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ladyveronikawrites · 2 months

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DOMINATE THE GAME

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent]

The National Women’s Soccer League Anti-Harassment Policy: This policy prohibits the use of coercion, force, intimidation, or Power Imbalance to pursue sexual contact or an intimate relationship of any sort.

The story includes: oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, mentions of contraceptives. If I missed anything please let me know💜

This is real person fiction; Fiction based on real people in fictitious situations.

A/N: Huge shout out to @nerdraging4point0 for helping me with this fic, holding my hand every step of the way as I venture into new waters. Coach Davis caused a bit of a frenzy in my server and well here we are. Also, check out her coach au, Underdog 🥎

word count: 2.5k

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It’s your third lap around the track and you see him talking with your coach on the sidelines. Coach Davis is back for his third week of observation. Whatever that means. He hasn’t said a single word to you or the other players. You barely remember his voice since he only whispers from the sidelines at your coach and has only addressed the team to introduce himself on the first day. Not even a “congratulations” when we won our last game last week.

Nothing.

You huff as you pass the pair slowing your pace just enough to roll your eyes at Coach Davis in his stupid sunglasses, boring varsity hoodie-from a rival college no less, and his fucking lame ass dad baseball cap.

“You’re going to regret that.” Suddenly the air expels from your lungs, leaving you wheezing and coughing. Easing your pace to a steady jog, you gather your breath as you close the distance between you and your best friend Kate.

“You ok? I saw you having a fit over there after you passed Coach Davis.” This time you fake a coughing fit to cover up the burning in your cheeks and the strange feeling in your stomach as his name rolls around in your brain like a terrible game of racquetball.

“Yeah, fine,” you say between forced coughs before ending your charade by clearing your throat and then spitting into the grass field beside you.

“Yeah, ok whatever you say,” your best friend rolls her eyes as you grin back at her. Just then, Coach Chris blows his whistle and you and Kate pick up the pace, joining the team at the benches. Folding your arms to match him, you narrow your eyes at the to-be-assistant coach.

“Coach Davis will be leading practice today as I have a club meeting right now. He will take good care of you, I have faith in him. Remember we have an away game Saturday morning, be at the field at 7 am for warm up before we commute.”

“Yes Coach,” we all respond in unison. Coach Chris nods at you knowingly, the captain of the team, before sauntering off the track.

“We are going to do things a little differently today,” his voice is low and soft as he scans over the team but you can feel his intense gaze land on yours through his tinted sunglasses. He speaks straight into your soul “You all have great potential, I want to see it. I want to feel it!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you wait for what comes next. Coach Davis drags the whistle from around his neck to press against his plump lips. Instantly, your mouth goes dry, and something strange stirs in your belly as you stare just a moment longer. You don’t hear the tinging of the whistle, lost in thought about what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

Transfixed, you don’t recognize the flurry of bodies surrounding you until you hear your name being screamed into your ear. “Hello!? Don’t make me repeat myself!” Coach Davis towers over you glaring, “Get out onto the field, now!” You bow your head slightly, balling your hands into fists as you swallow down the humiliation. Your stomach bubbles with rage and your shoulders tense. You've been playing soccer since you were 6 and this prick dares to tell you how to play.

“Yes, Coach,” you say through gritted teeth, jogging to Kate but she isn't in her usual spot. Fucking Bastard. He has us set up for the ‘Drill from Hell’ as we call it. We never do it with Coach Chris because it just doesn't work for our team.

“I see some concerned eyes and whispers. If you don't like the way I coach you can get the FUCK OFF MY FIELD!”

My Field. Your knuckles turn white as you grind your teeth. No one breathes. No one moves a muscle. The only sound is the high-pitched shrill of the whistle.

We run this drill three more times before Jessie faints, abruptly ending the practice. “She'll be fine. Sydney get her water and a protein bar.” Coach nonchalantly before stalking off the field.

What the fuck.

When you make your way to check on Jessie, she's alert and drinking water. “How are you?” You ask, looking between her and Sydney. Syd looks rattled and Jessie has some color back into her face.

“Yeah, I'll be ok. There was a party last night-”

“Alright, I get it,” you raise your hand cutting her off before giving Syd a sympathetic smile. When Jessie gets this way, Coach Chris just lets her sit out of practice. But this practice was far from normal. You follow Jess and Syd into the locker room to find it deserted. Figures Kate would bail.

