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seungfl0wer · 2 months

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Can you do 34 from the 60 more writing prompts with Seungmin or leeknow, can it be angst with a fluffy ending 🥹

*Pay Attention!*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst/Semi Fluff Ending

Warnings: Cursing, Arguing/Yelling, Reader gets hurt (burnt), Mentions of Blood, Mentions of wanting to die, not proof read

The time someone asks for a happy ending I leave it kinda not- I mean it’s happier than I was gonna leave it not gonna lie😂. I hope you enjoy it though. Yall really coming at me with these angst scenarios lol

-🩵

Your fiancé had just came home throwing his coat over the couch coming to meet you as you were cooking dinner in the kitchen. He seemed a bit off today probably annoyed from work as he told you about the boss being a dick lately. You were listening to music as you cooked swaying your hip as you cut up some veggies.

Minho gave you a peck on the cheek before sitting down at the table looking over some paperwork he had to do along bills that were on the table. His whole demeanor almost shifted looking over the papers he looked angry. Looked like tears wanted to peak from his eyes fists bunched at the side of the papers. You tried to ignore it wanting to keep your peace for a bit more.

A few minutes had passed before he started talking asking you questions his tone was a bit harsh as he asked “what did we get that was this price?” “Why’s the phone bill high this month” he has a good job and nice money and you worked some hours at a bakery. Money wasn’t an issue really ever. Bills were always paid on time. What was his problem?

You were in your thoughts as you moved the hot pot you had to the other to combine everything. “Y/n!” he said loudly startling you, making you drop the pot. Your hands were too fast for you to think grabbing the hot pan wincing at the pain before letting it drop. You moved quickly accidentally knocking over the other pot with everything in it. You had no time to react everything was just happening so fast. Minho looked at you “y/n can’t you pay attention for 5 fucking seconds?” He hissed at you not realizing you had just burnt yourself.

You looked at him feeling tears pull at your eyes, your vision becoming slightly blurry. You ran your hands under cold water to help the burn as the man behind you rambled on “such a fucking waste” he said grabbing the pan that had fallen. “Why can’t you just pay attention to shit?” He hissed again. The words stung, stung more than the burning of your hands. The tears started to fall a bit turning your head to him “you know what fuck you!” You tried screaming but it came out as a croak.

His eyes squinting at you “why are you even fucking crying? It’s not like you worked all day to come home and have your fiancé dump dinner on the floor because they can’t pay attention!” His words felt like daggers in just stabbing you in the back. You turned your body towards him hands shaking “I guess the food and I have something in common we are just Both a waste aren’t we.” You said whipping your eyes. You walk toward the door grabbing your keys. “Where the hell are you going?” Minho asked following behind you.

“Somewhere I’m not gonna be a bother! Don’t worry about me Minho, order some fucking food and enjoy being alone.” You said before leaving out the door slamming it behind you. You walked to your car hands still hurt you didn’t notice that when the other pan had fallen it had hit the back of your leg. Cutting it as the sharp part of the old janky pan hit it. Your sock was turning red great just great, man hands are burnt and now I’ll probably need stitches. You say smack the steering wheel. You started to just cry you cried hard at the words of your fiancé, you knew he’s been stressed but god he was being an asshole.

You drove yourself to the hospital getting stitched up, the nurse wrapping your hands that were now blistering. You drove back home after a few hours just sitting in your car really not wanting to go back up. You sat there for a good half hour just debating what you wanted to do before you ended up falling asleep. Minho saw your car pull in but was giving you space after what happened he got concerned when it turned about 2 hours of you not coming up.

He walked down to your car to see you fast asleep. He opened the door shaking his head before waking you up “leaving the doors unlocked? You want someone to kill you or something?” He said moving to the side to open your door “maybe it would solve your problem.” You said softly getting out not looking at him. He was about to talk before realizing your hands “are you ok?” He said looking at your hands. You don’t even say anything as you walked up to your house the man following slowly behind you.

