#Football tips Sunday

[mutange12]

Both teams to score Sunday

Both Teams to Score Saturday 01/09/2024 England: Manchester United vs Liverpool  England: Newcastle vs Tottenham  Spain: Getafe vs Real Sociedad  Germany: Heidenham vs Augsburg  Italy: Juventus vs Roma France: Lille vs PSG  Netherlands: Utrecht vs Twente Belgium: Gent vs Royal Antwerp Belgium: USG vs Anderlecht  Czech: Slovan Liberec vs Viktoria Plzen

[a2zsportsnews]

July 21st: Sunday's Football Double – 4/1 Special, Betting Tips & Predictions

With EURO 24 officially drawing to a close last weekend, the return of Europe’s elite is just around the corner. While clubs from across the continent might be in the midst of their pre-season preparations, we have plenty of action to tide us over throughout Sunday. With stacked schedule from the likes of Brazil’s Serie A, we have taken a look at some of the most appealing betting markets that…

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ smut, alcohol. lactation (heavily requested because I guess we're all fiends now?), daddy, praise kink. request(s): Mama makes a friend

"And you didn't find him?"

You shake your head. "Not until I almost ran into him on the sidewalk. I looked everywhere."

“Wow.” Cami’s eyes are wide, fixated on your story, fine stemmed champagne glass delicately balanced in her fingers. It’s empty again, like yours, and when the server comes by, you ask them for another round.

That’s the point of bottomless, right?

“You’re brave.” She quips, scooping up a bite of her eggs. “Raising a baby on your own.”

“You’re sweet.” She is. You really like Camille. She was the one who reached out a few weeks ago, when Simon and Kyle got in, and has been trying to lure you out of the house since.

So, when Kyle called Simon on Friday night and suggested he and Orion come over to watch football, Cami texted ten minutes later.

> Bottomless mimosas at brunch on Sunday? Or we could sit around and watch football for two hours. Exciting.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed… just being you. You outside of being Orion’s mother, you outside of navigating your relationship with Simon. Spending time outside of your flat without worrying about feeding or nappies or sanitizing bottles and endlessly cleaning up. Simon took a lot of the pressure off, assumed most of the workload now, but it was still hard to untangle yourself from motherhood.

Not to mention, leaving Orion for even a few hours was stressful. Simon had to nearly force you out the door this morning, over the sound of the baby’s screams. The separation had your heat beating in your ears, stomach turbulent with anxiety, only fading slowly with time as you finished one mimosa and moved to the next.

“So you’re coming to dinner right?” You blink, rapidly trying to reconcile her question with reality. Your head is a little fuzzy, limbs a little floaty, and you’re sure if you stood up right now, you’d probably be gripping the table for support with your wonky balance.

Finally, you catch up. “Right, dinner. Next weekend.” She nods.

“Uh huh…” She squeaks with a laugh. There's nothing comedic about her words, but with four mimosas in you both, everything seems a little funny. "At ours. Johnny is coming, an' their captain."

"And you're cooking?" She makes a sour face, laughing again.

"I'm gonna try."

Kyle looms at your side when Simon opens the door. He's alone, no baby in his arms, and the flat is surprisingly quiet. The smile that tips your lips upwards is uncontrollable, and you giggle as he raises an eyebrow. "Thanks Kyle." They give each other a nod, a big hand settling at your waist, guiding you inside.

The door clicks closed. You drift listlessly into him, nose at his chest, and breathe deep. He chuckles. "Hey, mama." Your lower belly flutters, rubber band twisting tight until it nearly snaps-

"Hi daddy."

Simon steers you into the bedroom with a palm on your hip, keeping you upright when you tip to the side, the dynamic of your balance hopelessly thrown askew. "Baby?"

"Went down about an hour ago without fuss." He smoothes his hands over your shoulders and down, fingers coming to rest at the top of your dress's square neckline, too full tits tied up with a bow. "How're you feelin'?"

"A little buzzed." Avid desire enflames your skin, tracing a path from the tightening of your nipples down to where your clit throbs, panties already soaked for him.

"Want to take this off?"

"Yes," you hiccup, "please." He raises an eyebrow.

"Maybe you should have some water-"

"No, no." You latch onto his wrist and pull, though all it does is bring you closer, like being on the losing end of tug-o-war, but he holds you steady, close, like always. There's orange nectar and pear spritzed prosecco on your tongue, and you press closer, voracious want crawling up your spine, overtaking your movements. The alcohol makes you bold, a trigger you've been waiting for since he's come home. One you've not been able to pull. He's curved over you, and you flex onto your tiptoes to lay your forehead against his. "P-please... take it off."

Your dress disappears quickly, leaving you standing in front of him in a pair of pale blue panties, and a bra from before you pregnant, one you tried to cram yourself into and mostly failed. Your breasts spill over the top, sore and aching since Orion hasn't fed for hours, Simon's nose skimming down your neck as he unlatches the clasp in the back. You whimper when they fall free. "Poor thing." He coos, with both in his hands, thumbs tickling over your nipples, and walks you backwards to the bed, knees hinging when you hit the corner of the mattress, body and soul turning to liquid as he lays you on your back. His eyes are dark, deep wells of longing, hungrily sweeping over the length of your body before he succumbs with a long kiss, one that drifts down, across your collarbone and to your breast, teasing around your nipple, tugging your panties to the side at the same time.

"Simon," you squirm, chasing him, desperate against his slow pace, babbling pleas filling the air. "Daddy-"

"Shhh. Easy, mama." You're soaked, can feel the heaviness of it slicked on your thighs, dewy drops damp in your curls. He swipes, circling your clit, sliding down to your hole and back up, exploring, ruining, mouth closing around your nipple as he pushes a finger deep, groaning into your flesh.

"Oh my god, oh, fuck-" you gasp. It's foreign, feeling a piece of him back inside you after so long, the breadth of his finger more than you were expecting, slowly working you open until there are two. Your head spins, delirious yet singularly focused, overwhelmed by the combination of him sucking at you and stroking inside you. It's taboo, this affliction, this satisfaction of him pulling your milk free, soothing the ache of your fullness, but you don't have a mind to care. Never have. The relief is overwhelming, tight coils building your muscles, and he dribbles some across your chest as he moves to the next, ministrations expert. You spill into his mouth, warmth dripping from the corners of his lips, his free hand squeezing, trying to milk every last drop free.

"Can't get over how good you taste, honey." You tuck your fingers into the waistline of his jeans, trying to pull him out, fumbling with his button, his zipper, until he dwarfs your hand with his, pressing your palm against the heavy hardness of his cock. "Need you to be sober for it," he murmurs gently, "want you to remember, when you take it, when I fill you up again." You gulp, your body screams. You want it now, want him inside you, but instinctively know he won't budge. He rears back, tapping your calf, "heels on the edge of the bed, mama," and sucks in a breath as he parts your knees. "Ruined your panties, sweet girl. Lift up for me." They disappear, tossed away into a dark corner of the room, and he gets to his knees. You almost close yours, want to close yours, suddenly self conscious knowing he's at eye level, seeing everything, but he chases the thought from your mind when his mouth finds your clit.

"Oh." It's the only word your brain will produce, buried beneath high pitched moans. He eats like he's starved, two fingers finding their place again, tongue flicking against your bud with a near violent pace.

"Sweet everywhere, aren't you?" He kisses the words into your cunt, vibrations of the gravel in his voice only kicking you higher, closer to the peak. "So sweet for daddy." You whine, always a little shamed by it, that word, even when you say it yourself. "My perfect girl. Y'gonna cum for me? Clench this little pussy around my fingers?" Pleasure ripples, tightens your muscles until they burn, and he shoves you into it, drags you beneath the rolling waves of an orgasm, hips chasing his tongue, his teeth thighs closing around his head, trapping him, holding him tight.

That's what you do. You hold him tight. Too tight. Hold him like it will keep him here. Keep you from losing him.

He tucks you close after, whispering something in your ear, unintelligible in your dizzied state, limp like a doll. You go easily, abated, as he settles you in beneath the blankets, waking you gently some time later for naproxen and water. You'll have to pump before Orion feeds again, and dump it, but in this moment, the only thing that matter is his chest warm at your back, his fingers tracing circles into your skin. "Sleep, mama."

[astonmartinii]

it's got to be time travel | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem footballer!reader

face claim: jessie fleming (i'm a chelsea fan and i'm sad she left :()

they've got all the time in the world for each other, don't ask them where they got that time from though

note: we're also gonna pretend that the women's football and f1 seasons line up here lol

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,203,784 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: last sunday lunch before we both have to go back to work :(

view all comments

user1: ffs why do their ACTUAL jobs have to get in the way of my regularly scheduled charles x y/n content???

user2: i personally think that the fia should just give charles the championship and y/n the WSL title so they can just chill together :)

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

charles_leclerc: you don't even follow me? get out of my comments

maxverstappen1: you can't just get given the championship because you have attachment issues WE ALL HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES

charles_leclerc: me i get, but y/n doesn't deserve to win?

maxverstappen1: i never said that. y/n is girlboss slay queen

yourusername: too right i am

charles_leclerc: why are you peace and love with her and not me?

maxverstappen1: she's cool, you aren't

yourusername: can't disagree with that babe soz

user3: i have a feeling that these spats might get worse the longer charles is separated from y/n

user4: waa waa we're all sad their being separated but all i'm thinking is UP THE CHELS

user5: i need the treble right fucking now, a charles championship would be a bonus i guess

lewishamilton: will i get a formal introduction to y/n before we're teammates?

yourusername: YES, YES YOU WILL

charles_leclerc: i guess that answers that

lewishamilton: don't hate the player, hate the game

yourusername: i better see your ass at kingsmeadow at some point, it's fun, even if others think they're too good for it

lewishamilton: i'll be there 🫡

user7: can 2025 come quick.... PLEASE

user8: lol does this mean that charles has offered to take carlos to a game but he didn't go?

user9: ugh what a bore

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,402,667 others

tagged: chelseafcw

yourusername: excited for the new season back with the girlypops :))))))

view all comments

user10: treble or nothing I BEG

user11: it's their year for the champions league i've seen the script

alexalbon: no seatbelt ? way to set dangerous examples to your young audience

yourusername: if you're not careful i'm gonna teach my audience how to put their foot up the ass of those annoying her

alexalbon: ugh i hope you lose :P

yourusername: i don't have to hope, i know your ass ain't gonna be in q3

alexalbon: that's TOO far @charles_leclerc does our years of friendship mean nothing?

