warnings: Use of Y/N, mention and use of a feminine reader and feminine body parts; although anyone and everyone can read if you ignore those. all characters portrayed in my fanfics are always 18 years old and up. Alex being treated like a bucking horse, cowgirl, some slight swearing, descriptions of sexual sounds and bodily fluids, some manhandling from Alex, creampie, slight clit playing(?). Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings!
synopsis: You go for a ride with Alex !!
whispers from the author: Γεια σας όμορφοι άγγελοι !! ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ thank you SO SO much for 221 followers (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ Omb .ᐟ can you feel me squeezing you? (づ> v <)づ♡ This is my first time writing for Alex Walter and the wonderful characters of MLWTB, so please pardon if he seems a little off at first. I’m sorry this is so short, and quite a quick read… I haven’t had much motivation to do writing but since watching the new season - and rewatching the old one - of My Life With The Walter Boys, I’ve had a little bit of inspiration. So, please enjoy! And please pardon any mistakes I might’ve missed.
word count: 2.3k
Even when you bite your swollen lip to try and conceal your squeals and moans, switching to kissing the life out of Alex — ‘accidentally’ biting his lip when his tip batters a certain spot — when he struggles to conceal his own noises: the faint creaking of your mattress and harsh sound of filthy squelching paired with an even harsher thwack! thwack! thwack! thwack! from your hips slamming down onto his, chasing yet another high, as his cock hits that gooey, tender spot inside you that has your entire body twitching and craving more of him, the obscene sounds still blanket your entire room; anyone who walks past your room would know what’s happening behind your door.
And let’s also not forget the heavy breathing, your babbling speech that flirts with being incoherent every-now-and then, and the heavy smell of your raw, passionate, and unable to get enough of each other fucking that has accumulated from the lack of a window being opened.
Plus, with the knowledge that no one has seen Alex outside training on Murphy, or taking care of the other horses in the stables, or following you around the house. Nor has anyone seen you helping around with what and who you can, or filling the kitchen with the addicting smell of your delicious baked goods that everyone steals still fresh off the trays, or really in any of your usual places. The next thing they’d check for both of you is: your room or Alex’s room. Thankfully everyone is currently busy and out of the house.
Alex’s grip on your hips is iron and warm, the rough feel of his palms on your soft skin and his needy moans only drives you to ride him harder; occasionally grinding your clit against the rough texture of his pubes. The ache in your legs burns intensely, but you can’t find it in you to care even a little bit. It feels too good to stop; plus, you don’t think Alex would let you now. Brows caved in on themselves, sweat on his forehead, lean chest, that is covered in the colour of your favourite lipstick, heaving up and down, mouth open slightly to let his noises out just for you, those delectable lips of his swollen from fiercely kissing each other and from you biting them — his face is the picture of pure pleasure.
“Alex,” you whine breathlessly, wincing at the small cramp in your leg but otherwise ignoring it, “m..more..”
Alex stares up at you, gazing at you in all your shining, and albeit sweaty, beautiful glory, the sight of his black cowboy hat on your head, shifting slightly when you bounce a little harder on him. The sultry look in your heated gaze only fuels him more. He can’t help but breathe out a weak laugh, head digging into your pillow, “you want more?”
You nod your head furiously and tilt it to the side, “I can… handle it…” you gasp before breathing out, “…handle you.”
“Yeah?” He groans, loving the sound of your cocky challenge,
“Yeah, you can.. try n’buck me off.. if you can..” Your grin makes him kiss his teeth, his own cocky smirk, faltering a little when your juicy walls grip him tighter, growing on his face. You lean down, hips now grinding on him, lips brushing against his but now quite kissing him, grin widening when he grows a little frustrated when he can’t kiss you, “c’mon, cowboy,” you take his bottom lip between your teeth gently before releasing it and sitting up straight to gaze down at him, “give me your worst… I wanna go for a ride.”
Alex swallows, face flushing an adorable colour before he shifts his hips and plants his feet firmly behind you, his knees and thighs acting as the back of a throne for you, his lap being the seat. His hands grip your hips tighter, preparing himself to take you for a ride; the cheeky smile, playful look in his eyes and the tensing of his abdomen and core — it makes butterflies explode in your stomach in anticipation.