You look in at the crime scene realizing Minho had cleaned it, he had also remade dinner “If you’re hungry there’s food.” He said softly you nod plopping yourself on the couch rolling your body to have your face against the back. Curling up into a ball trying not to cry again, you felt Minhos hand hesitantly rub your back. “Y/n I’m sorry.. I didn’t..” his words stuck in his throat. “God I’m sorry.” His voice cracking feeling his body shaking “you got hurt and I fucking yelled at you I don’t even know why you came back i don’t know why you haven’t kicked me out.”

Minho babbled out through tears “I wouldn’t even blame you if you didn’t want to marry me anymore.” You turned to look at him tear stained cheeks his lip quivering staring down at the ground. “Love” you said softly placing your wrapped hand on his. “Y/n please don’t try and make me feel better I hurt you I deserve to be feeling like this.” He spit “I deserve for you to hate me to never want to be around me.” He said another wave of tears falling “fuck I-“ his words not coming out. You get your body up and hold onto him.

You were still hurt but seeing him hurt made it even worse “Listen what you said was assholey however I’m not just gonna walk away from us.” You said trying to get him to look at you “I know you said it out of angry but it still hurt so we’ll just have to talk. Maybe give each other space but I’m not leaving you. When you proposed you signed away any life without me.” You teased his eyes meeting yours “you sleep in the bed tonight ok? I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said biting his lip that was still wiggling.

“I might be upset still but I don’t wanna sleep along.. unless you don’t wanna-“ you said before he cut you off “you know I love sleeping with you it’s always the easiest to sleep.” You could see him calming down by his words. You kissed his cheek getting up “alright well let’s eat and maybe talk if you want and we can go to bed.” You suggested him nodding in response.

He’d give anything to rewind everything that had happened however but it happened and he knew he’d have to show you he didn’t mean what he said. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt the way you did. He’ll spend forever feeling bad about it but also forever making it up to you showing he loves you. And even if it hurt you, you didn’t wanna throw away all the love over one argument. Love is about working through problems like these. And you loved this man no matter how dumb he was being.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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sugurusdiscordmoderator · 9 months

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Sukuna one shot

inspired by @rinhaler’s plug sukuna that has been living in my brain rent free

mdni 18+

cw: age gap, oral (f and m), face fucking, hickeys, daddy kink, praise kink (way too many ‘princess’s) , hint of possessiveness at the end

Everyone when they’re first on their new college campus feels like hot shit. And you’re no exception. You graduated high school with a 4.0 moved away from your home town and broke up with your boyfriend so you could have fun.

You show up to your first day of astronomy class, a stupid course you have to take as a liberal arts college even though you’re a business major. You thought it would just be freshmen in your introductory core classes, but oh you couldn’t have been more wrong.

You sit towards the back of the class, not too far back that you won’t seem like you’re not paying attention, but not close enough for you to seem like you’re trying too hard. You got there about 5 minutes before class started to be punctual but a lot of the seats were taken. You took out your notebook, pen, and the syllabus the professor emailed you ahead of time to have printed out.

Within the last 60 seconds before class started one particular student walked in. He had to have been a senior, or even a fifth year, with tattoos, pink hair, and a not-too-excited to be there expression. Just your luck, the last seat available was to your left which was like awkwardly close between the wall and your seat. He looks at you and raises his eyebrows as if saying “hey” in a fuck boy way. You can’t help but look at the way his red tshirt hugs his biceps as he pulls out the chair and sits down. He doesn’t attempt to take anything out of his book bag, and you think to yourself ‘there’s no way this man is a freshman’.

The attendance sheet gets passed around and you sign your name and pass the paper over to him. Of course he doesn’t have a pen or pencil so you clear your throat to offer yours to him. He says “thanks,” under his breath not making eye contact but taking special consideration to look at your name written above his.

