping against your shoulder as his body shakes.

“I’m just so tired.” His voice cracks as he speaks, finally his arms moving to constrict around your waist, your body the only thing grounding him. “I feel like I can’t breathe.” Another round of choked sobs rip from him, one of your hands gently soothing over his back, the other smoothing the back of his head.

“You’re going to be okay.” You coo, your throat constricting as you swallow down your own tears, your heart cracking in two at the state of your boyfriend, the hurt in his voice.

The two of you remain in the lounge room, your arms wrapped around each other, stuck in a standstill as Quinn lets out everything that had been weighing him down, his sobs slowly turning into sniffles, his arms squeezing around you when you move to step back.

“No.” He grumbles.

“Come with me.” You whisper, finally detaching him from you, your hands grabbing his as you pull him towards the couch, you take your spot lying down on the cushions before motioning for him to follow. Quinn seems hesitant at first, his breathing shallow before he nods joining you on the couch, his body thrown over yours, his head pressed against your chest as you resume your ministrations on his back, drawing soft shapes against his jumper.

“Share something with me.” You say, “Give me something to hold onto for you for a little while.”

“Like what?” He speaks against your shirt, the words muffled slightly by the fabric.

“Anything.” He takes a deep breath at your words.

“Rick said something to me today.” He starts, you nod slowly recounting the coach pulling the young captain aside, your hand raises to the collar of Quinn’s hoodie softly slipping under the fabric to continue your soothing on his skin. “He said he was proud of me.”

Your movements pause, waiting for Quinn to elaborate.

“He said that he couldn’t think of a better leader for the team, and that he knew that I was going to take us further than anyone imagined.” Quinn lets out a long sigh, “I just can’t find it in me to believe him.” Your eyebrows raise at his comment, your head tilting as you consider what to say.

“You’re not proud of yourself?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbles back. “I know I should be, but a part of me just feels like I haven’t done enough, like I haven’t achieved enough to feel pride.”

“Well, that’s okay.” You start, “I can be proud of you for both of us.” Quinn raises his head, resting his chin against your sternum as he glances up at you.

“Really?”

“I’ll just hold onto it until you're ready, no matter how long it takes.” You smile as you watch Quinn’s face relax a little, his own smile light on his face, as he leans forwards pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“You have no idea how special you are, Quinn.” You remind him as you raise your hand to push his floppy brown locks out of his face. “But I hope one day you let yourself feel it.”

“And, what about you?” Quinn asks, throwing your own question back in your face. “Do you know how special you are?”

“Probably not, but I’m trying my best to figure it out.” You smile once more, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before reaching to the coffee table for the remote.

“I should go shower.” Quinn says as he drops his head back to your chest, his body making no moves to walk down your hallway to the bathroom.

“You probably should.” You agree with a laugh as Quinn grabs one of your hands placing it back in his hair, a soft sigh of content escaping him as you scrape your nails against his scalp.

“Thank you.” He whispers, his eyes squeezed shut as you press one more kiss to his head.

“You don’t have to thank me, it's my job.” He lets out a soft chuckle, his body relaxing further as he falls asleep to the sound of mindless reality TV, your chest swelling with the pride of two people as you glance down at your boyfriend finally resting.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #angst

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pubcapscott · 2 years

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2022 Tour de France Femmes: Stage 1 Results

Lorena Wiebes of the Netherlands lived up to expectations as she won the opening stage of the 2022 Tour de France Femmes and claim the first yellow jersey of the resurrected race on the Champs Elysees on Sunday. The DSM rider, the pre-stage favourite, timed her sprint to perfection to beat her compatriot Marianne Vos and Belgian Lotte Kopecky, who were second and third, respectively. It is the…

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shunshunrika · 10 months

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Blue Lock boys with their pregnant partner!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, aged! up characters, mentions of s*x

✿•˖*ISAGI YOICHI

Is probably the one most mentally prepared for it. He hadn't planned it or anything but accepts it as blessing in disguise. Makes sure he is attentive and composed when you first show him the pregnancy test in a panicked state. Tells you he wants to cherish your little treasure. Probably wants a baby boy. A fat one he can cuddle to death. Kind of an overprotective husband who makes sure you are safe and taken care of round the clock. Would take the pain to cook for you daily and pick up 90% of the household chores voluntarily so you can enjoy more time with the baby in your belly. Loves hugging your tummy to feel the kicks.