Sighing, you open your locker to check your phone. You get a poor excuse from Kate as to why she abandoned you and as you sling your bag over your shoulder your phone chimes. Your jaw drops to the floor. It's Coach Davis, but in a tight white tank top and his short hair slicked back. He's covered in tattoos. Mother fuck.

<Kate: God, he's hot

I can't do this right now. You slam the locker shut and collapse against it. Groaning, you screw your eyes shut tight and pinch the bridge of your nose in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. You hope you never see Coach Davis again. Who died and made him God, like the fuck. Has he even coached a day in his life?

You push off the locker and say goodbye to Jessie and Syndey before heading out the door. Somehow you find yourself at Coach Chris' office just a few doors away from the locker room. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as your brain battles between running away and giving Coach Davis a mouthful, you are the captain of the team after all, and Coach Chris has supported you since day one.

“Coach I need to-” Your hasty demand dies instantly and your feet turn into cement when you spot Coach Davis doing push-ups in front of Coach Chris’ desk.

“99, 100!” Coach Davis grunts as he jumps up from the ground when he turns to face you, all of your pent-up tenacity and wit plummets to your stomach. “I knew you’d come,” Coach Davis smirks as he wipes himself off with a towel. His glistening muscles flex with every minute movement. How could something so simple be so arousing?

“I- uh,” your brain short circuits as you track his flexing back muscles when he turns to throw the used towel into the corner of the room. He leans back against the coach’s desk and crosses his legs at the ankles, folding his arms around his chest.

“Spit it out already,” he barks. You try to swallow down the words you know will get you in trouble, but the lump in your throat gets in the way. His annoyed gaze spikes your anxiety. It’s all too much- his deep voice and damp hair sticking to the side of his face….

Wait, is that a scar from a dermal piercing? Fuck me.

The words tumble from your parted lips before you can shove them away and bury the thoughts of a pierced and tatted Coach Davis.

“Fuck me-” Before the last syllable echoes through the silent room, your eyes go wide and your hands instantly cover your mouth as you begin to retreat. Your eyes go wide when your back hits the wall with a thud. Your shoulders tense and breathing shallows as you wait for your harsh discipline. His features stay neutral except for a small curl of his pouty lip. Did he just smile?

“I’msosorrycoach-” you stammer out an apology when he pushes himself from the desk. Your heartbeat skyrockets as he takes a step closer to you. “I should go.”

Your cheeks flame red as you turn to leave. Your hand is just about to make contact with the doorknob when you find yourself being harshly spun around. Slamming to a solid chest, all of the air expels from your lungs, leaving you stunned and breathless. He doesn’t give you time to adjust your stance before pushing you against the wall, leaning over to lock the door and close the blinds before caging you in his toned tattooed arms.

“Come on now, where’s the fight?” Your blood boils as a smug smirk spreads across his face. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He sneers, flashing his canines right in your face.

I want to wipe that smug smile off of his face, your thoughts turn dark. You know he is your superior and you’d lose your scholarship in an instant if someone found out. But there’s something about this moment, it’s exhilarating and you think he wants it too.

Coach Davis leans in to inhale your scent before stepping back. You force your expression neutral as he casually cracks his neck before clearing his throat. “Let’s try this again,” he huffs. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He all but screams in your face.

“Yes, Coach.” Your usual confidence springs back into your voice as you stare intensely back at him. If he wants to play, then game fucking on.

“Then lead!” His voice booms loud in your ears as he closes the distance. You suck in a breath as he leans down at nips at your earlobe.

“Lead. Me.” He bites out through clenched teeth.

Lead me. He wants me to do what?!

Then it hits you like a freight train; him- his pheromones mixed with a bite of bergamot that is softened by vanilla. When you take another breath to calm your mind, your system is bombarded by him. The ache between your thighs is answer enough.

“Don’t make me-”

“Kiss me!” Before you have a chance to take it back and ruminate on the consequences of your actions, large hands clasp around your face in a vice grip as full lips crash into yours. At first, your body tenses to his touch, but when he moans into your open mouth, you melt like putty in his hands. It’s all tongue and teeth as you both fight for air, fight for dominance- and this time you aren’t giving up so easily. You shove him in the chest breaking your heated kiss and you laugh at his shocked expression.

“Fiesty little on-”

“Pants off. Now,” you demand.