This professor is pretty annoying and asking people questions off the syllabus so you decide to be nice and place yours between the two of you. He finally makes eye contact with you and you smile, like a little naive freshman that you are. God, dressed all nice for your first day of class wearing that cute little dress he would love to just ruin you. You watch his eyes go up and down your body and you just sit there and take it. Watching his Adams apple bob as he swallows. The sexual tension is thick, and you don’t even know his name. But you know that you want him, regardless of his age or grade or how little he cares about school.

Class was soon over and you found yourself looking forward to the next time you had class with him, as it was a Monday Wednesday Friday class.

Wednesday you get there just a little bit earlier and grab the same seat but you don’t get your hopes up that pink hair-big bicep-mystery man will sit next to you again. As you’re unloading your things out of your book bag you hear someone sit down next to you. You look up to see the same guy from the first day of class with a book bag this time, sitting down in the same spot.

“Hey!” You decide to speak up with a blush on your cheeks.

“Hi,” he says quietly wondering why you are talking to him.

“I’m y/n, I just wanted to introduce myself if were going to sit next to each other!” You say a little to enthusiastically.

“Are you a freshman? Most people don’t do this kinda shit.” He says smirking at you and you can’t tell if he’s being a dick or flirting.

“Uhh yeah. I just wanted to make a friend in this class, sorry for bothering.”

“Not bothering me Princess, just giving you a hard time. I’m Sukuna.” You blush at the pet name he calls you and he makes a mental note to call you that when he fucks you over the desk eventually.

“Nice to meet you, maybe we can study together some time once we actually learn new materials?”

He raises his eyebrows at you smirking, “Sure. How about I get your number then?” You write your phone number on a corner of your notebook paper and rip it off and hand it to him.

“Cute handwriting.” He says as he slips it into his pocket. And that was all for your interaction the second day.

On Friday you both happen to walk into class together and smile at each other.

“You didn’t text me.”

“So needy,” he smirks at you as you settle into your regular seats. “My frat is having a party tonight, do you and your friends want to come?”

Oh god your first college party and you’re getting invited by this guy?

“Yeah that sounds great, will you actually text me the details though?” Pulling out your best flirty-ness.

“Sure princess.” He says pulling out his phone. You see your name saved as “ y/n - astronomy 🥵” and pretend you didn’t. He sends a text with the address of the party and class gets started for the day. You decide to walk out of class together and small talk about how boring the professor is. He suddenly interrupts you -

“Hey would you be interested in showing up early to my house to pregame for the party? Ya know just cause you probably don’t have a fake ID yet and don’t have any alcohol.. and stuff.” He scratches the back of his neck.. is he.. nervous?!

“That sounds fun yeah sure.”

“My little brother will be there. He’s also a freshman so maybe you guys can be friends.”

“Yeah I haven’t really made a ton of friends yet so that would be sick.”

—

Later that evening you head out of your dorm around 8 o’clock. You’re wearing a frilly crop top and a tight light denim skirt with cute platform white sneakers. You shaved your whole body in anticipation and decided you’re going to walk the few blocks to Sukunas house. You show up around 8:30 and sweetly knock on the door. A smaller more kind looking version of Sukuna opens the door. The same pink hair but no tattoos, less muscle, and a friendlier smile. Almost the exact opposite.

“Hi! Are you Sukuna’s friend?”

“Yeah I guess that’s one way to put it, yeah,” you laugh nervously, “I’m y/n”

“Welcome in I’m Yuji. He’s in his room if you want to go up. It’s the first door on the right.”

You thank Yuji and start going up the stair. You feel so nervous like a little high schooler as you get closer to the door. Like there are a thousand butterflies between your stomach and your pussy that can’t wait to see him. You knock gently on the door and hear a muffled “come in” and turn the door knob.

You see Sukuna sitting on his futon shirtless rolling up a joint on his little coffee table. “Hey princess,” he mumbles not looking up from his work in progress as you walk in and sit on his bed adjacent to his futon. As he finishes rolling he smiles up at you. You feel a little awkward sitting here as you’ve only seen him a few times and know nothing about him.

“Do you smoke?” He asks knocking you out of your thoughts.

