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assorted motley or happy may day imaginary constructs
#kitchen-sinks#gentle giants#google-eyed cupcakes#foolish kittens#four-eyed dipsomaniacs#pastry skulls#gangsta deweys#grey-eyed girlfriends#and#rambling rainbows#mayday#north fulton county#georgia#end of messages
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I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?
If not, I completely understand! <3
i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3
there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.
you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.
he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.
james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.
remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.
sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.
you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.
"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.
this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.
they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.
"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.
you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"
"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.
you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.
fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.
#poly!marauders x reader#marauders x reader#marauders x reader fluff#poly!marauders fluff#marauders era#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader fluff#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#marauders#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#bfd!marauders#♡ mine / writing#♡ remus#♡ james#♡ sirius#♡ lana's letters
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The Songbird
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader
Summary - Lucy Gray Baird was the talk of this year's Hunger Games. She had the beauty and the voice to charm her way through the games, but what happens when rumors spark up around the Capitol that her mentor and your boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow, have shared a kiss?
Warnings - Mild angst, Speculations of cheating, Smut (Coriolanus Snow eats you out), Bad communication, it gets sort of better at the ends so just trust me, Very mild Lucy Grey slander (Rachel Zegler they could never make me hate you.), let’s pretend that Snow has the capacity to love, Not beta read.
Being a Plinth meant two things: people hated you because you paid your way to the top, and people loved you because you had enough money to do it. Getting used to life in the capital was hard, but it got easier when you had a boyfriend who cared for you. Your brother, Sejanus, disapproved of his best friend dating his twin sister, but the two of you could care less.
You met Coriolanus at the Academy. You were charmed by his white hair and the way he carried himself. He also wasn’t as stuck up and snobby as your other classmates. He was easy to talk to and even easier on the eyes. He must have noticed the way you were entranced by him when he asked you out. After many dates and your father's approval, he asked you to be his girlfriend.
Now, you were sitting in the lunch room, picking at the sandwich that was in front of you. It was no secret that Coriolanus’s tribute was the favorite of the capitol. She was beautiful and swept everyone off of their feet with that sweet voice of hers. Your tribute on the other hand was nothing more than a throwaway tribute from District Nine. To be frank, he was short and skinny. There was nothing much you could do for him. Maybe he could be good at hiding, but he wouldn’t last long in the arena.
“Are you going to eat?” Coriolanus asked as he eyed your sandwich. “You need to eat, dove.”
“I’m not hungry,” you grumbled as you took a sip of your water.
“Can I have it then?”
You nod your head and hand him the sandwich. You watched as he put it in a napkin and placed it in his coat pocket.
You tilted your head in confusion. Was he saving that for later? “Coryo, if you, Grandma'am, and Tigris need something to eat, you can come over. You know my home is always open to you and your family.”
He smirked and shook his head. “No, I’m saving it for Lucy Gray.”
“Oh.” That was all you could say. Of course, he was saving that for his Lucy Gray. Him feeding his tribute would fuel the rumors that Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray Baird were developing a budding relationship. People were already invested in them after his stunt at the Capitol Zoo.
You grabbed your tray from the table and left without saying another word. You couldn’t find it in you to confront him about what people were saying. Maybe you were being a bad girlfriend, but your jealousy got the best of you. As the sun set and the moon rose, you lie in your room, hoping that Lucy Gray wouldn’t accept the sandwich. You wanted her to throw it back at him, scaring him so much that he would never visit her again. But this isn’t about what you want. This is about Coriolanus and his mission to get his tribute to win.
The next morning, you couldn’t eat. You were physically and mentally sick with jealousy. You were meant to meet with your tribute to discuss a game strategy. In your peripheral, you could see Coriolanus with Lucy Gray. He was so alert when he talked with her. He once talked to you like that, but after the first time he saw Lucy Gray on the screen, he’s become distant. He was always talking about her, visiting her, thinking about her. Part of you wanted her to die in the arena, but your wishes fell upon deaf ears.
For the first time, you were faced to face with your tribute. He was even skinnier in person. Your heart burned for him. You were so lucky that your parents got you out of the District when they could or else that could have been you on the other side of the table.
“Okay, Finn, I’m going to be honest, you aren’t the person people root for, but I can make sure that you live as long as possible.” What you said was harsh, but true. You could get your father and his friends to sponsor him. With enough sponsors, he could get food, water, and medicine. That’s as good as it’s going to get.
“We all know that Lucy Grey’s going to win. Her mentor has been visiting her every night. He brought her half of a sandwich last night. I saw them by the gates. I could see them talking. They were close, real close. I could have sworn I saw them kiss, but-” The rest of Finn’s sentence was drowned out by the sound of static ringing through your ears.
— — — —
Your knuckles rapped against the door of the Snow residence. It was later in the day, your tribute was thankful that you somewhat believed in him, but both of you knew that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. If anyone killed the Capitols songbird they would surely live a life of shame.
Tigris opened the door and smiled when she saw you standing there, but her smile faded as she saw the tears streaming down your face. She opened her arms and trapped you in them, letting your tears stain her dress. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her voice was soft and almost whisper quiet. She was a gentle soul and you trusted her with your darkest secrets.
“My tribute said that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray kissed,” you said through tears.
Tigris gasped and looked at you in the eyes, searching for something to say. “I’m-I don’t know what to say. That doesn’t sound like Coryo. He loves you too much to do that.”
“Really? Lately Lucy Grey is all he can talk about. It’s like she’s his girlfriend and not me.” “Because he wants to win the prize money. We need to pay rent and we don’t have enough.” Tigris said as she wiped away your tears.
“It doesn’t help that the capitol likes them together. He might as well date her instead of me. I mean, she’s pretty and she can sing like none other. I just-” You were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. In less than twenty seconds Coriolanus was at your side.
His hands find their place on your shoulders as he pulls you away from Tigris’s grasp. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong, dove? Did someone hurt you?”
You wipe your nose with your sleeve. Your mother would kill you if she found out you did something so unclassy in front of a man, but right now you could care less about class. Your eyes looked around everywhere, trying not to make eye contact with his. You knew that you would cry again if you looked into his eyes. The eyes that got you hooked on him in the first place. The eyes that Lucy Grey saw flutter close before they kissed.
Your shoulders wiggled out of his grasp. His hands fell to his sides and you could have sworn you saw his hands ball up in fists, stopping themselves from coming in contact with your soft skin.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “My tribute, Finn. He said that you and Lucy Gray kissed last night at the zoo.” It came out more as a whisper. You hated how pathetic you sounded right at that moment.
You could see Coriolanus search for the memories of what happened last night. He then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t kiss,” he began, “but I can see why the other tributes would think that. We were close, but it was only because I wanted to tell her more game strategies and I didn’t want the other tributes to hear.”
You felt stupid. You felt really stupid to assume that your boyfriend of two years would cheat on you. “But I-I heard people in the shop the other day say that they wanted you and Lucy Gray to get together. They said that the two of you had so much chemistry.”
“First of all, that’s illegal, and second of all, I love you. And only you.” His hand tilted your chin up and wiped the tears that were still falling on your face. Tigris had retired to her room a long time ago.
Coriolanus leads you to his room. The window that overlooked the Capitol was open, letting in the cold. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your lips.
“Yes,” was the only thing you managed to say before he kissed you. The kiss started off soft and slow, but as his hands found their home on your waist, the kiss got harder. Your lips found a good rhythm as they got familiar with one another. His tongue skittered across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter. Your tongues danced with one another before Coriolanus broke the kiss.
His lips pressed light kisses along your neck. He nipped at your skin causing you to jump a bit. He smiled into your skin and laid you down on his bed. His hand slid down to the bottom of your dress. You had changed after you got home from the visit with your tribute. You wanted to get that stupid uniform off before it suffocated you.
“Do you want this?” he asked as his fingers inched the bottom of your dress up inch by inch until the only thing that was left covering your bottom half was your underwear. They were already soaked through. He began placing soft kisses on the skin of your things, but he wouldn’t go any further until he got your permission. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. After all, this was supposed to be about you.
You nodded your head and Snow nipped your inner thigh. “Words, dove.”
“Yes, Coryo.”
“Good girl.” He breathed before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear. He slowly took them off of you, dragging this on as long as he could before you went mad. Your chest rose and fell as you focused on the man in between your legs.
Right now, the games were the least of your worries. The people who started the rumors of Coriolanus and Lucy Grey could go to hell for all you cared. You finally had the truth. Coriolanus loved you, and no District Twelve songbird could change that.
Coriolanus nuzzles his nose against your clit as his tongue prods against your entrance. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your moans. You would just die if Grandma'am or Tigris heard what their beloved Coriolanus was doing to you.
Seconds later, his mouth hungrily sucked on your clit. Your eyes went wide and you let out a silent moan. Overwhelmed with pleasure, your thighs clamp around his head, but instead of pushing them back, he keeps them there. He looks up at you and his beautiful blue eyes flutter close, enjoying the way you taste.
His fingers trace along your wet hole, gathering your slick. First, he inserts his index finger and then his middle one. His fingers are long and skinny, but they feel oh so fucking good. His fingers fuck in and out of you, stroking along your G-spot.
You can’t hold on much longer. He can tell by the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. He hungrily laps at your clit, drawing small and tight circles with his tongue. Coriolanus loves this part. The part when your back arches off his bed, when your pussy spasms around him, and when your thighs shake as you let out the prettiest moan. Chills run down your body as you shiver with pleasure. You come off your high as he takes his fingers out of you. They’re soaked with your release and he grins down at them. He licks his fingers clean of your slick and kisses the skin right above your hips.
“That better?” he asked, lying next to you on the bed.
You nod your head. You weren’t able to form words right at the moment.
“I’m sorry for making you believe that I would ever cheat on you. I really do love you, my dove.”
Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. You let oxygen fill your lungs before you exhale and turn it into carbon dioxide. “Coryo, I’m sorry for being jealous. I know how much this annual Hunger Games means to you. You know that my father would be more than happy to pay your rent. He knows how much you mean to me.”
Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s not what this is about. Dove, I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you for your father.”
You got up and straddled his lap, your bare pussy was just inches away from his hard cock. Coriolanus gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your hands wipe away some hair from his face. “Then what is this about? Please, let me know. I want to help.”
He hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want to show the Dean that I can win. I want to show him that Snow lands on top,” Coriolanus mumbles against your skin.
“Figuratively and literally,” you whisper.
Coriolanus spent the rest of the night showing you exactly what he meant by ‘Snow lands on top.’
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow smut#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fic#coriolanus snow x you#the hunger games
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𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉
spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤
❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader
❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.
❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.
❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)
if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”
yet here he was.
after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.
don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.
he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”
you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.
"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.
Miles smirked at you while getting up.
"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."
miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.
you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.
he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.
"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.
"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."
Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."
ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.
he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.
you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.
you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.
you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.
"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.
mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.
the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.
after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.
you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.
here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."
it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."
"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."
your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.
"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶
artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram
#miles morales#miles g morales#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x reader#miles morales imagine#earth42 miles morales#earth42 miles#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles x you#atsv#across the spiderverse#atsv imagines#earth 42 miles morales x you
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PRINCESS TREATMENT
synopsis: collegeau!eren has had a long day and just wants to see his girlfriend warnings: p in v , creampie a/n: i feel like i need to be a little more weirder with the things i post iykwim
You had just gotten a text message from Eren asking to come over, his message had interrupted you from doing what a girl usually does when she's alone and feeling a little hot down there.
Masturbating, obviously.
You quickly removed your hands from your panties and texted him back, replying with a simple 'sure', and hearting the message where he said he'd be there in five.
Even though you and Eren had been together for at least four months now, you hadn't had sex yet, and oh boy is he a tease. You could count multiple times where he grabbed at your ass while you both were making out, but that didn't lead to anything else.
He had came over to your apartment six times, but each of the times were for engaging in innocent activities, or even just studying. Him being the basketball-playing, jerky-popular, party boy at your university, the last thing you expected was for him to not hump and dump you.
For the most part, you respected it, but sometimes you just wanted to grab him and devour that dick. You saw his print on numerous occasions and you could tell that it was huge.
You adjusted the pillow on the couch of your small living room for the fifth time that night, before you heard the awaited knock on the door. Excitedly, you twisted the doorknob, seeing your boyfriend, he was sweaty and god did he look good in those grey sweats he usually wore.
You licked your lips seductively as you watched his towering figure, with a pout on his lips, he engulfed you in a hug, squeezing your smaller frame as his nose nudged at the nape of your neck. You smiled, draping one arm around his neck.
As you pulled away slightly, you instantly connected your lips to his, your lips rode over his pink soft lips, and you slowly pulled him inside, closing the door behind you and locking it before breaking out of the kiss.
"What?" Eren smiled as you looked up at him, "Oh nothing, you just look good." you smirked, one hand caressing the side of his face. You felt Eren's face heat up and you saw the visible blush on his cheeks. "You always look good." Eren responded while connecting your lips once more. And you felt the tension in the room, it was warm and almost suffocating as you felt yourself wanting more of him.
Eren's lips parted from yours, and he gave you a quick peck before jumping onto your couch. You frowned at the sudden loss of contact, Eren laid on your couch, the back of his hand covered his eyes as he spoke, "I ran so much today, my body hurts." he murmured, you listened to him talk as you sat on his crotch.
His hands moved from blocking his vision as he looked at you on top of him, and his hand reached out to grab at your waist, his thumb stroking your skin. "I can give you a massage you know." you offered while pressing your hands up and down his abdomen.
He snickered, "Hm, Sure." he agreed, "Take your shirt off." you demanded with a straight face, "Woah." his eyes shot open, "Well, I can't give you a massage with your shirt on." you clarified, Eren simply scoffed before sitting up to take his shirt off.