Just like how he holds onto those bucking horses with one hand: you place one hand on his toned peck and use your other hand to hold onto his hat — you want the full experience, and keeping the hat on is a part of it, right?
As you lift your hips up to begin bouncing on him again: Alex suddenly bucks his hips up and you’re unable to stop the surprised, high-pitched moan that he draws out of you. Your grip on Alex’s hat tightens in surprise. “Oh..!” You squeal, adding a breathless, “Alex!” Your mattress squeaks under the sudden onslaught; a few springs have definitely broken.
Using his strength, he slams you down to meet his thrusts, disturbing your own steady rhythm and forcing it to merge with his erratic, desperate one. His bulging biceps, and veins that crawl up his forearms, would otherwise have you biting your lip — but you’re unable to do that.
Alex’s groans kiss the line of falling into growls as you grind on him and meet his thrusts. Your mouth hangs open, freely sharing the noises you would’ve normally had to keep hidden with him; this only fuels the desire between both of you. Oh, how he wishes to flip you over — but you want a ride, so he’s going to give you one.
Your thighs burn and your calves threaten to cramp with how much you’re trying to keep yourself steady and actually stay on him. The filthy squelching sound from your juices mixing with his, creating a ring around the base of his cock that pathetically clings to your soaked entrance when you’re lifted up, only spurs both of you on. His abdomen is soaked and your inner thighs are sticky, which creates a soft shlk! shlk! shlk! every time you lift up off of him.
Even with your clit throbbing from the lack of attention: you’re unable to do much about the ache. It’s terribly annoying, but his hammering hips take your mind off of it and replace those thoughts with nothing but mush and pleasure.
One particular buck from him has you falling forward, this causes your other hand to abandon its hold on his hat, and instead keep you steady by joining your other hand on his chest. With some of your weight lessened on his hips: Alex speeds up his thrusts, eyes burning into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open. He grins cheekily, absolutely loving your expression. Alex’s eyes trail down to your breasts, silently wishing he was in a sitting position so they’d be touching his face — not juggling over him, taunting him with what he can’t currently touch.
“Alex!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you suck in your bottom lip to bite it before a pleasure filled cry forces your mouth open again, “oh..! Oh!” You gasp, the pitch in your moans rising with each thrust, “there! r-right there!” Tears kiss the corners of your eyes the further the pleasure builds up inside of you; it’s a hot, addictive feeling that has your hips grinding in an unrhymic manner, so desperate for the release you’re both so eager for.
In your pleasure filled, mushy mind: you manage to faintly make out the front door being opened and the boisterous voices of Alex’s brothers and cousins returning. Your heart skips a beat, anticipation and fear of being caught swirls around inside of you. You lean down so your lips are right beside his ear and softly groan, “h..hurry..!” Your lips kiss the dewy skin of his jawline and neck, gently nibbling every so often.
“Shit..” Now fuelled with the possibility of potentially being caught and possibly being put on a ban of being alone with you until you both move out: Alex decides to let you win the challenge and flip you over, kissing you to conceal your surprised squeal and quickly shoving his hat onto the floor when it pops off your head, and resumes his thrusts; making sure he really hits all of your juicy, gooey spots that have you seeing stars on his ceiling.
Your legs tighten around his hip and the kiss turns bruising in an attempt to keep both of your verbal noises down. You can’t really do anything about the sounds your pussy makes as he’s sucked back into your warm, quivering walls like a sailor answering the enchanting call of a siren.
Alex leans to the side slightly, putting all of his weight on his left forearm, and the fingers of his right hand finds your pulsing, crying clit. He greedily takes your cries of pleasure for himself, grunting when the odd one slips out into the room; the kiss is so needy, so bruising and harsh. The air that is exhaled out of both of your noses is a rough little kiss on its own. You can hear some one the boys running upstairs and going in their rooms, hearing their conversations amongst each other.
Your nails drag themselves down the soft, warm flesh of his back, digging in when the pressure worsens and the knot tightens. Alex groans against your mouth, his fingers really zoning on your clit so much so that your hips try to bucking his hand away - yet the pleasure makes you also grind against him.
