#fire high score

[crystalelemental]

I can't front.  I hate this one.

General Overview This one's weird, because it's not as though I don't have many EX Fire types.  I have more of them than I do Water types.  But somehow, Fire feels like a nightmare.  I didn't bother trying on Electric, I know that's worse.  But I didn't expect the Fire run to be so...terrible.

Problem 1: Fire supports suck unless they're SS Morty.  Kiawe doesn't do enough in one action, Evelyn is sturdy but not good at survival, while MC Torchic and Marley absolutely suck ass.  Anything above like 300 Strength may as well instantly kill those two.  And my Marley is EX, there is no excuse.

Problem 2: There is like nothing technical in this type.  SS May is a good example.  Like oh good, defense debuffs.  Except there aren't.  They're all single-target, and unless partnered with NC Leaf, she's kind of atrocious at her job.  Anni N is super slow to debuff anything, so even with his Sp Def drops against Kiawe, he can't get to it because oops, too busy having to Noble Roar.  Serena's sleep is borderline useless with Resilience and she's not a good damage dealer, Lodge Irida has a 50% flinch rate instead of 60% and somehow this is noticeable, etc etc etc.

Problem 3: some of these stage conditions are a nightmare.  Removal of 80% sync damage is absurd against Flannery, while Flint's removal of healing is absolutely disastrous.  Debuffs should be the answer to him, but it's not great, because you have only two options to work with.  And guess what.  One of the stages cuts Striker stats, so good luck with that.

Fire just feels like it sucks.  I can't figure out a good means of approaching half of these stages.  I have ideas, but they're clearly not working. This is about as good as I can do without investing more resources, and guess what I don't really want to do.  The supports suck, there's not really any good technical utility, and the stage conditions are nightmarish.  So I feel like this one's particularly rough.

And yet apparently it's not, and I'm just dumb!  I am super far down the ranks despite this score!  Honestly I don't know why.  Outside of the Master rank, sure, I'd buy that.  But down in Great?  You're telling me there's like 40k+ players out there that have performed better than this?  I don't think my Fire roster is lacking, so I admit, I'm legitimately stunned.  It's Challenger Gloria, isn't it?  I didn't get her, I don't like that outfit and don't like Cinderace.  But I'd bet that's a huge part of it.  How absurdly frustrating.

I may try to push a bit higher.  But I'm tempted to stop here just to keep the rounded number of powerup tickets.  Not like I need the Master medal, this is just pride.  And I find myself crankier than I want to be with this, so I'm not exactly keen on it.

Vs. Kiawe (MC Torchic, Anni N, Serena) This is the "Strikers get fucked" match, so I put Anni N here expecting the spread damage to matter.  It doesn't.  Anni N kinda sucks horrifically, you know?  So slow to set up, attack only has 85% accuracy by default, he's too busy.  Serena seemed like a good disruption call, but frankly the spread sleep is terrible.  They all recover simultaneously and it's too much for Torchic, and god forbid Anni N burns.

Vs. Blaine (Kiawe, Leon, Eevee Lucas) This one could be achieved much more easily with investment.  I have no doubt that this would generate a good amount more if I just bit the bullet and invested.  Leon's able to take the sync with Eevee Lucas' Atk debuffs, and his Earthquake/Hurricane combo is supereffective against everything.  But, because Leon and Lucas are 1/5 non-EX, they can only get so far.  If I were really aiming to push the score, this would be the solution.  And who knows, maybe that would fix the godforsaken gauge issues too.

Vs. Flint (Evelyn, Hilda, NC Leaf) No healing is a brutal condition in Fire.  With Anni N accounted for, the only other offense debuffer was NC Leaf.  Without healing, the options for support were Marley or Evelyn, and I went Evelyn for the defensive ability.  I slightly regret it.  Part of my problem here is that Hilda mostly exists just to sync, but truth be told she's not the best pick.  Without healing, all this Potion goes to waste.  But my other options aren't EX either.  I haven't EX'd Ethan, I won't EX SS Red, and I highly doubt Lodge Calem or Blarcanine are going to accomplish anything.  But really, this fight is...bad.  I think it might legitimately be in my best interest to drop Leaf and put in someone else, as Flint also uses Fire-type sync, and it's brutal.  But I can't think of anyone who stands a chance.  The problem with this mode is that it's all bulk.  They deal good damage, you do not, so it's an endurance contest.  Guess what doesn't work in your favor when you can't heal.

Vs. Chili (Marley, SS May, Lodge Irida) SS May really should be better than she is, but here we are.  I tried to get Irida to flinch for some extra turns and boy did that not accomplish shit.  Marley is frail beyond belief, and without debuffs, we're all just corpses in waiting.  Nothing in this fight works in our favor.  I can't even say there's a good SS May approach, since the only possible partner she works well with is NC Leaf.  I could make that shuffle, but it's not great.

Vs. Flannery (SS Morty, Silver, SS Hilda) SS Hilda deals great DPS, and that's really the aim here.  Flannery syncs Rock, which means Sun does little for her.  Silver can take every sync after first, since the damage won't matter, while Hilda beats everyone down.  Problem: spread damage from Searing Shot is required.  V-Create will not get the job done, and you will not have a good time against full HP sides.  Even with his bulk, Morty can only accomplish so much when the strength values start flying.  I honestly hate it.

Final Thoughts I think I'm legitimately mad about this one.  I have more EX Fire types than Water, but Water had nearly 80k more points out of this event.  I held Master rank with Water.  I don't even like Water.  I like Fire.  I was kinda looking forward to trying this one.  But I think I hate it now.

This is an excellent showcasing of how badly you need good supports.  Water thrived because it's got plenty of great support options to choose from, while Fire here is a nightmare.  While I admit I could push score pretty dramatically with the right investment, I don't really want to do that.  I don't care to invest in Leon, SS Red, and Eevee Lucas, just for this.  I don't want to use my candy on this.  So this is probably right where I'm staying.  Which annoys me.  I feel like I should be able to do better, but I don't think I want to try.