“I haven’t ever tried but I’m willing to” you say all too innocently back.

“Hmm okay we’ll I guess you came to the right guy.” He motions for you to come sit next to him on the little futon couch he has and lights up. He hits the joint a few times and passes it to you once you look confident enough. You hold it in between your pointer finger and thumb and inhale and exhale just like sukuna did. “That’a girl” he says as his hand finds a home resting on your exposed thigh. You squint your eyes and smile at him.

Sukuna calls for Yuji to come upstairs and a few seconds later the cute brother opens the door to the bedroom. “You wan some of this?” He asks the younger brother and sticks out his hand with the joint in it. “I don’t want to finish it all and sweetheart here has never smoked so I don’t want her to do too much.” Yuji sits where you were on the bed taking a huge rip of the joint and your eyes widen at his lung capacity.

“I’ve done it too much. Maybe some day you’ll have a tolerance like us.” Yugi says with kind eyes. You notice him look down to where his brothers hand rests on your thigh.

“So how’d you guys meet?” Yuji asks smiling only looking at you.

“We have astronomy together,” you smile back before Sukuna could retort some smart ass answer.

“Hey Yuji, can you go get stuff ready downstairs for the party? Mhm thanks” Sukuna says and shoos his younger brother out of the room before he can get another word in.

He smoothly walks back over to the couch you’re sitting on, putting a piece of hair behind your ear. “Princess will you let me try something with you?”

“Mmhmm sure what is it?” you bat your eyelashes at him.

There’s only a little bit of the joint left and Sukuna takes a large rip of it, as he sits back down next to you. His left hand moves to your jaw, his thumb i opening your mouth as he leans in to kiss you. Oh god you’ve seen this at parties before but never done it. As he opens his mouth against yours you inhale, trying your best to impress him. He backs his lips off yours just enough for you to exhale the remaining smoke.

“Gooood girl,” he mutters looking into your red eyes. His lips collide with yours again, passionately. You can hardly even think straight he is dominating you even just kissing. His tongue slips past your lips and makes it way through your mouth. You hear people talking downstairs now as it’s about 9 pm but neither of you could care. His lips continue their assault on your jaw to your ear, down your neck. Pecking, licking, assaulting your tanned skin that smells like innocent girl perfume and a cute little necklace that you probably got from a high school boyfriend, sukuna thinks.

Without warning he pulls down your top, exposing your bare chest without a bra. “Hm a little risqué? Maybe not quite the good girl that you act like?” He smirks up at you before taking one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. He uses his other hand to run the other, twisting and twirling it in between his thumb and pointer finger, the same ones he was just holding the joint with. You can’t help but let out a little moan and roll your eyes back at the feeling. You run a hand through his hair, spreading your legs with your skirt on so we can see your panties. There’s a little wet patch that’s growing on the white lace that he so desperately wants to tear to shreds. He starts trailing down kisses from your cute nipples down your still covered stomach.

You try to reach down to rub the growing bulge in his pants, being so greedy and horny. “No,” he responds grabbing your wrist and moving your arm back up by your head. You’re confused but don’t care as long as you get touched soon. Just then sukuna tugs your soft lace panties down your legs, admiring them before stuffing them in his pocket. You produce a slight gasp at his actions but try to be patient for what he’ll do next. You feel the cold air of Sukunas bedroom against your newly exposed delicate cunt. He bends down to start leaving messy kisses around your inner thighs and pubic area. He teases you getting close to licking up your folds but ultimately enjoys watching you writhe in how turned on you are.

“Please” you whimper looking down at him, trying to give your best puppy eyes

“Please what?” He asks before placing a gentle kiss on your clit.

“Please S’kuna” your voice cracks you are begging and whining for him so much, looking like you are about to cry.

He latches his mouth around your clit, sticking his thumb inside your warm hole. “fine” he mumbles as if he isn’t about to give you the most life changing head you’ve ever had. Sukuna thinks you look like a portrait of a goddess, your cute skirt bunched up at your hips, pussy out, and shirt pulled down exposing your tits, the way your mouth makes a perfect “O” while your eyes scrunch shut.