charles_leclerc: sorry buddy, i am y/n stan first, human being second

yourusername: as he should.

user12: so like... will we see charles in a y/n jersey again in the paddock?

user13: @ferrari stop being so annoying and let him wear what he wants

user14: i think i tasted paradise when they actually let him wear a y/n canada jersey in montreal

charles_leclerc: never seen someone make blue look so good

maxverstappen1: i'm right here?

sebastianvettel: did the homoeroticism of our challenge videos mean nothing?

danielricciardo: do not lie to yourself

yourusername: sorry sluts, you wish you looked this good

charles_leclerc: they'll never be you 🫶🏻

user15: i know the cfcw admin and pr department have a heart attack every time y/n posts

user16: the way she's out here calling three f1 drivers sluts with no repercussions

yourusername: can't be told off for telling the TRUTH

f1

liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,205,489 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

f1: couple goals! charles leclerc takes pole in bahrain while his girlfriend, y/n y/ln, scored the winner for chelsea women!

view all comments

user19: okay but i've never been in a relationship and am currently rotting on my couch... so who is the real winner here x

yourusername: my handsome boy is so talented :3

charles_leclerc: not as talented as you, pretty girl

yourusername: nuh uh at least my team is competent

charles_leclerc: errrrr

samkerr20: i think you broke him lol

yourusername: sometimes i think he's more loyal to ferrari than me

charles_leclerc: no!

scuderiaferrari: huh?

charles_leclerc: wait...

yourusername: i see :(

charles_leclerc: i'm LOGGING OUT

user20: charles is so lover boy stuck in his tortured poets department (ferrari formula one team)

user21: the way he's probably yelling down the phone to y/n about how much he loves her right now

samkerr20: he is and it's so loud the whole locker room can hear it

yourusername: but he's so sweet isn't he

niamhcharles17: i guess?

alexalbon: we heard it from his side... barf

yourusername: @lilymunhe are you being starved of romance?

lilymunhe: compared to you and charles YES

alexalbon: ummmm get out of my business y/ln

yourusername: you're ALWAYS in my business buster 🤨

alexalbon: NO! i am just passing down the ancient skill of communication?

yourusername: you're such a gossip girl alex

user21: i know they bicker like siblings, but i know deep down that there have been double dates

charles_leclerc: yes, but y/n and i are much better (no offence lily)

yourusername: did you log back in to restart the argument with alex

charles_leclerc: yes!

alexalbon: boo you whore

yourusername: don't talk to him like that 🤨

samkerr20

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 303,445 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

samkerr20: forced to hang out with the straights... they're actually kind of cute

view all comments

user22: you know the couple has to be real cute when even the gays think they're cute

user23: no one can resist the charms of y/n and charles

yourusername: these photos make me think that we are cuter

samkerr20: we are but i didn't want to hurt charles' feelings

charles_leclerc: consider them hurt

samkerr20: boo hoo

yourusername: noooooo i love you xxx

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehehe i love you too xxx

yourusername: i miss you, hurry up and win and come home to me

charles_leclerc: i'm doing my best :(

yourusername: you are the bestest boy

samkerr20: STOP THAT MAKES HIM SOUND LIKE A DOG

oscarpiastri: when will australians stop being victims of this relationship

danielricciardo: this is your first season dealing with them properly, buckle up

oscarpiastri: i'm in a relationship but they make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while

yourusername: we're right here

landonorris: let us commiserate in peace

charles_leclerc: ??? do you or do you not get free football tickets out of it?

landonorris: yeha but when we go we just have to watch you cry when y/n inevitably wins another trophy

charles_leclerc: I'M PROUD OF HER AND YOU WON'T SHAME ME FOR THAT

user24: chelsea women players must be so confused when these grown men start arguments in the comments of THEIR posts

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,529,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: weekend off... you know what that means

view all comments

user25: i know there's over 1.5 million likes but how can i gatekeep y/n?

user26: for real

charles_leclerc: the best weekends are with you here

yourusername: i may have a love/hate relationship with this team, but the catering is banging (i may have to move to italy)

chelseafcw: NO MENTIONS OF LEAVING CHELSEA, NOT EVEN A JOKE - NOTHING!

yourusername: okay, sorry guys (the pasta was so good though)

charles_leclerc: not even for me?

chelseafcw: DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU, WATCH OUT OR WE'LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM KINGSMEADOW

yourusername: okay, let's pedal this back. i'm not leaving london and we all still love charles, right admin?

chelseafcw: .... yes

user27: when you're in a who has attachment issues with y/n y/ln and your competition is the chelseafcw admin and charles leclerc

user28: no point even showing up

maxverstappen1: i for one am glad when y/n is in the paddock because it means i can sneak in without the cameras seeing me

yourusername: i am a woman of the people

charles_leclerc: she's such a star, everyone wants to see her

maxverstappen1: yeah i'll give you that

yourusername: we're also hot

charles_leclerc: don't you dare respond to that one max

maxverstappen1: 🫡🫡🫡

user29: patiently waiting for the hq photos of them 😚

user30: gonna print them out and put them in my heart locket

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,398,452 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: babe is top of the league (and top scorer)

view all comments

user33: get yourself a guy who flexes your achievements as much as charles does

user34: setting the example tbf

yourusername: my lucky charm, that hat-trick was for you xx

charles_leclerc: would mean more if you didn't score them every week 😭

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

charles_leclerc: wanna share some wins with me?

yourusername: you're doing great this season babe, not your fault that nasa decided to rebrand to red bull racing

redbullracing: adrian says thanks 😊

charles_leclerc: DON'T SAY IT Y/N

yourusername: you don't even know what i was going to say

charles_leclerc: ....

yourusername: @redbullracing you got a seat???

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername: whoops

user35: y/n really out here trying to get charles that damn seat

yourusername: i'll stop when the horse team makes a championship worthy car that they don't break halfway through the season...

user36: add ferrari to the group of people who shudder in fear when y/n posts

chelseafcw: fine... we hope you enjoyed (no more italy jokes)

charles_leclerc: i had a great time, i always do when i watch y/n do what she loves (slay)

yourusername: awwwwwwwwww i love you charlie

chelseafcw: okay no need to make admin feel that lonely, damn

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,782,309 others

yourusername: finishing my best ever season with a big trophy haul :) now time to support my trophy husband in his day job

view all comments

user41: she really be out here doing it all

user42: i need her to win the Ballon d'Or Féminin PLEASE IT IS TIME

user43: with charles in attendance, first couples red carpet appearance YES, YES RUN IT TO ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you, mon amour, constantly inspired by you

yourusername: i love you so much, thank you for being there to support me through it all

charles_leclerc: it's the biggest pleasure in the world

yourusername: i'm all out of winning this season, your turn next weekend?

charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything

user44: PLEASE I NEED HIM TO WIN GOOD PLEASE

alexalbon: congrats i guess, you're pretty good

yourusername: thanks, since my boyf is so supportive, it's only natural that you have to try and humble me at every turn

alexalbon: you're more famous than us now, we need to keep you grounded

lilymunhe: don't worry y/n he cried nearly just as much as charles when you won the WSL

yourusername: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: i still cried more

alexalbon: it's not a competition bro, we all know you're both helplessly in love

yourusername: that we are

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,309,855 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: happiest when i'm with you (and whoever has decided to tag along), oh and winning a race helps as well i guess

view all comments

user45: CHARLES WIN I REPEAT A CHARLES WIN WE WON?

user46: the way y/n went just as mental as us, her and zecira jumping around the garage (and starting the champagne shower after the podium)

user47: really proving that y/n and charles really are each other's biggest fans

user48: thank the lord the WSL season finished when it did so y/n could be there for this win

user49: y/n would've ran to austria to be there i'm sure

yourusername: you know it 🫡

maxverstappen1: had to let you win so you could look cool in front of your infinitely cooler girlfriend

charles_leclerc: not even gonna bite, i'm too happy to care

yourusername: i'll bite - HIS TALENTED BEHIND SCHOOLED YOUR ASS

maxverstappen1: but i called you cool?

yourusername: i'll accept the compliment now, i had to defend charles' honour first

charles_leclerc: heheheehe i'm blushing

maxverstappen1: gross

user50: i need y/n to permanently be in the ferrari garage, they were on it today (i think out of fear)

landonorris: damn i thought i thirdwheeling lestappen was bad, but y/n and charles is a different beast

yourusername: we're both athletes, need to savour the time we have together when we can

charles_leclerc: sorry not sorry you'll get it when you're in love

landonorris: .... i guess i'll die then

fin.

note: i hope you enjoyed !!!! one last WIP to go and good lord the writers block is kicking my ass. but f1 being back should help!!! + f1 academy, much enjoyed it so far.

[wileys-russo]

Alexia Putellas, “just let me in and accept I’m not going anywhere”, reader’s kitchen

a.putellas II cross the line

you grunted as you worked the dough, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and sweatshirt dotted with flour as you punched, rolled and kneaded it across the board.

with a sigh you grabbed your rolling pin, flattening it before repeating the actions all over again, oven chiming to alert you that it had finally pre heated.

repeating the routine twice over you picked it up and dropped it into a shallow pan, sprinkling the foccacia with oil and massaging it in, gently prodding in holes and finishing it off with some rosemary and seasalt.

you sighed with relief as you carefully closed the oven door, rolling your shoulders and neck which were heavy with tension, making a mental note to con your girlfriend into giving you a massage later not that it often took much to convince her to get her hands on you.

a hot shower helped to melt away a little of the tension, and a thorough washing of your hair helped you to feel like a human being again and not a bag of flour.

you left your skin care for before bed and got changed into a pair of your girlfriends national team shorts and a shirt so large the two of you could have fit into it.

you were happy with how the bread was progressing, your first timer going off as you set multiple other alarms, knowing this next block of time was the most crucial.

baking had always been an escape for you, something taught to you by your grandma and passed down, your sundays spent at her house learning all her tips and tricks while your mum worked her second job to keep a roof over your head.

you'd first met alexia when she was in london for a nike shoot, the photographer a close friend you were temping for while on break from university.

there was a miscommunication from her team which lead to a somewhat heated conversation you could see she felt uncomfortable about, hanging awkwardly to the side while her agent lead the charge.

you'd stepped in and asked if she'd liked a coffee, assuring you were doing a run anyway and that it was no bother to grab her one on the way. she'd accepted but bargained she had to come with you, a little reserved at first but eventually the two of you got to talking.

and as everyone says, the rest was history.

you heard alexia's keys jimmy with the lock, front door popping open as her footsteps sounded in the hall, a small grunt as she wrestled off her trainers and a gentle thump of her gym bag hitting the floor.