[scribblingface]

the thing about multiclassing with paladin levels is every time I start to get into I'm just like 'but a pure paladin would be better'

[hoppinkiss]

forced to do my bedtime scrolling on mobile browser bc the app still doesn't work. the horror

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes

[einsatzzz]

im halfway through the study material covered for the exam next sunday, then around 2/3 done with this one comic wip 🥴🥹🥹🥹✨✨

drawing comics rlly does make u improve, the lines feel a bit less stiff for me now. but i did go for simple poses, close-up shots, etc since i can't do anything too complicated/ambitious yet due to time/energy constraints. (it's webtoon format but not full color, i find paneling in that style easier lmao)

i tried cleaning up the lines as much as i could but at the same time, i try not to get too attached and just move on to the next panel to get it over with 😂😂😂 otherwise i won't ever finish

it's been a long time since i drew a long one like this (i think the last one was for my xlmi chrono crusade au)

i also have another set of wips from the white day art bases that i found, but those ones are colored so i'll just do those after this one.

i'll try to finish the comic b4 i go inactive for a few days to cram even more for the exam. if i don't then i guess it'll be a birthday post that i'll speedrun right after, because the exam is on my birthday lol (how lucky)

[chickencat8]

i got a raaaaaiisse

an entire dollar!

[blazehedgehog]

Soaking this in

If you don't know what this is, here's an explanation: Both Fortnite and Call of Duty employ something called "Skill-Based Matchmaking" (SBMM for short), and it has become the bane of a certain subset of players who very vocally yell about how it is ruining multiplayer games.

In short, the game secretly and quietly keeps track of your "skill level." Even if a game has both ranked and unranked modes, it is always tracking this skill level stat that reports back how quickly and easily you're getting kills. When you connect to a new match, it tries to group you with players near your skill level.

The idea being you start with zero skill stat, and by playing the game well, your skill stat levels up until you eventually plateau and you are forever playing the game with people that are just as good (or bad) as you are, within some level of variance.

This means if you're one of these career streamer guys or a Youtube clip compilation sort of dude (or both), then you very quickly get put into high tier matchmaking pools with all the other career streamers and wannabe esports pros. Hence the very loud, very vocal complaints, because if you're one of those guys, the idea of having a "casual match" goes away. Everybody is always firing on all cylinders and you're expected to do the same in order to keep your rank and not look embarrassing to your captive audience.

So Activision apparently ran an experiment per Charlie Intel (article here) where they reduced SBMM's effectiveness, meaning the big fish pros and the little tadpole casual players were thrown into more games together.

The result was a sharp uptick in players rage quitting matches early, some even quitting the game entirely and never coming back. The report notes that while player retention for players with a high skill rank was improved, they make up such a small percentage of the player base (apparently less than 1%; the article has some grammar problems) that servicing them really doesn't make sense.

As it turns out, low level players don't want to get hopelessly destroyed by wannabe esports pros. And those pros make up such a small percentage of the player base it doesn't make sense to keep feeding them more low level chum, even though they are the hungriest for it. As more and more low level players permanently leave the game due to frustration, it turns into a wasteland where high level players are getting mad at each other until they also get frustrated and leave as well. SBMM ensures long term health for a game's multiplayer ecosystem.

And being a Fortnite player, it's so validating to hear this. "SBMM is ruining multiplayer" was always a narrative coming from streamers and youtubers who were frustrated by having to actually TRY instead of being able to score easy clip compilation fodder on clueless newbies.

Enjoy sticking to your smurf accounts now, I guess.

[wickedhawtwexler]

watching the movie contagion while sick with the plague. that feels so fitting

[finnickodaiir]

Perfect weather for a nap, but I have to study

[crystalelemental]

Fire High Score event information is up, and that means teambuilding. Unlike Electric, Fire is a type I respect and invest in, so I feel like this one I can do better at.

MU Torchic, Anni N, Serena vs. Kiawe (needs Sp Def drops) Condition is "Strike pairs lose 80% of their stats." So Tech it is.

This is by far the shakiest of the fights, because I personally think MU Torchic sucks ass as a support, but it's literally all we have to work with. I am hoping, foolishly, that Anni N can manage its HP needs with Noble Roar. If the Eevee Day stuff runs into the end of this, I may try with a 3/5 Eevee Lucas. The spread debuffs will really accelerate N's offensive presence, which might be better than relying on survival. The goal is fairly simple. Serena can hit all foes with Sleep, stalling out a few extra turns while N debuffs and Torchic caps its needed offenses. Once we get to Blue Flare spam, N has Pep Rally and Sp Def debuffs to offset the stage's gimmicks. Because of resilience, I expect Serena to contribute little beyond some target DPS on Overheat. If we can hit 350 strength on this one, I'll feel good about it. Torchic will want to use Flamethrower for some burns, since we get an extra 1k from a burn landing.

Kiawe, Leon, Silver vs. Blaine (Evasion and Ground weak) No conditions. Just a straight brawl.

Blaine's team is 100% weak to Leon, so this feels like the obvious call. Kiawe is the best Leon partner among the supports, being able to top off crit rate and hopefully offenses without another use of TM. Leon's Max Move on Ground will give the team added Sp Def bulk, which hopefully assists with survival. The one thing about Leon is that his sync sucks. I am supplementing that with Silver, who has a pretty solid sync nuke, and supplies Sun. Admittedly, I am not in love with this solution, but it's the solution I have on hand right now. And who knows, maybe Sun-boosted Inferno is just better than the on-type damage. At least until he rolls SEUN. If we can get 400 strength, I'll be happy with it. I'm probably not going to be happy with it. In fact. If Serena works out up there. I'm putting Eevee Lucas over Silver. It'll likely achieve comparable results, but it gets the Main Character condition in.

Evelyn, Hilda, NC Leaf Vs. Flint (needs Burn and pre-sync) No healing. *sigh*. Okay, so there goes the Potion support for Evelyn.