You positioned yourself so you were straddling on top of him, once his shirt was off and you eyed his tense abs, you felt your panties dampen and you involuntarily grinded yourself onto him. Causing him to groan, "You okay?" you say, acting dumb, "Yeah." Eren sighed.
Your hands pressed onto his abs, massaging at the tense skin, before going up to his pecs, then his shoulders, once your hands were on his shoulders, your back arched and you bent over to kiss him, you deepened the kiss when you felt his hand grip onto your waist, slowly moving down to grab your ass but never quite reaching there.
You moaned into his mouth as some sort of signal, as you grinded yourself onto him, feeling the bulge in his pants. "Shit." Eren groaned as you trailed kisses down to his neck, his skin turning a light shade of pink as you pressed your lips onto him.
"Damn." Eren commented as you threw your shirt over your head, your full bra being on display for him. "Can I?" you ask, tugging on the waistband of his pants, to which he nodded to. You pulled down his sweats and everything underneath it, your eyes widened at the size of his cock.
You licked your lips, your hands went to move the piece of fabric covering your damp pussy, luckily you wore a miniskirt today. You stroked his dick before lining it up with your wet entrance, you were so wet that the tip slipped in with ease, you scrunched your face as you slipped in the rest of his huge cock into your needy pussy.
"Oh fuck." Eren cried out, feeling the hotness of your pussy surrounding his throbbing cock, Eren's hands darted towards your hips, moving you up and down his cock, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." you moaned at the sudden friction within your walls, your hands draped over Eren's shoulders as you slowly bounced on Eren's cock.
He stretched you to your full capacity and you more than enjoyed the fullness of his dick, "Mm- Fuck." you moaned as you felt Eren thrust up into you, "Oh shit." Eren's face scrunched as he drilled into your needy hole.
With his rapid pace, your pussy drooled all over his cock, making it easier for him to slide in and out. You bit your lower lip as you looked down at him, his eyes were heavy lidded and you reached in to kiss him, the kiss was rough and passionate as he continued to pound into your sloppy cunt, wet noises filling the room.
Eren bit into your lower lip as you felt his pace decrease, he slowly fucked up into you before shooting hot spurs of his thick come into your fucked out pussy. Painting your walls white as your eyes rolled back into your head, your fingernails digging into his shoulders.
"Fuck." Eren sighed as you laid your head on his broad shoulders, his dick still throbbed inside of you. His head leaned to the left to give you a kiss on the top of your head as the force of his hand on the skin of your hips softened.
#aot x reader#aot smut#eren smut#eren yeager#eren jaeger#eren yaeger x reader#eren aot#eren#eren jeager smut#eren jeager x reader#eren x reader#eren x you#eren yaegar#eren yaeger smut#eren yaeger imagine#eren yeager x reader#eren yeager smut#aot x female reader
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| Forbidden Fruit |
Description: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
Pairing: Pedri | Naive Rodrygo's Gf!You.
Disclaimer: This is merely a fanfic which does not represent anyone mentioned in any way. It contains mature content and morally grey themes so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.
Warning: Possible angst, infidelity (you), rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, Pedri is mean, doggy style, dirty talk, hair pulling, cunnilingus, Pedri’s beard, Pedri is morally grey, the Barca/La Masia boys are a bunch of meanies, minor exhibitionism, Daddy kink, minor spanking, hair pulling, deep throating.
Note: I am an outrageous slut.
.
It was supposed to be a harmless little term; a gesture of goodwill.
The rivalry had gone on between the two clubs for too long.
After careful deliberations and many dialogues, you were handpicked as the answer.
The very private girlfriend of Rodrygo Goes who just happened to be one of the best English instructors available in the country as you had found employment in Spain since you didn't like to depend on others -like your dear boyfriend- too much.
You.
Plain old little you;
Gullible, naive, sweet, kind, helpful and passionate towards your profession.
An attempt at peace, for good.
Although your boyfriend and his club mates were dubious to let you go into the ‘enemy's’ den, you had innocently assured them that it was your duty as an instructor and that you would be fine since you were a big girl.
… Until you walked through the doors of the room that had been made into a classroom for you and the relentless younger line like the La Masia boys had you teary-eyed under 10 minutes.
And so you learnt the hard way that you weren't that big a girl after all.
Hushed whispers, chuckles, taunts, snickers, anonymous yells and the like were thrown at you one after another.
“You telling me this little girl will teach us English?” You looked around the many faces to see who it was but Gavi was so quick with his words that his mouth was motionless before you could locate him.
“Go back to your pretty little white palace Princess!” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at Fermin and felt betrayed since he had seemed nice enough when you had first entered.
The laughing was the worst part.
They were loud, fast, cruel and overwhelming.
Though every cell of your body made you want to rush out of the room, you tightened your laces and raised your chin up high before somehow managing through the rest of the session.
That, and some kind interventions by the older players and Xavi, of course.
It was only when you had jumped upon being approached by Pedri while waiting for your ride to arrive had you realized just how badly you still trembled even though the class had ended some long minutes ago.
“You okay?” He was the only one who had remained completely silent during the entirety of the session, contributing to neither side and remaining aloof in a corner with his dark hawk-like gaze set on you.
Though you had naively thought it the innocent stare of a student, you lived to learn it had been anything but.
“Y- Yeah” as if on cue, your bottom lip sensitively wobbled again and Pedri's gaze didn't spare a minute flickering down to the movement.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he silently gulped, wetting his mouth with his pink tongue as he let out a little sigh. “They're… Just… You… It's not…” One of his hands escaped the pockets of his sweatshirt to run over the back of his head. You quietly stared back with your brows raised curiously. “Don’t take them too seriously. They like to play around and sometimes they get real rough real fast” a small smile made its way onto your face. He felt responsible for them and was considerate of your feelings. “But it's not coming from a bad place, honest. They're just stupid kids is all” what a sweet guy, you thought.
If only.
You didn't know how it escaped your notice.
It wasn't like he didn't make it obvious.
Always making it a point to visit you after sessions, staying with you until your driver arrived, seeing you off, sometimes leaning a bit too close or letting his friendly touch on your arm linger for a bit too long.
But it was still all fun and games until one day he declared that he wanted to return the favor by teaching you some useful things in return.
He had realized from the way you spoke of your relationship that you weren't much experienced and so you were sweetly content with whatever your tender lover gave you.
Of course, you panicked at first when you found yourself being backed against a table in a dark little storage room after you had skeptically agreed to the offer, whimpering next to the intimidating guy who always stared at you like a predator despite your friendship
“Don't you want to learn how to make him feel good too? Or are you a selfish little girl who only wants to take and take but never give back?” Your bottom lip jutted out at his mean words.
“O- Of course not!” You huffed, feeling the blood boil under your cheeks. “I am n- not like that! Who doesn't want to make their partner feel good?!”
You weren't that stupid.
You knew exactly what he was doing.
And though you pretended to be outraged by the proposition at first, you were equally -if not more- excited to have his body on yours.
So you let him teach you.
And boy, did the guy know how to fuck.
His thick, hard and veiny cock felt hot and arousing in your fist that day as he nearly devoured your face with his mouth.
Pedri took his sweet time with you by going one step at a time.
Carefully molding and shaping you according to his tastes to make of you the perfect little fucktoy.
“Yeah, baby. Just like that, such a good girl” his voice would always deepen so dangerously low as he would often dip his head down so his warm lips would move against your ear. “Such a fast little learner, aren't you? So enthusiastic to learn how she can be good for her Daddy” that was the name he had chosen for himself since he couldn't be called your man.
You weren't sure if he even wanted to.
It was wrong.
So, so fucking wrong.
Unfair.
But it felt good.
He felt good.
Great.
Immaculate.
Pedri taught you how to give, same as he taught you how to take.
“That’s a proper little girl right there” he grunted when he taught you how to ‘properly’ suck cock for the first time. “Just like that baby, tip that pretty little head back for Daddy” his manly hands that had gathered all your hair in a makeshift ponytail gently tugged you back to grant himself better access to your throat. “That's it,” though he was good at remaining calm and composed, you could hear the breathlessness in his voice. Your insides burnt hotter and you felt yourself clench, hollowing your cheeks as you curled your fingers around his muscular thighs while your other hand fondled his heavy ball sack. “You're a natural, aren't you, baby?” Your eyes filled with tears when you finally moved northwards and let the whole length of his cock disappear between your flushed, swollen lips.
Your nostrils flared and your lungs churned for air, the lack of it causing your head to spin when Pedri didn't let up and instead began to give short and powerful thrusts to the fleshy channel of your slippery throat. Your head began to cloud and your thoughts started to float around just like his seed did everywhere in your oral cavity when he came.
The internet people could say whatever they wanted.
His beard and stubble eras were your personal favorite.
Because the coarse facial hairs felt so good against your tender skin.
Like when Pedri once had you twisted outwards as your body writhed on the table of the storage room you had become well acquainted with at this point, legs trapped in his arms that he had looped around them to hold you firmly in place.
The length of his devious tongue swiped across your worked up folds to lap at the mess you had made, beard digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs as the coarse hairs dragged against the junctions of your hips and legs every time his jaw flexed to eat you better. A loud moan forced its way past your reluctant lips when you felt a nerve twitch in one of your sides.
“That's it, sweet girl. Just like that” your toes curled at the huskiness of his voice while your fingers tightened around his thick dark locks. “Let me hear those pretty moans” as if on cue, your body complied and your back arched even more when the pointy tip of his tongue prodded against your entrance. “That's it, baby. Tell me who is making you feel this good?” Your ears burnt hot as sweat trickled down one of your temples, heart heavily thumping in your chest.
Though you were barely coherent, you knew better than to ignore his command.
“Y- You are, Da– AH!” Your eyes widened and your palm slapped against your mouth in an attempt to stifle your delirious moans when he released one of your thighs only to intrude your tight little pussy with his fingers, the grainy muscle of his tongue toying with your clit all the while.
“That's fucking right” he let out between slurps and sucks, occasionally making you jump and whine whenever you would get too quiet by landing a cruel spank directly onto your sensitive folds.
Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
You had always thought it no more than a harmless little proverb.
Until you learnt its accuracy firsthand.
When you were pressed face down against the same table that had witnessed the entire affair of your infidelity to your lover one dark evening. Your arms were spread out wide besides you as one of your cheeks rubbed against the smooth wooden surface with each powerful thrust that was pounding its way into your leaking pussy. Your lips were parted and a small puddle of drool lay next to them as you lazily whined each time a spank was delivered onto one of your ass cheeks, your body violently shaking due to the speed at which his cock was pistoning in and out of you.
Pedri had made you feel things no one ever had, there was no doubt about that.
But the intensity with which your orgasm ripped itself out of you and you were nearly deprived of all your senses due to the immense pleasure when the door suddenly opened and Pedri wrapped his hand around your hair to pull your head upwards to make you face the person who nonchalantly stared at you with glossy eyes had your limbs trembling in what you could only describe as the best way you had ever known.
You lost track of time as you mindlessly let yourself get fucked while staring directly at Rodrygo who had decided to receive you himself that day only to find you bent over for Pedri in a storage room. Sensuous groans and gasps were all you could let out as the faint realization -due to your dimmed faculties- of how this looked only made you clench harder.
The visitor eventually left you two alone all to your nefarious activities with no words exchanged and the door closer allowed you privacy again until the man in charge decided he was done with you for the day.
When upon finally coming to your senses you began to panic, your head was patted condescendingly in that peculiar manner of his. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.” And then he fixed your disheveled outfit before taking you for himself.
.
Man, I am so out of practice.
#pedri gonzalez#pedri#pedri x reader#pedri imagine#pedri smut#pedri x y/n#barcelona fc#barca x reader#barcelona x reader#football smut#footballer smut#footballer x reader#footballer imagine#footballer fanfiction#footballer x y/n#pedri x you#pedri fanfic
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TOGACHAKO VS. FUFFY: How To Save Your Evil Girlfriend
So, once again My Hero Academia has failed to deliver on its promise of saving / redeeming one of the main villains of its story, and victims of its ficitonal society. This time I'm going to make the added argument that not only does failing to save Toga make the story worse, it also makes Uraraka's character almost completely hollow. While you can dismiss Deku's lack of character development as him being a shonen protagonist, both Uraraka and Shoto had arcs and Ochako's is effectively ruined by her failure to save Toga.
In order to make my point I am going to compare it to a villain redemption arc in another piece of media that does it right, Faith's character, and her strained relationship with Buffy in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A series which is overall anti-state punishment and pro-redemption and delivers on practically all the themes MHA promised us.
MORE UNDER THE CUT:
THE GOOD GIRL and THE BAD GIRL
There is a reoccurring dynamic between two female characters in media, usually between a heroine and a female villainness that I like to call: The Good Girl vs. Bad Girl complex.
However, if you were a Freudian you'd be calling this a Madonna Whore Complex.
To explain the Madonna Whore Complex, one of the biggest examples in other Media is Aronofsky's Black Swan. The entire movie is themed around the Madonna Whore complex, and the impossible double standards the male perception imposes upon women.