✿•˖*RIN ITOSHI

Is a bit confused at first. Panics a bit wondering why the contraceptives didn't work but doesn't show it. He takes a few minutes to think about it and finally shows you how happy he is. Starts shopping early for the baby to come. Buys all pink stuff because he's dead sure it's a girl. You scold him for stereotyping gender and tell him your baby girl, if it is a girl, will wear neon green. Will probably get his football team to make a mini version of his jersey just for your little one to wear when they are born. Most likely to take you out in the wee hours to satisfy your crazy cravings.

✿•˖*SAE ITOSHI

Doesn't react at first. When you start getting pissed, he tells you he knew before you even noticed because unlike you, he isn't stupid. (Also, he remembers your period cycle by heart and notices your mood more than you think he does) Tells you to give it a thought financially and emotionally as he doesn't want to bring a baby into this world just to mess it up further. Once both of you are sure about it, he becomes a doting daddy and husband. Very much into silent gestures like leaving sticky notes for your baby on your tummy before he leaves for his morning workout, doing grocery shopping and lifting the heavy stuff and makes sure to kiss your forehead and your belly before he leaves for tournaments.

✿•˖*RYUSEI SHIDOU

Is extremely excited. For the fact that he successfully impregnated you and passed on his genes. You bonk him on the head and yell at him for half an hour for being an idiot. He finally comes to his senses and is actually pretty nervous about being a dad. Wants a girl because he hates boys. Wants to make her a footballer, the best one in the world, after him. Makes you listen to all sorts of jank-ass music and vivid films so that the baby will be born with his taste in media. Wants the baby to have your looks though so no one will dare to bully them by calling them an insect. Goes above and beyond to make sure you have a comfortable pregnancy and ends up being more of a parent to you than your baby.

✿•˖*SEISHIRO NAGI

Experiences a change in personality and lifestyle when he hears a mini-him or a mini-you is about to come into this world. Starts moving his arse around the house more. Stocks up on baby formula 6 months in advance. Tastes it and regrets it. Starts planning the next five years of the baby's life too. He wants the kid to be active and social and do everything, unlike how he was raised. Wants to be a hands-on parent. Takes a lot of notes and advice from Reo. Diligently attends baby-prep classes and makes sure you are attending them punctually too. At night though, he sleeps with his head on your belly, wanting nothing more than to protect the two most important people in his life.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #fanfiction #drabbles #smut #angst #fluff #nagi seishiro #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #shidou ryusei #isagi yoichi

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slut4msby · 3 months

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one of 'those'. sakusa kiyoomi x reader (part two.)

+ tags & warnings; part one is not needed to read part two :3

+ a/n; day 4/7!! i thought yall deserved a part two but i also just really wanted to write a part two :3

+ part one.

Ever since you gave birth to your daughter almost two years ago, Kiyoomi had not put her down. He would always tell you it’s because you were constantly working too hard and needed a break, which was the partial truth. In reality Kiyoomi couldn’t get enough of his daughter. She was the happiest baby, constantly giggling and smiling the complete opposite of Sakusa, however her looks were uncanny with her father. The pair was inseparable. When Sakusa would go away for away-games Mei would be in tears until you facetimed Kiyoomi, suddenly her smile which you adored so much was back. If Kiyoomi wasn’t available you would have to put on old matches or interviews containing her father. It made you a little bit jealous that Kiyoomi managed to steal all of your daughter's attention despite the fact you were the one who gave birth to her.

Today Sakusa was at another away game. He missed his two pretty girls like hell, the same cycle for each game. All he wanted to do was go home and cuddle up to his wife and daughter. This time was different though, with the help of Meian you had planned to surprise Kiyoomi at the match today. Today’s match was important for Sakusa, MSBY Vs. EJP Raijin. A match against his cousin, and former teammate. The perfect match to bring Mei too. You had planned to sit in the stands to not distract Kiyoomi, and surprise him after the match by going down with your pass towards the end of the match.

