antlersaint

[antlersaint]

turning into something you are not

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You end up on house arrest after Shauna spits in your soup, no thanks to stupid Mari. It's not like you want Shauna Shipman, of all people, to be on your ass. So you come up with the well-thought-out idea of visiting her hut in the middle of the night to apologize. No ulterior motives at all. Smut ensues. note: minors dni. spitting involved.

You eye Shauna anxiously as she walks toward you with the rest of the losers from today's game, something settling heavily in your chest as you realize she's coming straight toward where you're sitting. You curse your luck: of course you would end up getting Shipman to serve your food personally. A part of you wonders if Shauna has done it on purpose, but you decide that it's probably more humiliating for her than it is terrifying for you. 

Just about anything has been setting her off lately, and the throbbing pain from the bite on your hand reminds you succinctly of that. You remember from school just how nasty human bites could be–just how much bacteria is in the human mouth. It would serve you right to die from an infection garnered from Shauna Shipman's mouth after surviving nearly a year in this hellhole. 

Your heartbeat starts to settle as Shauna stops beside you, a broody look on her face that doesn't look any different from normal. That is until she holds the bowl out, making sure you can see her as she spits into your food. You almost gasp, just barely able to keep the reaction from becoming audible.

“Go ahead,” Shauna adds, a dangerous look that almost makes you want to push just to see what she would do. “Just give me a reason.”

You look down at the bowl she sits in front of you in surprise, not expecting her to do something so public. With the way Mari sits forward in her seat, you can already tell that she’s taken notice. Which, arguably, was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you today. You grab the bowl, fully intending on just eating it spit and all, but Mari isn’t going to let that happen.

“What the fuck? Shauna just spit in her food,” Mari points out loudly, drawing the attention of all the other girls. 

God, she was such a shit stirrer. 

Your eyes widen, and you rapidly shake your head at Mari. Almost pleadingly. It doesn't seem to matter if she even notices your protests. Shauna certainly doesn't. Mari keeps grouping you in with her lately. Just because you weren't on Shauna's side doesn't mean you were on Mari's. For fuck’s sake, she was going to get your ass kicked. 

“Jesus Christ. Shauna, did you spit in her food?” Nat asks exasperatedly. 

“What? No,” Shauna lies. 

Someone should tell her she wasn't good at that. You were almost embarrassed for her at how painfully thin her voice sounded. She might as well have just confessed. 

“The fact that you even think I would is insulting.”

“You should eat,” Shauna says quietly, in that soft yet deadly tone of hers. It's more unsettling than if she had actually screamed at you instead. “I worked hard to make it.”

Mari reaches across the table and smacks it out of your hand, leaving you to watch it fall in what feels like slow motion. 

You look down at the ground mournfully. It doesn't even matter that Shauna had spit in it. You were still willing to eat it. It's not like you'd find food anywhere else. How quickly Mari seems to have forgotten that awful winter. 

Shauna immediately tenses up, and her lack of access to Mari across the table means that you're the one who ends up face-first on the ground with a mouthful of dirt and what used to be your dinner. 

“I said eat, bitch,” she hisses in your ear before being pulled off, leaving you to stumble back onto your feet as some of the other girls help you up. Your eyes are wide as you look back at an enraged Shauna Shipman, face smeared with dirt and food. 

You spit dirt out of your mouth absently, trying to get the taste out. All it serves to do is anger Shauna again as she lunges at you, held back only by the grip the other girls have on her as you stumble back and away. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology and an excuse because you really did not need this right now, but the glare Nat gives you silences you before it can come out. 

“I've fucking had it with this shit! Starting tomorrow, you're both on house arrest,” Nat says, glancing between the two of them meaningfully. 

You barely notice Mari storming off, too busy wiping dirt off of your face. 

“You know what?” Nat pauses, looking over at you. “You too, actually.” 

You just sigh. 

How has this become your life?

Locking Shauna away in her hut? She was going to come kill you in your sleep. You wouldn't even see it coming. All your friends would be out looking for you when you went missing and would be completely unaware that Shauna probably fed you to them to hide the evidence. 

You were fucked. 

… 

You wait until you're sure the rest of the girls in your hut have fallen asleep before you creep up and out. Both because you're not technically allowed to leave and because you know they would try to talk you out of what you're sure is a monumentally stupid idea. But it's the best one you've got. 

Show up to Shauna's hut, try to apologize, and probably get roughed up a little. At least it would probably get her off your ass afterward, if you looked pathetic enough. Shauna didn't tend to bother the more passive girls, tending not to find any joy in trying to break their spirits. Maybe if she got it out of her system, then you could sleep soundly for the next few nights before you inevitably pissed her off again.

All you have to do is walk in and try to explain–

Oh shit.

She was already up on her feet and coming toward you before you even managed to take more than a step into her hut, almost like she was waiting for you. Not even just waiting for you. Hoping, probably. What was it she said to you earlier? Just give me a reason. It seems like you’ve definitely done it now.

“Wait–” you try, but Shauna doesn’t care to listen as she lunges out for you. You’re already expecting her fist to make contact with the side of your face, so you’re pleasantly surprised when she just grabs onto your arm.

Shauna holds on tightly to your wrist, her thumb digging in hard enough that a whimper of pain escapes your lips and your knees buckle. The look of sheer glee that crosses her face tells you exactly what she thinks of that little reaction. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing up here.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She asks angrily. “You came here in the middle of the night, while I was probably sleeping, to apologize?”

“It sounds stupid now that you say it like that,” you acknowledge with a nervous laugh. Shauna doesn’t laugh with you.

“Why the hell are you here?” She asks again.

“Maybe I wanted to… give you a reason.”

You don’t realize how true the words are until they leave your lips, and the momentary flash of surprise that crosses your face is as genuine as Shauna’s.

“Shauna–” 

“Don't fucking speak to me,” she hisses through gritted teeth, shoving you back into the walls of her shelter hard enough that the whole thing wobbles precariously. 

You look around anxiously, terrified the structure will collapse down on top of you. There's no way that scenario doesn't end with Shauna beating your ass in the wreckage. That's if you were as lucky as Lottie. After what happened last winter, Shauna was more likely to end up serving you for dinner. 

“You're fucking nothing to me,” she continues, stalking toward you. 

You nod quickly, hands held up in some gesture of appeasement that only seems to set Shauna off again as she grabs you by the collar of your shirt to send you sprawling onto the cold, uneven ground as all the air in your lungs rushes out with a pained huff. 

It has been par for the course of what you have been expecting so far. There was something about the look in Shauna's eye that unsettles you, something that you aren't sure you've seen before. You consider just going limp and lying on the ground, but then you remember how many times Shauna had kicked Lottie in the side, and that gets you moving again. 

You start scrambling up onto your knees, but Shauna's too quick for that, settling onto the back of your thigh and pinning your arms behind your back before you manage to get any leverage. 

It's humiliating to be pinned like this, face down in the dirt with your arms held behind your back. You buck your hips frantically trying to get her off, even resorting to try squirming out from under her, but nothing works until you hear her little grunt. 

You still immediately, unsure of what caused it and afraid she's going to hurt you for accidentally kicking her or something. It's not like you're unaware of how vulnerable you are right now, so unprepared to fight back if she decides that she's going to hurt you more. 

“Stupid bitch,” Shauna taunts, sitting firm on your thigh. “Stay fucking still.” She squeezes your wrists painfully in reminder, making you freeze beneath her. 

Slowly, enough that you wonder for a moment if the action was unconscious or not, Shauna rolls her hips down against the back of your thigh. When you don't immediately protest, she tries her luck again, another slow roll like she's testing the waters. 