You let out something between a deep breath and a moan a few times before Sukuna stops licking your cute button. He waits for you to open your eyes to look at him “louder f’r me”. He takes his thumb out of you, holding it up to your face for you to lick clean. You use your tongue to swirl around his thumb, sucking on it like your life depends on it. He pulls away once he is satisfied and hears you whimper “thank you” quietly.

“Pretty girl, did you just thank me for tasting your juices on my finger?” Your face heats up getting redder each word he says. “I didn’t know you were so obedient…good to know” he says almost to himself instead of you. He switches to use his ring and middle finger inside you, lapping around your hole and clit fucking his hand into so quickly you can’t help but let out a loud moan. At your reaction he moves his free hand down to palm his erection through his pants.

By this time the music is bumping pretty loud downstairs and you assume no one can hear you. Sukuna seems to enjoy eating your pussy just as much as you’re liking it, muttering to himself while licking at you things like “pretty little freshman pussy” and “begging for me since the first day of class”. Your legs start to close as you feel yourself getting closer to your high, but his pumping into you doesn’t slow. He now uses one hand to finger you and the thumb of the other hand to rub your clit, spitting on it. He wants to watch you cum for him. He wants to see every second and can’t risk getting carried away tasting your cunt.

You reach to grab some of his pink hair, begging for release. “C’mon princess you can do it”, “cum for me”, and “goood girl” he groans as you begin arching your back off the sofa. His fingers are reaching a place yours never could and you begin seeing spots and close your eyes again. Your ab muscles flex and you start pulsing on his fingers. He slows down his pace once you start your orgasm, rolling his eyes back and groaning when he hears you moan “Sukunaaaaa” loud enough that anyone on the upstairs floor could hear it.

He stands up and cleans his fingers off in his mouth and wipes them off on a tshirt that was on his bed which he proceeds to now put on (yeah he was shirtless that whole time). He walks back over to help you up, pulling your top up to cover your tits, just barely, and pulling your skirt down to where it belongs but he still kept your panties.

As you regain your senses you ask “Is that it? What about you ‘kuna?”

He chuckles a bit mocking you “‘is that it?!’ Was that not enough? Sorry but you have to earn more.”

“No” you groan walking up to him, “I meant ‘is that it’ as in ‘are you going to let me take care of your massive bulge?’”

He kisses your forehead then responds, “hmm sure princess were already late for the party night as well.

You willingly get down on your knees right in front of him like he is your king. Maybe that’s why he calls you princess so much. He uses his clean thumb to wipe off a little bit of smudged makeup under your eye “so pretty on your knees…” he starts unbuttoning and zippering his pants, “might actually have to keep you around.”

You don’t even react to what he’s saying as he pulls his pants and underwear down revealing a massive cock. Larger than the average man for sure, but also a pretty color and the perfect number of veins. You can’t believe he wasn’t in pain keeping an erection that big in his pants. It was going to stretch you out for sureee. Your pupils grow at the sight of him gripping the base of his manhood and and putting one hand behind your head.

You know what this means, you’ve deep throated before but god you’ve never gotten facefucked. Let alone a dick this huge?

He lets you make the first move, opening your mouth and letting his tip fall on your tongue. You taste a tiny bead of his precum and become insatiable for more. Sukuna watches the lust in your eyes grow as you begin licking up and down his shaft.

You then begin to bob up and down, hoping that your head is good enough for him. You can only reach about half of his dick before it starts to go down your throat, but you’re desperately trying to take as much as you can. His hand still gently resting on the back of your head, not testing you yet.

You remove your mouth and look up to the handsome man asking, “daddy, can you help me?”