As you arrived at the stadium with your daughter in hand. She wore a MSBY #15 jersey for her dad that was too big - essentially wearing it as a dress. Her hair was in two pigtails tied with yellow bows that matched her curly black hair.

“You ready Mei-Mei?” You asked your daughter. To which she eagerly nodded in response, she was Sakusa’s biggest fan.

You and your daughter walked up to your seats, not too far back that Mei couldn’t see but also not too close that your surprise would be given away.

The match started off with Tomas serving for MSBY. The rallies were intense as expected from a division 1 match. As the rotation moved it was now Atsumu’s turn to serve. This piqued Mei’s interest as she looked closer and then back to you, “MAMA LOOK! IT’S UNCLE TSUMU!” Your daughter yelled. You couldn’t help but giggle at your daughter’s excitement. Sakusa hated how Atsumu got your daughter to call him ‘uncle Atsumu’. Your daughter was now watching intensely as Komori failed to receive the ball. “Momo, couldn’t pick it up mama. I don’t think I could either.” Your daughter frowned as Atsumu went in for his second serve, this time Komori was able to receive the ball almost flawlessly making your daughter stare at her actual uncle with admiration. However when EJP went to attack, MSBY perfectly received the ball letting Atsumu set up an attack which he tossed to Sakusa, scoring.

“And that’s MSBY’s #15, Kiyoomi Sakusa!” The commentators added over the speakers.

“Dada! Mama look! It’s dad.”

“It is dad, Mei-Mei!” You say giving your daughter a tight squeeze, making her giggle.

As the game was in it’s last set you got up from your seat, grabbing Mei and your belongings heading into the foyer. You walked up to the security showing them your lanyard before walking down to the court. Making sure to stand to the side walking towards their coach, Samson Foster.

“Ah! I see you guys made it just in time.” Foster said, waving at Mei.

It was now at match point. You stood there intensely watching with Mei as the teams put all their effort into attacking and defending.

“Bokkun!” You heard Atsumu shout.

Bokuto ran up to the net, jumping. Only to get blocked by Suna and Bokuto’s ex-teammate Tatsuki Washio. MSBY’s Libero Shion Inunaki was quick to receive the ball.

“Omi!” Atsumu called, tossing the ball to Kiyoomi.

And Sakusa being Sakusa scored perfectly. “DADA!” Mei shouted towards Kiyoomi, gaining his attention. As his daughter enthusiastically waved at him.

The final whistle blew, gaining screams from the crowd as MSBY celebrated their win. Mei ran over to her dad who turned around at the sound of his daughter's footsteps, picking her up and throwing her in the air before catching her. “I didn’t know you two were going to be here.” He said to his daughter.

“It was mummy’s idea!”

Kiyoomi couldn’t help but turn to you standing on the side, “Mhm? Well Mummy’s always got brilliant ideas, hey?” Mei eagerly nodded, “how ‘bout you go back to mummy and I’ll come see you two in a second.” He said before kissing his daughter's head, causing her to giggle and run back to you.

The two teams finished their post match traditions before Kiyoomi came over to your side. “Didn’t know you were gonna be here.” He said softly.

“Surprise!” You smiled at him.

You walked with your daughter and husband towards the exit, “I’m going to get changed, I’ll see you two in a bit.”

“Okay dada!” Mei chimed.

As you and Mei stood waiting for your husband, someone crept behind you grabbing your daughter's shoulders causing her to let out a shriek.

“Boo!” The voice called out.

You and Mei turned around, to see Komori standing behind you. “Momo!” Mei beamed.

“Hey Mei-Mei, hey Y/N!” Komori said before picking up Mei giving her a hug, “Did ya like watching me Mei-Mei?”

“Yeah! But I liked watching dada more.” Mei said sternly.

“Of course you did. Your dad has a lot of fans you know. But I think you’re his favourite fan.”

“Mei-chan!” Bokuto yelled out before him and Hinata ran up to your daughter. “Bo! Shoyo!” Mei said excitedly.