"The white swan and the black swan are not merely characters, and not merely characters that are relevant to Nina. The black swan and the white swan are archetypes of women. They are emblematic of the Madonna and the Whore [...] . The white swan is the Madonna, she is pure, innocent, the ingenue. The black swan is the whore, she is cunning and deviant. The seductress. Nina and her ballet counterpart Odette are characterized as perfect ingénues. Ingénues are young, innocent girls who possess qualities of youth, innocence, kindness, naivete and purity. She is the fawn eyed damsel in distress and in literary films she's often the heroine or protagonist. On the other side of the coin from the ingenue, we have the seductress, embodied by Lily and her ballet counterpart Odelle. The seductress is characterized by her promiscuity, cunning nature and sex appeal. She is the alluring femme fatalle, willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. She's most often framed as the village. These draw parallels to Freud's psychoanalytical theory, a theory that suggests in the minds of some men they struggle to fully see women as fully realized and rather view them in archetypal categories." [SOURCE]
Black Swan is also a movie where Natalie Portman attempting to live up to the impossible expectations society has placed on her to be both the White Swan and the Black Swan goes insane, and quite possibly dies at the end of the movie.
Considering that Toga's entire story is that she is a shapeshifter who went mad because she could not fit both her parent's and society's expectations of being a "normal girl" then you can see why the Madonna Whore Complex is relevant, with the oversexualized, vampish, femme fatalle Toga quite obviously playing the part of the whore.
Before you call me a fraud for citing freud though, let me prove my point that the Madonna Whore Complex is quite literally everywhere in media.
I could literally keep going if this post didn't have an image limit: Jean Grey and Emma Frost, Jean Grey and Madelyne Pryor, Starfire and Blackfire, Raven and Terra, The Two Sisters from Ginger Snaps, t's literally everywhere all the way back to Lilith and Eve.
More intelligent takes on this trope play with the concept of the Madonna Whore Complex (MWC) to either present the archetypes as two fully rounded people (Catra and Adora) or demonstrate that it's impossible for women to fit into these two dinstinct categories (Natalie Portman in Black Swan).
Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a work that challenges the MWC, by allowing both its good girl, and bad girl to be fully realized characters. My Hero Academia plays the MWC straight to a sexist extent by not allowing Uraraka and Toga to escape their categorization of Good Girl and Bad Girl, and also going out of its way to punish and kill the seductress for her sexuality like this is a slasher horror movie. Actually, it's worse than a horror movie because at least Jennifer's Body plays with the MWC in a clever way.
It's not just bad writing anymore Hori's writing has crossed over into actively murdering female characters to enforce puritan values, but let's not get into that just yet we'll talk about the writing portion instead.
I'm going to outline what BTVS accomplishes, demonstrate how it does this below, and then go on at length picking apart how MHA fails.
BTVS:
Shows Buffy and Faith as fully realized people
Shows the pressure to conform to the "Good Girl / Bad Girl" label.
Breaks down those two categories
Redeems it's bad girl
With that out of the way let's get the ball rolling.
HOW TO (NOT) SAVE YOUR EVIL GIRLFRIEND
This is the part where everyone in the audience is going to gasp. Even though I'm using Buffy and Faith as a positive example of deconstructing the MWC and redeeming a villain, Buffy does not save Faith. The two of them reconcile in the end, but Faith is not redeemed or saved by Buffy, and in fact Buffy is in part responsible for Faith's fall.
So, why would I say Buffy and Faith are a better example of villain redemption then Uraraka who at least did everything she could to offer a helping hand to Toga?
Because Buffy not saving Faith is THE POINT and Faith receiving redemption even though Buffy gave up on her is also THE POINT. Lemme explain, by starting at the beginning.
BTVS is a story that exists to flip both horror tropes, and the idea of the chosen hero on its head. The concept started out with Joss Whedon noticing that the Cheerleader is always the first victim in any given horror movie, and wondering what it would look like if the Cheerleader could fight back. If the Cheerleader was the thing that monsters ran away from.
Which leads us to Buffy Summers. Buffy is chosen by the universe to slay vampires, she is hero with super strength that can easily take on legions of vampires and often has to fight even tougher villains for each season's conflict. Buffy carries all the classic features of both the ingenue and the chosen one protagonist rolled up into one:. Ingénues are young, innocent girls who possess qualities of youth, innocence, kindness, naivete and purity.
However, after dying in the first season, and having to kill her boyfriend in the second season after he turned evil and inflicted a lot of psychosexual abuse on her Buffy has also got a whole lot of trauma. Which is when Faith appears on the scene. One of the first ways that the show challenges the idea of the "Chosen One" is that there are actually two Chosen Ones, Faith being the other Slayer.
Buffy much like Deku has a case of protagonism brain rot, but in her case she was actually chosen by the mystic powers that be to be the protagonist of reality. Buffy, who views herself as the hero of the story as a coping mechanism (we'll get back to this later) is suddenly challenged when the fates chose yet another chosen hero, challenging her pre-conceived notion that she is the hero of the story. If Buffy is not the only hero then who is she? What is all the suffering she's endured so far if it's not a part of her own personal hero's journey?
Buffy begins to dislike Faith on sight for projection reasons, before Faith does anything wrong. In a way Buffy herself the female lead is enforcing society's standards of the MWC because all the reasons Buffy decides to disturst and dislike Faith on sight are because she exhibits qualities of the seductress.
Faith is openly promiscuous, often comparing the art of killing vampires to sex, she is also someone who is proud of her power as a a slayer and uses it for her own purposes. She is a slayer for selfish reasons (apparently) while Buffy is the selfless hero. In the first episode Faith appears in, Faith, Hope and Trick Buffy is almost immediately hostile to Faith who has so far done nothing wrong for, trying to get along with Buffy's friends, getting a little bit too into vampire slaying and openly relishing her strength, and like occasionally making lood comments.
FAITH: Don't… touch… me…! BUFFY - yanks Faith off the unconscious vamp with one hand, stakes the vamp withher other. Then she turns to Faith who is breathing hard, high on adrenaline, rubbing her fists. BUFFY: What is wrong with you? FAITH: What are you talking about? BUFFY: I'm talking about you living large on the great undead here. FAITH: Gee, if doing violence to vampires upsets you, I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong line a work… BUFFY: Or maybe you like it just a little too much. FAITH: I was getting the job done. BUFFY: The job is to slay demons. Not mash them into sloppy joes while their
Buffy then escalates to like ableist slurs towards Faith within half an episode for getting slightly violent in a fight against vampires that were trying to kill her.
GILES: Well, Buffy, you have to realize you and Faith have very different temperaments… BUFFY: I know, mine would be the sane one. Giles, she's not playing with a full deck. She has almost no deck. She has a three. GILES: You said yourself she killed one of them, she's a plucky fighter who got a little carried away. Which isnatural, she's focussed on Slaying,she doesn't have a whole other lifehere like you --
The twist this episode is that no matter how much Faith tries to present herself as a free-spirit, she's actually a scared homeless girl who just happened to become the Slayer. Unlike Buffy she does not have a watcher, a mother, or friends to support her. She lives in the cheapest motel in sunnydale. The reason she's so violent against vampires is because she is understandably having a trauma flashback because her mentor was murdered right in front of her by a different vamp.
This is repeating pattern throughout the whole season, Faith is shown to be a victim of trauma, and occasionally acts in ways that are understandable for a victim like her to ask, only for Buffy to start mischaracterizing her as someone violent and insane and throwing the slurs.
You can compare both Faith and Toga as characters who are complex victims of trauma who society turns their back on and become bad victims, but Faith is a special case because we actively see her turn to the dark side. Faith starts out trying to be a hero like the rest and she practically does nothing wrong for half a season, and when she does finally make a mistake and become a bad victim it's the hero's desire to punish her and castigate her that turns her into a villain.
We actively see Faith's fall happen onscreen, and it's like totally Buffy's fault. Buffy throws her completely under the bus, because she's so desperate to see Faith as the Bad Slayer and Buffy as the Good Slayer. Faith is almost pushed into evil because of the MWC, the characters around her can't see her as a fully fleshed out human being so they are quick to demonize her when she starts acting like a bad victim.
So the two episodes appropriately named: Bad Girls and Consequences depict Faith's fall. In that episode Faith and Buffy are fighting vampires, and one human is mixed among the vampires. The human grabs Faith by the shoulder, and Faith thinking that the human is a vampire turns him around and stakes him.
It's a complete accident, something that Giles even says later on is an accident that can happen to any Slayer on the job and is completely normal. It's a murder that Buffy herself could have committed.
GILES: This is not the first time something like this has happened. BUFFY: It's not? GILES: A slayer is on the front lines of a nightly war, Buffy. It's tragic - but accidents have happened. BUFFY: What do you do? GILES: The council investigates, meters out punishment if punishment is due… I've no plan to involve them,however. That's the last thing Faith needs right now. She's unstable, Buffy. She seems utterly unable to accept responsibility. Shows no remorse.
However, even in the same breath Giles explains that it's an accident and not Faith's fault, he's also calling Faith unstable and irresponsible. Basically when they're not calling her a psycho (just hitting her with the ableist slurs), the protagonists all lowkey imply that Faith is somehow inherently violent and unstable because she displays symptoms of a bad victim.
I might also remind you Faith has not done anything to earn any of these accusations, until she kills someone in a complete accident. A complete accident that Giles once again said wasn't her fault and wasn't really a big deal.
FAITH: My dead mother hits harder than that.
Faith is stated to be a victim of physical abuse, heavily implied to be a victim of sexual abuse, and is homeless (none of the main characters offer to let her stay in her house she spends half a season in a terrible motel). However, Faith is quickly demonized by the white wealthy main characters for acting in ways that are completely typical for a homeless teenager.
The moment she commits one mistake they all turn on her and use that mistake as proof of these violent tendencies they all want to accuse her of having. Faith can never be the ingenue so she must be the seductress, because she can't just be a person.
Buffy: So, I, uh... (sees Faith scrubbing) How are ya doin'? Faith: (still scrubbing) I'm alright. You know me. Buffy: Faith, we need to talk about what we're gonna do. Faith: (looks at Buffy) There's nothing to talk about. I was doing my job. Buffy: Being a Slayer is not the same as being a k*ller. Faith has nothing to say. She's finished scrubbing. Buffy: Faith, please don't shut me out here. Look, sooner or later, we're both gonna have to deal.
It is essentially two episodes of this, Faith after killing someone on accident in a life or death fight is constantly called a murderer by others. She wasn't even like, drunk, or high, or being especially reckless she was being a normal slayer.
FAITH: So the mayor of Sunnydale is a black hat. Shocker, huh? BUFFY: Actually - yeah. I didn't get the bad guy vibe off him. Faith shakes her head. Scoffs. FAITH: When you gonna learn, B? It doesn't matter what kind of "vibe" a person gives off. Nine times outta ten he face they're showing you? It isn't the real one. BUFFY: I guess you know a lot about that. FAITH: What's that supposed to mean? BUFFY: Look at you, Faith. Less than twenty four hours ago you killed a guy. And now you're laughing and scratching and zipidee doo dah. That's not your real face, and I know it. I know what you're feeling because I feel it too. FAITH: Do you? So, fill me in. I'd like to hear this. BUFFY: Dirty. Like something sick creeped inside you and you can't get it out. And you keep hoping what happened wasjust some nightmare…
Faith is dirty, faith is disgusting, faith is unstable, Faith is sick for... killing a guy on accident in a way that Giles said was a perfectly understandable accident, and not showing clear guilt because the moment she did it everyone around her jumped on her and started accusing her of being a murderer.
Why do the selfless main characters suddenly start demonizing this girl before she even did anything wrong - well it's because she's poor problem solved.
No, but it does play a factor. Why do most american white middle class look down on the homeless? Because, they must have done something to deserve it, right? If Faith killed a man, that clearly is an indication that she was violent all along and the heroes don't have to sympathize with the fact she's homeless or you know lift a finger to help her.
Now, this makes it sound like I hate Buffy, but Buffy is actually my favorite character in the whole show. The thing is Buffy's complete lack of sympathy for Faith makes her a better character. Buffy needs to demonize Faith and throw her under the bus, because Buffy is a victim of sexual abuse too. Her boyfriend turned evil after having sex with her once, and spent an entire season stalking her and terrorizing her the entire season 2 Buffy / Angel plotline is a thinly veiled groomer metaphor.
The thing about Buffy is she's not allowed to show any kind of reaction to her trauma. The episodes preceeding Faith, Hope and Trick are Anne, an episode where Buffy runs away from home after being sexually abused (stalking is sexual abuse) by Angel for a whole season and feeling like no one would understand her, and Dead Man's Party, an episode where every single one of Buffy's loved ones ruthlessly criticize her for having run away. Like, how dare a teenager not react perfectly to being horribly stalked by a serial killer after she had sex with him for like half a year.
JOYCE: Buffy! You didn't give me any time. You just dumped this… this thing on me and expected me to get it. Well -guess what? Mom's not perfect. I handled it badly. But that doesn'tgive you the right to punish me byrunning away. BUFFY: Punish you? I didn't do this to punish you XANDER: Well you did. You should have seen what it did to her. BUFFY: Great. Would anybody else care to weigh in? What about you? By the dip. XANDER: Maybe you don't want to hear it, Buffy. But taking off like that was selfishand stupid. Buffy's breaking down. It's all too much. BUFFY: Okay - I screwed up! I know it - alright!? But you have no idea. You have no idea what happened to me or what I was feeling
The reason Buffy is so hard on Faith is because everyone else is equally hard on her. The label of the ingenue is so difficult for Buffy to maintain, because she has to be pure, and without any flaws, especially when reacting to trauma that she throws Faith under the bus for her bad victim behaviors.
The white middle class demonize the homeless because they don't want to face the reality it can happen to them, Buffy doesn't want to reflect on all the things her and Faith have in common because she could very easily become Faith. Buffy is the victim of extremely similiar trauma to Faith, and being pressured to be the perfect victim of that trauma in a way that's destroying her mentally slowly.