“Alex!” Your heart drops when George shouts for Alex at the bottom of the stairs,
“Please…” you whimper, “cum f’me, Alex, c’mon,” you don’t want to be caught and supervised when alone with him.
“Fuck,” he moans breathlessly, “okay..m’..m’cumming..” his thrusts turning sloppy as he reaches his climax with hus cock buried deep inside of you, filling you up. Your legs tighten around his hips to keep them flush against your own, nails creating more multiple crescent moon shaped indents on his back; your own orgasm follows shortly after his courtesy to his magic finger movements.
Alex offers some weak, sloppy thrusts to ride out both of your highs before coming to a complete stop. His right forearm returns to the side of your head to help keep what weight of his he can off of you, but your nails trail from his marked, red back, and play with the hair at the base of his neck to help ease him into the temptation of giving you his weight. The grounding warmth of his body and heavy breathing completely takes over all of your senses, leaving you with nothing but… just him, all over you; your legs twitch from the pleasure and comedown of your orgasm.
His swollen, wet lips kiss your shoulder and neck gently, making you hum in happy contentment. Your fingers thread through his hair, playing with it and massaging his scalp. You can feel his smile on your skin, “that feels nice,” he mumbles.
You answer him with a loving kiss to his cheek, squeezing him.
A knock on your door makes your heart skip a beat and Alex tense up, “…Y/n?” Cole. At least he’s actually knocking now, and not just opening your door and then knocking on it.
You snort softly at the memory. Alex was so angry with him. You were in the middle of getting ready for bed, and you were completely topless when Cole had suddenly opened your bedroom door. The shock of seeing him, and him seeing you… you hadn’t meant to scream, really, you didn’t — but it just came out before you could stop it. Cole had slammed the door shut and was apologising profusely for it; it was funny seeing Cole Walter all red and flushed.
You remember hearing Alex’s angry tone, Katherine and George telling Cole off for just suddenly opening your door — a girls door — without knocking, and the other boys adding their two pence in. Some laughed, others were just as shocked as you.
Cole wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the evening, and Alex wouldn’t stop glaring at his brother.
“Why’re you laughing?” Alex whispers,
“The door.” Everyone knows the incident as ‘the door’, so when you say this: his hold on you tightens and his body shifts on you. He’s not amused.
“Not funny.” He grumbles.
You just giggle and press another kiss into his skin.
“Is Alex in there with you?” Cole keeps his tone low but high enough so you can hear it, “if… if he is I’ll uh, cover for you.” How sweet of him. Perhaps this is him wanting to forefill the massive favour he owes you — you’d forgave him, told him it wasn’t necessary, Alex piped up and said it was, but he wasn’t having it — and cover for you. And in extension: Alex.
You sigh, you’ve been rumbled. But thankfully, only by Cole. “Yeah…” you admit, “he’s with me.”
Cole is quiet for a moment, “okay, I’ll come up with something.”
“Thank you.” Your face flushes, you’ve never been so grateful for the ‘no snitching’ rule they all have with each other.
Cole walks away and you can hear him going downstairs. Alex turns to you so you can see his face, “I knew I’d win.” You giggle, and he playfully frowns, “I said I could handle it.”
“I let you win.”
“Nope,” your head shakes softly, “I win. You couldn’t buck me off.”
“Not true.”
“Very true —“ Alex kisses you, silencing your victory. He rests his forehead against yours, the expression on his face warms your heart. His eyes scream his love for you. You let the silence blanket both of you, basking in each other.
“I did win.“ you whisper, stifling a giggle by biting your lip.
i dont know what kind of crack theyre putting in these teen dramas with ungodly amounts of cheating but i am so addicted to all of them. like theyre so bad but theyre so entertaining. i have stayed up so many nights because i cannot stop watching. help. me.
jackie howard is grieving her whole family while DROWNING in small town, cowboy football testosterone and i’m supposed to worry about who she is or isn’t kissing? put that girl on a flight to an all girls boarding school and get her a therapist oml
hello queen your texts with cole were so good if you ever get back into fics could you do angst with cole like maybe she gets injured somehow and turns into hurt/comfort
ALSO an angsty text wouldn’t be bad at all 😏
it’s always you
pairings: cole walter x reader
a/n: i’m backkkkkkk ;)
(lowercase intended)
- - - -
i told myself i was fine.
after cole and i argued, the last thing i wanted was to look weak in front of him. so when i twisted my ankle going down the stairs—stupid, careless, too caught up in my own head—I bit down on my lip, got up, and pretended nothing happened.
if i could just make it to my room, no one would ever know.
i was in the kitchen, trying to grab my water bottle without drawing attention, when i heard his voice behind me.