"hola mi amor." you greeted with a warm smile, meeting her halfway in a tight hug, laughing as she exhaled tiredly into your neck making you squirm and poke at her sides.

"are you baking?" she mumbled into your shoulder, hunched over as you hummed and slipped a hand down the collar of her top, scratching gently at the base of her neck.

"stop that!" you laughed as once more she exhaled, pushing her away and ignoring her whine of annoyance as you did so. "i have not seen you all day." your girlfriend complained with a slight pout, hands tugging at the back of your shirt.

"you've been gone for three hours!" you rolled your eyes playfully, spinning away from her grabby hands and back into the kitchen. "exactly! tal tortura." alexia huffed, lips still turned downward into an annoyed pout.

"pobre bebé." you mocked as her eyes narrowed but once again you dodged her reaching for you. "i'm baking." you warned with a coy smile, your girlfriend throwing her head back with a dramatic groan as if she'd just been shot.

"the bread does not need your attention princesa, i do." alexia tried to follow after you but grunted as your hand shot out stopping her in her tracks. "nice try putellas, you know the rules." you warned, booping her nose making her scowl.

"this line-" you trailed your finger from the counter to the stove. "-is not to be crossed." you wagged your finger at her. "esta es una regla estúpida!" the footballer argued, still hovering right on the line.

"it isn't a stupid rule when you cook and i am not allowed past it, is it?" you challenged, hands on hips and raised eyebrows. early on in your relationship you and alexia established you both adored the use of the kitchen, only there was just one small problem.

you both hated sharing that space with someone else, even one another.

so the line rule was implemented to save future arguments, and most of the time it worked a charm. however your girlfriend was a passionate woman and fiercely stubborn, and when she wanted something there wasn't much that could stand successfully in her way.

"ale please i spent so long working on this bread i really need it to be perfect!" you sighed as her hand shot out and grabbed your top pulling you over the line, nose tucking into your neck as gentle kisses were fanned across the skin.

"such a perfectionist." your girlfriend teased quietly, silencing your quip back as she pressed her lips properly against yours, the timer going off in the background.

"no no not yet, little more cariño por favor." alexia purred, strong toned arms wrapping around your hips as she held your body captive, back pressed to her front and lips peppering kisses across your neck.

"ale!" you sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kissed a little less sweetly, teeth grazing your shoulder. "mm?" she hummed, large hands squeezing your hips as your eyes opened and you spotted the oven, brought back down to earth.

"no!" you groaned, pushing against her and catching her off guard as she stumbled and you darted back into the kitchen. you ignored her complaining about a lack of attention as you sprayed the top of your bread with a spray bottle of oil.

"vale you fussed over your bread, my turn." alexia stomped her foot not unlike a child throwing a tantrum making you smile in amusement. "later, the bread is almost done amor be patient." you winked, bending down to peer through the glass of your oven.

"so i cannot cross the line, sí?" alexia clarified as you hummed, not thinking much of it. though as you turned around, that all changed. "alexia!" you laughed in disbelief seeing her pulling herself up onto the counter.

you watched on as she spun her body and shuffled forward slightly, dropping to the ground with a wolfish grin. "did not cross the line." she took a deep bow as you rolled your eyes. "you are so-" you started to lecture as her grin grew.

"no no." her finger pushed against your lips silencing you as you raised an eyebrow. "just let me in and accept i'm not going anywhere princesa." your girlfriend smiled cockily, drawing your body closer into hers.

"that is because you are so stubb-" you started, words swallowed by the rosy pink lips which pressed against yours, breath hitching as her hands slid around your hips and cheekily squeezed at your ass, alexia using this to slip her tongue into your mouth.

you resisted the urge to moan as her hands pinched and squeezed, paying all of your body just as much attention as your mouth and sending your head into a spin.

but then, you smelled it and pushed away, spinning around and dropping to the oven.

"putellas if this bread is burnt you're sleeping outside for a week!"

[roosterforme]

This Sunday Is for My Girl | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Jake can barely remember what Sundays were like before you were part of his football watching tradition. When his team makes it all the way to the Super Bowl, his nervous energy practically has you on edge too, but you formulate a plan to distract him. The results are better than you could have predicted.

Warnings: Fluffy Jake, oral, smut, coach/football player roleplay, 18+

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Written to accompany Sundays Are for the Boys! Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @thedroneranger

It was Super Bowl Sunday, and your boyfriend was in rare form. He was up and out of bed at the crack of dawn, cleaning the living room even though the game didn't start until later in the afternoon. You rolled over and tried to cover your head with a pillow when you heard him start running the vacuum, but it was no use. Now you were wide awake and stumbling out of his bedroom.

"Jake," you called out over the noise as you stood behind the couch. "Jake!"

"Yeah, Baby?" he shouted, not bothering to turn the appliance off. You reached along the cord and pulled the plug from the wall, and his brow creased as he asked, "What's wrong?"

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. "It's eight o'clock. You've been cleaning and running around for two hours. Your friends won't even be here until the game is about to start. Come back to bed!"

But Jake shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. "Can't, Baby. It's the big day."

You sighed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing the Dallas Cowboys logo on his shirt. "You're nervous about the game?"

He groaned and whispered, "The Cowboys never make it to the Super Bowl. I swear this all happened because of you, and I don't want them to let us down now."

"That's sweet," you whispered, rubbing your cheek against his chest as an idea started to form in your mind. "But if you keep stressing about this, you won't even be able to enjoy the game. So... how about I try to take your mind off of it for a little bit?"

He kissed the top of your head. "How are you going to do that?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

Jake followed you into his bedroom, your fingers loosely linked with his. He stood patiently as you pulled out one of his blue and gray Cowboys jerseys and a pair of gym shorts, and then he watched you change into your pink jersey and some shorts. "You look cute," he mumbled, and you smirked. He wouldn't be saying that in a few more minutes. 

"Come on," you coaxed once he got changed as well. "Come into the bathroom." You messed up his hair with your fingers and then swiped some mascara on a q-tip along the tops of his cheeks. "Just like the pros," you whispered once he had the black lines in place. 

"What's your plan, Baby?" he asked, looking at himself in the mirror with a laugh.

Instead of answering his question quite yet, you asked him, "Where's your whistle? From when you coached youth football? The silver one on the lanyard?"

"I think it's in my nightstand," he mumbled, reaching for you as you slipped out of his grasp. "Where are you going? You know that pink jersey makes me wild." He followed you back into the bedroom where you rooted around in his drawer until you found the whistle and looped it around your neck. "Baby?"

"That's Coach Baby to you, Seresin. Now drop and give me twenty."

His eyes went wide as his lips parted. "Coach Baby?" he whispered, bringing his hands up to your hips. 

You blew the whistle softly and said, "Ten more push ups for touching your coach without permission. That's thirty. Count them off."

With wide green eyes filled with lust and confusion, Jake dropped down into a push up position right there next to his bed and counted out each one he did until he got to thirty, making it look easy. When he popped back up to his feet with an expectant look on his face, you smiled. Keeping him distracted like this was going to be all too easy. "Let's go, Seresin. Get your shoes on. You're going for a run."

"I am?" he asked, and you blew the whistle again. 

"Call me Coach Baby when you're addressing me! I want you nice and sweaty!"

"Yes, Coach Baby," he recited with his back rigid before he ran for his closet to get some socks and shoes. 

You stood on the front porch with the whistle perched between your lips and your hands planted on your hips as Jake ran back and forth, up and down his street. This was almost too much fun for you, tooting the whistle each time he ran past. When you estimated that he must have run three miles, you called him back to the porch, pleased to see that a sheen of sweat was coating his face now.

When his next door neighbor waved as she walked her Cocker Spaniel, you and Jake both said, "Hi, Nancy," before you pointed to the cement at your feet. You didn't really care if everyone else in his neighborhood thought the two of you had lost it, you were getting a little turned on by the smell of fresh sweat and the warmth of his body right in front of you.

"Thirty more push ups," you told him, trying not to smile as your black eye makeup started to smudge on his face. "And make them snappy, Seresin. If you want to start in to today's game, I expect some hustle out of you."

"Yes, Coach Baby," he replied, dropping and giving you thirty more effortless looking push ups. He was all bulging biceps and sexy drawl as he counted them off for you, and you found yourself pressing your thighs together gently.

"Thirty," he said, only slightly out of breath as he hopped to his feet. Damn, his Navy training was better than you thought if he was still barely winded. You had to scramble for something for him to do now as you handed him a water bottle and watched him wipe his forehead with his forearm. He chugged the whole bottle and tossed it aside on the porch, looking at you expectantly. "I'm ready, Coach Baby."

You nodded and murmured, "You always did have good stamina," before you cleared your throat. "Fifty jumping jacks, Seresin. No stopping. Count them off." You blew the whistle with one long toot when you were ready for him to start, and you had to stand there with your arms crossed and watch him. When you started this little exercise, you didn't think you'd end up as short of breath as him, but you were wrong. 

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen..."

"Beautiful form, Seresin," you said, nodding like you had any actual expectations at this point other than making him as sweaty as possible before you caved and took him to bed. "Keep going." He grinned at you until you narrowed your eyes and walked around him in a circle.

"Yes, Coach Baby," he replied, not missing a single count in his jumping jacks. 

When he got to fifty, you tooted the whistle again and said, "Sit ups, Seresin. Fifty of them. And make them quick, because I have plans for you."

He eased himself onto his back on the porch as he grinned and said, "What kind of plans, Coach Baby?"

As he started to fold his body for the first sit up, you stepped over him with one foot so you were standing and straddling his hips. He looked up at you with a little smirk as you eased yourself down so you were sitting gently on his thighs while he finished his first sit up. "Plans that will be more fun if you're all sweaty and messy. Plans that will require me to join you in the locker room showers afterwards."

Jake cranked out a few more sit ups as he grunted, "I think I like these plans."

You let his lips get very close to yours, but you didn't kiss him. "Count them out!" you demanded, and when he started counting louder, you brushed your lips to his one time. 

And that was a mistake, because now you were clutching the metal whistle in one hand and squeezing your own thigh with the other as his powerful, muscular body worked beneath you. The tang of his sweat on your lips was delicious, and you wanted more. He raised and lowered his body with perfect, fluid movements, occasionally dripping some sweat on your legs. 

"Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty."

You practically moaned, "Let's hit the locker room."

"Whatever you say, Coach Baby," he murmured against your neck as he easily stood with you in his arms and opened the front door. 

You ran your fingers through his damp hair and whispered, "When I say the locker room, I really mean your bedroom. And I expect this stellar performance to continue. Understand?"

"You got it."

You somehow ended up underneath him on the bedroom floor as you asked, "Do you think you have a few more push ups in you, Seresin? I'll let you be my starter today if you can give me ten more."

Jake lowered himself down slowly and kissed you sweetly, and when he raised himself up again, you giggled and said, "One."

When he started to lower himself down again, you pushed his hair back from his forehead while he kissed you softly. "Two," you whispered as he pushed himself up.

The third kiss wasn't quite as sweet, and the fourth one wasn't either. The fifth kiss was a little rough, and the sixth ended with a swipe of his tongue against yours. The seventh one left you panting.

"Eight," you moaned, already needy for more. "Nine," you whined, spreading your legs a little wider underneath him. "Ten! That was quite a performance, Seresin." 

Jake devoured your mouth, and you could practically taste his adrenaline as he pulled your shorts and underwear off. Your senses were all muddled as his lips found their way down to your bare inner thigh where he nipped you. "Ready for another kind of performance?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright," he said before pressing his lips to your pussy. "Count it out, Coach Baby."

You started out saying coherent numbers in order, and then you couldn't focus as you rambled off whatever came to your mind. "Thirty-five? I don't know, Jake. Oh my god! Jake!" His tongue was working you into a frenzy as he tasted and licked you up and down. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling a little hard on the strands as he made you come on his face. "Fifty! One hundred! Two thousand!" you panted, and you could hear him chuckle as you started to come down from your orgasm. "I forgot how to count."

"You sure did," he drawled softly, pulling you into his arms. "Let's hit the showers."

-------------------------------

Jake had you giggling, pinned against the tile wall of his shower. Your fingertips were all wrinkly from being wet for so long, just like his, but he didn't want to get out yet. 

"You still have some of my mascara on your cheeks," you whispered, running your prune-y thumbs gently along his skin before kissing him there. "That's better."

"I love you," he said before kissing the tip of your nose. "Coach Baby." That sent you into another fit of giggles. "I thought the whistle was a nice touch. Very hot."

"I'm glad you think so," you replied, running your fingers through his squeaky clean hair. "We should get out. The boys will all be here pretty soon."

Jake looked at you in surprise. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and you'd managed to distract him for several hours with your antics. "You're right," he said as he turned off the water. "Damn, you're good. You know that?"

"Of course I do," you said with a smirk as he handed you a towel. "Now let me put my pretty pink jersey on again so the Cowboys can win the big game for you."

And with those words, Jake was somehow instantly thrumming with need again as you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel. He followed you and helped you into your jersey just in time for Bob, Javy and Bradley to arrive, and the guys all greeted you just like you were one of them. You were even talking game stats as you assembled another charcuterie board that they all demolished within twenty minutes of the start of the game. 

Mickey spilled a High Noon on your lap when he laughed too hard at a Doritos commercial, and Reuben ate the last slice of pizza with your preferred topping, but you never complained about anything. And Jake couldn't even remember what Sundays were like before he had you. Not that he wanted to. 

"It looks like your Cowboys are going to win," you gasped excitedly when there were just two minutes left in the game and they got possession of the ball once more. "I knew they would do it."

"All thanks to you, Coach Baby," he whispered, kissing you breathless while the game played in the background.

-------------------------

Jake and I will be cheering for the Cowboys today. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[pedge-page]

fat joel.

that is all.

18+ ONLY below:

Fat!Joel, who loves to have you cockwarming him all naked while he enjoys dinner, letting you pick up the crumbs from the top of his stomach and giddily sticking it back in his lips. He swallows the crumbs and sucks your finger before bouncing you up and down on his knees. You keen and hug his large middle, moaning as he buries himself deep inside after a good dinner.

Fat!Joel, who's favorite orgasm is when he spreads your ass with his beefy hands as you grind atop his Fat belly. Soaking his skin and happy hairy trail with your juices and sweet slick folds. Each time you roll down, his tip smashes your little hole until he's shooting ropes all over it, promising you he'll fill it next time. But first, he flips you on your hands against the couch and begins eating his cum from your ass cheeks and lapping away at your hole.

Fat!Joel, who makes you straddle his shoulders on the couch, your legs dangling over the backrest as he eats your pussy between commercial breaks during Sunday night football. Gets a quick cum out of you real quick until you're hunched over his face and crying. He then tosses you back down as you get comfortable between his legs, sucking his cock when the game is back on. You splay your hands over his gorgeously protruded stomach while his dick sits heavy in your month. He enjoys his chips with the sweet taste of your juices still on his lips.

Fat!Joel, who takes matters in his own hands when you start acting bratty by pinning you up against the wall. His fat body completely suffocating you and leaving you incapable of escaping. He grinds his hardened length against whatever part of your body that suits him.

Fat!Joel who likes standing and abusing your throat while slapping the overhang roll of his tum over your forehead while you giggle and choke around his length. Grips your head with two pudgy bear paws and keeps you still while he ruts into your tight wet mouth with each grunt.

Fat!Joel, after fucking you mating press with his whole body weight thick and heavy on top of you so that your clit is more than stimulated in seconds while he plunges deep into your heat, finds his favorite moment is having you sleep atop him soundly like he's a cuddly soft teddy bear. Kissing atop your head and whispering how much he loves you and never wants you to change .... and if you two can get cheeseburgers after this.

- - - -

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[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

[hellsburners]

focus on me

summary: you tease frank while he’s on a call pairing: frank castle x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, domestic frank castle, sex while on call, blowjobs, top!frank obviously a/n: from a prompt by hailey !! (omg mike 2 fics in a day?)

masterlist | more frank castle

It was a Sunday morning spent watching football with Frank. He sat on the couch holding the remote while you were lying down with your legs resting on his lap. He was busy watching the game and you were completely unaware of what was going on. He would cheer, curse at the TV, shout, and almost throw the remote. 

“Fuck! What the fuck is up with this ref?” he said, throwing his hands around. 

He was so serious, his brows furrowed and his body so animated. You try to tease him through his sweatpants, the heel of your foot lightly grazing his crotch. You twist and turn on the couch to show that you were just shifting for a more comfortable position, but the truth is you were focused on getting him hard. 

“Babe,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“You’re so riled up with that game I figured you could ease up a bit,” You feel his crotch harden underneath your heel. You sit beside him, palming his growing erection. “It looks like it’s working though.”

He grunts, your middle finger drawing circles around his tip. You loosen the tie around his waist, putting your hand underneath the fabric to release his cock. It was thick, your fingers wrapping around the whole shaft. The tip was already red and leaking, your index finger spread the wetness all over to form some lubrication as you stroked it. 

“Shit—,” Frank groaned. 

You were about to take him in your mouth before the phone started to ring. Frank moved over to reach for the phone, his cock still bare. He answers the call–it was David Lieberman. 

“Hey, what’s up.”

 “There’s a problem with the site,” David said through the phone. You tried to back off—to let him finish before playing with his cock again; but the aching red tip was taunting you, practically begging for touch. 

As they were discussing some work stuff you started to stroke his cock again. Frank’s eyes darted towards you enlarged with his brows furrowed. What the hell are you doing? He mouthed. You opened your mouth, saliva dripping like a clear string on his cock. You stroked him again before you took him in your mouth. 

Frank grunted. “All good there boss?” David asked. 

“Yeah yeah all good,” he cleared his throat. His hand went to the back of your head, guiding you as you tasted him. 

Frank tried to stifle his groans, his grip on your head getting tighter. Your lips wrapped around his thick length, sucking in all the air as you bobbed up and down. His hips started to buck into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

You pulled off from his cock with your lips making a popping sound. You gasped for air as David continued to ramble about money and costings. Frank pulled away from the phone to speak.

“Oh so now you want to pull away? Nuh-uh kid, go back at it,” he said, pulling your head back in.

Your eyes started to well with tears as he fucked into your throat, using your mouth like a toy for his pleasure. He continued to talk to David, almost as if you weren’t there. Your jaw started to sore, your lips dripping wet, and your back hunched over. Your crotch started to stir. 

“Attaboy.”

You started to use your hands to stroke him, even fondling his balls. Your warm hands and wet mouth drew the hardest grunts from Frank. You could hear David ask him if he was okay. 

“Yeah, just need a drink that’s all,” he said, clearing his throat. “Talk to the other guys, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“Sure thing boss,” David said, dropping the call after.

You look up at him with teary eyes. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, patting your head like you just did a good job. He pulls you to his lap taking off your lower garments before straddling him. You align his tip with your hole, slowly sinking in. You held onto his broad shoulders for stabilization, his lips smirking as you wince in pain. 

“Fuck—it’s too big,” you cry out.

“You the one who started this,” he said sternly. “You gotta finish it.”

He holds your waist, pulling you down on his erection as it stretches you open. You cry out once more, your nails digging into his skin as you try to stay calm. You started to move your hips, moving it in circles, his cock filling you to the brim. It was an immense pleasure, the heat from your body rises tenfold. You ride him faster and with more vigor, your eyes closing in. 

He takes your chin to fix it in his gaze. 

“Open your eyes when I fuck you,” he said, lifting you so he can move his hips into you. He was quick and rough, your brows twitching trying not to close your lids. 

He lays you down on the couch so that he’s on top. His large arms above you as he fucked into your hole, your legs shaking and clenching in. You wrap your arms around his neck, moving your hips in sync with his. At that moment you felt your body join him, in complete synchronicity, both pleasure-bound. 

“Frank—” you moaned out. 

His lips let out hard grunts, his dark hair plastered across his forehead. You couldn’t stop admiring him. His stubbled face and his crooked nose. This man was all yours, to tease and to toy with, to fuck and to adore. 

“You gotta cum for me alright,” he groaned. “Then I’ll cum inside you, yeah?”

He started to buck his hips, his biceps flexing and his hands more veiny. The pleasure was too much, it was sending a thousand shocks of electricity all over your body. Your vision started to darken, Frank started to grunt louder, his thrusts more erratic. 

“Shit—shit,” Frank repeated as he hit his climax, spilling his cum inside you. 