FAITH: It was good, wasn't it? The sex? The danger? Bet a part of you even dug him when he went psycho BUFFY: No FAITH: See - you need me to tow the line because you're afraid you'll go over it, aren't you, B? You can't handle watching me living my own way and having a blast - because it tempts you. You know it could be you... ( Something snaps in Buffy. She rears back and POPS Faith a good one. Faith falls back, but she's smiling as she puts a hand to her bleeding mouth. ) FAITH: There's my girl…
Buffy is suffering under the expectations of the MWC too, but in her desperation to make Faith out to be the seductress instead of... like... a csa victim... Buffy is reinforcing those standards on both herself and another woman.
The entirety of Bad Girls and Conesequences is Faith being called a murderer by several people, having another trauma flashback to a sexual assault because Xander came to her motel room under the guise of "helping her", getting hit over the head and chained to a wall, then getting the swat team called on her and almost dragged to London for trial. Then the heroes do nothing to help her. The first thing Faith does is go to the main villain, who buys her an apartment AND A PLAYSTATION. So... the evil main Villain of the show helped Faith with her homelessness situation while none of the main characters lifted a finger.
it sounds like it sucks but it doesn't because it's all intentional. Buffy cannot process her own sexual trauma so she is just awful to people who are also domestic abuse victims. here's one of my favorite scenes, Buffy yells at a girl being beaten by her boyfriend with a visible black eye.
Buffy: Where can we find him? Debbie: I-I don't know. Buffy: You're lying. Debbie: What if I am? What are you gonna do about it? Willow: Wrong question. Buffy takes her by the arm again and pushes her up against the sink in front of the mirror. Buffy: Look at yourself. Why are you protecting him? Anybody who really loved you couldn't do this to you. She takes a few steps away. Debbie turns around to face them. Debbie: Would they take him someplace? Buffy: Probably. Debbie: (shakes her head, sobbing) I could never do that to him.(Willow sighs) I'm his everything. Buffy: (disgusted) Great. So what, you two live out your Grimm fairy tale? Two people are dead.
That poor girl gets her neck snapped like five minutes later and Buffy just kinda, moves on even though it would have been an easily preventable death.
Buffy getting mad at an abuse victim for showing textbook behaviors of abuse victims in bad relationships. Buffy is a good character because she is a hero, she can be empathic, but she really only understands heroism in term of defeating the bad guys, and when called to relate to people with complex trauma, especially trauma that reflects her own trauma she can't! She just can't process it! The expectations of being the ingenue, the perfect hero are so crushing she can't cope with a messy reality so she needs to have a black and white view of herself and other people.
Buffy needs to be firmly in the good category, and Faith needs to be firmly in the bad category in order for Buffy's brain to keep working.
Not only does Buffy's conflict with Faith characterize how much Faith suffers for being a bad victim, it shows how the pressure to be a good victim destroys Buffy mentally to the point where she starts using Faith as a punching bag.
Literallly.
It's all intentional too, Buffy gets called out on it, Faith always gets the last word and the final episode of the season makes out Buffy to be a hypocrite. After Buffy literally threw Faith under the bus, called her disgusting for murdering a man, Buffy is completely willing to murder Faith to get a cure for her vampire boyfriend who's been poisoned.
All human life is sacred and needs to be protected, but Fuck Faith I guess.
Faith: I could say the same about you. I mean, you're still the same better-than-thou Buffy. I mean, I knew it somehow. I kept having this dream, I'm not sure what it means, but in the dream the self-righteous blond chick stabs me, and you wanna know why? Buffy: You had it coming. Faith: That's one interpretation, but in my dream, she does it for a guy. Faith: I wake up to find the blond chick isn't even dating the guy she was so nuts about before. I mean, she's moved on to the first college beefstick she meets. Not only has she forgotten about the love of her life, but she's forgotten about the chick she nearly k*lled for him. So that's my dream. That and some stuff about cigars and a tunnel. But tell me, college girl, what does it mean? Buffy: To me? Mostly, that you still mouth off about things you don't understand. (Sirens) Uh-oh. I guess somebody knows you're here.
So the show goes to great length to show you that there are two sides to this conflict, Buffy demonizes Faith, because her friends expect her to be the perfect hero. Faith reacts badly to trauma because she has no support system, and the people around her have no empathy for her because they're too privileged to imagine the things in Faith's life ever happening to her.
Buffy and Faith are fully realized people.
Buffy and Faith are presented to the audience as the ingenue and the seductress but they're both fully realized characters. Buffy's not the ingenue because she's just as capable of murder as Faith is. Faith isn't the seductress because she's a homeless teenager. They are both victims of sexual trauma, though one reacts in what people consider an "acceptable way" and the other is a total slut about it.
Shows the pressure to conform to the "Good Girl / Bad Girl" label.
Buffy throws Faith under the bus specifically because the pressure in her life to be the perfect slayer is so immense that it could be her that takes the fall so she needs to believe in black and white concepts like she is inherently good and Faith is inherently bad to justify the bad things that happen to Faith and therefore convince herself said bad things could never happen to her. "You can't handle watching me living my own way and having a blast - because it tempts you. You know it could be you..."
Faith: Angel said there was no way you were gonna give me a chance. Buffy: I gave you every chance! I tried so hard to help you, and you spat on me. My life was just something for you to play with. Angel - Riley - anything that you could take from me - you took. I've lost battles before - but nobody else has -ever- made me a victim. Faith: And you can't stand that. You're all about control. You have no idea what it's like on the other side! Where nothing's in control, nothing makes sense! There is just pain and hate and nothing you do means anything. You can't even.. Buffy: Shut up!"
Buffy needs to fit her and Faith into neat little boxes because she cannot face the inherent senselessness of the world (and also that she is a victim too "you made me a victim")
Breaks down those two categories
Even in Seasons where Faith is not present she haunts the narrative, because the writers were well aware that Buffy and Faith are the same person under different circumstances.
All of Season 6 Buffy is faced with many of the same situations that Faith was, she suddenly becomes poor and in danger of losing her house, she has extreme depression from coming back from the dead (long story) she can't share those feelings with any of her friends because they treated her much like they did Faith - having no sympathy for imperfect victims. Buffy even gets into an unhealthy, sexual relationship, and like Natalie Portman basically changes from the ingenue into the seductress.
A relationship she has to keep a secret because once again, Buffy must fit into the box of the ingenue in order to be loved by her friends. This leads to her committing several bad behaviors, and at times borderline emotional abuse towards her sister (and debatably her boyfriend) and all comes to a head when Buffy is faced with the exact same situation as Faith.
Buffy in Season 6 believes she has killed a person accidentally while being the Slayer. It's a repeat of Bad Girls with several paralels, including someone trying to hide the body only for it to turn up later, and Buffy insisting she has to turn herself into the police and face jailtime.
However, in this version Buffy unlike Faith has friends who try to stop her from turning herself in and explain to her the murder wasn't her fault - and Buffy still reacts the same way Faith does. She basically borderline quotes Faith.
Faith: Shut up! Do you think I'm afraid of you? [Faith grabs Buffy and throws her down, then sits on top of her and starts punching her.] Faith: You're nothing. [Punch. Punch.] Faith: Disgusting. [Punch. Punch.] [Faith grabs Buffy's hair with both hand and bangs her head.] Faith: Murderous bitch. [Bang. Bang...] You're nothing. [Bang. Bang...] Faith: [Switches back to punches] You're [Faith is now crying.] disgusting.
This is an earlier scene which plays out as an exact parallel to this scene:
BUFFY: You can't understand why this is killing me, can you? SPIKE: Why don't you explain it? She hits him a few more times. He takes it, not fighting back. SPIKE: Come on, that's it, put it on me. Put it all on me. (She kicks him) That's my girl. BUFFY: (yelling) I am not your girl! She hits him hard. He falls back onto his butt. Buffy gets on top of him and begins hitting him over and over. BUFFY: You don't ... have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never ... be your girl! She continues hitting him throughout this. Now Spike goes back to human face. He's looking very bruised and bloody, but he doesn't fight back, just takes it. Buffy hits him again and again, looking angry and desperate. Finally she stops and looks at him in horror.
So if Buffy can react the exact same way that Faith does, when faced with the same trauma there is no good girl or bad girl, there's only two people who are complicated human beings.
The story *gasp* lets the hero be a bad girl.
Redeems it's bad girl
Faith's redemption is a shocking contrast to MHA the plot of BTVS does not allow Faith to commit suicide in order to redeem herself. In fact, her entire arc is an argument against the "put her down like a mad dog" trope. Starting with the fact that the heroes who are partly responsible for Faith's fall in the first place, are all too willing to just let the homeless teenager fall by the wayside, and then put her down for her own sake.
As I stated above, the inherent hypocrisy Buffy shows in her calling Faith a murderer and irredeemable for killing someone on accident because all human life is sacred to her, and then going on to try to murder Faith at the end of the season already shows the "put her down like a mad dog" argument doesn't work. Faith isn't too far gone, it's just Buffy who sees her that way. And because Buffy has given up on Faith she's failing at being a hero.
As I said above, Buffy is not the one to rescue Faith. In fact, in the episodes where Faith's redemption arc starts, Buffy is the one trying to hunt her down and enforce punishment on her. The episodes "5x5" and "Sanctuary" are both focused on Buffy going to LA to hunt down and interfere when Angel is trying to help Faith get back on her feet. The two episdodes basically explore the concept of redemption vs. punishment and how punishment saves no one.
5x5 depicts Faith's spiral as she runs away to LA to escape Buffy who is hunting her down, and accepts a job to assassinate Angel, which if she succeeds will get her rich and also get the cops off of her trail. We're led the whole episode to believe Faith has learned nothing until the confrontation with Angel at the very end, which you should really watch because it's great television.
Faith: You hear me? - You don't know what evil is! - I'm bad! - Fight back! Faith keeps whaling on Angel, sometimes he ducks, sometimes the hits connect. Angel grabs a hold of her: Nice try, Faith. He tosses her away from him. Then walks after her. Angel: I know what you want. She hits him and he hits back dropping her. She comes back up hitting and screaming, but not making much of a dent. Wesley leans out of the window and sees Faith beating up on Angel. He goes into the kitchen and grabs a butcher knife, then heads for the door. Angel as he dodges another hit: I'm not gonna make it easy for you. Faith throws herself against Angel screaming: I'm evil! I'm bad! I'm evil! Do you hear me? I'm bad! Angel, I'm bad! (She begins to sob, grabbing a hold of Angel's shirt and shaking him) I'm ba-ad. Do you hear me? I'm bad! I'm bad! I'm bad. Please. Angel, please, just do it. Wesley comes running out of the house. Faith sobbing: Angel please, just do it. Just do it. Just k*ll me. Just k*ll me." Angel wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her against him. She over balances them and they sink to their knees, Angel still holding her as she cries. Angel: Shh. It's all right. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. Shh.
Faith tries to take the Toga approach to commit suicide in order to atone, but Angel actively understands that is what she's trying to do, and denies her the chance to die to redeem herself and instead holds her until she calms down.
Angel doesn't just save her once though he spends the entire next episode defending Faith from Buffy who has come to LA to take her revenge, and trying to talk Faith into believing she can still keep on living in spite of all the bad things she's done.
Faith: Are you saying I got to apologize? Angel: Think you can? Faith: I don’t' know. - How do you say 'Gee, I'm really sorry tortured you I nearly to death? Angel: Well, first off I think I'd leave off the 'Gee.' And secondly I think you have to ask yourself: are you? Faith: What? Angel: Sorry. Faith: And what if I *can't* say it? There are some things you can't just take back, no matter how sorry you *are*, right? Angel: Yeah, there are. I've got some experience in that area. Faith: Right. And you've been doing this for a hundred years! I'm not gonna make it through the next ten minutes. Angel: So make it through the next five, the next minute." Faith: "I don't think I can. Angel: Yes, you can. Faith walks away: God, it hurts. I hate that it hurts like this. Angel follows her: Oh well, it's supposed to hurt. All that pain, all that suffering you caused is coming back on you. Feel it! Deal with it! Then maybe you've got a shot at being free.
Angel's advice is "Guilt is supposed to hurt but if you face your pain you can try to find a way to be free of it" which is something much more profound then any of the forgiveness crap they peddle in MHA. More importantly though, the conflict the whole episode goes out of its way to show that revenge is bad, and punishment doesn't save a soul.
Angel: I didn't - I didn't think it was your business. Buffy: Not my business? Angel: I needed more time with Faith. I'm not sure... Buffy: You needed - do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you with her? That you went behind my back... Angel: Buffy, this wasn't about you! This was about saving someone's soul. Buffy: I came here because you were in danger. Angel: I'm in Danger every day. You came here because of faith. You were looking for vengeance. Buffy: I have a right to it. Angel: Not in my city.
Faith's suicidal ideation is a recurring theme that carries through her character arc in the following season - she does in fact go to prison for awhile (Elizabeth Dushku had to go make Bring it On) but Buffy remains anti-state punishment because going to Prison doesn't help her whatsoever. In fact, she just breaks out when she has to save Angel and spends the rest of the season free.
There are two episodes that actually are dedicated to showing prison didn't help, and what Faith needs to redeem herself is to spend every day of her life trying to be good, not just accepting punishment.
ANGEL: Faith, wake up! FAITH: (wakes) I've rolled the bones. You for me. ANGEL: I used to think that. That there'd be a point when I'd paid my dues. Angel and Angelus are fighting in the alley again. Angel leaves the fight and goes over to Faith's side, holding her up in his arms. ANGEL: Faith, listen to me. You saw me drink. It doesn't get much lower than that. And I thought I could make up for it by disappearing. FAITH: I did my time. ANGEL: Our time is never up, Faith. We pay for everything. FAITH: It hurts. ANGEL: I know. I know. ANGEL: Get up! You have to get up now. Faith, you have to fight. I need you to fight. Do you understand what I'm saying?