“thought you were avoiding me.”
i froze, shoulders stiff. i hadn’t even heard him come in. turning slowly, i tried to play it cool. “just thirsty.”
he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, that stupid cocky grin tugging at his lips. but the grin faltered when he saw me shift my weight.
“why are you walking like that?”
“like what?” i asked, a little too fast.
“like you’re trying to hide something,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. then, before i could react, he stepped closer.
i tried to back away, but my ankle gave out and i stumbled, catching myself against the counter. cole’s hands were instantly there, gripping my arms to steady me. his whole expression changed in an instant.
“y/n.” his voice dropped low, worried. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing,” i muttered, heat rushing to my face. “just—i tripped earlier. it’s not a big deal.”
“not a big deal?” he repeated, like he couldn’t believe me. his gaze dropped to my ankle, already swollen and bruised-looking. he swore under his breath. “why didn’t you tell anyone? why didn’t you tell me?”
i stared at the floor, throat tightening. “we were fighting. i didn’t think you’d want to deal with me.”
silence. then i heard him let out this sharp laugh—frustrated, not amused.
“deal with you? y/n, i was literally about to go out with the guys. but you think i’d rather be anywhere else if you’re hurt?”
the words hit harder than i expected, and suddenly my eyes burned. “i just didn’t want to be a burden.”
“you’re never a burden.” his voice was rough, like it cost him something to say it.
and then he was kneeling in front of me, carefully lifting my foot onto a chair.
“this looks bad,” he muttered, glancing up at me. “you should’ve told me the second it happened.”
i swallowed hard. “i didn’t think you’d care.”
he went still, staring at me like i’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. then he shook his head, brushing his thumb lightly against my skin.
“you don’t get it, do you?” he whispered. “i’d drop anything for you. fight or no fight. you come first.”
i sat there, not knowing what to say. sure me and cole had our arguments, but god he always knew how to reassure me afterwards.
“c’mon,” he said, slipping an arm around my waist. “you’re not walking on this.”
“cole, i can walk—”
“don’t care.” he cut me off, firm. “not letting you make it worse.”
i wanted to argue, but the truth was, leaning against him felt… safe. like i didn’t have to pretend anymore. so i stayed quiet as he half-carried me upstairs.
he set me down on the bed before disappearing for a second, coming back with an ice pack and a glass of water.
“here.” he pressed the water into my hands. “drink. and don’t give me that look.”
i raised an eyebrow. “what look?”
“the one where you’re trying to convince me you’re fine when you’re obviously not.”
i couldn’t help it—I laughed, a tiny, broken sound. “guess you know me too well.”
he knelt in front of me again, pressing the ice pack carefully against my ankle. i hissed at the cold, and instantly his eyes flicked up to mine.
“sorry,” he said softly. “i’ll hold it. you just relax.”
and he did—he sat there, one hand steadying the ice pack, the other resting gently on my leg like he needed the contact just as much as i did.
after a long pause, i whispered, “i didn’t tell you because… i didn’t want you to think i needed you.”
his head snapped up. “what?”
“you already think i’m—clingy. or too much. and we’d just fought, so i thought if i said something, you’d roll your eyes and go hang out with your friends instead.” my throat felt tight. “i didn’t want to give you another reason to leave.”
cole’s jaw clenched. he looked like he wanted to argue, but then he just shook his head, leaning his forehead against my knee for a second.