The group of boys started chatting and playing with Mei as you waited for your husband.

“Mei~ Your uncle ‘Tsumu is here!” Atsumu called proudly.

“Uncle ‘Tsumu!”

“Stop making my daughter call you that, Miya.” Kiyoomi stated firmly. Before walking over to you. Kiyoomi was never one for affection but as you two stood there watching your daughter, he had snaked a hand around your waist. “I love you, and I love Mei.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Mhm? I love you too, Kiyo. But I think Bokuto is trying to steal our daughter.” You giggle.

This caused Kiyoomi to go into what you called “Serious dad Kiyoomi mode” - very original name. “Hey, bring me my daughter back!”

“How did I get so lucky?” You smile to yourself.

©slut4msby.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #lea's stories :3 #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #msby sakusa #msby #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader

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dmercer91 · 10 months

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breaking the cycle, nh13

in which your inner child never truly healed.

me 🤝 finishing sad pieces with incredibly unserious dialogue (2.5k)

silence was unbearably loud in your car, your son sat next to you with a ball of kleenex shoved up each nostril, both red with blood.

you understood that he probably didn’t want to talk about whatever could have possibly given him the bright idea to start a fight with one of the most infamous assholes he went to school with, but it needed to happen

“felix..” his eyes moved over to you, your own focused on the road ahead of you, but they moved back out the passenger seat window in an instant.

“no,” you rolled your eyes, the definitive tone in felix’s voice giving you all the more reason to get the true story out of him

“you punched a boy in the face, felix, you can’t say no to this!”

“dad does it all the time!”

you almost slammed on the breaks, exasperated

“when you’re making millions of dollars to sock people in the jaw, you can have at her. until then, d’you think you can refrain?” you hate to admit that you’d raised your voice with the question, quickly bringing it down and taking a deep breath

it was dead silence for the rest of the drive, your grip on the steering wheel tight and your son’s eyes trained solely out the window

as you pulled into your driveway, nico’s car already in it’s spot, you sighed again.

“fe,” he glared over at you, already having set his boundary and being angry with the fact that you were so keen on crossing it

you talked a lot with him about boundaries - how it was good for him to have them in place and it was good for him to defend them.

how even if he didn’t understand other’s boundaries, didn’t get the full story, wanted to keep prying, he needed to respect what others asked of him just as he expected them to do for him.

this was different, though, because about a million boundaries were crossed before he had even stepped foot in the car. before he had told you no

felix tried to unlock the car door and step out, but you locked it and gave him a look before he could succeed

“you can either go inside and have your dad lecture the ever loving shit out of you, fe, or you can just tell me what happened. i can give you a minute if you need,” he slouched back into the passenger seat, crossing his arms and sniffling to adjust the tissue in his nose

it was a few minutes of silence before he looked over at you, clenching his phone in his hand out of nerves

“i was just sick of everyone comparing me to dad,” he looked you up and down, gauging for a reaction that he didn’t really get, before looking back down at his lap

you thought about it for a minute, opening your mouth to speak but being cut off but a teary eyed felix, ready to further explain

“i don’t- i don’t wanna play hockey, anymore, mom. the guys on my team are mean and it’s like they see dad drop me off and they’re expecting nico junior to walk into the rink and crush it, but i’m not good cause i’m not happy”

he hiccuped, pushing down his sobs so he could keep talking

“i can’t be good at something i hate, even if my dad is in the nhl, even if i’ve been on skates since i was a baby… n’ i know i told you i wanted to go back when the sign ups came out, s’ cause i know he likes to skate with me, and he likes to ask how practice was, and it’s, like, the only thing we have in common and i don’t want to lose that, i can’t-”

and then he broke, sobs wracking his body as he smooshed his face into your shoulder from over the centre console, your hand instinctively running through his hair and cupping his head to comfort him,

your heart ached in your chest thinking of how long he’d been hiding how he felt.