So you have one manga series where the teenage girl who did bad things commits suicide because she believed she was going to be in prison for the rest of her life and had no future, and you have the other where the teenage girl tries to commit suicide - only for Angel to stop her and encourage her every step of the way that there's still a future for her even if she can't be "forgiven".
One work ends Toga's life because she's done "unforgivable things" and the other tells Faith that the things she should feel guilty for the things she's done, and she should feel that guilt so she can keep working to be a better person every single day.
One of these is a good message to send to your teenage homeless trauma victim, the other is incredibly harmful. With that out of the way let's switch to BNHA.
HOW TO BURY YOUR GAYS
Now I'm going to attempt to demonstrate why MHA fails to truly deconstruct the MWC, and this not only ruins any potential character development for Uraraka, it also sends a deeply harmful message with Toga's death.
I think I've gone to great length above explaining how BTVS communicates it's stance of being anti-punishment and pro-redemption and even goes as far to demonstrate how punishment does not save anyone. Yet, here is the manga about heroes saving people that completely fumbles those exact same themes.
MHA:
Doesn't show Toga and Ochako as fully realized people
Doesn't show the pressure to conform to the "Good Girl / Bad Girl" label.
Doesn't break down down those two categories
Doesn't redeem it's bad girl
So let me start by saying outside of the context of the story Ochako and Toga both had the potential to be great characters. Unforunately this isn't Gacha, so the way the characters are written in the story, and the quality of their story arcs affects how well they are characterized.
Toga is much better off as a character as opposed to Ochako who sort is reduced to a satellite that revolves around Deku, but their story arcs and the way they conclude does a disservice to both of them as characters. They fail entirely to be shown as fully realized people by their narratives, because of the narratives desire to force them into the good girl and bad girl box.
More or less, Ochako isn't allowed to have flaws, and Toga isn't allowed to redeem herself in any way that doesn't involve killing herself.
Let's get to the characters though, the basic premise of the comparsion between Toga and Ochako is that Ochako perfectly fits into the mould of what society considers a "good, nice girl" she perfectly embodies the ingenue. Whereas Toga was horribly abused for most of her life until she snapped, because she was unable to simply pretend to be the normal girl that Ochako is naturally.
One thing I will give credit to MHA for, it does Toga being pushed to the margins and eventually falling off the edge of society as a young eventually homeless girl that no one cared enough to help about as effectively as Faith did. Toga and Faith were also both demonized before they did anything wrong, and were further demonized because they didn't act the way good victims were supposed to act.
The manga is almost masterful at portraying how much being forced into the box of the ingenue caused Toga's mental decline, until she eventually snapped and became the seductress instead.
Toga hasn't even done anything yet, she's already being punished and demonized simply for appearing deviant. Because once again the categories of Ingenue and Seductress aren't for viewing women and girls as fully realized people, you are either a perfect, innocent, girl, or you're a whore.
Toga is also hypersexual the same way Faith is. Of course it's not done with any of the same amount of nuance of BTVS because Hori has a habit of using Toga for fanservice, but Toga does have a habit of sexualizing herself, in a way that would be classified as deviant love. We also in the manga first view her as nothing more than a shallow yandere who creeps Uraraka out with her blushing and hot desire for blood, only to be shown she's actually capable of being an emotionally intelligent and caring individual when it comes to how she relates to her friends.
Toga viewing sucking blood as love is a clear metaphor for deviant sexuality, or even hyper sexuality, it's something that makes her a literal vamp. Toga being overly sexually aggressive and suggestive with the way she sucks blood is something the society she's in demonizes her for, Deku even makes a thoughtless comment that pushes her off the edge that he'd never even think of hurting someone he loved.
Faith is a CSA victim who is constantly trying to play off her trauma, so she's totally into sex guys, she loves sex, she loves it rough, she goes to clubs and grinds on guys, she's all into sex and violence and safety words are for chumps.
Toga was told her way of expressing love and attraction was wrong and deviant from a young age, and as a result of that the same way that Faith embraces hypersexuality, Toga embraces her femme fatalle / yandere persona and plays it up. Well everyone was right about her, she's fine with being a monster, so she just wants to live as a monster stabbing people randomly and taking their blood before moving onto the next victim.
They can't ever be the ingenue, so Faith and Toga embrace being the seductress instead. Yes, Hori does use Toga for fanservice, but at the same time you can't deny she's deliberately playing up her sexuality like a femme fatalle in a way that is not healthy (Faith is a hypersexual teenager too, I'm saying it's a trauma response for both of them).
MHA also shows much like with Faith how Toga despite being just a teenager is someone all of society has given up on - the same way that everyone gave up on Faith for being a homeless teenager. Then further demonized her for acting in ways homeless teenagers act, until she at last finally committed one crime and they turned on her.
Toga's first crime was committed after her mental breakdown, but it's revealed much later on that Toga wanted to ask Saito for permission to drink his blood, and if she'd just been granted it or at least the emotional abuse heaped on her had stopped she never would have had her breakdown.
For Toga it was Saito, for Faith it was killing by Mistake, after being abandoned they endured violence that further radicalized them with no help from the heroes.
Toga's character also textually acknowledges that the heroes are not going to help her, and are likely going to kill her, whereas in Buffy it stays subtext. Which isn't a problem, it trusts it's audience to go "Oh, the good guys are being jerks here" however, it's a direct facet of MHA's worldbuilding that Toga has watched the heroes kill her best friend, and now thinks she has to fight to the death because the heroes will kill her too. She can't back down and let herself be saved, because the heroes don't even see her as human.
Buffy can't forgive Faith for accidentally killing some random guy because all human life is sacred, but also she tries to kill Faith multiple times, because Faith's not human I guess. Uraraka and Deku believe themselves to be heroes but they actively support people like Hawks, who murdered Toga's best friend and have done absolutely nothing to show her that they won't kill her.
Toga reflects a lot of Faith's suffering for being a bad victim that society allowed to fall through the cracks, and a Seductress who needs to be punished for expressing her sexuality. In fact if it were just Toga, you could call it at least an effective deconstruction of the "seductress/whore" because Toga is a fully realized character and her entire backstory is about how society's expectations for her to be a perfect ingenue, and then punishing her when she wasn't a perfect ingenue is what led to her complete mental breakdown. She couldn't be the white swan or the black swan, so she became the blood-soaked swan instead.
Where the comparison starts to fall apart is Ochako. Toga is a character, and Ochako is not. Just like Deku Ochako more or less just kind of morphs into a plot device that exists to save the villain counterparts to prove what good heroes the kids are - and then she doesn't even do that part. Failing to save Toga is the final nail in the coffin for Ochako being a character and not a plot device to show how good and virtuous the heroes are.
BTVS goes to painstaking extents to establish how Buffy and Faith are the exact same girl in different circumstances. They are both victims of sexual abuse. They're both the Slayer. They both lose their mom at different points in the story. They both struggle with the fact that slayers are also killers, they're both the "chosen one". They both have issues that makes them conflate sexuality with violence.
Buffy is put through several situations that parallel Faith, she loses her mom, she becomes financially destitute, she starts exploring her sexuality in a very faith-like way. The two of them swap bodies at one point and nobody can tell the difference.
There's no strong parallel between Ochako and Toga to give the audience a reason why we should care about the relationship between the two girls in the first place. Ochako's connection to Toga tells us nothing about her character, because there's no strong parallel as shown to us by the story.
There are some parallels, the story attempts to tackle the emotional repression angle of how much the ingenue suffers because she's forced to repress her emotions and how much she envies Toga's free expression.
Why does Ochako think that way? Why does she focus on Toga in particular? The plot tells us why Buffy feels she has so much in common with Faith, they're both the chosen one but Buffy feels like she's under such intense pressure to be perfect that seeing Faith get to act out and express herself makes her jealous.
The manga tells us that Ochako is emotionally repressed, but it doesn't show us, because there are never any real consequences for Ochako repressing her feelings. Natalie Portman in Black Swan, and Buffy both experience mental spirals because the pressure to be the perfect woman is too much for them - to meet the impossible purity standards of the ingenue while still being a sexual creature.
In Uraraka this is the extremely simplified belief that she can't have feelings for a boy, while also being a hero because those beings are selfish and she should be focused on saving people. However, we never see her suffer because of these feelings. We don't even get the bare minimum of having her angst over unrequited love.
I don't want to give Ochako too little credit, there are several things that could have been a connection to Ochako, but they all turn out to be non-starters. Ochako is poor and often makes remarks like "The best way to save money is to not eat" in omake and she hangs out with mostly rich friends. She had early angst about the fact that her friends were becoming heroes for mostly altruistic reasons and she became a hero for money.
That could have also connected to the scene where Ochako witnessed the scene of a hero quitting amongst all of the destruction after the end of the first war arc, to show her the consequences of all the heroes who were heroes for less than altruistic reasons.
Ochako could have even told Toga something along the lines of "I was poor, I know how it is to struggle" especially since Toga spent a good portion of time homeless after she was throne out by her parents.
Instead that goes unaddressed except in this scene which makes it look like Toga is ignorant for assuming Ochako never suffered.
Toga and Ochako both feel like they need to repress their feelings but Toga was emotionall abused by her parents, then experienced psychiatric abuse, and then was disowned after her mental breakdown led to a violent incident. Uraraka feels like she can't tell the boy she loves how she feels. One of thsee things is not like the others.
There are more possible connections that you could draw between them, Uraraka gives a big speech about how the heroes have it rough too guys and at that point it cuts to a picture of Toga crying and that could have led to a revelation that if Ochako is asking the common people to see heroes as human beings, then they should try to see villains as human beings too.
This could also couple well with the fact that Toga believes Ochako wants to kill her the same way that Hawks killed Twice. Both of these facts, Ochako originally only being a hero for money and watching heroes for money quit, and also Ochako learning about Twice killing Toga's friends could lead to some self-reflection on the hero system and Ochako could listen to Toga and be the one to convince her that heroes will save her.
However, none of these happen so we don't know why Ochako feels compelled to save Toga, other than the fact that Ochako is just that nice.
It is really a repeat of Deku's writing, we are told that Himiko just really, really, really wants to save Toga, but not only are we never given an in character reason why that is, but we're also supposed to ignore all the evidence that contradicts this.
Ochako wants to reach out and touch the sadness inside of Toga, but she never actually does anything to try to understand or talk to Toga until the last possible minute. In fact, it's Toga who reaches out several times and Uraraka who ignores her. It is Ochako who insists several times that Toga's deeds are unforgivable and then the conversation stops there.
There's also the scene where Deku and Ochako are looking over the cliffside and Ochako is actively reminding herself of the damage that Ochako caused as a reason that she doesn't have to think of her as a human being.
Ochako doesn't even go in with a plan to take down Toga non-lethally like Shoto did with Toya, nor does she even think about what she wants to say to her until the last possible moment.
Ochako's actions make her more like Buffy, someone who actively doesn't empathize with the villain and doesn't want to save her because of her own personal hangups. (However, we're given no personal hangups for why Ochako, the most perfect hero ever wouldn't want to save Toga). Her actions are like Buffy's, not reaching out a hand to Toga she only gets worse and worse, but we're told the opposite. That she's someone who wants to reach and touch Toga's sadness.
It would be better if Ochako DIDN'T want to save Toga, because at least there would be an arc to it. The lack of empathy would be a character flaw on Ochako's part, something that she needs to overcome to be a proper hero. It would be better if Ochako DIDN'T want to save Toga, because then she'd need an in character reason why she doesn't empathize with Toga, like Buffy does with Faith.
Ochako is supposed to be deconstructing the ingenue, but she's not allowed to have any flaws, or be anything other than the perfect, empathic hero and because of that she ends up reinforcing the Ingenue instead. The ingenue isn't allowed to be anything other than perfect, and the Seductress must be punished.
Doesn't allow the Bad Girl to be redeemed:
Toga's death ends up reinforcing basically every backwards double standard about the MWC including the need for men to punish and villify women who freely express their sexuality. Toga's entire character arc is asking the question if soemone like her is allowed to live in this society, if the heroes will save the life of someone like her and the answer we receive is: no she can't live.
Toga can't live in this world, she has to die. Not only does Twice die and never receive justice and his murderer get off scott free, Toga who asks the question of if she's going to die too, the answer is yes.
In both of these plotlines you have young woman who have done bad things but are still teenagers, who are struggling with suicidal ideation who believe their only escape is death. Faith is told that the guilt of the things she's done is painful, but she has to live in order to make up for it because that's the only way to free herself. Whereas, Toga comes to the conclusion that there is no future for her other than being in jail for the rest of her life and therefore it's not worth living.
Toga has to be punished by the narrative in a way that's completely unnecessary, because characters like Bakugo and Edgeshot somehow survived doing open heart surgery in the middle of an active battlefield, but Toga dies from a blood transfusion.
One of these narratives is telling a troubled young abuse victim who's still a teenager to live, and the other is telling her to die. Now which one of these plotlines would you want a young girl to read?
#mha 428#mha spoilers#mha 428 spoilers#mha meta#mha critical#uraraka ochako#uraraka#toga himiko#toga#togachako#faith#buffy summers#faith lehane#fuffy
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🏠one goodbye, a million hellos
A Phoenix and Ashes & Don’t you dare run away short story (can be read as a standalone)
Suna x f!reader
Summary: Suna is invited to the wedding of his ex. he goes there with a broken heart and leaves with a loving one.
Content warnings: alcohol consumption, non-explicit bed scene, swearings, timeskip, manga spoilers
Words count: 3.5k
Suna knew from the moment he woke up that morning, that today was going to be shitty day. First, his alarm didn’t go off—luckily, his lazy cat decided to scratch at the door, waking him up. Bleary-eyed, he noted that the noise outside was way too loud for it to be 6 a.m. That’s when he checked the time. It was 8 a.m.