“you really think that little of me?” his voice was quiet, almost raw. “y/n, i was already on my way out the door, yeah. but the second i saw you—none of that mattered. it’s you. it’s always you.”
i blinked hard, trying to stop the tears. “you mean that?”
he looked up at me, eyes burning with something i couldn’t quite name. “i’ve never meant anything more.”
and then his hand found mine. he stayed like that—on the floor, ice pack in one hand, my hand in the other—like he had nowhere else he’d rather be.
for the first time since i fell, the pain in my ankle didn’t feel like the only thing consuming me.
Where’s the trophy? He just comes running straight over to me
Pairing: isaac garcia x fem!reader (cheerleader reader)
Summary: In which you and isaac have been dating for a while and everytime he wins in football he sprints right over to you
Warnings: none
dating isaac is…good. despite the fact that every single girl in school wanted to be you (which honestly isn’t as great as it seems,Constant whispers in the hallways, stolen glances, and the subtle—but persistent—jealousy made it clear that being “the girl dating Isaac” was far from simple.)
you met when he started football, you’d known his cousins thanks to cheerleading events and weekend games, so seeing him wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. He’d flirted with you, you’d known pretended to be above it all pretended to be annoyed but you liked him. He was sweet and pretty and said all the right things.
He started popping up everywhere you were, always pretending it was a coincidence. At first, it was little things—catching your eye in the cafeteria, sitting a few rows behind you in class, showing up at practices with a grin that made your stomach twist. Then it got bolder. Texts in the middle of the night with terrible jokes that somehow made you laugh, “accidental” encounters at your favorite coffee spot, even dropping by cheerleading practice under the guise of “supporting the squad.” You couldn’t deny it: he made you feel noticed in a way no one else ever had.
It didn’t take long for you to start dating—people kind of expected it. I mean, come on: Cole Walter’s little cousin following in his football footsteps and the head cheerleader? It was ridiculous how out-of-a-movie it seemed. Everyone whispered, speculated, and took bets on when it would finally happen, but somehow, that only made it feel more inevitable.
The first time you two were officially ‘together’ it was almost anticlimactic—at least on the surface. No dramatic confessions in the hallway, no banners or cheers. Just a kiss under the bleachers and a teasing comment: “You wanna tell me you’re not into me one more time before I kiss you again?”
You rolled your eyes, pretending to scoff, but your heart was doing somersaults. “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, nudging him with your shoulder, though your lips betrayed you with a small, shy smile.
After that, you’d been living on a pink cloud, floating through each day with a secret smile you couldn’t—or didn’t want to—hide. Isaac made sure of it. He passed you notes in every shared class, little scraps of paper filled with messy handwriting and simple words that somehow made your heart leap: “You look pretty” or “Wanna come over after school?”
It wasn’t just the notes. He did everything in his power to be close to you, all day, every day. He’d brush past your desk “by accident,” lean over to whisper something that only you could hear, or find excuses to sit near you in the cafeteria. Even in the hallways, where the world seemed to be watching, he found ways to make you feel like you were the only person in the crowd.
Like with football games, every time the team won, the boys would pile on top of each other, shouting and laughing, caught up in the chaos of victory. The stadium roared around them, the air buzzing with excitement—but Isaac didn’t get lost in it. The second the celebration started, he wove through the throng of teammates, ignoring the high-fives and backslaps, and went straight over to you.
Tonight, he was nervous. The team had all been drug tested earlier in the week, and the results had just come back—Dylan, the quarterback, hadn’t passed. That meant Isaac now had to step in and play the position, suddenly carrying the weight of the game on his shoulders.
Usually so confident, so calm, he seemed smaller somehow, like the pressure of the moment had made the stadium feel ten times larger. Before the game started, he walked over to you, pulling his helmet off his head.
“You ready to cheer me on?” he asked teasingly, his voice carrying that familiar mix of bravado and nerves—the same one he’d had when he asked you to the movies that first time.
You smiled, leaning slightly against the railing. “Well, I only cheer for people that win,” you teased.
Isaac tilted his head, a mock-offended grin spreading across his face. “You’re saying you don’t think we’re gonna win?” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “And this is the person that calls herself my girlfriend? Harsh.”
“You’ll do great,” you said, cupping his cheeks with both hands before pressing your lips to his.