The condition fucks Evelyn up like crazy, but she's the strongest raw defensive booster in the type. NC Leaf's debuffs also feel ideal here, minimizing the damage we're likely to take. Hilda may not have Potion, but she's self-sufficient on boosting and has a decent spread nuke for after Leaf's first setting the rebuff. I am hopeful we can achieve 500 Strength here, but lack of healing may hinder us.

Marley, SS May, Lodge Irida Vs. Chili (needs Def drops) -2 move gauge. Alright, deal.

Now this one I am substantially less confident in. Marley is EX, but even with that, she's frail as sin. Which seriously limits our potential for higher strength clears, because she's just gonna die. SS May is not know for her speed of debuffs. However...that's why Irida's here. Irida has flinch, which is a wonderful tool to stall out those extra turns for May to kick things apart. Irida can also supply some really nice secondary DPS in Flare Blitz when we get down to the wire, and has a solid 50% burn rate for that extra 1k points. Marley will want to grid Flag Bearer to maximizing Atk for the team. Much like MC Torchic, I feel like this is not a team built for true success, so if we can hit 350 I'll be satisfied.

SS Morty, SS Hilda, Ethan Vs. Flannery (Need Sun) 80% reduction in ally sync nuke. Motherfucker.

SS Hilda's the only sensible solution. Given her raw DPS on V-Create, this is the highest base damage we can toss around. I am choosing, very hesitantly, to go with Ethan and his Eruption. But I am, at a moment's notice, ready to swap him for SS Red. While I hate to say it, Red has better move damage, and Ethan is Rock-weak so he might just die against Flannery. But god I am hoping I don't have to use Red. Please game, you can't make me do this. Red would be a good call though. He doesn't really need his sync beyond transforming, so Supports are good here. NC Leaf with Role Cake is probably great on this too. Given Morty's defensive profile, I am very much hoping for a 500 strength clear here. The main problem I have with this team is the Burn. While I don't think he's great due to the lack of sync damage, Silver could supply more Sun and has a 50% burn rate, so maybe I'll shuffle him here over Ethan? Though Ethan's Flamethrower isn't a terrible burn rate.

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: An opponent gets angry at you

If you weren't so massively pissed at yourself, you could accept that the goal was beautiful.

Playing Manchester City wasn't for the weak, at least for a goalkeeper, and a pass to one of your defenders was intercepted and the shot came in quicker than you could move.

The City player came celebrating straight in your face, really rubbing it in.

That was the first straw.

The second straw came during injury time of the first half.

Another ball slotted neatly past your outstretched gloves.

She celebrates in your face again.

The final straw happens nearer the end of the match.

You save the goal on the line.

It's a near miss for you but you get it.

The City girl, the one that's been pressing you all match, doesn't think you saved it on the line. She thinks it went in.

She gets up into your face about it.

She's yelling something, hands waving around wildly.

Pernille watches anxiously.

You don't like being yelled at. You used to cry as a child whenever she and Magda so much as raised their voices. You used to keep your head down, folding your body in on itself and lowering your head. You used to sniffle for a few moments before bursting into uncontrollable sobs.

Even as Pernille yelled, her heart would break just because you seemed so broken up by it.

Not many people can match your height. You usually tower over everyone but this time you can't.

This girl seems even taller than you as she yells right in your face, jabbing you in your chest.

She's taller but you're stronger.

You square your shoulders, not even moving as her jabs get a bit more aggressive.

Pernille would be annoyed too, she thinks, if she'd already scored two goals, potentially a third and her team was still nowhere near Barcelona's six shiny goals.

Pernille would be angry too if her third shot was saved on the line.

But she'd never try to instigate anything. She would never start yelling at the keeper, trying to get needlessly aggressive.

Emotions run high on those first leg Champion's League semi-finals.

No one wants to go into the second leg with such a large deficit.

But aggression has no place on the pitch.

The girl shoves you back but you still stay strong, simply rocking back on your feet for a moment before righting yourself again.

There's a reason people call you a brick wall.

"Just shove her back," Pernille hears Magda mutter next to her.

"Magda!"

"What? That girl's gone crazy! She won't listen to reason. Fight fire with fire."

Pernille raises a brow. "Our daughter? You think our daughter will be shoving anyone?"

"Our daughter won't," Magda says confidently," But her girlfriend will."

The ref is coming towards the group from the halfway line.

So is Talia.

Talia gets there first.

She wiggles her way between the two of you and you give her the space to do so.

The City player is yelling.

Talia is yelling.

The City player shoves.

Talia shoves back.

They're up in each other's faces and it's like this referee is the slowest ref in the world.

"Go on," Magda murmurs," Get her! Get her!"

"Magda!" Pernille says again," Stop supporting violence!"

"I'm not! Just making sure she gets a taste of her own medicine! It was on the line! It didn't go in! She's just wasting time now."

Thankfully, it doesn't get any more violent than a few shoves and finger jabs but both Talia and the City girl get yellow cards.

The City girl walks off in an angry storm.

Talia takes it on the chin, a devilish smirk on her face and another goal slotted into City's net before the game is up.

"She looked a tad angry," Pernille notes as you amble towards her at the end of the match.

"Emotions are high, I guess," You say with a shrug, eyes darting to the side," Spot in the final up for grabs and all that."

"She was yelling. I know you don't like yelling. How are you feeling?"

You glance at her, shrugging again. "Sometimes, when people yell, I wonder what they'll do if I start crying at them. Like, if they continue to yell then they're an asshole but if they don't...What are they meant to do? Hug me?"

"An apology would be nice," Pernille teases," But, seriously? Are you okay?"

"I'd probably be worse if we'd lost but we didn't. We're in a good position for the second leg. Yeah, it was a good game. I'm okay."

Pernille holds your face in her hands for a moment, staring into your eyes to see if you're lying.

She can see no deceit in them so just pulls you into a hug.

"Yeah," She hears Magda say next to her," She's lucky I'm not playing anymore. Squaring up to my kid like that? I'd have swung at her."

Talia laughs. "I nearly did."