You came all over your chest, some on Frank’s. He collapsed on top of you after, his large body weighing on you. You kissed him on the cheek, patting his head. 

“I think you missed the game,” you said, turning on to see that the game was done. 

“Fuck the game, we’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“Yeah, this is your fault for teasing me,” he said nonchalantly. “Now go on your hands and knees, I’m fucking you again.”

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[frogchiro]

hey babes heard what happened with that anon :( here’s a little thought for a penny:

texan!graves that wears wrangler jeans and buttoned ups and owns a huge truck and a large more than half a million dollar house with a bountiful amount of land just for reader to stroll around and plan things to build on his property.

texan!graves who argues with his spouse about where to put the pool in and ends up buying another acre just to avoid putting the trees too close to the peach trees.

texan!graves that picks up readers from their workplace, placing HIS white cowboy hat onto them, warning the prying eyes that prey on them

texan!graves making you ride him while sunday football is playing and a beer in his hand with the other on your hip guiding you. he makes you cum until the youre all limp and a late dinnertime rolls by

as a texan, i LIVE for graves. idk man in my head it keeps switching from graves being my father figure or my slut 😝

I need this, like you won't understand it I NEED THIS-

Graves believes 100% in the Cowboy Hat rule, no questions asked. It's a claim on you, a mark that you belong to him, this pretty girl in her pretty sundress all nice and soft and flustered bc Philip couldn't help himself and put his hat on you right at the rodeo :((

Also makes you get him beer when football plays on the TV and he wants ti watch :(( You can complain all you want, that he will smell bitter with the smell of beer, cigar smoke and his natural musk but Graves will just smirk lazily at you, spread out like a kind on the soft sofa and pull you in by the wait to kiss your soft lower tummy before swatting your ass lightly with a 'don't whine at me darlin'~ Just be a good wifey f'me and get me the beer' :((

Will definitely make you undress from the breezy sleeping gown you had on and sit in his lap as he thrusts his strong hips up lightly to graze your sensitive pussy with the material of his sweatpants. Eventually will line his flushed and leaky dick up with your opening, tease the tip against your pussy just pressing it there until you whine and squirm but Phil will just shush you to remind you that's he's still watching football :((

Makes you sit all still and pretty in his lap, one hand holding the bottle and the other is holding your waist, caressing it and squeezing from time to time and thrusting his hips up slightly to feel the pressure of his leaking tip against your poor cervix♡

[katsu28]

Congrats on 2K Kait!!!! And this celi is gonna be so fun, but don’t stress yourself out <333

☕️☕️☕️ I’d love a drink of “carefully initiating slight intimacy (like holding hands, hugging, etc.) since they aren't quite sure how far they could go with where they are” from List D with Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Thank you so much <33

may have strayed a little from the prompt but i hope you enjoy anyways!

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.3k, join the celebration!

To make it extremely clear, you were not dating Jake Seresin. 

He was one of the most remarkable people you’d ever had the pleasure of being friends with, kind and funny and braver than most folks would ever admit, but no, you weren’t dating him. 

You really, really wanted to, though. You just weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted too. 

Sometimes you got the feeling he did, like when Nat had caught him staring at you from behind the rim of his beer and very loudly called him out in front of everyone for unashamedly ogling you. He’d vehemently denied any said ogling with flaming red cheeks, but you noticed him doing it again three more times that same night. 

Or when you went to the farmer’s market with him one Sunday morning and it was so crowded you were positive you’d lose him in the throngs of people. He slid his hand into yours that time, lacing your fingers together tightly as you tugged him to tent after tent. 

Sometimes you thought about how you weren’t all that slick either.

Like that time Mickey invited you to the beach with all of them, and you got so distracted by Jake’s shirtless chest during dogfight football you nearly missed the pass he’d lobbed you. It all worked out in the end though, because when Jake’s team inevitably won, he’d hugged you and spun you around gleefully. 

It was worth it to feel the press of his chest against yours. 

You found yourself looking for him everywhere you went, regardless of whether he was actually there or not. You’d like to run into him at the mundane places—grocery store, laundromat, coffee shop—just so you’d be able to spend more time with him.

But those were totally platonic, good friend things to do, right? 

Like always, your eyes searched for Jake as soon as you stepped into the Hard Deck tonight, scanning the packed bar for any sign of that telltale blond head of hair you wanted to see so badly. 

Today especially, because you’d had one hell of a day at work. Between spilling coffee on your shirt first thing in the morning, to your shitty boss lecturing you about an error that wasn't even your fault, to hitting the worst traffic imaginable on the way home, you could really use one of his special Jake pep talks right now. 

Much to your dismay, you spotted Rooster first, and although you did enjoy his presence, he wasn’t the man you were looking for. You made your way over anyways, greeting everyone as cheerfully as you could given your circumstances, still looking around for Jake. 

“Hangman’s getting another round, if you wanted to put your order in.” Nat informed you, nodding towards the bar. Lo and behold, there he was a head above the rest, broad shoulders helping you spot him almost immediately. You weren’t sure how you’d missed him upon first glance. 

You thanked Nat quickly, wasting no time in making your way over until you’d pushed up next to him at the bartop. Maybe a little too quickly, because your shoulder bumped against his arm a bit harshly, and his head whipped in your direction, probably an expletive at the tip of his tongue. When he saw it was just you, his expression did a complete 180, now a grin so big his eyes crinkled at the edges. 

“Was wonderin’ when you’d be showin’ your face around here tonight.” His smooth, Texas twanged voice had part of the tension dropping from your shoulders. He seemed to notice because his smile dropped a little bit and he tilted his head, regarding you with those pretty green eyes you always found yourself getting lost in. “Y’alright, darlin’?” 

“Yeah. Just…horrible day.” You sighed, drumming your fingers against the weathered wood. Jake raised an inquisitive brow, his invitation for you to talk about it. So you did, telling him every shitty little thing that happened since the moment you woke up to the second you pulled into the bar parking lot. 

As soon as you were done, it instantly felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders—not all of it, but enough to the point where you didn’t feel like you were about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jake’s eyes hadn’t left yours the whole way through, keeping you tethered to him with every slow nod and brow crease. 

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a time today.” He said quietly, sliding his hand over yours. His palm was calloused and warm, thumb rubbing along your knuckles soothingly. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. Wish I coulda been there for you, maybe knocked some common sense into your idiot boss.” 

“Can I just—can you hug me? I really feel like I need a hug right now.” You weren't sure if that was asking too much of him, considering you didn’t quite know where the two of you stood in terms of what you were to each other, but you had to ask. 

“Sure. Of course I can, c’mere.” Jake opened his arms for you as soon as the words left your mouth, letting you bury yourself against his chest like you’d done it a thousand times before. 

But really, you’d never hugged Jake before. Not like this, at least. A few brief greeting hugs, thank you hugs, celebrating your win at partners beer pong at a barbeque hugs—but you'd never felt so safe in someone’s arms as you felt in Jake’s right now. They were strong, circling around you tightly, one hand smoothing up and down the length of your spine slowly, the other cradling the back of your head. You felt like you could weather a storm and still be okay here. 

He smelled like laundry detergent and musky cologne when you inhaled, strong but somehow still comforting at the same time, and the cotton of his flannel shirt was soft against your cheek. When you were this close to him, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took, the way his breath hitched when you hugged him a little tighter than he’d expected. 

And you could’ve been wrong, but you swore you could feel his heart beating a little too fast. 

“Thank you, Jake. I really needed that.” You sighed, pulling away from him (a little too soon for your liking, if you were being totally honest). “Sorry if it was weird, I just—” 

Jake clicked his tongue, smiling at you warmly. “Don’t be sorry, darlin’, I’m glad I could help. You can hug me anytime, alright?” 

He licked his lips, clearing his throat before speaking again, voice a lot less confident than you’d ever heard it before. His cheeks were tinged pink too, maybe from the heat of the crowded bar. (Or maybe from you.) “And maybe next time you have a bad day, you can call me? We can go out for lunch or somethin’, help get your mind off the shitty things.” 

“You’ll be at work, Jake.” 

“The Navy does give us lunch breaks too, y’know.” He joked, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge. 

“It’s still clear across town. I couldn't.” 

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. I’d even take the damn jet if I had to.” 

You couldn't help but let the corners of your mouth lift up into a shy smile. “Pretty sure that's illegal, Lieutenant.” 

“But would you? Take me up on the lunch date?” Date. He said date. You smiled even bigger because Jake looked nervous, and he never looked nervous. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t enjoying the effect you seemed to be having on him right now. 

“I would.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” Jake gathered the beers Penny had set on the bar for him into his hands, shooting you one of those shiny, charming smiles that made you fall for him in the first place as he backpedaled towards the rest of your friends. “Maybe we can do a test run, say…tomorrow, noon? I’ll pick you up.” 

“I’d love that.”

So no, you weren't dating Jake Seresin. But maybe, just maybe, after a few lunch dates, you could be.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[mutange12]

Sunday football tips to win 05/03/23

Sunday football tips to win 05/03/23. We will not be responsible for any losses. Do a bit of analysis before placing. Use the code (FZUYW) on Chezacash to get all the games. Check HERE. Get upto 450% first deposit bonus on CHEZACASH Over 1.5 goals full time….. Nottingham Forest v Everton FC Both teams to score…. Liverpool FC v Man Utd Bayer Leverkusen to win…. Bayer Leverkusen v Hertha…

[rustedhearts]

as the leaves turn and the weather cools, i’m thinking a lot about troubled!steve

moodboard

wearing flannels rolled up to the elbows on brisk afternoons. he gets drunk on sundays now that it’s football season and always disappears during fourth quarter. probably to prepare for collection of the money he’s owed. always the gambler, there’s nothing steve won’t turn into a chance for gain.

he brings the rifle down during hunting season and always has it resting near the door. he comes home smelling like the cold, the tops of his ears and cheeks chapped and turned pink from the wind. passes through the doorway with heavy boots and muddied jeans, sporting new tears you’ll do your best to mend.

there were years past when he’d oblige you and fill the truck bed with pumpkins, picked from the patch just on the edge of town. bottled cider resting in the front seat, jostling between beer bottles on the way home.

paper-wrapped meats and hearty stews in plastic containers fill the fridge. he always seems to be reheating things, absent from the table when dinner’s freshly warm. the beep of the microwave and hiss of a gas stove often fill the quiet of midnight.

but something about the cold makes him restless. he can’t stand to shiver, so he finds ways to keep warm.

you, mostly.

bare-bodied or scarcely-clothed in scraps of flannel and torn cotton, shielded by hand-sewn and inherited quilts. enveloped in his firm arms, inhaling breaths of cigarettes and autumnal wind. his soft grunts and groans against your neck, in your ear. his heavy hand around your limbs, anchoring. pulling you in or pushing you away. bruising, biting, leaving raw marks in his leave. he always decides when it's enough.

and when the heat goes out again, he knows you'll always be there to warm him.

feel free to tip me on ko-fi!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴘɪᴘᴇᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ (J.M)

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

Pairing: football-player!Joel Miller x golden-girl!Fem!Reader

POV: This story is told through the POV of high school senior Joel Miller

Summary: Joel's girl lives in his dreams and in the house next door. He's always known her, and he's always wanted her, but in ApplePine, whose dream does she not haunt? Now He has a chance that He's been looking forward to all his life. This can't fail. He won't let someone like her slip away.