Isaac’s grin widened, eyes sparkling. “Now that’s more like it,” he said, his voice low and teasing, though the nervous tension from before had eased a little. He leaned into your touch for a heartbeat longer, drawing strength from the simplicity of the moment before the game swallowed him whole.
With a final squeeze of your hands and a teasing wink, he straightened, lifted his helmet, and jogged back toward the field
The game was going well—or at least, that’s what it seemed like. Honestly, you didn’t know much about football at all, but you could tell the energy on the field had changed. The crowd was on their feet, cheering louder with every play, and Isaac kept appearing just where he needed to be, moving with a mix of precision and raw determination that made your chest tighten.
Every time he threw the ball or dodged a tackle, your heart leapt, and you found yourself jumping to your feet, waving your pom-poms like you actually knew what was going on. You couldn’t help it—just seeing him out there, handling the pressure, made it impossible to stay calm.
The ball was snapped and, for a split second, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Isaac had it in his hands, eyes scanning the field, the weight of the entire stadium pressing down on him. The opposing team charged forward, their defense tighter than it had been all night, but instead of panicking, he tucked the ball close and bolted.
You weren’t even sure what was supposed to happen—wasn’t he supposed to throw it?—but the way he ran made your breath catch. He weaved through players like he’d been born to do it, juking left, cutting right, his strides long and sure. Every time you thought someone would take him down, he slipped just out of reach, adrenaline fueling every step.
The crowd was screaming, a wall of noise you could barely process, but all you could see was him—Isaac, helmet glinting under the stadium lights, determination written in every line of his body. And then, with one final burst of speed, he crossed into the end zone, ball still clutched tight in his arms.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted. His teammates swarmed him, shouting, leaping, pounding his back in triumph, but his eyes searched the sidelines until they found you. His grin was wide, breathless, pure joy.
He sprinted towards where you stood, not even slowing down as he reached the sidelines. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground as if you weighed nothing. You let out a surprised laugh, your pom-poms falling to the dirt as he spun you once before pulling you in.
When his lips pressed into yours, it was harsh and breathless, filled with adrenaline and victory, the kind of kiss that made the whole stadium blur into background noise. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, his hands steady even though his entire body buzzed with energy.
From the field, a chorus of “ooohs” and wolf whistles rang out, his teammates howling like they’d just scored twice—once for the touchdown, and once for the public display of affection.
Isaac broke away just long enough to grin at you, cheeks flushed, eyes wild with triumph. “Told you I’d win,” he said, voice cocky but still rough with exertion. “Don’t get a big head now” you tease
He pressed one more quick kiss to your forehead before jogging back to his team, who were still jeering and clapping him on the back.
summary: you help your tense boyfriend pre football game and he takes a little something to bring him luck.
word count: 2.1k
warnings: cole is eighteen in this!!, smut, p in v, semi public?, pantie stealing, unprotected sex, pre-established relationship, some of the dialogue might be a little cringe, whiny/ditzy reader, clearly i have no idea how american football works
notes: I haven't written smut in soooo long and I think I should go back to not
masterlist
divider credit: @muerdida
The cold wire of the fence pressed into you as you leaned against it, eyes searching the crowd of football players, coaches and cheerleaders on the field behind it, searching amongst the sea of teenagers and few adults for your boyfriend, Cole. No matter how hard you looked you couldn’t spot him anywhere. You hadn’t come together but instead you’d promised to find him before the game started. You were his lucky charm after all, even now that he was coaching and not playing.
He finds you before you find him, appearing behind you without you noticing. He grabs the end of your mini skirt, yanking it down just enough to cover you better. You flinch in surprise, though you know it’s Cole. You can smell his familiar cologne, recognise his familiar height looming over you. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his blonde hair pushed down by his cap, storm brewing behind his green eyes.
“Skirt’s a bit short.”, he mutters while pressing a kiss to your cheek, hands firmly planted on either side of your hips. He stays behind you, shielding you from view of everyone else.
He wasn’t wrong about your skirt being short, in fact it was probably one of your shortest. Cole wasn’t the type of guy to control what you wore but that didn’t mean he was pleased with you prancing around carelessly, leaving little to the imagination. It was only natural he got jealous of all the guys staring at your legs, protective when he’d spot an older man perving on you.