Sukuna can hardly believe his ears and is taking everything in him not to cum on the spot from hearing your sweet voice call him that. As soon as he realizes what you were asking he responds “sure, princess.” His grip tightening on the back of your neck, using the free hand to slap his cock on your tongue and face. He still doesn’t want to be too rough with you, delicate little freshman. But you did just call him daddy … so …

He begins to use your mouth to fuck his cock, slowly at first making sure you adjust, pushing himself down your throat until you tap his leg for air “mmm good girl you’re mouth is great” he says as you replied your air. As he sticks himself back in again he goes faster this time. Hitting the back of your throat with each stroke but not forcing himself down like the last time. He moves his free hand to grab the front of your throat squeezing so even less air can come through.

Fuck this is turning you on so much you can feel your slick dripping down your leg. Your vision goes a little blurry from lack of oxygen before he releases his hand, still continuing his praise and moans. He lets you breath again for a minute, making you jerk him off while you catch your breath as his head is thrown back “fuck y/n, pretty face, pretty pussy, and a pretty mouth” followed by a grunt/moan. You are determined to make this man cum on your tongue and begin sucking at a faster pace. You feel the tip going down your throat and just let it keep going until you find your nose touching his well trimmed hairs against his pubic bone. You stay there and wiggle your tongue around the part you couldn’t reach before as he looks down at your pretty eyes tearing up. You come back for breath and decide to suck the top and jerk the bottom because you were pretty sure guys liked that too? Sukuna looks down at you moaning “fuck, fuck, fuck” and you watch his hips twitch knowing he is getting close. He pulls your hair a little harder than he means to while you’re finishing him off, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lets out a last “shit y/n” and releases on your tongue.

He recovers rather quickly compared to you, putting his now soft penis back in his boxers and jeans. He looks up to see you sticking out your tongue with his cum on it. Without warning he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and takes a picture of you with the flash on. “Swallow princess” he tells you after he groans at how sexy the picture turned out.

You both get ready to finally attend the party now around 9:30 with what sounds like lots of people downstairs. Sukunas tries to get you from looking in the mirror so you don’t see the 4 not-so-subtle hickies he gave you. He runs his hands through your hair because it looks like… well it looks like you just had sex. Grabbing your ass under your skirt, still panty-less he opens his bedroom door.

“Be a good girl and I’ll let you come back up here after the party is over” he whispers seductively in your ear.

He lets you go down the stairs first, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you go.

He’s not letting you leave his sight tonight.

—

A/N it took everything in me not to have someone barge in on them like yuji or someone looking for the bathroom. Happy to write a part two or series of these if anyone likes them. Also feel free to leave requests in my inbox. Thank you sweet cheeks 🫶

#ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #geto suguru #gojo satoru

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months

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𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎

older! college coach! steve x fem! reader

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

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

“Hustle girls!”

“Box her out!”

“Are you fucking kidding me 22?”

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

He was pissed. When wasn’t he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bulldogs: 60 Pirates: 58

He was furious.

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

“Pack your shit, bus leaves in five.”

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

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

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

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

You hadn’t slept either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wouldn’t budge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was equally frustrating and heartbreaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you hate basketball?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

He doesn’t say anything so you keep going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucking hate you, Coach Harring—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you were right it was veiny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you might just be my fav-”

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

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

“Steve?”

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

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

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munsster · 10 months

Note

Hiiiiiiii loved your Eddie munson x wealthy!reader fix, I was wondering if you could do a billy Hargrove one? Thank you bby💗

billy with a wealthy s/o

A/N: its 100% giving reluctant allies to lovers gif cred: @selinasdalton

Warnings: partying, drinking/smoking, insults (mostly playful), pet names (sweetheart), implied sex

the FIRST thing i thought of was reader rolling with the popular crowd

ie harrington, tommy, carol etc

and seeing billy for the first time at a party

honestly, he probably offers you a drink or better yet a smoke

and you’re disgusted (horny)

and he thinks he’s totally gonna score (you accepted his drink offer)

neither of you really remember how or when it started

you can never agree on an anniversary date

but you both know he fell first

mainly because he was absolutely floored by just how many insults you had ready in your back pocket

“the ball goes in the basket, airhead” “you look like rob lowe if he was a woman and a munch” “my dog could sink more free throws than you and he’s 20 years old”

honestly, he was a little flattered by your creativity

which is why he knew he had to get in your pants somehow

and the first time you invited him over to your house, you wouldn’t hear the end of it

“hey, richie rich, where’s your robot maid?”