[jayflrt]

a stoner’s guide to starbucks

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha, winter from aespa, beomgyu from txt, and dino from svt)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, stoner au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, limited knowledge of the starbucks corporation, weed consumption, dumb shenanigans, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i am alive (real) also i was so committed to the bit that i got high to make this <3 shoutout @hoonbear for the Extensive Starbucks Knowledge 🫡 i would also like to note that i am NOT doing a tag list for this smau. also please note that this is a fictional setting and to boycott starbucks in real life for firing their workers over their pro palestine speech. remember to do your daily click!

INCOMING MESSAGES !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

01. weed guy beomgyu

02. red bitch with the freckles rizz

03. starbucks public enemy #1

04. 50% cut ???

05. lee heeseung: upstanding citizen, NOT murderer

06. clearing up misunderstandings with an aqi under 50

07. chat is this real

08. daddy’s home 2

09. biodegrade ur chance at romance

10. triple filtered reverse osmosis water filtration system

11. losing the idgaf war

12. crazy gets u bitches

13. banned in the name of love

14. riki s worded irl??

15. 8ball brings nations together

16. killing myself postponed tonight repostponed

17. scheming sponsored by crazy bitch 62 and unimportant goon

18. the do-over date to end all first dates

19. seek BetterHelp.com

20. quarterly store meeting (remote)

21. WHAT ARE WE

22. heejake support group for heejake victims

23. bro fumbled the unfumbleable

24. sunghoon is the new Papa John

25. according to penal code 837 🤓☝️

26. jungwon pulls bitches (the duolingo owl) too

27. someone PLEASE take jungwon to see the teenage mutant ninja turtles movie

28. 14th date’s the charm

29. doc mcuggo

30. nothing to write home about

31. LONDON I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL I LOST MY QUEEN TOO

32. starbucks double chocolate brownies

33. having a kid together before dating is next level

34. tweaking out on 5 hour energy

35. 7.83 inches

36. The Milk Makes The Man, And The Man Makes The Milk

37. sunghoon from papa john's from starbucks

38. then who's flying the plane???

39. league of legends quarantine ex girlfriend

40. WELCOME HOME CHEATER 😐

41. unknown evil forces (chaewon)

42. friends to rivaling coffee shop employees au

43. do NOT get the weed frap

44. now on channel 9 news

45. choose your fighter heeseung tit variation

46. kitten i'll be honest, daddy's about to kill himself

47. a fire can be put out but missing a bereal is forever

48. baby's first customer connection score

49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

50. epilogue

UNCUTS !

weekly weed check 🗣️

SUNGHOONXJLAW

happy weedsgiving

minjake texts

the Sunghoon Special

goons vs baby shark movie

COMPLETED 12/1/23

[ghoulbrain]

Animal Instinct

18+ 3.5k ghoul x f!reader. graphic depictions of violence, wound tending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, feral/protective cooper, cannibalism, blood, dirty talk, vaginal fingering. gif credit. read on AO3. written as part of the Saddle Up, Sweetheart verse, but can be read as a stand-alone.

When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe.

This never would have happened if Cooper was still traveling alone. He would have been more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the signs of an ambush long before he stepped into it, and he wouldn’t have been so focused on you instead.

It’s lazy to blame you, though. The fault is his. Without preamble or flourish he draws his revolver and starts emptying shots into the spill of sorry sons of bitches that decided they would ruin his evening.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you move forward, weapon drawn. His lip twitches. Your grip is good, but your stance is horse-shit. If this is going to become a thing–you taggin’ along like this–he’ll have to show you how to properly fire a gun.

He refocuses quickly, stepping forward to keep himself angled between them and you. The ambush isn’t anything special: just a bunch of jumpy junkies with twitchy trigger fingers looking for their next score. He takes a shot to the shoulder, another to the sternum. He doesn’t feel anything but the impact and pressure of irradiated flesh being forced apart around the bullets. There’s no pain, not so long his system is flooded with chemicals.

It’s your cry of pain that sets his nerves ablaze. He fires two more shots–dropping the men who hit him–before he whirls around, a hot rush of fire rolling through him at the sight of you with a man pressed up against your back, one arm fitted around your throat while he crushes your wrist in his other hand, squeezing hard, keeping your gun pointed at the ground as he chokes you out.

That’s when he sees the knife sunk into your thigh, blood soaking a wide crimson circle into your clothing around the knife’s hilt. In this infinitely long and horrible instant that your gaze meets his. The pain and fear in your eyes trigger something in him, and the whole world becomes both brighter and slower all at once.

Cooper aims, fires, but his revolver clicks emptily. He doesn’t reach to reload. Instead, he moves on pure animal instinct, bearing his teeth and charging with a guttural snarl.

Adrenaline mixes with the chemical cocktail in his veins and he moves faster than the man reacts, ripping his hands from you and throwing your assailant to the ground with such incredible force it dazes the man, his eyes glazing over. He roars in the raider’s face, spittle and yellow flecks coating his dirty skin, before he lunges, sinking his teeth into the pulsing jugular below.

He lends no thought to how natural it feels to bite into warm, living flesh.

Rearing up, mouth bloodied and full of viscera, Cooper winds his fist back and strikes the man in the face. His first blow hits his jaw. The next strikes his temple.

Straddling him, he doesn’t stop hitting. One fist after the other. He aims for the jaw, the temple, the high of his cheek. He misses and shatters his nose with a satisfying crunch, blood spewing from his nostrils to coat his knuckles. His jaw breaks with a pop. Broken teeth and bone slice flesh, mixing with gore and falling to the dirt in wet chunks.

The violence feels raw and good, like the first deep inhale of a vial or a hot wet fuck. He swallows the blood and meat lingering in his mouth and lets out a rough breath. Gritting his teeth he hits harder, driven on by the scent of blood and dirt. The gurgle of choked breaths. The slip of split flesh against his fists. It's all gasoline on the flames your peril sparked.

Cooper thinks of him stabbing you. Choking you. He thinks of your watery eyes, bright and terrified. He thinks of everyone he’s ever let down, ever failed to save, and he keeps hitting. Even when the man beneath him seizes. Even when he drowns in his blood.