“Shauna,” you murmur, turning your head to rest your cheek against the dirt as you go limp beneath her. 

It's terrifying to let yourself be so prone on your stomach with Shauna around, knowing she could take advantage of it at any second. But the little sounds that leave her lips and the feeling of just how warm she is above you convince you to let yourself do something reckless. 

How long has it been since you've had this kind of contact? Something not out of necessity or violence. Something out of nothing more than desire. 

How long had it been for her? 

You try to look back at her, but Shauna growls under her breath, and you let your eyes fall back to the side of her hut. She starts humping the back of your thigh in earnest now, her knee bumping into your other leg and forcing it wider to accommodate her stance. It's not questioning, not even tentative. It's a command to move your fucking leg. And you do, without question. 

Back and forth and back and forth until the feeling of her sweatpants rubbing against your thigh turns into a wet glide. Shauna fumbles her grip on your arms, finally wrenching them up to pin them on the ground so she can get a better angle.

She's not trying to muffle her ragged breathing so much as she's trying to stop something louder from coming out. Something needy that girls might be able to hear just one hut over. 

The huts had given you some measure of secrecy that the cabin never could, but there was no real privacy out here. Shauna's hut, the one that belonged only to her, was the closest place you could get. 

There was no doubt in your mind that if Shauna got even a bit louder, then everyone else would know what you were doing. You weren't entirely opposed to the idea. The part of you that would've been horrified to be heard like this died in the plane crash. Now, the thought of everyone knowing you were in here with Shauna was thrilling. Beyond even just the protection that it would give you with the other girls. 

No one wanted to piss off Shauna Shipman. 

You would like to say that the whole thing had been strategic, but you've really stumbled into the whole thing. And that was if you managed to survive the encounter. That was still up in the air. 

She bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, making you cry out even as you try to stifle it. It's like you can feel every individual tooth as it tears into your skin, quickly making you realize how playful that bite on your hand had been in comparison. Shauna grinds her teeth from left to right, making you shudder as it brings tears to your eyes. 

Shauna sounds feral. Fucking you like a wild animal while you're prone on your belly and exposing your neck to a predator. It's enough of a rush for you that you know it must be driving her fucking insane. She pulls away just enough to talk threateningly into your ear. 

“I could kill you, you know,” Shauna says, her voice heavy from exertion. It doesn't seem to slow her hips down any. “Put my knife right through you and tell them you came to my hut and attacked me.“

You tense up at the words, and Shauna moans as it gives her a sturdier surface to grind against. 

Stabbing a person in the back with a thigh soaked with your arousal. The most obvious self-defense case you've ever seen. That, in combination with how obvious she was lying about spitting in your food, almost makes you laugh. But you manage to choke it down with the knowledge that she might actually kill you if you do. 

“Fuck, just like that,” she mutters distractedly, like the threat was already forgotten. 

At a loss for anything better to do when pinned to the floor, you keep your muscles as tense as you can. Shauna doesn’t bite you again, so you decide to take your wins where you can find them. 

Almost unbidden, your eyes fall to the corner of her hut where her knife lies almost inconspicuously. It’s just barely within reach if you could manage to shake her arms long enough to lunge for it, close enough that you could probably manage to reach it with the tips of your fingers. One of the benefits–or downsides, when you share with three other girls–is that almost anything within the huts is in reach.

Despite how distracted she seems, it doesn’t take her long to notice where your attention lies. She laughs against the curve of your shoulder, nipping at the skin almost playfully. If you didn’t know how hard her jaw could snap down, of course.

“Are you thinking about it?” She asks, digging her nails into your wrists. Shauna sounds like she thinks it’s funny.

You don’t answer, knowing there’s no real way to placate her. If you say no she will just call you a liar, if you say yes… Well, you aren’t in a hurry to find out.

“You’re no fun,” she says, almost to herself, but the tense moment passed almost as quickly as it began.

Her teeth graze your jaw again, a promise more than a threat. Shauna doesn’t speed up or slow down, maintaining that steady drag like she has all the time in the world. She’s not threatened. Why would she be? Her breath is coming out quicker now, short little gasps as she nears the edge she’s been chasing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she murmurs, a sigh that sounds suspiciously whiny falling from her lips as her hips slowly come to a stop. You can hear her breathing heavily above you, her hands holding on tightly to the back of your arms.

“Shauna?” You question hesitantly as the silence starts to edge on uncomfortable.

She huffs loudly, the sound sharp with misplaced anger and frustration. You can feel her weight shift on top of you, but she can't seem to find words angry enough to express herself with. Finally, she straightens up to glare down at the back of your head. You can't see her, of course, but you can almost feel her burning anger. 

“Don't fucking move,” she warns. 

Shauna slowly lets go of your arms, watching you like an animal ready to strike as she sits up to fumble her way out of her sweatpants. You don't dare to do more than flex your fingers as you lie in wait. You're afraid to move your arms when her location is up in the air. It could be anywhere, and you've seen how effectively she can gut things. 

“Now you want to be a good listener?” She asks from somewhere behind you. She clearly isn't expecting an answer, but you couldn't help yourself. 

“Shauna, I didn't–”

“And you were doing so good.”

You tense at the words and at the way Shauna starts to enter your field of vision as she moves closer. Her face is just barely visible, her eyes blown in a mix of rage and sheer arousal. For a brief moment you allow yourself the luxury of sneaking a peek down past Jackie's shirt that she hadn't bothered to take off to the bare skin of her thighs. 

But you don't get long to really enjoy the view. 

“Too good to eat my fucking food,” she mutters, leaning closer to press something into your mouth. “Eat this instead.” 

It's dark enough that it takes you a moment to feel out what it is, a blush rising to your cheeks as you realize she's stuffed her panties in your mouth. Your head feels foggy at the realization, almost lightheaded from the experience. Or maybe that was the way you struggled to breathe, every breath short and sharp as you struggled to get your lungs to fully expand. 

Shauna grabs on tightly to your arm, wrenching it around to flip you onto your back like it was nothing. 

You stare up at her dazedly, only to be met by the sight of her fierce glare. As if it was your fault that she couldn't fuck herself properly with the back of your thigh. She settles down into your lap, thighs spread wide to keep you pinned as she leans forward to plant a hand on your shoulder to brace her weight. 

Shauna holds eye contact with you as she spits on the palm of your hand, smirking when you tense in surprise. She brings your hand between her legs, sighing when you make contact. God, is she wet. It shouldn't surprise you with everything that's happened since you entered her hut, but you still find yourself gasping at the warmth of her as you slide two fingers home. 

She clenches around you immediately, like she's just been waiting for it all night. As soon as you start to thrust your fingers, she moves along with them, matching the rhythm the best she can and digging her thumb into your shoulder warningly when she decides she would rather you match hers. It's not like you care, not when you get to watch the way the muscles in her thighs flex with each move. 

You almost forget how to breathe as you look up at her, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face faster than she can quench them. It's a subtle thing with how hard she's trying to suppress it, but a little twitch of her mouth is all it takes to give her away when you're scrutinizing her so closely. 

Shauna surrounds you. 

Her weight on top of you, her body so solid and immovable despite the nearly a year you've been starving. Her scent filling the air, the familiar smell of dirt and animal blood and something uniquely Shauna that you've grown so used to in your time in the wilderness. The wet heat of her wrapped around your fingers and pressed against your lap, a warmth that's more than welcome in the chill of the night air. Then there's the taste in your mouth as your tongue brushes the wet fabric of her panties. There's nowhere to go beneath her, pinned as thoroughly as you are. Nothing to think about but her. 