Warnings/tags: Kind of toxic undertones, mentions of a bad home life (reader), church, idolization, nerves, kissing and making out, small Texas town with very traditional values, climbing and watching people through windows, Joel is a Lil bit of a stalker, BAD American football talk. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 4.5k

On most Saturdays and after church on Sundays, she could be found working at the local ice cream shop. Occasionally, if there wasn't a football game, she would also work on Fridays. She was a well-known figure in our small town - being the girl next door, head cheerleader, and leading member of the student council. Her many accomplishments included winning the title of Little Miss Apple Pine, which only added to her popularity. Many of us admired her from afar, watching her ride her bike with friends, interact with the little kids in the neighborhood, or simply be in her element with a book in hand and a Walkman playing some music.

It was difficult to tell what music she listened to, but I'd like to think it was hard rock, maybe Guns N' Roses. However, her sweet nature suggested it was more likely to be Bon Jovi or AC/DC. Despite her bright persona, we all knew that she had a tough time at home, our houses were right next to each other too It was sad but there's only so much a loud TV can cover.

We attend the same school and ride the same bus together. We have chemistry class as well as lunch B together. Additionally, we share gym and math classes. I have noticed that she is quieter in math class and doesn't answer questions as quickly. In math class, she sits three seats ahead of me, and during lunch, she sits six seats away from me. Her round lunch table is located ten tables away from mine, and it's always occupied by a few cheerleaders and jocks who are considered acceptable, unlike me who often gets thrown off the field for hitting refs because of not knowing if  I'm coming or going. Compared to them, she seems to be in another world, like a cool autumn day in the middle of a hot Texas summer.

As the chemistry class began, Mr. McMory walked into the classroom with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. He had only undone the top button of his shirt, showing some long curly grey chest hairs — utterly gross if you ask me. We all watched as he walked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stopped before turning to face the class.

"Now, as most of you probably know, we will need to form a new set of lab partners for this semester. However, to keep things fair so everyone gets a chance of getting matched with whom You would prefer, I've decided to have you all write your names on a small piece of paper and put them in this box. Once I've finished passing them out, I will draw two student names from the box at random, and those two will be your partners for this semester."

Without having to pause, Mr. McMory spoke clearly. This routine was something he did every marking period, four times a year, for 30 years. The memories of the previous marking period memories flooded my mind, where Jason Duly and Billy Holiday tried to bribe Gaby Michelle to give up her seat so that they could sit next to our classmate, the charming "I trust that you all understand the process now?" Mr. McMory continued. Once no one raised their hands to question what he said, he walked back to the front and handed out the small pieces of paper to everyone. "Now you have two minutes to write your names on the paper, then place it into the box. Once you are all finished, I will begin the randomized selection."

Chaos began to take place across the room with various bets being placed and trades being arranged like a market in the middle of a jungle, I wrote my name on the slip of paper without a thought. It was a meaningless task to me, as I would have been fine with getting anyone as my lab partner. In the middle sat our Pipe Dream, seemingly clueless to it all, while these students scrambled like mad to gain the favor of their desired partners, and the professor seemed unaware of all the action taking place in the classroom.

The chaos of the class was suddenly drowned out by Mr. McMory yelling out to have students start putting their slips into the box. As the box was quickly getting more and more full, the class started to become more and more silent and calm as no one wanted to be one of the ones not getting the partner they wanted even if they all wanted the same one our darling Miss pipedream isn't only perfect in every way but she's also incredibly smart.

Mr. McMory walked to the front of the classroom and stood in front of the whiteboard. He held the box and a red whiteboard marker. "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement," he said as he paused and placed the box on a stool in front of him. He then pulled out the first two names. "Gaby and Hannah," he announced, causing a small gasp from some students. Mr. McMory placed the paper down and wrote the names on the board. There was a moment of silence before a low murmur began to spread throughout the classroom Mr. McMory then pulled out another two slips from the box and announced the next pairs of names: "Billy and Jillian, Jason and Cory." As each pair was announced, the two people were immediately surrounded by cheers of excitement or groans of disappointment. Some students could be overheard saying things like "no way!" and "I can't believe this!" and "Are we sure it's fair?" There were a few complaints here and there that their partner was not who they wanted, but Mr. McMory quickly cut them off, saying, "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement, understood?"

As I stood watching the chaos break loose behind me, I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly everything was unfolding. However, my laughter came to a sudden halt when Mr. McMory announced me and a stranger as partners.No, not a stranger, It was the girl who seemed to have it all, the girl who had effortlessly made her way through every aspect of the school and had become something of a legend. She was the girl next door, the one every boy wanted, and the only one I was enamored with at the slightest glance in her direction. My heart skipped a beat as I looked over the crowd and saw her smiling brightly at me. Time seemed to slow down as the rest of the world faded away. It was as if the universe was just waiting for us to get to know each other. My nervousness quickly turned into an adrenaline rush as I became more and more excited. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, a chance to turn my dreams into reality and finally figure her out.

On the bus, I noticed her again. We made eye contact but didn't speak. She sat with her friend Sally Handson until she got off at her stop. However, I didn't expect her to move over and sit in the same seat as me.

"You're Joel, right?" she asked me before kindly offering her hand to shake.

"That's me," I smiled as I gently took her hand in mine and shook it. Our skin connected, and I felt a slight tremor in my hand before letting go, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward. I looked back up to see her, and she seemed to be just as nervous as I felt. The silence seemed to linger on for a moment before she spoke again.

"I just wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look at the assignment yet?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "No, actually, I'm not very good at chemistry. I was probably going to copy off of you, to tell you the truth," I said, trying to make a joke, but struggling to hide the fact that it was true.

She smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Like all football players. It's okay though, I can help you study sometime if you'd like?"

As she spoke, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. The offer of her help flooded my mind with different scenarios, from spending time with her after school to studying together at the library or even hosting study groups at our houses. I chuckled nervously and nodded my head.

The sudden stop of the bus snapped me back to reality, and a thought raced through my mind. Should I ask to walk her home? The offer seemed so appealing, and I was filled with possibilities of getting to know her even better. It was time to take the chance, but I had to fight the nervousness building inside me.

"Hey, are you walking to your house? Because I was just going to ask if...if I could walk you home?" I spoke the words carefully, fearing that I might mess up and ruin the moment. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I waited for her response.

She smiled kindly at me. "Yes, and I would love that. Do you know which house?"

"I do," I said with a slightly more confident tone than before. I felt myself calming down as the idea of walking home together became more real. She began to take in the neighborhood around us, and I thought it was a perfect time to start a conversation.

"So, this is where you live?"

She giggled, and her laughter was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. "Joel, you and I have lived in the same neighborhood since we were newborns. We're neighbors for goodness sake, no need to be so formal with me."

She was right; I was overthinking our interactions. We had been neighbors for as long as I could remember. "Oh yeah...I suppose you have a point. I guess my nervousness made me go blank like that. I'm just not used to seeing you when you're not out on the field with your cheer squad." I chuckled, feeling my nerves die down even more as I looked over at her and relaxed a bit more.

"I understand it's hard not to picture me like that, and you as well, Joel. You're violent on the field. I'm pretty sure that referee from Tentown had a broken nose," she tries to make conversation. 

The mention of the game in Tentown makes me chuckle a bit. That was the first game in the league where I was allowed to play, and I suppose my desire to prove myself ended with me getting a bit carried away. The thought of the ref's nose makes me chuckle a bit more as I couldn't help but feel bad for the ref. 

"Yeah, I think you're right about that. But that's just how it is, right? The game is pretty brutal. I can't play without getting a little carried away." 

She thinks for a second and then says, "Maybe that's why you're always benched, along with Tommy? Speaking of your brother, where is he? Oh, and how are poor freshmen? I heard the older football players are being a little mean."

The question about my benching for games suddenly brings back my nervous energy, and I immediately feel uncomfortable talking about it. "That's probably one of the reasons for it, yeah..." I sigh as the mention of my brother and some of the team's hazing of the freshman brings a frown to my face.

"It pisses me off how they treat some of the freshmen like that. I don't see why they can't just treat them like the rest of the team..." I pause mid-sentence as the thought comes to my mind.

"I feel so bad for the poor freshman. They do the same thing on the cheer team," she said. We stopped at the crossing signal, and I was surprised by how well she could relate to what I was describing. It dawned on me that she may have experienced it more than I had considering how involved she is in cheer. We waited for the light to turn green, and I smiled at her.

"We should set up a study date sometime soon. After all, you said you're not that good at chemistry?" she said as we got closer to her house. I was thrilled at the possibility of spending more time with her.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'll certainly need the help," I chuckled. She walked ahead of me with a sweet little glide in her step, making me have to catch up to her as we continued walking.

"Which days work for you?" she asked, opening her backpack and taking out a pen and paper. "Oh, and write down your landline number." I replied, "I'm pretty much free all week, so just let me know what works for you." Her request for my landline number made my heart skip a beat as it reminded me of when she offered to help me at her place.

"How about Friday after school since there's no game? We can meet at my place," she suggested as we stood outside her front gate. "That works great for me! We can discuss our study plans and maybe even study together if you're up for it," I replied excitedly. "Your place sounds perfect, and I just want to say thank you," I added, feeling grateful for her help. She smiled and said, "Of course, Joel." Then she walked into her yard and house, waving goodbye.