Even when he dies.

Cooper is beating on a hunk of ruined flesh when he finally stops, drenched in the blowback of it.

Wheezing breaths saw from his lungs as he places one hand on the dirt road, lifting himself off of the mess of battered meat. He stares down at his knuckles where pain throbs with every heartbeat. It's a welcome sensation. Not because he deserves it, but because the raider did, and because he delivered. Destruction with his bare hands. Suffering where it’s meant to be found. He drags his tongue along the soaked leather of his glove and greedily swallows what collects on his tongue.

Heart thundering in his ears, Cooper stands, dipping briefly to pick up his gun. The grip slides around in his bloodied hand before he holsters it, cloudy eyes scanning for movement until his gaze lands on you. Down on the ground, clutching your wound, you look like a doe with a bum leg, your eyes blown wide and afraid. You look… irresistible. Not just as a woman, not just as his woman, but as an easy meal.

He takes a step forward, lips parted. The edges of you are blurry to his addled mind. The only part of you that’s in focus is the bright red of your wound seeping into your clothes. His memories of lapping the salt from your skin cross wires in his brain and all he can imagine is holding you safe and sound as he devours you.

“Cooper?”

The sound of your voice acts like a shock to his system that drags him back from the sweet coppery tang of warm, fresh blood in his mouth. He’s standing above you, closer than he realized he got. The sweetness in his mouth sours into putrid rot and he takes a step backwards, rasping out a cuss under his breath. He turns his head and spits, aggressively wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away blood and little chunks of flesh, abruptly and horribly aware of himself.

Shame blooms in his gut, unfurling all the way up to a tightness in his chest. He looks down at the mutilated body on the ground. There’s no head left, just wet gore soaking into the hungry dry earth below.

He completely lost control of himself. He spits, wipes, spits, wipes, rubs his mouth raw against his sleeve in an attempt to scrub away the taste and feel of it before he dares look at you again. He contemplates shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth just to chase away the lingering tang. He never wants to see you–to think of you–like that again. Like you’re just another hunk of meat.

Your touch makes him jerk away. He looks at you sharply, furious that you would come so close after what he’s done. What he could have done to you.

“Cooper–”

“M’not right,” he says roughly, taking hold of your wrist. You flinch and he realizes that he’s snatched the same wrist the motherfucker he beat into a paste had been crushing. He softens his grip, throat tight like there’s a hand squeezing it. “Fuck, would y’just–m’not right,” he says again, an edge of desperation in his emphasis.

“I know,” you say, voice tender, as if somehow he’s the one in need of gentleness. “I know. So come back. Don’t shut me out.” There’s more authority in your voice than you have any right to have in your position, shaking like a leaf while you touch his face, hushing him with such tenderness it fractures something in him that he thought long dead and buried under the weight of the last two hundred years.

Wish I could, he thinks, wiping his hand on his thigh. That you would look at him like that even now, as if he’s somehow still a man, eats at the very core of him. Makes him want to shy away, prove you wrong, and disappear into you all at once. He takes in a steadying breath before he clutches both of your arms, moving you to the ground. 

“Easy,” he says, voice barely above a rasp. “Y’bleedin’.”

You’re holding onto his elbows as he lowers you, gritting your teeth against the pain. He focuses on your discomfort, on the risk you face, fragile thing that you are, to keep his mind far away from the abyss he walked the edge of while maiming the body behind him.

His first priority is to stanch the bleeding. His movements become practiced, hands that of a soldier. He uses a strap from his pack to create a makeshift tourniquet, twisting it around a scrap rod. All the while he’s hyper aware of your gaze on him and the shallow huffs of your breath, the way it catches when he pulls the binding tight.

“Hurts,” you say tightly.

“I know,” he says, drawing his knife. He lifts your blood soaked pant leg–don’t pause, don’t think, don’t breathe it in–and slices open the fabric. “S’about t’hurt a whole lot more. Gimme a count, I’ll pull it on three,” he tells you, bracing one hand on your thigh, the other gripping the hilt of the knife.

“Okay, okay,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “One–”

Cooper yanks the blade free, startling a yelp out of you that carries into a pained groan.

“What happened to three?!” You ask sharply, fingers digging into the dirt.

He hurriedly smothers the wound with the cleanest cloth he has before he works on tightly wrapping the wound. “S’better when y’don’t know it’s comin’.”

“Asshole,” you breathe.

The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth is reluctant, as if there’s an invisible string tugging at it against his will. “Can’t be that bad if y’still mouthin’ off.”

“It’ll take more than a measly stab wound to keep my mouth shut,” you say, familiar playfulness slipping in alongside the strain in your voice.

“Don’t I know it,” he grouses, glancing up at you. There’s nothing reluctant about your smile. It’s the opposite of his, earnest in a way he’s long forgotten how to be. You’re making an attempt at comforting him, he realizes, looking back down to finish his work, removing the tourniquet once he’s satisfied with the dressing.  “It’ll do for now. Y’need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively, shifting onto your knees.

He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, sheathing his knife. “Would it kill y’not to be so damn contrary?”

“It might,” you say, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling at him, bringing his attention back to you. He looks down at your hand, stained now with the crimson wetness spattered all over his coat. His clothes are soaked heavy with misery and blood, but it doesn’t dissuade you any. You touch his jaw with your other hand and lift his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re close enough that he should feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, but he can’t. Most of the subtleties of life are lost on a man so close to death. The only ghosts he knows now are those of his past. “You okay?”

Holding your gaze, he doesn’t answer you. Sometimes you feel like one of them, like another specter haunting him. The only difference is that you haven’t died yet.

Yet.

“Come back to me,” you murmur. His vision refocuses, finding you closer than you had been a second ago. The warm pressure of your lips grazing his cheek makes him falter, wanting the tenderness of your touch so viscerally it feels dangerous to admit even to himself. “Stay with me.”