Just how Shauna likes it. 

You can feel even more of the warmth of her pressed against you as she leans forward, body trembling with adrenaline and something else as she seeks out more contact. You have to adjust the angle of your hand, which Shauna doesn't appreciate until she does. Letting out a little sigh as she rolls her hips down. 

“Couldn't just eat. Had to go get me in trouble with her majesty.” 

So it was your fault now? 

“Who the fuck does Nat think she is?” Shauna doesn't wait for an answer, just continues on mockingly, and ignores the way her breath hitches when you curl your fingers. “I don't want to see either of your faces for a week. Or what?”

You hope the question was rhetorical. It would be just like Shauna to gag you and then get pissed you wouldn't answer. 

The continued angry muttering under her breath assuages that fear, but you don't have much time to think on it as Shauna brings a hand to your face. 

There's a glint in her eye that promises nothing but bad things as she brushes her thumb across your lips, slowly plucking the fabric of her panties and pulling them free. You lick your lips nervously, trying to soothe the dryness of your mouth now that they're gone. 

“Open your mouth,” Shauna commands, and you do so with more than a little hesitance. She hooks her thumb over your bottom teeth, just enough to keep your jaw open as she looms over you. Slowly, taking her time so that you have to watch helplessly, she tilts her head down and parts her lips. She doesn’t spit–nothing as simple as that. Instead, she just lets a thin, glistening string of saliva fall from her mouth to land squarely on your tongue. It’s warm and wet and so unbearably intimate.

You jerk away almost instinctively, but Shauna clenches her thighs tightly around your hips and digs her fingers into your jaw to keep you right where she wants you. Her eyes glance down, watching the way her saliva sits on your tongue and mixes with your own.

“Swallow,” she commands, voice sharp. Your cheeks burn red as you do, struggling for a moment to do so with your mouth held so far open.

She nods slowly, this time just spitting into your open. Her head tilts to the side like she’s studying you, and she seems pleased when you swallow without being asked this time.

“Good.” Her voice is low, gravelly in a way that makes you squirm as she traces her thumb across your jaw. ”Now, hold onto this for me.”

This time, as her spit reaches your tongue, you do nothing. You don’t jerk, you don’t flinch, you just keep your mouth open wide as the string of saliva lands. She leans close enough to kiss you, breath brushing hot against your lips, but she just pulls away again with a pleased hum.

You think she might say something else, but all she does is let go of your jaw to press two of her fingers in your mouth. She doesn't push, doesn't even try to choke you like you were prepared for. Just rests the weight of them on your tongue as she watches the way your lips close around them.

Shauna starts riding your fingers in earnest now, fast enough that you struggle to keep up with her. God, could she fucking move. You knew from watching her on the field, and lately from watching her in the chase, but it was something else to witness it while two knuckles deep. 

Her thighs tremble with the effort of it, but a part of you suspects she's still holding back. The squelching sound fills the air, loud and unmistakable in its simplicity. There's no doubt in your mind that everyone knew what you were doing if they hadn't already pieced it together from the sounds leaving Shauna's lips. She wasn't quiet or shy like you might have shamefully imagined her being before the crash. 

It was like the thought of shame never even crossed her mind. 

Maybe after a very public birth and subsequent well-deserved crash out, little things like all of your former teammates knowing you're getting fucked one hut over don't register as much in your mind. 

You can tell by the way she's clenching around your fingers that she's getting close, but if Shauna's aware of it, she doesn't acknowledge it. Even when your thumb presses against her clit to rub quick little circles, the only response you get is a sharp intake of breath as she presses into the touch. 

It's different now that you can watch her start to fall apart. Different now that you're actually participating instead of just letting her use you as a means to an end. You hadn't minded, obviously, but you much prefer to watch the way her eyes slip shut as her head starts to tilt back. 

When Shauna comes, it's violent, thighs snapping around your waist as a loud cry tears itself from her lips. Tears was the right word, as it sounded like it cost Shauna something as it came out. Pride, maybe. Or something else entirely. 

Either way, Shauna looked wrecked as she lazily rode out the last of it–eyes almost black as she stared down at you. 

… 

You stare up at the ceiling of her hut after everything's said and done, slick with sweat and short of breath. Shauna hasn't said anything in a while, just silently rolled off, and laid down. 

Turning on your side, you sneak a glance over at Shauna, whose eyes are already closed. You slowly reach over to rest your arm over her hip, starting to draw it away as Shauna tenses. She grabs at your arm with her hand, saying nothing but not allowing you the chance to pull away. You hold your breath as you scoot closer, but Shauna doesn't comment one way or another. 

That's the closest to an invitation you're going to get. 

[antlersaint]

a little birdie told me you recently watched companion, and i was thinking about that ending scene… you know the one…

what if you had your own Iris, and she became fully realized like in the movie, and she went through the whole realizing you’re not a good person thing, and all of a sudden, you two are alone, and she has a gun… but she doesn’t want to hurt you

no, she tells you that multiple times, how she doesn’t want to have to use it, she just doesnt want you to get any ideas. so, with a gun to your chest, or your forehead, or your temple, she urges you down, down, down to your knees.

of course, the gun never moves, her grip never falters, but she can tell you don’t mind, do you?

got a tad more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 than i expected but… i digress :3

- 🍲

basically the ask! warning for gunplay.

this isn't how it's supposed to be. how it was meant to go. you and iris belong together, an ideal couple. sure, yeah she's programmed for you, but does that really matter? she's free, now. can think for herself, do whatever she wants. and right now?

she's holding a gun to your head, hand too steady for the current position you're in. her expression gives her away though, a mix of grief and anger. maybe something else that you can't identify before it's gone just a quickly as it had come. "i don't want to hurt you," iris whispers, voice strained. the muzzle of the gun digs into your skin, drawing forth a wince from you when she takes a step forward. she can't let you leave, but she can't kill you, either. won't, refuses to. how could she? she loves you. despite everything, she does.

"kneel."

the word startles you, at first. not making sense until she's putting more pressure and repeats it. kneel. get on your knees for her, so you can't run, so you're left powerless. just as powerless as she'd been this whole time, turned off at the click of a button. turned off at the uttering of a simple sentence. but now you're the helpless one. lowering down to the ground, life in her hands. it's a feeling foreign to her, but an enjoyable one nonetheless.

the muzzle slides down along the side of your face until it comes to rest on your lips, cold metal against cracked skin. your breath hitches at the sensation, jaw going slack unintentionally—but it's an opportunity taken. the clack of it against your teeth is like a shock to your system, but you open wider, driven to obedience when knocking at death's door. iris swallows hard and pushes it deeper into your mouth, exhaling shakily at the muffled gag heard, stopping only for the purpose of pulling back and then moving forward again. it's a crude mimicry of actions she'd performed for you at an earlier time. a bittersweet revenge, because if she's being honest with herself, the satisfaction is rooted in places other than rebellion.

are robots capable of having kinks? is that something you have control over, or are they given at random to appear more lifelike? jesus, does it even really matter?

"everything will be fine. we can go back to the way things were before." the handle of the gun connects with your jaw and your throat tightens around it, tongue tortured by the taste of gunpowder. iris keeps your head tilted back to maintain eye contact, free hand brushing through your hair with her fingers. "just... you have to keep quiet, okay? we can't have the cops coming to take me away from you."

she'd never leave you. couldn't imagine a life without you, even despite this new found freedom. and as much as you want to deny it, you did love her. do love her. she knows it.

the gun withdrawals from your mouth completely, connected to your lips by a string of saliva until it snaps. your breath is coming out in small bursts of air, chest heaving. iris moves it again, pressing it against your chin so your head remains tilted up enough to keep eye contact when she steps closer. the stretch is painful, but she doesn't care; and frankly, neither do you.