From the look on his face and the rough husk in his voice you could tell he was already in a bad mood. His hands knead your hips through the fabric of your skirt trying to soothe himself from whatever had gotten him in a bad mood.
“I thought you liked this skirt?”, you question with furrowed brows and a pout pulling at your lips. He’d complimented you every other time you’d worn it, though when was he not showering you in compliments?
Cole sighs, head nuzzling into the crook of your neck so he can place a kiss to the exposed skin there. “I do.”, he says, voice muffled by your skin. “You just need to stop bending in front of everyone, no one else is supposed to know the colour of your thong.”
At his words you grab at the back of your skirt, shuffling the fabric just further down your hips, not that it would do much. “They can’t see anything!”, your words come out in a defensive whine, heat rising to your face.
“Just about.”, he replies and you can feel the way his lips have twisted into a smirk. Despite how on edge he was he couldn’t help but wind you up a little. His mood soon shifts back, evident in the way his jaw is clenched. Tension rolls off him in waves, his eyes are no longer on you but instead staring off distantly onto the field.
“Did something happen? I can tell something's bothering you.”, you ask but you already have a feeling you know what it is from the way his gaze lingers on the team, the team he used to win touch down after touch on but is now forced to lead from the sidelines.
“Just stressed about coaching.”, he pauses, “It’s a lot of pressure.” He glances down at you noticing the worry etched into your features. His thumb finds the bare skin of your waist just above your skirt and below your top, drawing small circles as if to reassure you that he was fine.
Pressure was part of it, sure. But you weren’t dumb. You knew the fact he wasn’t actually out on the field playing was getting to him. Coaching wasn’t the same as playing, wins didn’t feel like wins when he was watching from the sidelines.
You hated seeing your boyfriend so troubled and if you could do anything to calm him down you would. “You still have some time before the game, right?”
You turn so you’re facing him, hands playing with the strings of his hoodie as you look up at him. Cole hums in response, intrigued with where you were going with this.
“Let me take away some of that stress.”, your voice lowers and his eyes darken even more than they already had.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”, he asks, head dipped closer to yours. The usual smirk had found its way back onto his face again and you knew he didn’t need any convincing. Your hand found his and you slipped past him, pulling him along with you as you beelined for the locker room.
The bathrooms designated for public use would be too risky, most likely never completely empty, so with all players on the field the locker room seemed the safest bet. But you’d be lying if you said the thrill didn’t excite you. A suspension or worse, however, not so much.
Nevertheless, the two of you make it into the building, hands all over one another as soon as you’re inside. Cole already has you up against the lockers, his body flush against yours, lips pressing hard into yours. Meanwhile you were pulling off his jacket. Neither wanting to waste the little time you had.
One of Cole’s large hands palms at your clothed breast, pushing against you like a starved man. His mouth moves down your neck, hot, wet kisses left in its wake.
The locker bathrooms is where you end up, Cole hoisting you up onto one of the sinks. Your skirt pushed up your hips, lace panties hanging off one ankle. His cap was lying somewhere on the floor along with your apparent self respect, sensibleness, and lacey bra.
Your top was rolled down, straps off your shoulders to reveal your bare tits that every now and then would get attention from Cole’s mouth, his lips locking around your nipple and tongue playing with the swollen bud.
His sweats and boxers were pushed down enough to let his thick cock push into you, pressing the basin counter harder into you with each manic thrust. He gripped your thighs while you gripped the corner of the counter and his shoulder. Your manicured nails dug into the flesh of his shoulder through his t-shirt that you desperately wanted off, only breaking the kiss so you could remove it.
The muffled noises filling the vacant bathroom were filthy. Moans and grunts muffled by teeth biting into lips, skin slapping skin, dirty wet noises of him relentlessly pounding into your pussy. Any thought of football had slipped the blond’s mind, his sole focus on you.
“Fuck- what would I do without you? Always know what I need.”, he grunts with a particularly hard thrust that has you scrambling to grasp the tiled wall behind you with one hand, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping each surface.
His name comes out of your mouth in a strangled moan, the back of your head hitting the mirror with a thud but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure pulsing through your body.