He launched out of bed and stumbled as his ankle twisted slightly. He barely registered the discomfort because he simply had no time to waste. Then he checked the weather on his phone: a sunny day ahead, or so he thought. However, all he had to do was cross the threshold to realise that he’d checked the forecast for Hiroshima, not Tokyo, and that it was pouring rain in the bigger city.
The way to the gym didn’t help ease his mood. He had to wait for two overcrowded trains to pass before he could squeeze onto the third, only to watch in horror as his wallet tumbled out of his bag and skidded across the station floor. Two teenagers shot him a pitying look and smirked.
His coach made him run ten extra laps of the court as a punishment.
Anyway, it was shaping up to be the shittiest day.
Only two things can possibly redeem it now, Suna hopes: the company of his chubby, grey cat and the arrival of his long-awaited new volleyball shoes.
When he finally reaches his apartment building, he rushes to the mailbox.
Fuck, the shoes aren’t there.
He sighs heavily and sorts through the stack of mostly junk mail. There’s an ad for the new yakiniku restaurant that opened in his neighbourhood, a fan’s letter (how did they find his address?) and then, at the bottom of the mailbox, a delicate, white envelope with his name inked in familiar handwriting. Suddenly, his chest tightens. Suna feels his lungs closing, as if they can no longer inhale the breath from outside. Because, even if he wishes he could unrecall the way his ex-girlfriend used to write his name, he can’t; and the letter is from her. He doesn’t need to open the letter to know what it is. She wouldn’t use such elegant paper for him—not anymore. So, he knows, even before reading a single word, that it is an invitation to her wedding.
Her wedding to Miya Osamu.
But just in case his hunch was wrong, in case she dumped his former teammate and wants Suna back in her life, he decides to unfold the paper, carefully.
Honda Airi & Miya Osamu are pleased to invite you...
That’s enough for today.
He shoves the letter into his bag, in a harsh move. Yet somehow, he can’t bring himself to crumple or shred it to pieces for it is certainly very precious to Airi.
When he enters his apartment, he mumbles a shy “tadaima”, it’s unusual for him. He never much cared for the ritual of announcing his return, but his mother used to insist on it, so he only does it with her and his younger sister when he visits them. And Airi once complained when he didn’t. He never knew why it mattered so much to her.
“It’s just… I love having someone to say ‘okaeri’ to,” she said.
Only now does Suna understand the warmth of having someone to greet when coming home, or rather, Suna understands the coldness of having no one to go home to. Not even Peko-chan, his cat, bothers to look up at him, it doesn’t seem like that ungrateful bastard is going to come and ask for cuddles anytime soon.
He finds a single lollipop on the kitchen counter and unwraps it, it’s sweet but somehow tonight, it tastes bitter.
The letter stays in his bag for weeks. Airi tries to call him a few times, leaving messages of “hey, I was wondering if you had received a letter?”, and “tell me when you have received the invitation… I’d like to talk with you about it.” Which turned into “everyone received theirs so I don’t know if you moved out or if you’re ignoring me… anyway, please call me back.”
She sounds so worried; it makes him feel bad and so, he calls her back.
Airi seems to be thrilled when she talks about the wedding plans. There’s this spark in her voice that reminds him of everything he once loved about her. For a brief moment, he almost forgets it is supposed to hurt.
She begs him to come because “you’ve always meant a lot to me, and… I still think of you as a close friend. And Osamu’s entire team from high school is coming. It wouldn’t feel right without you there. But I understand if it makes you feel uncomfortable-”
“I’ll come.” He simply replies. Suna has always been a man of few words. He believes he hears a sigh of relief in her voice.
She thanks him one, twice, thrice, Suna pretends it is a pleasure. Which it is (because he made her happy) but also isn’t (because all the regrets he pushed aside for years suddenly resurface).
That evening, he reads the whole invitation. It is so quintessentially her—simple and graceful, the venue will be in the mountains, of course she loves the mountains. The wedding will be held in summer, near her birthday. Every detail seems to fit her perfectly, even the name next to hers, and despite the hurt and regrets, Suna Rintarou has to admit that Miya Osamu is a way better choice than himself for her; he had always been.
The day comes and Suna feels his stomach hurt when he arrives at the venue. It’s a small gathering, which only makes him more visible when he parks. He glances at the people that are already there, and takes a deep inspiration—yet, even in the calm, he can feel his pulse race. A few seconds after, he hears Atsumu tapping on his window.
“Sunarin, my man!” Atsumu’s grin is wide as ever, and Suna’s response is his usual faint smile.
Atsumu explains everything to him from what’s planned for dinner to where the restrooms are but soon after that, excuses himself to go see his brother who’s almost done getting ready.
To stay close to people who are calm and won’t ask too many questions, Suna makes his way to his senpai, Aran and Kita, and nods through conversations, pretending to be his normal self, quiet and unbothered.
Suna doesn’t remember a lot about what happened after, maybe because he was to focus on trying to make the pain in his chest go away.
But when Airi arrives, he finds her beautiful, but he also admits to himself that his heart doesn’t beat the way it used to. The man realises that it is not her that haunts him, but the regrets and the “what could have been?”. It’s the longing to have someone by his side to cherish. It’s the fact that the only true love story he had experienced ended in tears—because of him—and when he tried to fix the broken glasses, it was too late.
This goodbye will forever hurt.
By the reception, Suna attempts to control his drinking—partly because he is a professional athlete, but mostly because he fears he might say something stupid to Airi, “Could it have been us?”, he nearly asks when he bumps into her at the buffet. But instead, “I’m happy for you,” comes out.
“Thank you, Rin. It means a lot coming from you.” the hurt eases even slightly.
Still the alcohol starts blurring his mind a little bit and he turns, only to find himself spilling his drink on someone.
“Shit,” that someone says.
“Oh-sorry!” he mutters, reaching for a napkin to help.
She says nothing back, and doesn’t even look at him at first, not out of annoyance, Suna concludes, but because her attention is glued to her camera, which took the brunt of the spill (and that thing seems the hell expensive).
After a minute or so, she sighs heavily and mumbles a “thanks gods, it’s still working.” As she raises the camera, she snaps one picture of Suna.
The man raises an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback.
“I need to remember the man who almost made me lose my job.”
She grins. And Suna can finally see her whole face. She’s more radiant than a thousand suns.
“Your job?”
“Yep. Honda-san, I mean, Miya-san now, hired me to be the photograph for tonight. My shop is close to her workplace.” She says, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she extends her hand to introduce herself.
“Mmh, nice to meet you. I’m Suna.”
He’s cold. Suna knows he is, but it’s not like he can do anything about it, that’s just who he has always been. Somehow, she doesn’t seem impressed or upset by it. She simply scratches her chin and frowns.
“Are you here for the bride or the groom… Wait, let me guess. You’re pretty tall and handsome. Volleyball player, right? So, the groom’s side, I’d say.”
Suna doesn’t know how to respond to that because after all, he’s here for both.
“Actually…” He hesitates. “I was in high school with them.”
“Oh, I’m sure you were the mysterious type and cool guy all the girls had a crush on?”
Suna laughs, a short huff through his nose. “I don’t know. Were you the stalking girl who took pictures of her crush?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Did you take many pictures of me tonight?” He wheedles and crosses his arms.
“Who said I had a crush on you?”
That girl is probably smarter than he would ever be, Suna concludes and just when he’s thinking about what he can argue back, she chimes in.
“But, if you want to know, you’ll have to stop by my shop sometime.”
He’s surprised when his heart skips a beat and finds himself wanting to know more about her. They chat naturally for the next half an hour, like old friends or something close to it. She mentions Momo, her cat, a clingy, high-maintenance furball that couldn’t be more different from his laid-back pet. He shows her a photo of said pet, and she laughs about how nonchalant he looks (“like his owner” she adds). She still thinks the felines would look good together. Suna wonders if they would.
“Well, I just forgot I’m supposed to be working and I saw that dude who looks like an owl doing a backflip on the dancefloor. I think Miya-san wouldn’t want me to miss this.” She leans just an inch so that Suna is close enough now to inhale a fragment of her scent. “Guess I’ll see you around… Mister Cool Guy.”
Before he can say anything, she slips back into the crowd. Suna thinks he catches a slight blush on her ears, he smiles, and it makes his cheeks hurt.
Two weeks after, Airi calls him.
“Rin, I hate to ask, but I’m in Osaka right now, and the wedding photos are ready. Could you pick them up?”
Suna wonders if she has some sixth sense or if fate is intervening, but either way, he decides to take the chance.
When he arrives at the shop, she’s there, and the man swears he caught her smile widen when she saw him. She’s helping a young girl with some identity photos, telling her jokes, and making funny faces to get a smile from the child. The way she acts with her makes him think that she has that ability of making everyone feel at ease.
“Here for the photos?” she asks and hands him the envelope.
He takes it, but something holds him back from leaving just yet. He’s here to do his ex a favour, but as he heads toward the door, he finds himself turning around.
“What are you doing after this?”
“Nothing,” she answers, almost too quickly.
The middle blocker holds back a teethfull smile, “There’s a new yakiniku place nearby. I’ve been wanting to try it.”
“I close in twenty minutes.” She informs.
“I’ll wait,” he replies, and finally lets a rare smile break through.
The dinner’s great, they talk about everything and nothing at all. He grills the meat, she eats it while telling him about her degrees and her previous experiences working in a rigid company, why she hated it and how her boss was a butthead. Suna notes that her eyes shine when she explains how she finally followed her dreams and became a professional photographer. She asks him about his dream, impressed when she searches for his name on the internet and sees the number of followers on his public profile.
By the time they’re walking back, neither is in a rush to leave the other. Their feet drag slightly, as if it would help delay the moment they part ways.
“Next time, I’ll try the karubi,” she exclaims, nudging him.
“Next time?”
“What? Aren’t you going to take me on another date, Suna Rintarou?” She smirks, bright and clear.
Everything inside him moves and his heart aches. But this time, the feeling soothes him.
And so, he agrees to go out with her again. The dates become regular and slowly, as the days pass, fingers intertwine, soft kisses land at the corner of lips, and “i like you” are whispered under the moon.
With her, it’s never awkward, never forced. And Suna thinks that maybe he isn’t cursed to be loveless after all.
A few months later, when her apartment lease ends, they move in together. Suna, with his ever-pragmatic mind, decides they know each other well enough to make it work. She’s clumsy, messy, and can sleep till noon—he often returns from his morning run to find her still in bed, though now she tries to get up and wait for him with two steaming cups of tea. She has a tendency to comment on absurd reality shows about people fighting in a villa, and while he doesn’t admit it aloud, Suna finds an odd comfort in her quirks.
At first, her cooking is questionable, bad even, but he finds her watching YouTube tutorials on “How To Meal Prep for Athletes.” Soon, her omurice (that was a bit too burnt in the beginning), packed with olive oil for good fats, protein-rich chicken and eggs, rice for carbs, and fiber-loaded courgettes and red peppers, becomes something he actually looks forward to. Her repertoire of healthy recipes grows, and they fall into a rhythm that makes Suna feels nothing less than at home: he handles the cleaning, and she deftly manages bills and taxes.
On the weekends, they play video games and go on hikes—though never too long ones, because she stops constantly to capture everything. “You already took a picture of that flower,” he points out, and with her innocent smile, she replies, “But the light’s different now.”
She respects his boundaries, never pressures him to do things he dislikes, and doesn’t complain when his responses are short and of few words. She doesn’t make him feel bad when his training runs late. No matter what hour he comes home, she’s waiting—half asleep on the couch, two cats curled in her lap, an almost-empty packet of low-salt and 0% fat crisps by her side. He kneels before her, murmuring “tadaima,” and her eyes squint and then shine as she responds, “okaeri, my love.”
She never misses his games, always making sure to snap the best shots of him. Sometimes, she even sneaks alongside the official photographers, scolding them for not taking enough pictures of Suna.
“What a bunch of idiots…Can’t you see he’s the ace of the game?” (it got her to be kick out of the gym once).
She learns all the rules from volleyball even though she still gets confused with the rotations. One day, from where he stands on the court, Suna hears her protest when the referee whistles for a foul he made (even though it was obvious he touched the net with his chest).
In return, Suna never fails to attend her exhibitions. He strokes her hair and kisses her cheeks when she cries because “no one came” and “I’m a failure.”
He lists every reason why she’s mistaken and how she’s the most talented person in this entire universe. It makes her cry even more, but with happy tears this time. He keeps on believing that her art will be celebrated worldwide someday, but that he’ll remain the first to stand in line when queues of fans will show up to see her masterpieces.
After a hard day, he runs her a bath, (always putting a little bath bomb that smells like roses, her favourite). When he’s away for matches, he brings back mugs from every country. The shelves are now overflowing, and they had to buy a new cabinet, but she still asks him for more.
He discovers what makes her feel good, the spots on her skin that sends shivers down her spine (her upper thigh, the back of her shoulders). He learns what words make her lose her mind, what pace she enjoys most.
When he messes up, she’s never afraid to call him out. “You’re a piece of shit,” she shouts sometimes when she’s pissed at him, and they burst into laughter because they can never be mad at each other for more than fifteen minutes.
During the Paris Olympics, they explore the city for what she calls their “honeymoon” (they’re not married, not even engaged, though Suna wouldn’t mind giving her his last name, or taking hers). She photographs every single croissant they try, and even makes him pose like he’s holding up the Eiffel Tower, much to his dismay. The man grunts but does it anyway (it’s a total fail).