you thought of him asking to talk to jack so he could try and get better, you thought of him wanting to watch devils practices, you thought of him asking for jerseys and pucks and a subscription to watch prospects at michigan

you thought of how he always said he wanted to go to michigan

you thought of his room, decked out in memorabilia from players he claimed to look up to and the picture of him as a little kid wearing a massive team switzerland jersey surrounded by his dads teammates from home

you thought of the fact that all day every day, he wanted to be with nico, he wanted to learn and bond about what you thought was their sport, not just nico’s

you thought of the huge bookshelf he told you would look good in the guest room, all of the the books along with it

you thought of the few months where all of your art supplies would go missing, and when he looked down and shook his head when you asked if he wanted you to get him his own

you thought of the beginning of the school year, when you had to sign off his class schedule and the elective he chose, which had gym and art scratched and rewritten over and over until the box was full and the counsellor had to write ‘gym’ with an arrow

you thought about when he came home with an arm full of drawings and claimed his friend had done it in class

you thought about how his equipment seemed like it was weighing him down more and more every time you saw him walk to put it in your trunk

you thought of how you should have noticed, but you didn’t.

“your dad is gonna want to spend time with you no matter what, fe. he’s gonna love you, n’ be proud of you, and he’s gonna support whatever you want to do, okay? and if you want, i can tell him for you.. explain, how you’ve been feeling,” you moved his head back, having him look up at you

he looked conflicted, like he wasn’t sure he wanted nico to know at all

“i’ll hardly see him,”

you shook your head, tears brimming your eyes “if you asked him to sit with you and look at a rock, felix, he’d do that,” you chuckled, wiping the tears from his cheeks and kissing his forehead

“he wants to spend time with you no matter what you’re doing, hm?” he hummed in silent agreement, leaning back onto your shoulder, this time facing the windshield.

“can you still tell him for me?” you ruffled his hair, strikingly similar to nico’s in the way it fell in front of his face

“yeah, of course.” you squeezed him into a hug and he smiled sadly.

“and hey, since you got yourself suspended, why don’t you come to work with me tomorrow n’ pick new colours for your room” he furrowed his eyebrows, pulling back to look at you

“i can redo my room?” you grinned, wiping your nose from the tears that had fallen under it.

“yeah, we’re gonna make it more you. plus, it’ll give me something to do while im on maternity leave” his eyes widened in shock, legs suddenly making their way over the centre console so he could hug you properly

even though he was older now, you loved hugs like this. he’d almost been taller than you, but it felt just like old times when he decided he was so happy he was just gonna koala cling to you and squeeze as tight as he could.

“does dad know?” you shook your head, earning an extra squeeze from your son

“now go inside, i’m gonna talk to him, okay?” felix nodded and slowly moved from your arms, going out the car door and sprinting to the house, presumably up to his room to brainstorm it’s new layout.

you gave yourself a minute before going inside and greeting a confused nico.

before he could question why his son, who had apparently punched someone, was smiling and excited, you hugged tight onto him and buried your face into his neck

instinctively, he forgot any questions he had about felix and squeezed you back, supporting the back of your head and worry taking over his face

his eyebrows went from quirked upward to furrowed downward and he knew then that whatever his son had done had good reason

you broke down in his arms, body shaking from sobs and cries muffled into his neck for the sake of felix, who you didn’t want hearing the affect his confession had on you

you had felt like you failed your son, like as a mother you should have paid better attention to what he was feeling

you felt like you had done something to make him feel like he couldn’t talk to you - something you vowed you wouldn’t repeat from your childhood when you decided to have kids with nico

“what’s wrong, sunneschii?” nico mumbled, almost feeling dumb with the question he’d asked you

what was wrong should’ve been that your child hurt someone, but deep down he knew that wasn’t it, that you honestly couldn’t be bothered by the suspension

“i’m a horrible mom, ni,” you croaked, gripping his shirt in your fists to ground yourself while he shook his head

“kids get into fights, love, that’s not on you. but felix, he’s excited, i don’t-“ he stopped himself there, reminding himself that felix’s giddy attitude and your sombre one were probably not a result of the fight

“he’s being picked on, at school. n’ at practice, too. he told- he told me..” you paused, trying to catch your breath and clear the tears from your sight and your throat