Friday couldn't come any quicker in my mind. I couldn't get Miss Applepine, Cheery Pie, Pipe Dream out of my head at all. The more we talked in class, the more I fell under her spell and the more I wanted to know... She was a mystery, and I wanted to be the first to hear everything she was willing to tell.

now stand at her front door. I rang the doorbell eagerly waiting for her to answer. She opened the door; she looked so pretty. "Come on in, Joel," she opened the door to let me in. In all my years of being neighbors, I always wondered what her house looked like, and to be honest, her house is less organized than I thought.

"Sorry about the mess. You know, it's just me and my dad, and I'm a little behind on chores... um... studying," she began to ramble but stopped herself. It was rather cute; it made me smile even more.

"Come on upstairs to my room. I have all my books and everything up there," she led me up to her bedroom. It was so normal - band posters, photos of her family, school items, her numerous awards, and her window looked directly into my room.

As we entered her room, I couldn't resist glancing over to her window again. It felt like this was the closest I could get to seeing inside her home for A Long time and now I'm inside the looking glass. I took a seat right next to her bed as she went to her bookshelf to collect her textbooks. As we started reviewing the material, a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I occasionally stole a glance at her while she flipped through different articles, but I couldn't hold my stare for long.

"Are these all the books we're going to be using?" I asked as she placed her biology and chemistry books on her desk. I watched her lean over, her eyes almost glued to the books as she read through them. "Yeah, these are the ones. I just want to make sure that we're both prepared for this project. It's about how we think the universe began, so lots to cover" she replied with a soft smile that brought me back to reality for a moment as I gazed into her eyes.

"I'm ready to start studying. So, what do you want to start with?" she asked as I sat down. She looked at me with a sweet smile and thought for a moment before responding, "Do you think we should start with chemistry? I know it's the one you struggle with the most."

"Sure, that works," I replied excitedly she remembered that from the walk my cheeks got a little pink as I opened the book and looked over her shoulder to find the section she had mentioned. I was determined to pay close attention this time, feeling more relaxed thanks to her calm and collected presence.

Every little gesture or movement she made caught my full attention like a spark in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she played with her hair made it difficult to resist complimenting her. When she asked if she could ask me something, it snapped me out of my trance for a moment. I replied with a simple "Yeah, sure."

As she playfully hit my shoulder, her touch felt light as a feather. I couldn't help but smile, sitting up and crossing my legs like she was doing. Moving my book from my lap, I placed it on the end of her bed. "Why can't you focus?" she asked, and my heart started racing. I didn't want to tell her the truth, so I lied, "No reason..." Trying to act casual, I could feel myself blushing as she hit my shoulder and called me out. It was because of her - her sweet smile, small gestures, and the way she sat cross-legged on her bed - that I couldn't focus. But I couldn't just outright admit that I had a massive crush on her.

"We can take a break?" she offered, and I felt even more nervous. The idea of taking a break meant a chance to talk about things other than studying and a chance to just hang out with her. I was hoping that she felt the same way and that she also couldn't help but notice the tension that was building between us. I sat back up and joked, "You're saying that as if I would deny the offer." My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel the same tension I did.

As we continued to talk, I made sure to continue moving closer to her every chance that I could get. The heat coming from her body filled me with a new sense of boldness as I tried to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean who can blame me, when I'm sitting across from someone so charming..." I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"Have you been studying for long?" she asked me as she laid back on her bed, making it clear that she had no plans to get up anytime soon. As the conversation shifted towards more flirtatious topics, I started to blush slightly. "Do you mean studying?..." I replied to her, but even I could hear that my voice had taken on a flirty tone.

"Yes, studying, or are you just as brain-dead as the other football players?" she joked. "Hey now, what are you implying?" I responded teasingly as I moved closer to her. As we talked more, the tone of the conversation became increasingly flirtatious, and I struggled to hold back my blush. "You're the one who keeps saying we should take a break. Sounds like you don't want to study..." I said, trying to pretend to focus on a book.

But even as we continued discussing the material or pretending to, I noticed her eyes drifting toward me as she glanced up and down my body. It made me feel a little uneasy, but also excited as I wondered what she was thinking. Could she feel the same tension between us that I felt?

"Hmmm, maybe I don't. But you're the one who said yes to the break." she grinned mischievously as I scooted slightly closer to her, looking up and staring into her eyes. "You make it kind of hard to pay attention..."

As we continued to talk The heat coming from her body filled me with a sense of boldness as I attempted to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean, who can blame me when I'm sitting across from someone so charming?" I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"I'm flattered. I'll take that as a compliment since you're also very kind with your words," she said as I moved even closer to her. We were almost too close for comfort, but I couldn't resist getting even closer. "I thought I was charming, but you are even more charming than I imagined," I told her, leaning in even closer until I was practically touching her. I felt like I was crossing a line, but I couldn't help myself. Her eyes seemed to be blushing, and I felt a sudden burst of confidence. I brought my hand up to her side, almost touching her waist. "You are an interesting girl," I whispered.

"You find me interesting?" she asked, smiling shyly and looking down. I could tell she was blushing and feeling a little embarrassed, but I decided to take a risk and leaned in even closer. Our faces were almost touching, and I could feel her breath on my face. I looked up at her and felt a rush of emotions.

"I didn't know you were so easy to read," I said as I leaned even closer to her, this time the tiny distance between us was nothing but air. I couldn't help but feel that feeling building inside me again as I watched her face grow redder and redder as it appeared to be a little closer every time. "I'm sure most guys would be more than happy to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

“Are you most guys? Should I be worried? I'm not a one-and-done girl, Joel…” she said, showing insecurity for what seems to be the first time. As she asked me if I was 'most guys', I couldn't help but feel my heart sink for a brief second as I heard her insecurity, but I quickly recovered and smiled as I looked down at her. My hands slowly wrapped around her waist as I leaned even closer. "Oh please, you think I'm going to leave someone as beautiful and kind as you just like that. You aren't a one-and-done girl, you're... you're an angel." I slowly leaned forward so our faces were just a hair's width apart. I gazed into her eyes, lost in the moment, when she suddenly exclaimed, "An Angel?" Her voice was soft, yet full of wonder, as if she had just seen something magical. She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face, and I couldn't help but notice the way her face immediately flushed up with red. Her eyes quickly looked down, as if to distract herself from her sudden burst of emotion.

I kept looking at her, waiting for her to look back up at me. I leaned down just a bit more, my heart racing with anticipation, as my lips were barely an inch from hers when she finally decided to look back up. I couldn't help but feel the surge of joy rushing through my body as I saw the way her eyes slowly opened and she looked back up to face me.

The way her cheeks were still flushed and the shy, but happy look on her face was exactly what I needed. It was the perfect moment as I leaned in for the kiss. Our lips met in a sweet and simple embrace, and I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was like time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in the world except for that moment. I held her close as we kissed, and I knew deep down inside that this was the start of something special.

The kiss started gentle but with each second that passed it started to become more intense. The heat of her body and the way her hands ran through my hair was making my heart skip a few beats as I started to wish I could pull her into an even deeper kiss. I didn't want to overwhelm her though so I tried to keep it simple, although it was hard to keep my hands from finding every part of her body that I could. She's not someone who wants a one-time thing and I'll do everything I can to make sure she doesn't think all I want is sex.

We disengaged when we heard her front door slam shut. "That's my dad!" she exclaimed, her urgency evident. "He can't know you're here." She swiftly rose, pulling me up with her, both of us breaking away from the kiss as she hurried us along. Her pace was so brisk that it took a moment for me to catch on before I scrambled up. "Why can't he know I'm here?" I whispered, trying to avoid any noise as her dad ascended the stairs.

"Because he'll flip if he finds a guy in my room. Though, it's not like it's the first time I've had a guy over," she rushed, steering us towards her bedroom window. "Seriously? You've done this before?" I questioned? but that conversation could wait as we reached her bedroom window, which she promptly opened, urging me outside.

"Well, there was this one time Dad caught me, and he nearly lost it. I promised I wouldn't do it again, and he dropped it," she explained hurriedly, her insistence on getting me out the window starting to concern me. I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.

"Are you seriously making me climb out your window?" I protested.

"Don't be a wimp. You'll be fine. You're not the first guy I've had over," she reassured, though her words didn't ease my nerves. The distance from her window to the ground seemed to grow as she tugged me closer to the edge.

As I began to climb out, my foot slipped, and I fell with a hard thud and a loud squeak.

Despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, the walk home afforded me ample time to ponder, and my thoughts continuously circled back to her. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, as if she was keeping something from me. If she's had numerous guys over before, why the sudden worry about her dad catching her? Was I just another casual fling to her? My mind brimmed with inquiries for my elusive "little miss pipedream."

[tv-sandra89]

Na wer schaut sich nachher das Spiel an? Wer ist schon im Fußballfieber? Was sind so eure Tipps? Lasst sie mal in den Kommentaren da. Schönen Sonntagabend euch💋

Well, who watched the game afterwards? Who has football fever? What are your tips? Leave them in the comments. Have a nice Sunday evening💋

[thedeviltohisangel]

"your morning voice is so hot."

[laughs] "what?"

is soooooo evelyn waking up next to callum for the first time. i can just see them being so giggly, giddy, and completely enamored with each other

SWEET, EARLY MORNING LOVE BLURB PROMPT ERA

ev/cal brain rot is so real. spam me with blurb requests for them. and this became like a full one shot + so please enjoyyyy. also not canon compliant? maybe we don't care? maybe i should just throw canon out the window for them and write whatever the fuck we please?

FOR A FORNIGHT THERE WE WERE

warning: smut (because why tf not? ngl. turned myself on writing this)

Her hair was sticking to her forehead as the bass of the music altered her heartbeat, her hands tracing up her body as a smile split across her face. Her friend, Sydney Sweeney, was across from her and matching her movements as they both giggled. Ev drained the rest of her vodka soda and held onto her friend's hand as she made moves towards their roped off table. There were ten other friends enjoying the bottle service, cigarette smoke in the air and lights flashing across their vision.

"Ev, you want one?" She nodded and took the shot from her hand, the liquor burning her throat as it went down, but nothing compared to the blue eyes staring at her across the table. Her and Callum were trying to give this thing between them a real shot because it felt like it deserved one. Their close friends new their flirting wasn't innocent and that they liked to kiss behind closed doors. She had met his mother through FaceTime and when a photo of the sunset she sent to her family group chat last week had half of his smiling face in it, her mother had said he looked handsome and her brother had just straight up asked her if they were dating like TikTok said. He was sick of seeing the same blurry edit of Callum's nose brushing against hers in a London pub.