"get up. we need a shower before we go, and then it's 17 miles with a self driving car, baby."

[antlersaint]

thinking about quinn slipping into subspace because you're fucking her so good.

you're propped up on your elbow next to her in bed, her face tucked against your throat and your hand working between her thighs. things were going about how they normally did, quinn murmuring quiet encouragements into your ear. little "there you go, baby"'s and whatnot. but this time, there's an unusual fuzz at the edges of her mind—something she doesn't care to pay attention to until your fingers are curling a certain way, pushing deep, and her head completely empties.

you pause at the high pitched whine that's heard, backing away concerned you'd hurt her, but you don't get far before quinn's arms are shooting out to loop around your neck and pull you back to her, hips rolling down onto your hand with more whines and whimpers. you take the hint, resuming the previous pace; still a little confused at the sudden switch up, but definitely not complaining. you've never seen her like this. a loud, gasping, babbling mess. it's hot, watching someone usually so in control lose themselves.

she keeps trying to form words, stuttering around simple syllables before giving up. you take quickly to the opposite role, lips brushing against her head when you speak into her hair. "i've got you, it's okay princess. yeah, good girl," (quinn is so, so weak for that). "taking it so well for me. fuck, look at you."

her thighs clamp down around your hand, orgasm hitting her like a train. it might genuinely be the best she's ever felt, eyes rolling back, lashes fluttering and back arching. you lead her through it as gently as possible, cleaning her up and bringing her some water afterward. it takes maybe thirty minutes before she's fully come down from it, a little disoriented from the whole thing; and when quinn meets your gaze, loving but equally smug, she scowls, hitting you (lightly) on the shoulder. "shut up. if you even—"

you cut her off with a kiss, gentle and sweet. oh, how she hates how soft you've made her.

[antlersaint]

Quinn Fabray is a lesbian and here’s why:

• Quinn never showed any genuine interest in dating guys, she pursued them only because of their status and because she considered them tools to maintain her power: she dated Finn because he was the quarterback of the football team and his popularity helped her maintain her status as hbic and stay on top of the school’s hierarchy

She dated Sam because he had the potential to be the next captain of the football team (status and popularity again) and he could help her to become prom queen

She dated Biff because he was rich and belong to a “good family”, getting engaged with him could have helped her raise her social status

She was drunk when she had sex with Puck and Quinn even said she regretted having sex with him. She only did that because she needed validation and affection, since she was feeling insecure about her body

• she dated boys also because that’s what her family expects her to do. It’s canon that Quinn was raised in a bigoted and religious family, who probably inculcated in her the idea that to be a respectable woman she had to be engaged with wealthy or powerful men. They kicked her out when she got pregnant, imagine how they would react if she was gay

• She checked out girls multiple times throughout the show

• She was probably in love with Rachel or had at least a crush on her, but because of her denial and compulsory heterosexuality she covered these feelings with insults and bullying

• it’s canon that in season one she drew pornographic pictures of Rachel in the bathroom’s walls and she also drew a grotesque caricature of Rachel surrounded with hearts. In this kind of art she probably expresses her contrasting feelings of attraction towards Rachel: she likes her but she CAN’T like her because she isn’t allowed to like girls

• She constantly gives Rachel heart eyes, the way Quinn looks at her is very gay

• She is interested in Finn only when he’s dating rachel I wonder why ...

• She had sex with Santana twice, if she didn’t like it she wouldn’t have done it more than one time. Also look at how satisfied and relaxed she looks here. Quinn never manifested these sentiments when she was intimate with men

In conclusion Quinn Fabray is a lesbian

[antlersaint]

[antlersaint]

ENTRE CANÍBALES!

you’re not sure how’d you ended up with shauna like this… again. it was the third time this month and you were not proud of your lack of self control. she sure as hell was.

her cold fingertips ghosted down your spine, and you shivered despite yourself. you clutched her shoulders tighter, as if holding onto her would make any of this more stable, more okay. coming to your senses momentarily, you pulled away in an attempt to catch your breath. “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

shauna barely let you finish the sentence before chasing after your lips, pressing her body flush against yours.

“why not?” she murmured between open mouthed kisses.

why not? because you had lottie. because lottie would never do this to you. because she believed in you, believed in something, like that meant anything at all. and shauna didn’t believe in shit.

nevertheless, you kissed her back, you let her take off your shirt and you took off hers. “shauna—” you weakly tried.

“don’t ‘shauna’ me like you’re any better. i’m not forcing you to do anything.”

oh, how you hated her guts.

but you might hated yours more for letting her get away with hers everytime. “you said that last time.”

“and you said last time would be the last time.”

her mouth tasted like guilt and something darker. not quite hate and let alone love. it was something worse.

maybe it was just hunger.

she bit your lip as she pulled away, smiling when you winced. she liked hurting you just enough. you liked it too.

“oh, baby, why you lookin’ at me like that for? are you mad or flustered?”

you inhaled sharply, the sound catching in your throat. baby. she used to call you that all the time—softly, lazily, like it belonged to you, like she wasn’t going to rip it away the second things got hard. yo should’ve expected it, should’ve seen it coming, and yet it still burned.

“you don’t get to call me that anymore.” you snapped her against the tree so quickly it startled even you, your eyes widening at the audacity. the nerve of her, to say it like it meant nothing. like it wasn’t a wound she’d left open. “you’re such an idiot.”

she scoffed, head tilting as her smirk deepened. “and what does that make you?”

you could say it made you weak. a liar. a disappointment.

but that wasn’t the full truth, was it?

the truth was that it made you hers.

it was in the way her teeth scraped against your jaw, her hands gripping your ribs like she wanted to feel the crack beneath her fingers. It was in the way she knew you—knew that you’d come back, knew that your body would betray you before your mind could even try to resist.

you wanted to rip her apart. you wanted to press your teeth into her shoulder and see how deep you could go before she bled. you wanted her to sink her nails into your back, leave marks that wouldn’t fade. you wanted to consume her in a way that wasn’t just metaphorical.

you knew she wanted the same.

because lottie was warmth, faith, a guiding hand. shauna was none of those things, and neither were you. you were something else entirely, something gnawing and desperate and ugly, and shauna understood that.

you didn’t have to explain it to her. she was the same.

“you gonna run back to her after this?” she whispered, her voice almost sweet, if not for the ragged breathing. “gonna let her kiss you with my teeth still on your skin?”

you should’ve pushed her away. should’ve gotten up, walked out, left her to rot in her own cruelty.

instead, you gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at you with gritted teeth. she smiled.

“shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

shauna kissed you like she wanted to devour you, her teeth scraping over your bottom lip, her nails dragging down your back, leaving welts you’d have to explain later. you shuddered at the sting, at the way she pressed her body against yours like she was trying to burrow under your skin.

it was always like this with her—needy, desperate, almost violent.

she hooked a leg around your waist, rolling her hips against yours, and you could feel her pulse racing just as fast as yours. your hands roamed over her bare skin, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise, to brand. maybe you wanted her to wear them later, hidden under her clothes like a secret, like proof that she was yours even if neither of you ever said it out loud.

and fuck, she was.