Your hand lightly cups the back of his neck, holding him without caging him. You move closer, settling in his lap, grounding him with the weight of your body against his. He moves at that, grasping your hips and squeezing.

“Stay with me,” you say again, the words as fervent as prayer. His own lips parted, he can taste the breath of each word, sweet and warm, the way a distant part of him remembers things like love could be.

Why? He nearly asks. You won’t.

He had thought himself immune to this sickly feeling. This sense of grief for someone who isn’t yet gone, but you rip it out of him. The truth of the matter is that the Ghoul should never have entertained your company. He should have left you where he found you and been on his way without ever casting a backwards glance. The Ghoul would have.

It’s Cooper who didn’t. It’s Cooper’s hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your ribs and pulling you closer, deeper. He kisses you hungrily, craving you the way the Ghoul can’t. The way a man craves.

I ain’t dead yet.

And neither are you.

Two hundred years of surviving for tomorrow has eroded his ability to exist in the here and now, but your touches demand it of him. Your lips against his bring him into the moment as he lives it. As you live it with him.

“I ever look at you like that again,” he says gruffly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, catching yours in the process. He moves you back enough to lock eyes with you. “You put a bullet between my eyes.”

Your lips curve in a bittersweet kind of anguish. “Like you’re gonna eat me? Because right now–”

He gives you a sharp little shake. “Y’know what I mean,” he says, startling the smile off your face. From day one he’s liked your wit, the cavalier way you face life, but on this matter he needs you to hear him. “You ever look at me, and I’m not there, you promise you’ll put me down.”

The set of your mouth turns to a flat line, your gaze somber, and you nod. “I promise.”

Some of the tension in his haggard lungs eases and he kisses you again, need shooting up his spine like a hot geyser. “That’s my girl,” he breathes, leaning back and bringing you with him, saddling you properly astride his lap, his long legs stretched out behind you.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, heedless of the blood and gristle between your melding bodies, and he’s forced to remind himself that this is the only world you’ve ever known. There’s no time before this, not for you. Your life has always been full of horrors, and for reasons he’ll never fully comprehend, you’ve decided he’s one that you want close.

He slips his hands under your thighs and squeezes, hiking your legs around his waist until you’re seated closely enough to feel the growing ache between his legs. You don’t miss a beat, grinding down against him so fervently his breath breaks into a low groan. Not even he can deny his humanity in this. You turn his blood hot and shock the deadened thump of his heart into thunder. You make him feel alive.

He’ll return the favor. He’ll turn his spit to wine on your tongue and make your whole body fucking sing.

Breaking from your lips, he uses his teeth to tug his glove free, letting it fall to the ground. His mouth feels sandpaper dry, but your lips are plenty wet. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles, parting your lips with the tips of his middle and index fingers. Your eager tongue slips molten wet between his fingers, your eyes hazy on his. He pumps his fingers slowly, cups the back of your head to keep you still while plunging all the way to his last knuckles before drawing them back. “That’s it… Get ‘em good and wet.”

It’s agonizing how easily you fall apart under his touch, and even more so how good you look doing it. Somewhat reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and with practiced ease maneuvers his hand down the front of your pants, curving his fingers to follow the contour of your pelvis until his fingertips slide through hot, wet arousal.

“Cooper,” you exhale, the pitch of your voice canary-sweet. If you have any care regarding the death that surrounds you or the blood between his body and yours, you don’t show it, nor pay it any heed. You’re focused entirely on him, lips parted on shallow breaths of pleasure. He strokes your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the rest of the world falling away the longer he watches your euphoria build.

Fuck, you’re goddamn beautiful. Why the hell you let a creature like him have you is beyond him, but he won’t let go. Not now. Not so long as you still look at him like this.

He swallows dryly, finally slipping his fingers into the welcoming heat of your pretty cunt. You’re soaked, his own personal oasis in the Wastes, velvet walls quivering around his toughened fingers. He angles the pad of his thumb against your clit and starts to finger fuck you in earnest, his cock throbbing beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you keen softly. Your hands braced on his shoulders, you meet every thrust of his hand, huffing divine little sounds while he fucks you with his fingers, crooking them until he feels you shudder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, enraptured. “That’s it. Got y’now, don’t I? Ah ah, don’t get shy on me,” he tsks when your eyes fall shut. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Eyes on me,” he says, voice frayed. You pry your eyes back open and hold his gaze, your own heavily lidded. “Good, s’good. Y’close now, ain’t’cha, sweetie?”

You nod fervently, moans bubbling up instead of words, your sweet features twisted in the exquisite agony that comes just before climax. You roll your palms against his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his coat. He wishes he could feel the bite of your nails on his bare skin, wishes it were his cock sinking into you, but all that wistfulness is erased the second you cry out, your back arching, your cunt squeezing his fingers as you’re pitched forward into the throes of release.

Cooper grits his teeth, baring them like an animal as he fucks you through the tremors, grabbing hold of your jaw to keep you from collapsing, to keep your eyes on him. You slide your hands up and cup either side of his face, yanking him into a messy kiss. He falls into it easily, slowing the thrust of his fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm settle until his hand is still against you, fingers pressed in deep, savoring the feel of you.

You kiss him leisurely with tongue, teeth and barely sated hunger. Your bliss slows you, and Cooper is content to simply feel. Even the lingering ache of his own need is a welcome sensation in a world he so often walks through feeling numb.

After a time, he slides his fingers from your pants, wiping them absently on his own before wrapping his arms around you. You sink into him in turn, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The sun has almost disappeared completely, and the chill of night is beginning to nip the air. All of this carnage will attract predators soon, but he finds himself unable to rush the matter. His embrace tightens.

“I love you,” you murmur.

There was a time long before his heart became an open grave that he would have been eager to return the sentiment, but hearing those three little words turns his tongue to lead. They flood him with memories of an era where love came naturally–the way only violence does now–and shooting a man in the head was the most abhorrent act he could fathom for himself.

These days, a headshot is a kindness.