The cold lighting of the bathroom bounces off the walls, illuminating every contraction of his defined muscles as he moves, every bead of sweat rolling down his abs or his forehead. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs and hips, nails leaving crescent indents in the skin.
The noises leaving your lips seem to louden and despite Cole’s pleasure filled daze he has the sense to cover your mouth. He plants one hand over your mouth, still using the other to hold you in place. “S’okay, baby.”, he reassures, never slowing his movements.
Your body begins to shake as everything intensifies. Cole struggles not to come undone right then as you squeeze around him tighter than ever. His thrusts are losing their rhythm, becoming sloppy and inconsistent yet as frantic as ever, his own body shuddering against yours.
You cry out against his hand, eyes screwing shut as you succumb to your climax. At the same moment you hear the sirens go, voices over the speaker signaling the start of the game. Your boyfriend doesn’t even blink, he wasn’t leaving until he’d finished and had you cleaned up.
His breathing comes out in husky pants, brows knitted in concentration. You lean forward to wrap your arms over his shoulders as he ruts his hips a few more times before cumming inside you with a low groan of your name, the sound desperate and used. His head stays buried in the crook of your neck as his hips slow, the small juts eventually coming to a stop.
The two of you stay stuck to each other like that for a moment, catching your breaths and recovering from the intensity of the moment you shared.
Finally though Cole pulls away just enough to press a tender kiss to your flushed cheek. “You did so good, baby. So perfect.”
All you can do in the moment is nod dumbly, still perched on the sink when he steps away. He tucks himself back in his sweats and pulls on his shirt again, before he focuses on cleaning you up. Trying to move fast but still taking the time to care for you.
He wets some of the bathroom paper towels with the sink next to you, cleaning your inner thighs and anywhere else. He knows everyone, mainly the coach is probably wondering where he is right now but he doesn’t care.
You watch him from where you sit, clasping your bra back on after he passes it to you.
“I’ll be taking these.”, Cole says before you can process what he’s talking about he’s swiping your panties off your ankle and shoving them in his pocket, lace just barely poking out.
When you realise what he’s done you start pouting, not wanting to go without them. “Cole, give them back!”, you whine, hopping off the basin. You reach for his pocket but he swerves with a chuckle and shake of his head.
He tuts, “Need them, baby. They’re my lucky charm.”
You huff, barely concealing the roll of your eyes. Though despite your fuss, part of you felt a hint of satisfaction, pride. And if having your underwear in his pocket was what it took to ease your boyfriend's anxiety then so be it, he could keep them.
“Fine, keep them but you better make the team win.”, you relent, shuffling your skirt and top back into place. You use the mirror behind you to fix yourself back up, making your appearance as back to normal as you could.
“You all good, baby? I should get out there unless you need anything.”, he asks, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his expression. You couldn’t help but also feel like he was stalling.
You shake your head, ‘no’. “You’ll do amazing, I know you will.”, you reach up and press a quick kiss to his puffy lips, clearly swollen from previous kissing and you biting them. You pick his cap off the ground and place it back on his head making him smile.
“I’ll see you after the game, alright? Go get some water.”, he calls out as he starts making his way out of the bathroom. You then hear an ‘I love you’ as he exits the building and you can’t help but grin to yourself.
Once you feel presentable and no longer have beetroot red cheeks you make your way into the stands. Taking a seat next to your friends who are completely oblivious to what you’d just done. Though you’re sure if they took a closer look at you they’d be able to figure it out.
Meanwhile Cole has jogged to the field and over to coach who's been waiting for him, unsure if he’d ever turn up.
“Hey, coach.”, Cole greets as he stands beside the older man, now holding a similar clipboard to his superiors that he’d grabbed off the bench after greeting the benched players in a rush.
Coach looks Cole up and down, studying him. “Where have you been? Game started ten minutes ago.”
Cole swallows, slightly flustered at being called out. “Sorry, sir, had to do something first.”
“Don’t let it happen again. Won’t be able to win without you.” The older man doesn’t press, instead giving the blond a small smile before turning his focus back onto the game in front him. Cole does the same, though every now and then his hand wanders into his pocket, fingers brushing over the lace.