"I owe Jon a dance and then I'll be right back!" Syd kissed her cheek and was off with her fiancé to the dancefloor. Evelyn looked after them wistfully. She wished she could dance with Callum like that. Throw caution to the wind and let the world know she was moving on from her ex and she was doing so happily. People on the internet were beginning to figure it out. The way the two always seemed to be in the same place at the same time. The way Evelyn was posting photos on intimate vacations, and no one had seen any evidence to suggest her family or team were with her, so it had to be a new man. Deuxmoi was posting blind items that she had moved on before her marriage was legally dissolved and a Sunday Spotted involving her at a Chelsea football match had sent social media into a tailspin. She looked over her shoulder at the man in question who was already making his way towards her.

"You want to dance with me?" he had to yell so she could hear him over the music.

"We can't!" she yelled back as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. In the morning, she would learn someone was shopping around a photo of the moment.

"Friends dance with each other all the time. Let's go!" He offered her no chance to object, her hands wrapping around the forearm across her chest as they bounced their way out to the dancefloor. His hand lifted hers and urged her in a twirl, her laugh contagious as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his slid to the small of her back. Her hips swiveled to the beat of the Latin music pounding through the speakers as his hands started to drift lower and lower. Evelyn moaned as he bent his knees so her chest could press against his while his hands locked around her ass cheeks to lift her to his height. "Evvie, my baby," he mumbled as his lips ghosted over hers.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble." She meant it but for the moment didn't care as she kissed the tip of his nose. Certainly, her ex was going to use these photos and videos against her when they were due back in court. Certainly, she was going to wake up to angry texts from her lawyer and publicist alike. "I should go home before I do something too crazy," she said sadly as he dropped her back to her feet.

"Come back to my place. I'll take the couch." Callum brought her hand to his lips and looked at her with the most loving and tender eyes she had ever seen in her life.

"Ok," she giggled, unable to stop herself from letting her fingertips trace down his cheek.

It was raining when they snuck out the back of the club, Evelyn's security shielding her from the stray fans that had heard where she was on Twitter and were seeking just a glimpse of her. Callum walked a few steps behind, his face seemingly set in stone as the crowd called her name and a few flashes lit up the early morning sky.

"Oh my fucking God, it's Callum!"

"Are they really leaving together?"

"They are getting in the same car! Try and tell me they aren't dating!"

She shielded her eyes and said her thanks as the car door was opened for her, her form lingering in the doorway as she waited for Callum to catch up. His smile could power the world's electricity as he realized she wasn't shying away from being seen with him like this. She reached her hand out for him and he took it, Evelyn pulling him into the backseat of the car with a devious smirk that was all caught on camera. A few people that pushed their way towards the car were able to capture one or two images of his hand wrapping around her thigh, her legs thrown over his lap and a smile on her face as he was leaning in for a kiss as the door was closed and they sped off into the London night.

"I'll need to borrow some clothes," she said breathlessly as his lips detached from hers. Her red dress was clinging to her skin from the rain and he saw nothing wrong with the sight. Couldn't think of anything wrong with the thoughts of her in his shirt either.

"Can't wait to fucking see you in my shirt," he mumbled into her neck as she felt his tongue work against the skin. Desire was beginning to spark between her legs. A comfortable sensation of her body warming up and opening itself up to the ministrations of the man next to her.

"This dress isn't enough for you?" Her hands tilted his face so he was looking at her again. Evelyn wanted to kiss him sloppy and dirty and viciously but was very aware of the driver and her security in the passenger seat. They could of course keep a secret but she wanted to at least try to be polite.

"Everyone gets to see you in that dress. Only I am going to get to see you in my shirt."

"How the fuck do you always say the right thing?" No longer caring about propriety, she was in his lap and moaning around his tongue before he had even processed the words. Her fingers were tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck and his palm slide up the hem of her dress, Callum damn near laying her across the back seat when the bare skin of her hip met his touch.

They were in front of his townhouse quickly thereafter, Callum helping her out of the car with a strong hand and squeezing hers so tightly as they walked towards his front door. He couldn't help but think he was dreaming. That having her with him like this would all be gone in the morning and that he needed to savor it for as long as he possibly could. Savor the feeling of falling in love with someone who deserved it. Falling in love with someone as beautiful inside and out as her. Falling in love with the woman of his dreams and getting the chance to prove he could care for her and protect her and love her until his dying breath.

She shivered in the entryway as knelt down to help her remove her heels, Golo sniffing at her enthusiastically. "I'm going to need so many blankets, Cal." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms to aid in warming her up.

"We can start by getting you out of this wet dress." They couldn't help but stop more than once in the hallway towards his bedroom to kiss each other softly. To test the waters of hooking her leg around his waist. Test the waters of her fingers tracing along the band of his boxers.

"Let's get you out of this," he murmured as his finger lifted the thin strap of her dress and slid it down her arm. Evelyn was looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, her bottom lip between her teeth and her fingers still tracing patterns just below his belly button. He kissed her slower this time. His tongue opening her up slowly and spit roping between them every time they pulled away.

"I want that navy blue Carhartt one you wore on our first date," she requested as her pointer finger traced up and down the front his throat.

"Right this way." She followed him to this bedroom, plopping down onto his bed as he began rifling through his dresser to find the shirt she had requested. "Might this be the one, my lady?" Ev nodded with a smile, ready to strip tease her way out of this dress, when Golo could be heard barking from the front door. "I need to let him out one more time tonight. I'll be right back, I promise." He kissed her once, pulled away, then let Ev pull him back in for two more.

"Be quick," she whispered. She changed while she waited, lying back down onto his bed and burrow her nose against the comforter that smelled like him and made her ache with need for him in a carnal manner. The scent of him reminded her clit that she had wanted attention earlier but hadn't been given it. Evelyn closed her eyes as her fingers danced down her stomach and ghosted over the bundle of nerves. She hummed with the slight relief, slipping her fingers to collect her arousal before spreading over the hood of her clit at the top of her pussy. Her movements stayed soft and light as she found her sweet spot just to the left and teased it gently. "Fuck."

Her knees dropped completely to the side and landed on the bed, the doorway in perfect view for whenever he made it back. Oh she wanted to look so pretty for him. Her pink and wet cunt on full display for him. Pulsing and leaking for him. Her fingertips tracing his name over her clit as her body felt weightless.

"Fuck, Ev." She didn't stop as she looked to see him watching, his leather jacket shrugging from his shoulders. The sight of him rolling up the sleeves of his shirt almost enough to make her come. "You want my help, baby?" He knelt on the floor in front of her, his eyes transfixed on the movements of her fingers as she was no longer chasing release and was just keeping herself warm and ready for him.

"Taste me," she whispered as she sat up on her forearms and offered two of her fingers to his lips. His hand wrapped around her wrist and brought them to his tongue. He moaned as the taste hit all his sense. Coated his tongue in her pleasure. Altered the synapses of his brain to chase this taste and nothing else. "It's all for you, Cal. Only wet for you."

"Only ever going to be for me." His palm tapped at her pussy to illustrate the point, the jolt to her clit causing her hips to buck and a moan to slip from her lips. "Let's get you nice and sleepy for bed." He kissed at the soft skin of her inner thighs, licking at juncture where they met her cunt and nipping at the skin so see how easily he could get it to bruise.

Her hand combed through his curls as she settled back with a sigh, the tip of his nose knocking against her clit as he held his tongue flat against her and used the leverage of his arms hooked around her thighs to pull her as close as possible. His tongue flicked against every nook and cranny of the petal soft skin that it could, testing to make sure each taste of her was even sweeter than the last. "Taste like fucking honey, baby." One of her hands slipped under her shirt, his shirt, and twisted at her nipple.

"I need more," she whimpered. He took one of her fingers with zero resistance. Another slipped into her warm, wet and wanting pussy just as easily.

"How's that, Evvie?" he checked as he focused on the way her clit was peeking out more and more with each thrust as her arousal built.

"So good, Cal, so good." For his first time between her legs, she was thoroughly impressed with the way his fingers were playing the perfect tune of sexual satisfaction. Her ex had taken months to get anything real from her. And even then she was always forced to play with her own clit or coach him through use her vibrator on her. He was never able to do it himself.

He buried his knuckles to the hilt of her, moving up the bed so her head was resting on his shoulder as he moved his fingers again, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit. Ev threw her head back and wished she could record the sounds of his fingers burying themselves in her soaked pussy over and over again. The way she could hear how wet he was making her. Hear the sound of his hand slapping against her. The squeak of his bedframe. The moans that were getting caught in her throat as the tension in the bottom of her belly was growing and spreading.

"Let me look at you, princess," he cooed as he felt her walls flutter around him with the early signs of her orgasm. "Keep your eyes on me. That's a good girl."

"Cal," she whined as it was building to a breaking point. She took the hand from around her waist and wrapped both of hers around it, using it as her anchor. "Don't stop, don't stop. I'm going to fucking come." With a sharp intake of her breath, a shuddering moan fell from her lips. Callum quickly flattened four fingers against her clit and rubbed as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Come on, baby, don't pull away. Take all of it." He forced her thighs back open when she tried to clamp them shut, her breath coming back to her as her hips tried to writhe away from his hand but he wouldn't let her. "You got at least one more in you, Evvie. Keep these beautiful legs nice and open for me." One more turned into two more turned into her returning the favor in the shower turned into Callum fingering her gently to her fourth orgasm of the night while he cradled her in his arms.

She slept like a rock until the sun rose, her phone telling her it was nearing 10 AM, her legs shaking as she threw them over the side of the bed. "Where you going?" Callum mumbled from his spot next to her.

"I have to brush my hair and teeth." Her ex had hated the way her hair knotted when she slept with it down. Hated kissing her with morning breath.

"Give me a kiss first."

"Callum, I have morning breath. Let me-" He sat up and tugged her back against his chest, tilting her chin up and kissing her senseless. Tongue and all.

"I couldn't give less of a fuck," he whispered.

"Your morning voice is so hot," Evelyn remarked as he puckered his lips for another kiss with a laugh.

"What?" She giggled and settled her head back against the pillows, his head rested on his hand as he was on his side next to her.

"It's deeper and raspier and the same way you love that only you get to see me in your shirt, only I get to hear your voice like this when you first wake up. It makes me happy."

"I'm happy if you're happy." She kissed his forearm and nodded with the smile that could only be described as youthful abandon.

"Happier than I've been in a long time."