His stomach is tight, a bile-like burn creeping up his throat. He screws his eyes shut, swallowing it back. To his relief, you aren’t tense with anticipation. Instead, you pepper butterfly light kisses along the scarred column of his throat, paying special attention to the nicks and scars along the way to his jaw.

You kiss him. He takes your face in his hands and deepens it, pushing into you until your back arches. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers against your lips, the words both a promise and a prayer. Not to God–He gave up on God a long time ago–this prayer is for you. It’s what he knows. It’s what he is. No matter the monster that threatens you, you’ll always have one of your own to bite back. You’ll always have him.

Strained, quieter yet, he says, “I swear.”

Or so help me, I’ll swallow the bullet myself.

“I know,” you say, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. There’s a blissful kind of sorrow in your expression, but so too is there understanding. He kisses you, closing his eyes against the dry burn of them. He’s not sure he’s even capable of tears anymore. He’s been worn down to the bone by sandstorms and bloodshed. Nothing goes untouched by the misery of the Wastes. No one goes through it unscathed.

What he does know is that he will do everything in his power to see that you’re never broken by it.

[lushrue]

141 + könig & graves as college professors (fem!reader) nsfw, mdni

cw: p-in-v sex, creampie, semi-public sex, power imbalance/unethical relationship, age gap (everyone's legal), oral (f!receiving), bondage, oral (m!receiving)

price teaches military strategy, a more theoretical and scientific look at war and battle tactics. he’s done the field work, he knows what it takes to physically carry out a mission. but he values the skill behind the planning a bit more than the execution. would definitely give real-world examples with missions he’s carried out with as much detail as he can provide. has classes outside some days. he tells his students it’s because the weather’s nice, but he really just wants to smoke.

he’s one to stare when you show up to class in a short skirt or low-cut top. he’s not shy about it, but he’s tactful, not letting his gaze settle for too long. won’t fuck you in his office, too nervous his colleagues would hear. so he comes to your dorm room sometimes when your roommate’s out, or he’ll take you to a hotel and treat you nice with room service and the whole deal. absolutely obsessed with the way his cum drips down your thighs, takes some pictures to jerk off to later.

ghost maybe teaches something like warfare tactics. something that would only be taught at a military college, something hands-on. he takes his job educating the next generation of soldiers seriously. insists that his course have both a lecture and lab section. he’s getting his students up at the ass-crack of dawn to run drills, even if they’re not currently serving. they wanted to know how to win a war, so he’ll show them.

kinda hard to convince, tbh. he’s fine pushing the bounds when it comes to rules of engagement, but this? still, when you prove yourself, when you beat out everyone else on the obstacle course, he jumps at the chance for some extra tutoring sessions with you. the fact that you look good in a sports bra and leggings is just a bonus. he’ll definitely fuck you in the gym bathroom after a training session. he’ll drag you into a stall and lock the door, hold you up if your legs are too tired from the workout he put you through.

soap teaches something not military-related, i think. maybe chemistry or physics with his demolitions background? very into demonstrations in his classes, likes to make shit blow up or fly across the room for the wow factor. he’s set the fire alarms off in the science lab more than once. definitely has a high score on rate my professor, one of the most sought after in the whole physical science department.

fucks you in the science lab. you’d come to him during office hours, cause the subjects he teaches have a really low pass rate. it’d start with actual homework help before devolving into heavy petting and kisses as a reward for correct answers. he’ll test your concentration, making you recite newton’s laws or the ratio of reactant to product. when you fumble, he’ll just chuckle and mumble something about how your head is too fuzzy for science. not too fuzzy for him to bully his cock into you, though.

gaz teaches something intro level. we’re talking “intro to military studies” or “intro to war and peace”. he’s really lenient on due dates, doesn’t have the really strict attitude that a lot of intro level professors have. he’s chill, one of those professors that does everything he can to work with you. won’t suffer a slacker, though. if you don’t do the work, don’t expect him to round your grade up at the end of the semester.

he won’t fuck you while you’re still enrolled in one of his classes. he knows himself, the temptation would be too strong if he had to see you for 55 minutes three times a week and couldn’t touch you. so he waits until the semester is over. but best believe he’s dragging you into some secluded corner of the building the minute you hand in your final. tells you about every single time he’s wanted to touch you, every time you’ve almost made him break his own rule. he makes it up to you, though, eating you out in the hallway and making you come on his tongue twice.

könig teaches german. falling a bit into the stereotype here, but i feel like this man has a really strong love of country. he’d definitely teach the culture alongside the language. he probably has an oktoberfest celebration for his students, lets the older ones drink beer if they want. he tells stories all the time about growing up in austria and will get sidetracked for a whole class just talking about life.

when he’s trying to seduce you, he’s a gentle giant. always cooing praises at you about how pretty you are, how well you’re taking to the language, that you’re a natural. but the moment you give in, he lets himself indulge. everything he’s ever wanted to act out, he does with you. if he’s stroked his thick cock to someone else doing it on his computer screen, he wants to try. it’s how you find yourself tied up in his bed, silk rope wrapped around your body as he fucks your throat. always dirty talks to you in german, giving you praise when you figure out what he’s saying.

graves teaches something niche, a class on terrorism in America or something like that. he gets really into it too. he’s known for being really animated in his lectures, gets really loud sometimes. other professors hate having a class in the lecture hall next to his. appreciates the students who stay after class to talk to him more in depth about his lectures. he knows the material can be dull sometimes, but he always has a few that are really passionate about what he teaches.

you’re one of those few. he’s embarrassed to admit that he falls for you, the way your eyes sparkle when he starts talking about some fringe terror group he helped to squash when he was serving. you always give him your rapt attention and he eats it up. takes you on dates to nice restaurants a few towns over so you won’t run into anyone either of you know. likes to fuck you over his desk after office hours are over. once, he shoved his boxers in your mouth and fucked you in the middle of the afternoon, when anyone could walk in. that time was your favorite.

[pitchsidestories]

cause you know I love the players and you love the game II Alexia Putellas x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1181

a/n: thank you anon for sending us this prompt, we hope you readers enjoy the short oneshot. ❤️

warnings: 18 + smut

It was in the middle of an important game for Barcelona, the last minutes of the second half were on and there was still no goal in sight until this moment.

