Prompt (Rainbow Dash)
>"Haha, you faggot can't even stand a hit from a girl! What you gonna do now, fuckboy? Cry?! Fucking nerd!"
 
"I'll let you know the next time a girl hits me, you rampaging dyke!"
>Dash bounces the soccer ball off your chest with all the strength she can put into a one armed throw
>"You want to say that to my face, dweeb?"
"Could you help me find it? You're put together like Escher took a drug-addled shit."
>Dash stabs a finger into your chest, her other hand balled up in a shaking fist
>"Who the hell is Escher? Your star buttplug?"
>You square up to try and emphasize some size difference
>There isn't much difference to emphasize
"Sorry, I forgot I'd need to partially drown myself before I could speak on a level you can grasp."
>Dash punches you hard in the hip, just missing your stomach
>"I can grasp a few ways to shut you the fuck up, egghead."
>You stumble back but maintain your footing in the end
>you snatch at her jacket to keep her in place until you catch your breath
>Luckily your diaphragm isn't mid-spasm and you can summon another retort
"Thanks for illustrating my point, you caveman bitch. You don't know what to do so you throw your arms around like a tard on sugar."
>Dash yanks back against your grasp on her jacket
>One of the seams audibly rips
>She pauses, looking down at her clothing, then looks up and grabs your shirt by the front pocket
>She yanks it downward, ripping the shirt clean down the center
>Your partially exposed chest is a bit cold
>And this was your favorite t-shirt
>You reach halfway back and give her an open hand slap across the cheek
>She grins and immediately throws a hard elbow into your shoulder, following up by stomping on one of your feet
>You snatch her wrist and yank it out of the way
>She puts your slapping hand into her vice-like grip and yanks it down
>You awkwardly jerk your un-stomped foot forward to bruise her shin
>She rams her forehead against yours, though with very little force given the precarious nature of your respective positions.
"..."
>"..."
>You pull toward each other and kiss, hard
>Your teeth click together briefly and you both ignore the pain
>The meat beneath your skin hurts all over
>Presumably where she hit you. You already can't remember specifics
>You pull her arm against your pants while your tongue invades her mouth
>Her tongue responds, the two of you locking in a new sort of muscular battle
>She palms clumsily at your crotch a few times before grunting into your mouth
>You release her wrist and she takes a vicious handful of your dick and balls, through the pants
>You bare with it by grabbing the greatest possible amount of her left asscheek, pulling it away from its friend and massaging it in circles through her bike shorts
>She fumbles with your pants until her hand is inside, finding more direct contact with your dick
>Hard as a fucking towel rack
>Your own fingers snake into her shorts to prod at whatever 'openings' they can find
>She still hasn't let go of your other arm
>You still haven't stopped polishing each other's teeth
>She starts up her regular dry-tugging hand job
>You come across a trickle of moisture down what you can reach of her inner thigh
>You follow the wet trail to the honey hole and start panning for gold
>She finally releases your other hand to push your faces apart
>You don't step apart, still working each others love equipment
>a bridge of spittle links the pair of you at the lips
>She's breathing heavily as she stares you down, angry eyes dancing in place as she searches for words
>You beat her to it
"Could you...spit on it...or something?"
>Shit, you're out of breath too
"I'm getting a rug burn from your gorilla hands."
>She grits her teeth and growls through them
>"Guess I was a little distracted by your awkward fucking reach around. Are you dialing a phone? Do it from the front, you idiot."
>You readjust your handhold on her while she pulls your shorts back and unceremoniously spits into them
>You're almost disgusted by the action
>but then she looks up at you, through her bangs while she does the deed
>You nearly jettison your care package in her face
>And your own, considering the proximity
>To stave off the urge, you wriggle two fingers into her
>From the fucking front this time. Whiny bitch
>She dives back into tugging on your shaft, seemingly pleased with her nasty spit job
>The two of you press your foreheads together and trade glares while you work
>Panting the whole time
>You hear a distant gasp of shock and briefly recall that you're both standing on a fucking public soccer field
>A little groan from Dash effectively erases the outside world once more
>You're getting close
>She is too. You know the look
>She yanks down the front of her shorts and you yank down the front of your own
>She bends you in the direction of her exposed sex and doubles-down on the jerk sesh
>You scrape her insides with two fingers like you're shaping a wet clay vase (because there's no imagery more arousing)
>You grunt in unison
>You fire off, load closing the short distance between you and landing squarely in her shorts
>The pair of you drink air through open mouths, resting your heads against one another
>Your respective waistbands snap closed, your mouths following suit more slowly
>What were you fighting about?
 
---Some time later---
 
"Are you embarrassed at all?"
>Dash raises an eyebrow at you while she adjusts her shirt and dusts off her shorts
"I mean, you came almost immediately. I thought you were tough shit with stamina for days."
>She shows you a casual middle finger as you zip your own shorts up
>"I was thinking about Twilight. Her dick is bigger than yours."
>You roll your eyes
"I don't see you crawling back to HER every day."
>"Who the hell do you see crawling? I could take you or leave you faggot."
>The pair of you walk... or limp, side-by-side off the field and head for home
"I bet you'd like to take me, he-bitch."
>"Like you wouldn't totally dig my awesome dick in your butt."
"So you admit to the dick?"
>"You tell me, fingers."
>You carry on like that, the sun setting on the horizon ahead of you