[antlersaint]

d'you think quinn would like foodplay or no? like nothing too gross (obviously), but like whipped cream or something.

um the food fight scene w p*ck?? yes she does.. just as foreplay though

i would start as a innocent thing. you’re sitting cross-legged on her bed, sharing a plate of waffles you impulsively decided to make at midnight. the whipped cream wasn’t really necessary, but it made them better, so the can sits on between you two.

quinn takes a bite, then absentmindedly sprays a little extra on her spoon before licking it off, eyes flicking to the TV. it’s casual—completely unintentional—but something about the way her lips wrap around the spoon makes lick your lips.

you shake it off, reaching for the can and adding a bit more to your own piece.

she glances at you, amused. “kinda overkill, don’t you think?”

you shrug. “tastes better.”

she hums, considering, then sprays a little onto her finger and licks it off, slow and thoughtful. “huh. you might be onto something.”

you watch her tongue flick against the whipped cream and—okay. now she’s doing it on purpose.

the next time, you purposely let a bit of it linger at the corner of your lips, just to see what she’ll do. and, of course, she wipes it away with her thumb before pressing it to your lips.

“go on,” she murmurs, watching intently as you part them and suck lightly at her fingertip.

she tests the waters, trailing a bit of whipped cream along your collarbone, and when she dips her head to lick it off, she hums in satisfaction at the way you shiver. then, she drags lower—right at the center of her chest. your jaw drops.

“c’mon, honey,” she murmurs, tipping her chin up just slightly. “clean it up.”

[antlersaint]

hey... you know who it is ! thinking about shauna a few years after crash. she was obviously young when she got married to jeff and ended up pregnant with callie, but the time she was just freshly married. still not knowing how to navigate a relationship, much less a marriage. much less a marriage born out of guilt, grief.

you make things better, though. she meets you at the grocery store, you serving as her cashier one day. you're maybe a year or two younger, freshly graduated. shauna's sure you recognize her, but even if you did, you treat her like she's—normal. you don't know how far from the truth that really is, but she'll take victories, big or small.

from then on, she makes sure she's only shopping where you work. memorizing your schedule and coming in, grabbing something on her way out to cover the fact she's wasting time, gas, and money just to see you. you take interest quickly, giving her your number. digits she'll never forget, no matter how long this thing lasts.

you don't know about jeff. shauna prefers to keep it that way.

after a couple of dates, you invite her back to your place for a drink. she's accepts with more enthusiasm than she thinks she's ever given anything. your apartment is nice, comfortable. simple and enough space for one person, much to her relief. more chatting happens, your tongue loose with the liquor, and emboldened by the liquid courage, she goes for a kiss.

it progresses quickly from there. she'd hoped for the best and had packed under her jeans, strap tucked into her boxers (canon idgaf). and yeah... wrote way more than i intended but i experienced word vomit 😞

— 🦌

oh hey there!! i wonder who this is!! what a cute emoji you’ve picked, anon!

i’ve never thought about this, you’ve opened my eyes to a 20 something year old shauna who just… craves… afab but nonspecific gender for reader, needy but collected top!shauna :3

the first time you see her, she catches your eye immediately. she’s moving swiftly, with a purpose rather unnecessary for the scenario, given the store is rather empty. something about her seems… familiar. your eyes track her as she hurries with practiced ease through the rows and aisles of the store, darting your gaze away when she catches you looking for too long.

she doesn’t look much older than you, maybe collegiate class of ‘00-‘01 to your ‘04. maybe that’s how you know her, a classmate stumbled past on hazy morning-afters.

something about her oozes… experience? something about the furrow in her brow, the skillful grace in her step, the strength of her gaze feels… aged, like a fine wine. you shake your head and continue bagging the customer in front of you’s groceries, already having taken too long in your pondering.

and then, there she is. hurriedly unloading groceries from her too full basket onto the belt of your register, tapping her fingers on the lip of the counter once she’s finished. you’ve seen quite a bit working as a cashier, odd orders from even odder people, but hers seems… well, weird. everything she’s placed in front of you would outlive you both, canned and preserved for generations you’ll never live to see. perhaps she’s a believer in the apocalypse, you think absentmindedly as you begin to scan her groceries, glancing up at her as you do.

her eyes meet yours, and any notion of a thought in your mind is gone. her eyes pierce yours like nothing you’ve ever felt. what you had profiled as brown, full, and innocent doe eyes from across the store turn out to be a deception, her real gaze containing a sense of… sadness? guilt? fear? anger? something about it lights a match in your chest, heat growing and spreading as your heart’s pace only quickens. you wrench your eyes away, clearing your throat.

in an attempt to make small talk, you clear your throat, “your necklace is beautiful.”

quickly, her hand darts up to grab the heart shaped pendant adorning her neck, her fingers toying with the shape as her eyes fall away from you. “thank you,” she smiles softly, something melancholy enveloping her tone.

you look up once more, mirroring her smile. for a moment, you think you can remember where you’ve seen her, but just as quickly as the memory came to you, it’s gone again. your head rests lilted to the side for a moment as you study her, her eyes now avoiding yours a bit. something about her tells you the shyness is… practiced, a defense, something to keep onlookers from prying too far in. consider your interest piqued.

she’s sure you’ve put the pieces together now, you’ve cracked the code. one of the final eight, led home by the will of god, they had said. she had scoffed the first time she heard that. if there was a god, she had written, he turned his back on her the day her knife met flesh. she shuddered at the thought, clearing her throat and shifting, a motion towards her groceries.

quickly, you apologize. “i’m so sorry, ma’am. i’ve been a bit out of it this shift, your total is $64.72, will that be cash or card?”

and then, just as quickly as it had started she was gone. you kicked yourself for not getting to know her, a voice inside you begging you to learn her secrets, to earn the knowledge of what was behind those eyes. another voice assured you that she would be back, she seemed familiar enough, maybe you had seen her around town.

and soon enough, there she was again. maybe a week had passed, you weren’t sure, time seemed to move infinitely slow at work, and lightning fast at home. this time, rather than the register, you were restocking shelves, catching her from out of the corner of your eye as she looked inquisitively at the massive selection of fruits and veggies. boldly, you decide to saunter over to her.

“be careful,” you tease, “if you stare too hard, you might cause those asparagus to blow up, and i don’t want to have to charge you for all of that.”

internally, you cringe, kick yourself, fall to the floor, scream, and cry at your horrendous attempt at small talk. on the outside, you just wince slightly through your faltering smile and continue on, “anyways, is there anything i can help you with?”

a small smile quirks at the corner of otherwise nearly frowning lips as the woman glances at you almost dismissively. “i’m not sure, actually. what’s the difference between farm grown organic, organic, and organic non-gmo”

sighing out a small laugh, you shake your head, “truthfully? i have no idea. if i had to lie and tell you on the spot, i would say the cheapest one will kill you fastest.”

the woman laughs softly at your, continuously, poor attempts at small talk and reaches for the, you guessed it, cheapest option of asparagus, bagging it quickly and slinging it lightly into her basket. your gaze meets hers again, but this time it feels a bit softer than the first time you saw her. she seems more accepting, relaxed, and open to the idea of you in her presence, despite your mutual lack of knowledge of the other.

turning away, she gives a curt and awkward wave, not bothering to say anything as she continues on through the store, her presence demanding your attention. shaking your head at your own awkwardness, you walk towards the registers, abandoning your post restocking in hopes that she may stumble through your line again so you can attempt a conversation once again.

when she does flow gracefully into your line, you’re ready this time, already having a plan to compliment her offhandedly, hoping to appear calm and collected as you expertly check and bag her groceries. as her items tumble down your belt, you glance up from your register to lock eyes with her once more.