Emotions ran high between fans and players alike when you’re fouled by an opposing defender in the penalty area.

For a moment the pain was overwhelming, you could feel your girlfriends worried gaze on you as you slowly got to your feet again.

Meanwhile the referee has pointed to the penalty kick, Alexia was readying herself to fulfil her captain duties, but you held her back with your less hurting arm. There was a fire in your stomach which gave you the belief that you’d be able to score.

“Amor, let me do the penalty kick.”,

“What? You?”, she raised her eyebrows surprised.

“Yes, come on move over, Ale.”, you told her unimpressed.

“No.”, Alexia shook her head determined.

“Alexia.”, you replied impatiently.

“You know what you’re doing?”, your girlfriend sighed.

“Of course I do.”, certainty shimmering through your words.

“Make sure you hit it with enough power. To the left, it’s the goalies weak side.”, the blonde advised you.

She knew you were unstoppable when you were in the mood you were in. Her trust was rewarded with you converting the penalty kick. Immediately your teammates gathered around for a group hug.

“Not bad.”, Alexia commented nonchalantly.

“Told you so.”, you grinned triumphantly at her as you started running next to each other, there was still a bit of time to play in the game.

During an injury break she whispered into your ear, her voice being raspy from the match sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I still hate being told what to do. Except in the bedroom but that’s a different story.”

“Oh, you do, huh? I’ll keep that in mind tonight.”, you answered in a teasingly tone.

“Girls, we’ve children on the pitch please keep that in mind.”, Marta intervened chuckling.

“I’m 18 now that means I’m an adult, Marta.”, Vicky protested.  

“How did you even hear this?”, Alexia asked the older teammate.

“That’s my secret.”, she winked conspiratorial.

“Anyways. We still have some more minutes to play.”, the blonde reminded everyone.

“Yes, let’s keep focused and not think about tonight.”, you agreed smiling when you noticed your girlfriend shudder at the hinting of later. Tonight sounded like a promise to her.

“Yes, come on, girls.”, she nervously redid her ponytail.

“What did you say to our capi?”, Ona wanted to know curiously after the final whistle.

“Oh, nothing just what we’ll have for dinner.”, you shrugged laughing.

“Alright. I understand.”, the younger defender exchanged a knowing look between you.

Alexia raised her eyebrows and echoed: “Dinner?“

You shrugged with an innocent smile: “Yes, you looked very hungry.“

“I am in fact.“, she winked, playing along.

“Don’t worry, we’ll satisfy your hunger later.“, you laughed and got back into position.

You watched Alexia bite down on her lower lip: “Can’t wait.“

Stifling a laugh, you tried to focus back on the game without thinking too hard about the flirty sound of Alexias voice.

For the first time, you couldn’t wait for the referee to finally blow her whistle and end the game.

Ever since your girlfriend started teasing you mid-game, you felt this pulling sensation in your lower half. Maybe Alexia wasn’t the only one that needed to satisfy a craving.

You walked the perimeter of the football pitch, applauding and thanking the fans for their support when all you wanted to do was go home.

Alexia caught up with you, finally done with signing jerseys and taking selfies.

“Ready to go home?“, you asked.

She nodded, tired but happy: “Very ready.“

“Bye, girls.“, you waved to your teammates who slowly got ready to leave the stadium as well.

Ona gave you a meaningful smile and plainly said: “Enjoy.“

“Thanks.“, you grinned at her before turning to your girlfriend. She was already busy waving to the crowds again. “Come on, Ale.“

“Coming. Goodbye, Mapi.“

“Bye, girls.“, the defender waved with the arm she didn’t have around Ingrid.

You have never been more grateful that Alexia only lived a few minutes away from the stadium. When you finally reached her doorstep, you let out a sigh: “Home.“

“Finally.“, your girlfriend agreed as she unlocked the door and let you go inside first.

You smirked, dropping your bag on the floor and slipped out of your shoes: “Someone’s impatient.“

She didn’t deny it. Instead she flung the door closed and bridged the gap between the two of you, pushing you up against the wall.

“I think I waited long enough.“, she murmured into your ear. Her breath was hot against your skin, her hands trying to find their way under your shirt.

You bit back a moan and gently pushed her away: “Go to the bedroom. I’ll be coming soon.“

The suggestive nature of the last sentence wasn’t lost on you.

Alexia obediently followed your instruction. She was already in her underwear when you rejoined her in her bedroom.

And she hadn’t gained any more patience. She continued where you had left off.

Putting her lips on yours, she pushed you backwards onto her bed with such force that you bounced on the mattress.

You laughed as she kneeled over you, her lips exploring your body, leaving sweet kisses all over your naked skin. Her hands cupped your breasts, drawing small circles with her thumbs.

Every touch filled you with more anticipation. You arched your back, making sure she didn’t take too much time, making sure she knew that you couldn’t wait any longer.

Finally, she moved her hand between your thighs. First, slowly rubbing before she slipped her long fingers inside, curling them extremely effectively.

It didn’t take long until you sighed in blissful relief.

You had gotten what you craved. About time to satisfy Alexias hunger next.

Unlike her you knew you’d take your time with her. First you let your gaze wander at the midfielder’s sight in front of you after you helped her slipping out of the sports bra. She was looking back at you with almost a bit of a shyness biting her lips. A slight blush was creeping on her high cheekbones.

“Don’t let me wait for too long.”, Alexia whispered as you made your way from kissing her mouth to the vein on to her neck to her collarbone, while she shivered pleasantly under your touches.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”, you asked innocently.

The blonde replied with an eyeroll which could only be read as are you serious you know the answer to it.

Despite her impatience you continued your trail of kisses through her body until you reached her pants which you took off in one move, it was already a bit wet.

Softly you parted her legs before you used your mouth to lick first slowly than faster till you heard her moan from pleasure.

The different story had unfolded right here in the bed sheets and you both wouldn’t have it any other way.