“oh, it’s her day off”

“…”

“i’m kidding,” you tease, “she’s not a robot”

he does not know how to handle the amount of shit you spoil him with

“billy… i really like your necklace”

“…”

“i can buy you a new—”

“i dont need a new one, sweetheart”

and you don’t know how to handle the fact that he doesn’t want to be spoiled

but you eventually figure out how to be sneaky with it

making him lunches (con caviar), ‘accidentally’ misplacing his shoes so you have to buy him new ones, taking him to fancy barbershops and paying half the cost so it still seems like he’s paying the full price

some may say it’s manipulative. you say it’s loving.

and the first time he buys you a meaningful, mildly expensive gift, you tear up a little bit

you bringing him to the golf course and finding out 1) he’s really good at golf and 2) he is excellent cougar bait

not that you want the over 60’s hitting on your man, but it’s very sweet when they send him drinks and call him a handsome young man

you definitely encourage him to play into it with some “how are you young ladies this evening?” and “don’t you have to be 21 to sit at the bar?” action

he has his fun with it, but he really only does it ‘cause it makes you smile

would never BEG for anything…. but he DOES get really sad when you don’t bring him to the mall to watch you try on shoes or sweaters or whatever.

yeah, if there’s something he’d beg for, it’s that

he lives for the moment you walk out of the dressing room, do a twirl, and ask (like clockwork) “do you like it?”

his answer is always yes, but you claim to know the differences in his tone that indicate what he actually likes

sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll let him sit inside the dressing room. watching you change. watching you change.

he is the reason you’re both banned from sears at starcourt

the first really expensive watch you gift him is INSANE

it has like four dials and you said something about alligator leather and 18 carat gold

he can’t decide between wearing it on special occasions to preserve its value or never taking it off because he loves you

when you do stay at his house, usually no ones home

but you have met max

and she likes to stay away from you

but you took her to get a new skateboard and you think that might’ve helped her warm up to you

just a smidge

now she lets you gossip about stupid boys and watch shitty action movies with her

she even promised she would go as croft’s robin for halloween if you swore you’d go as wilson’s batman

that was an interesting halloween for billy

your mansion house has this shiny ass gramophone in one of the downstairs offices

and you told billy that the last thing that had played on it was a glenn miller ‘best of’ album

and that was just not good enough for billy

so one night, he brought over his twisted sister vinyl and convinced you to dance with him while what you don’t know blasted through the brassy pavillon

he also may or may not have convinced you to make out with him while the rest of the record played

even though you drive a brand new, cherry red benz (convertible, he might add), you still love it when he drives the two of you in his camaro

but you also let him drive your car whenever he wants. and he wants to most of the time.

in fact, he’s pretty sure he drives your car more than you do

he also loves to let you dress him up

and do his hair (please practice that cute hairstyle you saw on him. he’ll think about your hands in his hair for hours on end)

even if youre just going on a chill diner date, you still drag him into your (now shared) walk-in closet and pick out these satin shirts and pressed slacks and the shiniest shoes he’s ever seen

but of course, most of your dates are lavish and breathtakingly creative, anyway, so he’s already dressed accordingly

his new catch phrase is something along the lines of “what happened to eating somewhere normal. like pizza hut”

sometimes, his only requirement is “as long as there’s no chandelier”

you flatter him so often, he gets grumpy on days you forget to call him handsome (or pretty boy, which has really grown on him)

typically, he wouldnt go for all the fuss and feathers, but he likes to see you happy.

and boy, does prettying him up make you happy

seriously, you get the wildest look on your face. it’s fulfilling enough that billy feels safe to say he’s content being your ken doll forever

if you’d let him

masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #x fem!reader #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction

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