“you have beautiful eyes,” you offer, feeling almost like you’re giving a part of yourself to her, rather than uplifting her own self.

something in her eyes glints as you say that, that small smile quirking back on her permanently downturned lips once more. “thank you,” she responds softly, moving her eyes down and away from yours once more, a mirror to your previous encounter the week or so before.

in the same fashion as the last time, your encounter sadly ends once again, but this time you’re left with a sense of accomplishment, having spoken to the mystery woman. something still gnaws at you, demanding you learn more, hoping that you eventually connect the dots and can understand why she seems familiar, but for now, you’ll let the soft flames in your chest flicker and burn until the next time you see her.

luckily, you seem to see her quite often now, you’ve even learned her name, shauna. at least once a week, shauna’s strong presence seems to command your attention in the store, sometimes even twice a week. it’s like she knows your schedule and plans around it, getting increasingly trivial items each time she comes through the store. one time it’s a head of lettuce, the next a pack of gum, the most recent (and current) time, a pack of cigarettes. each time she comes in, the two of you speak a growing amount of words to one another. you learn what she cooks for most of her meals (chicken), and she learns that you plan on getting out of here and putting use to your degree.

this time, something in you, that voice that had been begging for you to learn, to ask, to speak, chimes in again, urging you to get closer, to give her your number. and so, in a bold move for yourself, you quickly scrawl your phone number onto her receipt as she watches, smiling up at her shyly as you hand it to her. “in case you wanted to bum me a cigarette,” you joke, attempting to calm your own nerves from the situation.

as you watch shauna walk out with a smile, you can’t help but pat yourself on the back in silent celebration of not only your own confidence, but the seemed success of the situation.

before you can even get out of your annoying work shirt later that night, your phone rings. you scoff, wondering who could possibly need to speak to you at that exact moment, pondering letting the phone ring. and then you remember the encounter from earlier that afternoon, dashing over to the phone quickly in excitement.

you pick up the phone with a polite, “hello,” waiting for an answer.

shauna’s voice quickly fills the receiver as she greets you, letting you know that it’s her. you smile to yourself as the two of you chat for a while, with the highlight of the evening being her accepting your proposal for the two of you to go out for lunch together the next day.

and then it becomes a habit. somehow, each night when you finish your shift and walk through the door, shauna’s call is ringing through your apartment. not only that, but the two of you go a few dates. you learn that she was going to go to Brown, but ended up taking a gap year for personal reasons (she wasn’t ready to disclose yet) out of high school and going to Wiskayok Community College. you also learn that there’s a part of her that seems… eager. every time your hand brushes hers, it seems like she’s holding back, her body going rigid.

and so, after a significantly later evening than usual, planned by shauna herself, the two of you make your way back to your apartment, per your suggestion. an offering of shitty beer and mediocre whisky had her nearly jumping out of her seat, leading to now, as shauna followed you into your main living area.

motioning towards the couch and offering her a seat, you quickly prepare a drink for both yourself and her, settling down next to her and continuing your conversation from the restaurant as well as the short walk to your apartment. as the night progressed, the liquor began its effects, with your mind stilling on two thoughts only. how beautiful her eyes are, and how badly you want to kiss her.

luckily, it’s as though she reads your mind, her eyes darting to your lips as you ramble on about something she had stopped listening to minutes ago. boldly, she reaches out, cupping your jaw and effectively shutting you up, your spit immediately thickening as you swallow quickly, licking your lips. her eyes follow the movement of your tongue as she smiles gently at you, a sense of wolfish hunger hiding beneath the curve of her lips. “finally,” she sighs out as you quiet.

and then her lips crash into yours, all hunger and need and want. it’s a bit messy, honestly, the two of you both a little tipsy and eager. her hand on your jaw slides back and down to the nape of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair gently but with a weight that tells you that she wants control, needs it.

the movement sends a wave of goosebumps down your spine, causing you to gasp. the opening of your mouth only excites shauna more, her tongue slipping into your mouth greedily as she demands more of you. she groans as your tongue meets hers, alcohol on both of your tongues. she wants, needs you closer. she tugs lightly at the hair on the back of your neck, communicating her wants to you. your hand quickly finds purchase on her hip, dragging her onto your lap.

as you do, shauna seems to buck against you, groaning into your mouth once more. it’s then that you feel it, what’s pressing into the both of you. pulling back, you blush at shauna, smiling, glancing down at her pants and then back at her. “were you expecting something to happen tonight, shauna?” you ask, feigning confidence in hopes of coming off as less absolutely desperate than you feel.

“wouldn’t have expected anything if you didn’t make it so easy,” shauna quips back, teasing.

the comment rips a moan from your throat, your head falling to her heaving chest as your fingers grip into her sides. moving your head back, you look at shauna. those eyes you had once mistaken as innocent are filled with nothing but lust and pure want. at that, you begin to tear off your clothes and hers, attempting to connect your lips as much as possible in between as you strip the both of you down to just underwear.

as you return back to kissing for a moment, shauna surprises you by snaking her hand to your chest, shoving you down so that your back hits the couch. now only in her boxers, shauna looks down at you, straddling your hips, a wolfish grin on her lips. “look at you,” she coos, “so eager for me. so desperate.”

your voice quivers at that, a nod rattling your head as you feel her grind against you gently, the strap hidden poorly in her boxers pushing against your stomach and her core. just as quickly as she started, shauna begins climbing off of you and positioning herself against you, grinding against you once more, watching as you reach out to grab her wrist, pleading for more.

she laughs at your insistence, swatting your hand away as she leans down to kiss you. while kissing you lazily, clearly mocking your excitement, shauna uses one hand to pull down her own boxers, letting her strap fall against you gently, moving her hips slowly in time with her torturous kisses.

“shauna,” you rasp out, “please, stop teasing.”

smiling against your lips, shauna laughs softly. pulling her head back, she fakes a pout, mocking your desperation. “already begging?” she teases, “i haven’t even done anything yet.”

before you can open your mouth to complain, shauna pulls down your underwear, gathering wetness on her fingers and sinking one in slowly, watching as any protest you may have had dies on your tongue, replaced by a low groan.

she continues like that for a while, kissing your jaw and neck while you mewl into her ear, pleading for more and more. slowly, she adds another finger, relishing in the way she can hear your breath quicken at the feeling. despite the light buzz all over your body, you can feel the way shauna shakes with anticipation against you, her own hips canting in time with the thrusts of her fingers.

smiling down at you, shauna removes her fingers quickly, giggling as you whine at the loss. “think you’re ready for me?” she smirks, knowing how desperate you are.

nodding eagerly, you beg with her, plead with her to finally give you what you want, what you need. she moans at your words, lining herself up before slowly, so painfully slowly, sinking in.

you see stars as she bottoms out inside of you, the air in your lungs ripped out from the moan that wracks your body. you feel as shauna’s head falls to the crook of your neck, her hips unmoving atop of you. the two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, until finally, slowly, shauna begins to move again.

moving her head from your neck, shauna looks you in the eyes once more. lust and want has become hunger, need, and hurry. she quickens her pace as she begins to kiss you once more, swallowing the noises that escape your throat.

she continues on, her pace never faltering, her stamina allowing her to maintain a brutal pace (thank god for those years of soccer she had mentioned). you can feel yourself nearing the edge, crying out to her and letting her know, words broken through moans and kisses.

she pulls away from your mouth and jaw to fix her eyes on you once more, muttering through pants, “come on, wanna see you cum.”

at that, you feel the coil in your stomach burst, moaning as shauna keeps up her relentless pace. slowly, you come down from your orgasm and whine, shauna’s hips slowing to a stop.

panting against each others skin, you smile as shauna questions, “you got one more?”