In an instant, his pants and boxers are pooling at his ankles, his hard cock springing to life. Goddamn, he’s covered in tattoos. Your pussy flutters around nothing as you bite down on your lip hard, tasting copper.

“I wanna hear you,” you say cooly as you sink onto your knees. You spit on your hands before wrapping them around the base of his shaft, jerking him a few times. Peering up at him through your thick lashes you add, “I wanna feel you come undone.”

Coach Davis groans as you take him in your mouth. You dig your nails into his thick thigh muscles earning a hiss and a curse as you take him deeper until you gag. Wrapping your hands around the rest of him, you hollow your cheeks sucking him harder. Bobbing your head up and down, he curses your name. You know he’s close so you double your efforts. Suddenly, pain shoots through your scalp as fingers grip your hair pulling you off him.

“As much…” Coach Davis pants. “I want you to keep going, I-” Coach Davis grips the back of your neck pulling you up to him. He latches his lips to yours, all-consuming. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you snake your hands under his shirt, using your fingernails to claw at his back.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips. Coach Davis leans back to drag his hands over the desk knocking papers and folders to the ground before gripping you by the hips and hoisting you onto the edge of the desk. You squeal when your feet lift from the ground but it instantly melts into a moan when he spreads your legs apart and slides your panties to the slide before shoving a slender finger inside your slick walls.

“That all you got Coach?!… oh fuck!” he sinks another finger in without warning. He finger fucks you until your legs start to tremble and then he pulls out.

“I’m on the pill!” you blurt out as you watch him line up his red angry cock against your entrance. “I’m clean too, I just got tested last week.” You don’t know why you tell him this as your heart pounds in your chest. Maybe it’s to help calm your nerves or to urge him on. His eyes turn dark at your confession.

“Good. Girl.” He punctuates each word with a shove of his thick member.

The little support your propped-up elbows give out almost instantly as he drills into rough and relentless. You lay back and shut your eyes, giving into the sensations as the coil in your core winds up tighter. A loud groan rumbles from your throat and suddenly a hand clamps over your lips.

“Only quiet girls get to come, got it?” Your breathing becomes labored but you manage to move your head slightly in understanding.

Coach Davis grips your hips tighter, skin slapping, bringing you closer to the edge when he hits the spongy sweet spot. Instantly, your fingernails find purchase on his tattoos forearms.

“Oh my god, you’re close, aren’t you…God you feel so good… come on, let go and co-”

All of a sudden the doorknob giggles. “Fuck,” Coach Davis curses under his breath as he pulls out of you. “Under the desk, quick.” You dive under the desk just as his footsteps cross the room.

“Coach Cerulli,” there’s a rasp in Coach Davis’ voice when he answers the door.

“I was ju-” There’s a pause when Coach Chris clears his throat. “Never mind, I’ll…uh come back later.”

“What do yo-” is the last thing you hear before the door shuts, leaving you alone in Coach Chris’ office.

A few heartbeats pass and you muster the courage to leave. You stroll from Coach Chris's office, looking both ways down the hall to ensure you aren't caught. Walking down the hall with a stupid grin on your face you stop in your tracks when a pair of angry voices carries to your ears, echoing off the walls of the empty hall.

“I’m not stupid, Davis, your ruffled clothes, the papers on the floor… for fucks sake.” Coach Chris's voice is stern and loud. “You need to end this now before it gets out of control.” You hear the shuffling of feet and incoherent grumbles.

“What did you say?” Coach Davis asks.

Chris sighs, “There was this player on a softball team I coached..” his voice trembles a little bit. You cover your mouth turning on your heel quickly to head down the opposite hall.

Back at your off-campus apartment, you scroll through your texts to find that Kate will be out late despite an early game tomorrow. Relief floods your system as you plop down on your bed, knowing you won’t be faced with an unwanted interrogation. You are about to put your phone on dnd for the night when a text from an unknown number pops up. Your stomach tightens, he got the note you left in the mess of papers on the floor… but what if it’s not Coach Davis?

<Since I got you nice and warmed up, ready for practice?

Coach Davis?>

<Of course, my good girl

How can I be sure?>

<Would Coach Cerulli send you this?

Your mouth drops to the floor at the picture, the size of him. Arousal heats your core as the memory of him and your unfinished business.

Fuck it.

Yes, Coach, I’m ready for practice.>

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