She jumps in his arms when Japan wins against Argentina. He almost stumbles, but happiness overwhelms him at the same time.
He meets Airi’s gaze, who came with Osamu and his parents to cheer for Atsumu. She beams at him, and he smiles back.
(After all, going to that wedding wasn’t quite a bad idea.)
And just like that, a year transforms into two and into three. His career is stable while hers flourishes.
When he turns 30, she shows him a video montage that leaves him flustered. He laughs at her for getting teary-eyed even though she’s the one who made it.
“Where did you get all these pictures of me as a kid?” he grumbles, embarrassed.
“From your mum, of course! She was happy to help.”
“To help humiliate me?” he asks, and she tries to shut him up with a quick, “I love you.” He rolls his eyes but smiles anyway.
For her birthday, he gifts her the camera she’s been dreaming of her entire life. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, keep taking pictures. I love them... and I love you,” he tells. She answers she could die happy.
Her first picture with the new device is, shamelessly, Suna’s “beautiful and too-hot-for-public-decency back muscles.”
“Are you taking nudes of me, darling?” He raises an eyebrow when he catches her in the act.
“But this is my favourite scenery.” She tries to explain with a pout. He lets her snap more pictures.
She heads to New York for a major exhibition where she wins an award for best nature photography. From their shared apartment in Tokyo, Suna congratulates her over the phone.
But the week drags on and her absence is painful. He craves her omurice and the low-salt crisps (which taste suspiciously like cardboard), and even finds himself calling out “tadaima” to no one at all. And it seems like, he’s not the only who feels depressed since both cats have decided to start a hunger strike because apparently what Suna feeds them doesn’t meet their standards (even Peko-chan refused the tuna he gave him.)
He looks at the photo album she made of their travels before bed. Suna is convinced that one day, their shelves will be overflowing not only with mugs but with albums (because they have many years ahead of them, many more moments to share).
He forgets what his life looked like before her, not that it matters anymore, Suna wouldn’t mind erasing every memory from his head to keep exclusively the ones with her.
She finally returns home with the award, and he picks her up from the airport (driving a little too fast and barely stopping at red lights, don’t tell her). When they step in the doorway, Suna grabs her waist and pulls her against him tightly, his face nestles in her neck.
“Rintarou…” she chuckles and grabs his hair—he loves when she does that—“I stink because of the flight, let me take a shower.”
Her cat meows to get her attention.
But Suna wants her all to himself.
“Say tadaima,” he orders, sounding like a child.
She blinks in confusion, then takes his face in her hands, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Tadaima, my love.”
Suna wants to breathe the words, make it his oxygen. His lungs open, his whole blood is filled with an air he never felt before.
Gosh, she’s everything, he tells himself.
“Okaeri.” He responds.
They take a shower together (until the water runs cold), they order take away (burgers with an extra slice of fries), they watch her stupid reality show (Suna starts to be invested in the drama), he falls asleep on her lap, the cats join him.
That night, Suna dreams that it lasts forever.
(It will.)
author notes: if you read Phoenix and Ashes and Don’t you dare run away you know that i haven’t depicted suna as the most loving and kind human being, but what i enjoy so much about writing is that we can develop complex characters who evolve, fail, get better or worse, and make them experience life-changing events. so i really loved describing this new version of suna and make him fall in love again.
anyway a lot of talking haha when i just wanted to give sunarin a happy ending <3
i hope you enjoyed reading this and I’m gonna go working on the kageyama fic now 👀
#suna x reader#suna x f!reader#suna fanfic#suna fanfiction#haikyuu suna#suna haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu fanfiction#suna rintarou x reader#rintarou suna#suna rintaro haikyuu#suna rintarou x you#suna rintarou fluff#suna fluff#haikyuu fluff#hq suna#suna hq#suna#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu time skip#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#suna rintarō#suna rintaro x you#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintaro fluff#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintarou#Phoenix and ashes#don’t you dare runaway
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── NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN
(minor spoilers for season 2!) sevika. near what feels like death, sevika has a revelation and a confession.
Sevika thinks two things when the Hexcore's static passes through her scar and seizes her bloodstream.
One: she can't believe that she's writhing on the floor in agony, beaten by Vi's little Piltie girlfriend in her ridiculous beret.
Two: she might actually die today.
It's ridiculous, she thinks, how everyone has gone to absolute shit. There's a new sort of madness glinting in Jinx's no-longer-baby-blues (the odd magenta shimmer of her eyes sends a shiver down her spine) and not to mention that little shit that has tagged along in this operation, with Jinx doing little to dissuade the runt besides some sarcastic melodramatic warning and a few finger guns. And now they're here, beaten and clawing at each other's faces wildly like fucking children (she can see Jinx in her peripheral, has never seen her fight so sloppily with her little hands; she understands now why Silco had insisted her skills laid in engineering and inventions, rather than the fists that her sister wielded so boldly) and Sevika doesn't know where the fuck Isha is nor does she know what the fuck is going on with their weapons. Her new arm is fine, albeit heavy with extra weight and throbbing with phantom pain— but something had gone wrong
She's going to die. She's going to fucking die, and because of some fucking magic trick gone wrong.
Sevika doesn't fear death. Hell, she's lasted a lot longer than what her own mother thought. Life down here in the Undercity is nothing like the wealth and opulence and light of Piltover's Topside. To some, death may have been a blessing. Some days, Sevika thinks that it's better than cleaning up after Jinx's messes and running Silco's errands.
But Silco is dead, and the one thing he loved more than their city is off the fucking rails. Sevika can't die now. Not with these fucking blue bellies gassing her home with the fucking Grey again, not when there's so much left to be done.
And maybe there's a third thing in the mix too. Caught between rage and pure, genuine terror, Sevika twitches and grunts and claws at her skin, thinking: Fuck. Fuck. She's going to die like a wimp whimpering on the cold stone, and she's never going to see you again.
Sevika is not the romantic sort. Before you, she'd found simple pleasures in the smoky rooms of Margo's brothels, or pretty doe-eyed lasses she met at the bar. But now she finally finds it in herself to admit that for fucking once, she might have wanted to take you to a candlelit dinner. Seen you giggle and shit about her poor attempts at romance— not the malicious sort of giggle, no, but fond. Endlessly fond, in the way Sevika never deserved.
The thing — magic, engineering, Hextech or whatever the fuck it's called — crackles across her veins and bones, setting fire to her blood and the viscera that sits contained under her skin. Her body gives another involuntary jerk. It's certainly not her first time having the misfortune of being caught at the wrong place at the wrong time— hell, that blue explosion all those years ago is the reason she has to rely on a metal arm now. But this is different, wrong. It sinks deep into her bones, claws at the essence of her being with its arcane
Sevika tries to scream, but she can't.
In the ringing between her ears, Sevika can only think of where she could be— anywhere but here, either dying or something far, far worse. She wants to sit by your bar after a long day's work while listening to you re-tell the odd and frankly ridiculous narratives your patrons tell you when they're neck deep in drink and tab. She wants to wake up in the middle of the night when you roll over and instinctively press yourself to her side for warmth in your sleep. And maybe, more than anything, she wants to go back in time and cradle your face when you beg her not to leave, kiss you and tell you that she'll be home in time for dinner.
(She'd dismissed you then, told you that a spoiled Piltie couldn't beat her ass hard enough to keep her down.
She was wrong. So fucking wrong.)
Sevika thinks of you now, waiting at home. Anxious; oh, so anxious, because Silco is dead and Jinx has been haywire and who is level-headed enough to at least attempt to clean everything up, but she's only one woman and the Chembarons are fucking deranged and she's just— just—
"Just come home safe, Vika."
Fuck. Fuck.
From her periphery, she registers Cait — Vi's little girlfriend, that prestigious bitch — stumbling to her feet, fumbling for her glitching (why the fuck is it glitching?) rifle. Sevika moans in pain, trying to will some strength into her muscles to get up, fucking get up! Cait can't be a better shot than Jinx. No one is. But Jinx is out of weapons, having been clawing at Vi with her bare hands and pink-blue nails for what might have been just a minute or hours, Sevika's brain is too muddled to tell. But she knows Jinx, knows that she's nearly damn useless when it comes to rationality without her sanity and her trinkets, and when she's squabbling with Vi so blindly, so violently, Sevika knows Cait will have a clear shot.
And she does.
Sevika hears a cry. Pained, almost child-like. She thinks its Jinx, at first— and for a split moment, it is. Jinx, blue-haired, glossy-eyed, a finger shot straight off its knuckle. Electricity crackles over the palm of her gloved hands, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each breath she takes.
But then the pain overtakes Sevika again, and she clutches at her rib, her leg— everything. She wants it out, but she doesn't know where it even is.
When her eyes clear again and she can breathe semi-properly, it's Isha now. That little runt with her mop of messy brown hair and that stupid helmet that's toppled to the floor. Vi is straddling her sister-- or was, before that stupid kid ran from where she was hiding in the rafters (when had she gotten down, and how did she do it so quickly?), shoved herself between the pink-haired turncoat and Jinx.
There's two holding a gun now.
Words being spoken. Isha wails, clinging onto Jinx fiercely even when Jinx tries to shove her off, equal parts frustrated and confused by the younger girl's behaviour. Sevika thinks of you, just as quick to shove yourself between Sevika and danger when the two of you had been barely strangers.
"Come back to me."
A groan rips itself from her throat, silent but pained. Sevika pulls herself to her feet, the goddamned Devil's lightning still crackling around her limbs like some fancy magic trick gone horribly wrong (She hopes it doesn't ruin her new arm. She literally just got it this week, goddammit.) Cait's back is turned to her, the Enforcer's hands gripping her rifle like a lifeline— but too stupid, too caught up in playing hero for her fucked little kingdom to notice the heavy footfalls behind her.
She stumbles to the wall, wracks her brain for somethng. She's missing it. Sevika blames it on that damn Jinx, the way she yaps like an overexcited puppy when she's explaining her plans; and the way she never actually elaborates on them, because "Sevika is too dumb, Sevika won't get it." Stupid kid. Sevika needs to get her out of here.
"Sevika. Please, don't do this," your pretty face, your teary little eyes. You're a tough little cookie, Sevika knows, like a stubborn weed growing in their nasty streets, but you're always so quick to tears when you think Sevika's staking her bets too high.
Maybe she did. But she can't lose the game. Not now.
One more bet.
Her human arm fumbles clumsily over the flat stone wall— not one of those pillars that Jinx and Vi had so recklessly ruined in their squabble. She feels along the ridges, remembers the flares and bombs that Jinx had planted all around Topside.
There's a click.
"Don't go."
Oh, she's not going. She's got another day yet.
#based on a tweet i saw abt how sevika must have been in excruciating pain during the fight sequence/anomaly#someone pointed out that the glitch went through her scar and somehow began to affect her whole body#crazy#sevika#arcane#sevika x reader#arcane x reader#sevika fluff#sevika angst#sevika imagines#sevika scenarios#sevika drabbles#sevika oneshots#sevika fics#arcane fluff#arcane angst#arcane scenarios#arcane imagines#arcane drabbles#arcane oneshots#arcane fics
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I fucked my girlfriends little sister.
It was just another Friday night for me. I work as an auto mechanic, and like most guys after a long day, we hit the bar. Most of the men were married and started to stagger back home pretty early, leaving just me and a few of my buds that were single. We nursed a few more beers, but I was avoiding going home since I knew my roommate would bring back his date.
“Last call!” The bartender hollered, breaking me out of my daydream about the security at work. The bartender was a cute little thing, college-aged with a few freckles across her nose. And those eyes - ugh, they were something to die for.
I had already collected the empties from my table and made my way to her to get a last round. I smiled at her as I tossed a twenty onto the counter.
“Another for the road and keep the change.” She bit into her lip as she took up the bill, shoving it into the apron she wore. The blue label of what I had been drinking all night was slid over to me as I eyed her; there was something about her that I couldn’t put a finger on.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” The towel over her shoulder was taken down as she wiped the trail of water left behind. I used the counter to pop the lid off of my drink as I stared at her.
“No, but I was just thinking there was something about you.” She seemed to deflate at my answer; it didn’t seem it was the one she was looking for. That smile returned as another customer came up to close their tab.
“You dated my sister.” She looked over her shoulder at me. The strap of her too-thin tank top had slipped just enough to show the small tattoo on her shoulder blade— one that looked familiar to me.
“… AUDRY?” That was said a little too loud. I fixed my face and cleared my throat, nursing my beer to hide my reaction. The last time I saw her she was just a fresh teen with braces, always wearing hoodies. This was a woman in front of me, but she still held onto that familiarity that made my heart skip a beat.
She laughed, and I swear it lit up the room. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to notice. A few of the guys still lingered about, and I’d bet money it was to see who could take her home.
“Yes, yes. Don’t say it so loud.” The change was given to the customer, who gave it back along with a napkin with his number. She pocketed both, but as soon as he was out the door, she tossed the napkin out.
“I haven’t seen you in…” I thought back to the last time I had seen her. It had to be a good ten years. It was my senior year of high school, and she was just in middle school?
“Eleven years. I think I’ve grown up since then.” There was a tease in her voice. I couldn’t help but let my eyes drop down her body and take in just how much she had grown. Her breasts were more than a handful each, and I wondered if they were real.
“Certainly have.” I looked back at her features, and I could see it now. Her hair was more red than brown now, the baby fat gone from her face, and she had that smoky eye look going that framed her blue-grey eyes. My interest sparked just thinking about what I could do.
She cleaned and closed tabs as the room emptied. She waved out the other barback as we caught up, closing out the drawers, emptying the trash, and tending to general bar duties. When the last of the patrons left, it was just the two of us.