“he hates hockey, ni. n’ he’s been sticking it out so he would be able to spend time with you,” you looked up at your husband after the confession, face beet red and soaked in tears

“.. oh, that’s-“ you cut him off with a shake of your head

“why wouldn’t he tell me, nico? i thought i was doing everything right, he has privacy and room to grow and when he says he wants to figure it out on his own i let him and we talk about everything cause i thought he was comfortable coming to me. i want him to be comfortable coming to me n’ he’s not, i don’t know what i did wrong”

nicos stomach dropped, finally understanding why you’d been so upset

you explained to him at the beginning of your relationship you hadn’t wanted kids, that your grandmother treated your mother a certain way, and that she claimed to have broken the cycle when she hadn’t

you felt judged in everything you did, and it was like you could never make her happy. you felt like it was illegal for you to grow up

you never told your mother about anything because she always assumed the worst of you and the best of everyone else

she’d even made it a point to tell you she thought you were using nico for his salary

she always told you she had it worse as a kid, though. that her mother was judgemental and strict, and that she’d been proud of herself for being better than that

you didn’t want kids because you didn’t want to be blind like she was. you didn’t want to treat a child that had done nothing wrong like they were garbage while under the impression that you were an amazing mother

you had to break the cycle.

and then you and nico got serious, and you decided that you wanted a family with him, that you would see a therapist and try for a baby when you were ready

felix keeping something so big from you had made you feel like you hadn’t broken the cycle after all.

the worst part was that you were pregnant.

nico rubbed your back soothingly, peppering kisses onto the top of your head while he thought, finding the right words to say what he felt

“you are the best momma, y/n. fe would tell you that himself. we raised the kindest, sweetest kid i’ve ever met. he’s thirteen and he’s open with you about so many things, and that’s rare,

for this, though, i think he was trying to protect you. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, or that he thought you’d be mad, it’s that he wanted you to feel that you’d done him right, cause you have.

he wanted to protect me, too. cause for so long hockey’s been our thing and he didn’t want to disappoint me. didn’t want to lose our time together

that’s how i know we raised him good, cause he was being unselfish.”

you sniffled, shaking your head into nicos chest

“it shouldn’t be his responsibility to protect our feelings, ni” you explained, slightly more calm after nicos words

“i know. but everyone does it, sunneschii. for the people they love,” you smiled sadly, rocking back and forth with nico until you could breathe through your nose again

your fingers were combing along his stubble, his own tracing shapes on your back

he placed a long kiss on your temple before pulling away, looking down at you

“now, can i ask why he’s glowing like a kid in a candy shop an hour after getting suspended?” you giggled to his question, pressing a kiss to his lips

“i think he might wanna tell you” you grinned, nodding to the stairs and following him up to felix’s door, kept wide open as he typed away on his laptop

when he saw nico he gave a guilty smile, and moved over so nico could sit.

“no more hockey, hm?” he ruffled his sons hair, smiling fondly as felix blushed and nodded

“sor-“ nico shook his head, bringing fe to a halt

“don’t apologize, fe. never apologize for not wanting to do something for someone else” felix nodded and moved his laptop from his legs, cracking his knuckles awkwardly

“you’re mapping your room?” nico asked, tapping the screen where a blueprint of felix’s room was, a lot of the furniture moved, the bookshelf returning.

your son grinned slightly, realizing you were going to let him announce to nico the pregnancy

“mom’s helping me redo it, coming to work with her tomorrow” nicos eyebrow quirked, and he looked over you

“when’s she gonna have time for that?” he redirected his attention to felix, earning a big smile

“while she’s on maternity leave” you watched as nico buffered, eyes widening then blinking shut a few times

“while she’s on who?” you giggled and nico looked back over at you, springing up to bring you back into a tight hug and attacking you with quick, sweet kisses.

you cupped his face and gave him one last smile before making room for felix to get in between the two of you, the three of you in a tight hug for what felt like hours

once you pulled away, you wiped more tears from your face, these ones of joy, and ruffled the hair on both of their heads

“i love you, my boys... oh, and fe? you’re still grounded, by the way”

#e’s fics #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

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