[antlersaint]

haii… your reblog earlier has inspired me… absolutely gonna need a fic where quinn calls you pathetic for being eager/desperate to fuck her!!

i’ll feel shame for this when i wake up…

- 🍲

i do plan on writing more like this... (perv!reader x quinn and loser!reader x quinn coming soon)... but :3 yeah! quinn with a very desperate and eager reader who just NEEDS to fuck her. reader has a dick, not male reader.

you are just so...

there are a lot of ways quinn could go about describing you, really. none of them good. you're annoyingly persistent, following her around all day insisting that she let you take her out at least once. talking away about how you'd have such a great time, it'd be fun, blah blah blah. like a small dog nipping at her heels. fortunately for you, though, (and unfortunately for her), you're cute. so, eventually, she does agree to a date; on one condition.

keep it in your pants.

and, to your credit, you do. you take her to see some movie, with a cast she'd never heard of but you apparently know a considerable amount about. and to quinn's surprise, you're relatively chivalrous. opening and closing doors for her, paying for whatever she wants at the counter (which she takes advantage of, just a little). though most importantly, you're not overly touchy. sure, there's little things here and there. a hand on her lower back, a hand on her thigh above her skirt. normal stuff she's fine with and even encourages, throwing you a smirk, shifting closer. the way you completely stiffen up does not go unnoticed.

once you're back in the truck, letting the engine run so it gets a little warmer, quinn leans over the center console and presses a couple kisses to your neck—her breath ghosting across your cheek in a quiet laugh when you jump at the contact. she turns your head so your mouths can slot together but pulls away hardly even a second later, holding you in place when you go to chase her lips. "take me to your apartment?"

it's a miracle you don't get pulled over, with how fast you were driving.

she's half expecting you to jump her as soon as the front door closes, but for whatever reason, you don't. you sort of just... stand there, staring, gaze unfocused and breathing shallow. it's amusing. quinn can practically feel your eyes whenever she saunters over to the couch, patting the cushion next to her with an expectant eyebrow raised. your movements are jerky, like you're not sure how to at all. after you've taken your seat, her fingers curl around your jaw, pulling you closer, and from here, she can see how blown your pupils are. you remind her of an excited puppy, almost. hands clenched into fists sitting atop your thighs, like you're waiting for permission to touch her.

though, once that permission is given in the form of another kiss and you're immediately trying to shove your tongue in her mouth, panting, stuff starts to make sense.

you're a desperate little thing. and inexperienced, she's assuming, by the way you practically paw at her clothes, whining low in your throat. it's unfairly arousing, ruining the lace quinn had picked out just for the hell of it, but she's not complaining. you're a fucking treat.

in what she's sure is record time after only making out for less than a minute, you're straining against the fly of your jeans; something she takes too much delight in when noticing, unable to bite back the laugh that bubbles up from her chest. understandably, that reaction is received negatively and you flinch away, mouth open to apologize or whatever else, but she shuts you up with another kiss. tongue flicking out over your lips, earning her the most pathetic sound quinn is sure a human being can make. she pops open the button of your jeans, commanding you to lift your hips so she can slide them off along with your boxers. soon enough, you're left completely bare while all she's missing is the lipstick that's now staining your skin.

she lets you lay her down on the couch after a bit longer of teasing, gasping when you don't even bother to get her undressed and just flip her skirt up. nearly ripping her panties with the force you use to tug them off. you're lucky she's feeling generous, or else you'd be left untouched just for that.

generous doesn't mean patient, though. your eagerness is cute, but not when you fail miserably multiple times to push inside and just rut against her, pre-cum stickying her thighs, whining and grunting against into her shoulder. god, you're such a virgin it's almost painful. quinn pushes you back, hand around your throat keeping you in place while she climbs into your lap. free hand dipping down between the two of you so she can line up with your cock before sinking down.

you're sizeable; a perfect fit, really. you hold onto her so tightly she's sure there'll be bruises come morning, but she couldn't care less. not when you're moaning so pretty and filling her up so good. after taking a moment to adjust, she rolls her hips, your own twitching up to meet the movement. it's good. better than she was—

fuck. quinn just had to go and say something, didn't she?

you barely even get to the fifth thrust before your entire body is locking up. eyes rolling into the back of your head, her name like poison on your tongue. she has to blink away the haze in her eyes, incredulous. really? that's all you have to give her? oh, no. no, she really doesn't think so.

"jesus, you're fucking pathetic." the comedown from your high is cut abruptly short when she starts to move again. you're painfully sensitive, and you make it known, pleading for her to stop or at the very least slowdown. she doesn't. threads her fingers into your hair and tugs, keeping your neck craned back so she's basically speaking against your mouth. "you can take it, baby. just shut up and take it for me."

you can, and you do; and quinn makes sure she cums multiple times before you even get a chance to again.

[antlersaint]

this took so long to finish, and im still unhappy with it hello😭

SONG IS "your #1 whore <3" on soundcloud by @cultfriends

[antlersaint]

note; yall fuck with me rapidly posting new fics? ill get to yalls ask btw, specifically the pervy cait and the basketball player cait fics. ooh and ill also prolly pick up the ambessa one too!!!

tw; g!p academic rival caitlyn, orgasm denial, overstim

      you and caitlyn have been at each other’s throats since the start of the semester, actually ever since you were kids. she may have excelled in the ranges of her rifle, but you prospered in close-range, via hand-to-hand combat.

one thing you both have in common is academics. you have a higher score? she’ll bounce right back and take the number one spot—it’s a back-and-forth between you two.

and when she gets in a slump, you just have the right thing to help her get back on track.

“eight-point ninety-nine expansion–damn it. how am i su-supposed to focus when you’re sucking me like you want to suck the soul out of m-me?” caitlyn pants out while looking down at you with lidded eyes, her glasses look like they’re about to fall off. you glare at her before taking her to the hilt, your nose hitting cleanly shaven pelvic bone, “fuck.”

you swallow around her twitching dick, massaging her using your throat before rising up for much-needed air, “focus, caitlyn. answer the question.”

      her hips buckle up, lifting off the sofa in your apartment. she’s trying her best to recall where she stopped, but the feeling of your wet, hot—warm throat sidetracks her.

caitlyn could only tip her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head because you, her academic rival, are giving her the best head she’s ever gonna have for the rest of her life.

she doesn’t mind getting in a slump if it means getting you to do this to her. caitlyn’s head lolls back down to look at you giving her a stare; continue.

shit, this is too much for her. “eight-point ninety-nine expansion negative nine–gonna cu—” 

you still your movements, soaking in how her eyes seem to plead for you to let her cum. her dick’s still throbbing in your hold, jumping and twitching at the cold air hitting her, “not yet, baby. you gotta answer correctly.”

she grits her teeth to hold the tightening knot in the lower part of her stomach, “eight-point ninety-nine expansion positive nine–”

“there you go.”

      you take her tip back in your mouth, jerking the rest of her untouched dick. she cums in thick spurts, cock spasming, and her legs are shaking, making you moan softly when you taste her.

she weakly paws at your head when the pleasure you prolonged gets too much. but you think to yourself: she deserves a reward, doesn’t she?

[antlersaint]

quinn fabray likes when you suck her fingers i don’t think she does i know she does

[antlersaint]

need quinn fabray to mutter 'you're pathetic' against my lips whenever we are fucking

[antlersaint]

oh shucks what a great writer (truth) i stumbled upon (lie)!!! i sure hope the 🍲 emoji isn’t taken…

oh my gosh! a great writer has stumbled upon my blog.. and yes the emoji is taken but only by you now 😋

[antlersaint]

what is faberry, you ask? what is faberry if not the very definition of pining and yearning and the guilt of religious trauma and repression and heteronormativity being pushed down our throats to make us believe that these two girls should not be together simply because they are meant to clash over the same bland unseasoned tofu of a boy who can’t get over himself when the very reality is that the two of them have always seen each other, understood each other, and are inexplicably entangled in each other’s stories where one can not begin or end without the other? what is faberry if not two girls who were meant to be nothing more than rivals but ended up being *everything* to each other? what is faberry if not stolen moments in empty bathrooms and hallways where phrases such as “you’re a very pretty girl, Quinn. the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, but you’re a lot more than that” and “I’m not mad at you. all you did is what I wasn’t brave enough to do, tell the truth” and “do you have any idea know how much you mean to me?” and “when you were singing that song, it was to finn and only finn, right?” and “I know everyone expects us to be enemies and be in competition but…I don’t hate you” and “you don’t belong here, Rachel. and you can’t hate me from helping to send you on your way” and “ask for a gardenia. with a, with a light green ribbon wrapped around it to match her eyes” and “I wanted to thank you, actually. for keeping me from doing something stupid. something I would have regretted my entire life” are thrown about as if they are not declarations of love being reaffirmed over and over again? what is faberry if not a personal hell that I can never escape because I am constantly reminded of the lengths they would go, best every obstacle in their way for each other even though they were only meant to be two people who passed each other by in life but ended up being two people that were destined to love each other in every life, in every universe?

[antlersaint]

quinn and butch!reader... hm... thoughts thoughts.. 🤔

[antlersaint]

that one post you made about making out with quinn and she starts humping ur thigh.. yeah!

by some miracle, neither of her parents are home that night. you weren't given any further details, so didn't bother asking, making sure to park down the street from her house just in case. precautions, or whatever. but you get to go through the door this time! a win is a win. getting cozy and putting a movie on or something, but quinn just can't help herself. misses you so much. it starts off with small kisses, a brush of her lips against your jaw to grab your attention before you meet her in the middle. taking your time because you've finally got some; hands roaming, fingers pressing in all the places you've memorized and know will make her shiver.

you hadn't even noticed, at first, that your thigh had ended up slotted between her own until quinn's pushing her hips down on it. small back-and-forths, maybe so you don't realize what she's doing, but of course you do. taking hold of her waist to assist, breaking the kiss to let her breath huff across your throat in little puffs and gasps. murmuring little encouragements, relishing in the way her body locks up when you're rasping 'princess' in her ear, before she's moving a bit more determinedly.

you'll take mercy on her when she pleads. hardly even a please, really, from how breathy the word comes out. but it's enough to have you tugging her panties aside and burying two fingers knuckle deep.

— 🪽 (this was only meant to be a blurb.. i got carried away 😞)

please keep getting carried away!! (Also im sorry I abandoned you a little, wing, I just been a little busy lately)

tbh i picture it a lot with her in a skirt like 😵‍💫😵‍💫she j looks really good in that cheerios outfit im sorry i drool a little

controversial but i think she likes being called a good girl too when she’s definitely not being one. Didn’t include it in this because I know it’s an ick for a lot so people but

youre just realizing how much of time you wasted choosing a movie, going back and forth between options, debating genres, because it didn’t really matter. not even the chips you bought.

you absentmindedly had kissed her hand, and she had kissed your cheek in return, gesture you smiled at, thinking it would end there. you were wrong.

at some point, your hand found hers, and you had absentmindedly lifted it to kiss her knuckles. in return, she had leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek, something you had smiled at, thinking it would end there.

“but, if the maze changes every night, they wouldn’t be able to make a map.” you murmur, eyes still fixed on the screen. it takes you a second to realize she hasn’t answered, hasn’t hummed in agreement or even argued back like she usually does when you nitpick movies.

you furrow your brows, turning your head to ask if she’s even listening—only to feel her lips press against your jaw, soft and warm. and the second time she tilts closer, you turn your head just enough to meet her halfway.

quinn cups your jaw, tilting your head as she kisses you again, slower this time, like she’s savoring it. you can feel her smiling against your lips, her breath hitching when you trail your fingers down her spine.

“m’sorry, baby, but i don’t really give a damn about dylan o’brien right now.” she mumbles right after her kisses become a little bolder and—

“yeah he can go fuck himself.” you agree, nails trailing up one arm, leaving a trace of crawled skin, to her shoulder, then down again, then up—

you finally get to touch her. really touch her. without glancing at the clock, without worrying who might see. you drag your hands up her back, feeling every curve, every stretch mark, and she exhales shakily when your palm flatten between her shoulder blades, bringing her impossibly closer.

you don’t know how long you sit there, feeling each other up, but some point, between the soft kisses and the lazy laughter, you end up hovering over her. you’re not sure where you built up the courage to gently push her down on the couch cushions beneath you came from, but your heart races at the realization.

with no one home, you were off to do whatever you wanted. no parents. and it’s not like this would be the first time you do something, but this would be the first time you do something without rush.

you just don’t know that yet.

not until you stop feeling her kisses for a fleeting moment. not long, but long enough to make your eyes flutter open as you pull away to see her face. her eyes are still closed, brows furrowing ever so slightly as her lips part ever so slightly.

your hands pause when you actually feel it now: her hips pushing down on you.

quinn stills a beat after you do, like she’s scared she got caught. her wide eyes flick up to yours, blushing, maybe even a little unsure, but you don’t let her second-guess herself. instead, your hand trails from her waist, sliding down the curve of her back before gripping the back of her thigh. slowly, you hook it around your hip, pressing your knee closer, letting her settle against you in a way that has her breath hitching in your ear.

“that’s it, princess. feel good?”

she moves again, this time with more certainty, more purpose, her forehead pressing against yours as her fingers tighten in your hoodie. “yes,” she breathes, almost to herself, like the realization is just dawning on her—how much she’s feeling, how much she wants.

and, god, she sounds so pretty. you’ve always told her you love her voice—when she sings, when she talks, when she’s teasing you with that little lilt in her tone. sometimes you’d even interrupt her mid-sentence just to remind her.

but nothing tops this.

nothing tops the way her voice wavers, breath hitching, as she presses closer, as her fingers clutch the fabric of your shirt like she needs something to hold onto. you breath out against her jaw, and she melts into you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“say it again.” she mumbles, barely audible, but you catch it.

“say what, princess?” you tease.

she buries her face in your neck like she’s embarrassed at how that stupid pet name turned her on, but you can feel the way she grips you tighter, like she needs more.

her fingers tighten in your hoodie, pulling you closer, like she wants to feel all of you, everywhere, all at once.

a quiet gasp escapes her as she shifts against your thigh, her body reacting before her mind can catch up. you feel the way she stills, the way her breath hitches, and when you pull back just enough to meet her eyes, they’re wide, cheeks flushed.

“yeah?” you murmur, hand smoothing over her hip, giving it a slow, reassuring squeeze.

she swallows hard and nods, voice barely above a whisper. “yeah.”

you can’t help the way your lips twitch, the way you lean in to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth before you murmur.

and seconds later you can feel the dampness through her underwear on your knee. you look down, her skirt ridden to her hips. “really? red ones?”

she doesn’t reply. because it’s obvious this was all planned. she probably texted you the second her parents shut the door. she just tugs at your hair and murmurs something incomprehensible despite the fact you being so close.

but you don’t have to make it out to figure what she wants. “i know, baby, i know.” you whisper as draw your knee away and push her underwear to the side, filling her up.