I decided to go out on a limb and ask for her number, unsure about how weird it would be since I had dated her sister.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She took my phone, entered her number after asking for the pin. Immediately after, she texted herself from my phone, indicating that she was interested. Time to turn on the charm.
“Let me walk you home?” I slipped off the stool, placing it on the counter with others. She removed her apron, collected her tips in a jar before returning. As she walked back around, I noticed her curves accentuated by her chest bouncing slightly with each step. All I could think about was how amazing she would look riding me.
"I'm good at walking home alone," she said softly, her voice now deeper and more sultry than I remembered. "But if you want to follow me... well, I wouldn't mind some company."
My heart hammered in my chest as I fell into step beside her, not wanting to miss another beat of conversation. We walked together silently for a moment as she unlocked her car door, and then turned to face me once more. In the dim lighting of the parking lot, I saw her cheeks flush slightly under his gaze; her body language changing from confident to vulnerable. Something inside me stirred at this newfound vulnerability in her demeanor.
"What?" she asked playfully, rolling her eyes at herself before looking away shyly. "I mean... it's been so long since someone found me attractive."
I couldn't help but smirk at that statement - like she wasn't attractive now? It was hard not to imagine all those curves underneath those tight jeans, and that coy smile on my face felt foreign to me.
“You gotta be kidding me. Look at you.” She blushed deeply at my words, her hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I couldn't resist reaching out and tracing her jawline with my finger, causing her to shiver slightly.
"Is that so?" she asked, her voice low and breathy. Her eyes never left mine, full of desire and a hint of mischief.
Without hesitation, I leaned in and captured her lips with mine. It was like fireworks exploding in the night sky - passionate, intense, and electric. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pulled her closer to me.
We stumbled towards my car, our kisses becoming more frantic and urgent with each step. Once inside, we were all over each other - hands roaming freely over each other's bodies as we devoured each other's mouths.
I couldn't believe this was happening. Not only was I making out with my ex-girlfriend's sister after all these years, but it felt amazing, like we were meant to be together all along.
"You taste so good," I groaned against her lips, my free hand finding its way to her derrière and squeezing it roughly through her tight jeans. She let out a moan of approval, grinding her hips against me in response. "Goddess, you feel amazing."
She let out a small laugh into the kiss before breaking away for air. "You really think I'm a goddess?" she asked with a smirk that made my anticipation grow.
I smirked back at her. "Are you kidding? You do see how beautiful you are."
Her eyes widened for a moment before she leaned in again, this time biting my bottom lip softly between her teeth playfully. Her breasts were pressed against me, and I could feel the heat of her body seeping through our clothes as she ground against me harder - she felt so good.
"Take your shirt off," she demanded between breaths. Her voice was low and sultry now; it sent shivers down my spine as I pulled it over my head without hesitation. My chest hair tickled against hers as she ran her hands over them greedily while still keeping the kiss going.
She pulled away from the kiss, her eyes filled with lust. "Lay back," she commanded, her hands pushing me gently towards the back seat of my car. I complied eagerly, anticipating what was to come next.
She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips as she leaned down to resume our passionate kisses. Her hands roamed all over my bare chest, exploring every inch of my skin as if it was something she had been longing for.
I couldn't believe this was happening - just a few hours ago, I was at the bar, trying to drown out my sorrows. Now, I was here, making out with the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Life could be so unpredictable and yet so amazing.
As we kissed, her hands traveled down to the waistband of my jeans, teasingly running her fingers along it before slipping them underneath and grabbing onto my hard member through my boxers. I let out a groan in response, unable to contain my desire any longer.
"Please," I whispered against her lips, not needing to say more for her to understand what I wanted. She pulled away from me slightly and began pulling her top up slowly - giving me a tantalizing view of her cleavage before tossing it aside, revealing a black lacy bra that barely contained her generous breasts.
My eyes widened in appreciation as she leaned in again, capturing my lips in another searing kiss while teasingly grinding against me through our clothes. Her hands worked quickly to unbuckle my belt and unzip my jeans before sliding them down along with my boxers.
I lifted myself slightly so she could pull them off completely before settling back down on the seat. She sat up and looked down at me, her hand wrapping around my length as she began stroking it slowly - eliciting a deep moan from me.
"You like that?" she asked with a smirk before leaning down and taking me into her mouth. I let out a string of curses as she expertly took me deep into her throat, sliding up and down with a skill that belied her inexperience. She looked up at me with a mix of lust and wonder, her blue-grey eyes wide and dark with desire. Her tongue danced over the head of my dick, tracing circles around the tip as she bobbed her head faster and faster. My hands tangled in her hair, holding her close to me as I arched into her touch. The scent of her perfume filled the car - something sweet, like vanilla and smoke.
My hips bucked against her face, trying to get closer, but she held me back, teasing me with a wicked smile on her lips. I groaned into the car door as she took more of my length into that perfect mouth. It felt so good to have someone else's touch on me after so long.
Her fingers trailed down my chest to my stomach before undoing my belt buckle and pulling it off, tossing it away along with my shirt. She pushed me back against the seat as she straddled me once more, leaning in for another scorching kiss. Her breasts brushed against my chest, nipples hard from arousal. I reached up to cup them both through the thin fabric of her bra, squeezing them gently. She moaned into my mouth as our teeth clicked together before pulling away breathless.
"Please," I whispered hoarsely, wanting more of this electric connection we shared.
She nodded once then slid off me, unzipping her jeans slowly revealing black lacy panties underneath which barely contained those perfect curves of hers. She stepped out of them both, and I couldn't help but admire how perfect she was.
Her lips met mine once more, and I tasted the sweetness of her tongue on the side of my mouth before we parted again. "I've always wanted you," she whispered between breaths. It sent shivers down my spine—a feeling of desire that coursed through my veins like lightning bolts connecting us both together.
She slowly lowered herself onto me, her breasts grazing against mine before sitting up straight again; moaning softly at the contact. And then without another word, she lowered herself back down, taking me inside her slowly but surely. Her eyes widened as I filled her up, making sure to look at me every second of the way as if to make sure I knew what we were doing here tonight.
Her skin felt so soft against mine, yet there was an edge to it all—an urgency that matched our beating hearts and racing minds that seemed to set us both on fire. Goddess almighty did she feel good wrapped around me like this!
My lips found sweet spots along her neck as we moved together in sync. Sweat and leather mingling with our arousal created an intoxicating mix. I couldn’t help but growl out loud as she took me. My hands came up to cup her ample breasts, thumbs teasing at her hard nipples.
She seemed to like it, her back arching as though I sent a wave of pleasure through her entire body. She moaned into my neck making me wild. I drove into her faster and faster. Her biting and sucking at my neck just at the collarbone. It felt so good to be wanted after all these years.
“Oh god,” she gasped into my kiss between nips at my neck. “You feel so good.” I couldn’t help but grunt against her neck and continued my frenzied lovemaking. My fingers dug deeper and deeper into her flesh with each thrust inside her welcoming heat.
The friction between us was an exquisite torture building up at an almost unbearable speed. Pleasure was consuming me. It felt like I needed to push past my own body and become one with hers.
Our bodies glistened with perspiration from the fervor of our lovemaking. Every inch of my length sliding against hers sent sparks through my body, igniting a fire inside of me I didn't know was possible.
Her mouth found mine once more; our tongues tangled in a heated dance while we ground against each other frantically. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as if seeking purchase, as she rode me harder and faster than ever before.
I groaned into her mouth, feeling an impending orgasm rising within me at this unexpected turn of events. She bit down on my bottom lip softly, then sucked on it tenderly before returning to the kiss - sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body straight to my core.
With one last hard thrust deep inside of her, I came deep inside of her pussy. Her walls clenched around my cock right after, as I finished inside of her. She moaned louder than I had ever heard a woman before - her own orgasm forcing her body to shake.
My fingers traced her thighs, and the mark of her jeans on her hips, as I looked to her. She pulled my now semi-limp dick from her pussy, my cum dripping down those silken thighs. I looked up at her perfect body, drunk on both alcohol and her.
"That was amazing," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with satisfaction.
I couldn't agree more. It had been years since I had felt this kind of passion and connection with someone else. And the fact that it was with my ex's little sister made it all the more intense.
But now, as we lay here together, I couldn't help but wonder what would come next. Was this just a one-night stand, or could there be something more between us?
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Queen Maleficia Draconia Headcanons
TW: I have not read CH 7 yet, so this may be inaccurate and will be edited in the future!
"So you are the human that my grandson keeps telling me about."
Appearance:
She is envisioned to be extremely and timelessly beautiful, but also old-looking, like an older version of Maleanor. Like her daughter and grandson, she has dark midnight bluish-black hair, except it is slightly greying, or having grey streaks and is usually tied up into a bun. She also has yellowish-green eyes comparable to that of peridots, with long eyelashes and a few wrinkles beneath her eyes. she also has alabaster moonlight white skin, and of course, the famous, elegant, S-shaped horns that dragons and dragon-fairies are known for. Her attire would typically consist of the silver crown of the reigning monarch of Briar Valley, and long, black robes with green and silver accents as well as jewel and feather details.
Personality:
At first glance, Queen Maleficia seems to be cold-hearted, stern, and regal to the point of approachableness. But underneath that is actually a strong-hearted and passionate queen who loves her kingdom and people dearly, loved her daughter greatly, and is affectionate yet protective and strict towards her grandson. For that reason, many of her subjects praise her for her vast wisdom, knowledge, nobility, and being an amazing ruler. Humans, however, both fear and loathe her for her dark, cold aura and tend to take her inspiration for the villains of fairytales.
Background:
Long before the Human-Fae War started, Queen Maleficia actually had a human lover whom she loved very deeply, and promised to make him her king consort, regardless of how weak he was as a human and how short his lifespan was. However, much to her heartbreak, her human lover left her for a human princess, believing her to be much more beautiful, according to human beauty standards, and being much more "kind, graceful, and benevolent", which really meant her preferred softer, timider, and more insecure girls who suited his ego. Maleficia, following her draconic instincts (which many of us had assumed meant being jealous, possessive, and "hoarding their treasure"), was enraged, but kept her composure, knowing she had an image to maintain, being royalty and all, and tried to reason with him instead. She tried to tell him that beauty, especially human beauty doesn't last forever, and that she was the only one who would love him despite that and how his new human girlfriend's beauty would eventually fade. She also tried to tell him about how he would need someone wise like her to point out his flaws and faults and advise him so that he would be able to learn and grow as a person. When he got angry and continued to insist on leaving her, Maleficia finally snapped and decided her little human boyfriend needed a "punishment". She kidnapped his royal human bride and demanded ransom while torturing her. In the eyes of the fae, this was seen as acceptable, since fairies seek long-term relationships, strongly value loyalty, and believe that it is right to seek revenge when cheated on. Humans, on the other hand, were outraged, since they are more easily prone to cheating, being unfaithful to their spouses, but also moving on, and believed that Maleficia should be doing exactly just that instead of being a "jealous monster". As a result, Maleficia became the inspiration for numerous villainesses and witches in fairytales about "a princess who falls in love with a prince, but is hunted by a witch who is jealous of her relationship with the prince". Green also became a color associated with jealousy and envy since she often wore it, and sayings like "green-eyed monster" became invented. In the end, her human ex-boyfriend managed to rescue his human bride as well as severely injure her and return home where he was glorified as a hero. Centuries passed, and even when her human boyfriend died of old age and Maleficia found herself Malleus' grandfather, she still continues to resent her human ex-lover and the woman he left her for.
Ah, and of course, when the Human-Fae Wars started, Maleficia's hatred of humans increased tenfold, and when they killed her daughter, Maleanor Draconia, it was the final nail in the coffin.
Relationships:
Her daughter, Maleanor Draconia - Queen Maleficia loved her daughter very much and was very doting and protective. Afterall, she was basically a carbon copy of her and she would loathe herself forever if the same heartbreaking fate that happened to her happened to her daughter. That's why she was very wary of her son-in-law but eventually accepted him when he proved himself to her. She was beyond devastated when her daughter died and vowed vengeance against all the humans that caused her demise.
Her grandson, Malleus Draconia - Though she loves her grandson very dearly, she is very strict and protective of him. She acknowledges that he is the only heir left of Briar Valley, and how hard it was to hatch him. For that reason, she takes being his only living relative very seriously and disciplines him to become the perfect ruler that not only she, but the entire kingdom needs him to be. She also strives for his safety above all else and only hires the best guards and retainers to keep him safe. Lastly, she would also be very picky and judgmental if her grandson were to fall in love - not only would she hate to see her grandson get his heart broken, but it would be terrible news if the Crown Prince of Briar Valley was distracted from his royal duties.
Y/N - If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and she and Malleus were NOT dating and just friends, Queen Maleficia would be very cold and wary of her at best, harsh and hostile at worst. She wouldn't like how casual, informal, and intimate she would be with the Crown Prince. However, if Y/N was introduced to her AFTER the overblot while just being friends with Malleus, Maleficia would at first be shocked and refuse to believe it. Afterall, how could a magicless human possibly save one of the top five most powerful mages in the world??? However, over time, when she sees that her grandson isn't joking and hasn't gone insane, she would eventually warm up to you and be extremely kind to you. Afterall, you DID save her grandson's life. If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and while she and Malleus WERE dating, she would be ardently against the relationship. Not only would a dragon fairy crown prince with powerful magic dating a magicless human commoner cause numerous political and social problems, but she knows better than anyone else that humans can leave behind the most devastating of broken hearts even before they're dead. But if Y/N was introduced to her while she and Malleus were a couple AFTER the overblot, as mentioned earlier, she would be very reluctant to believe such a revelation but would eventually come to quite passionately, support the relationship. With that said, the most that you'll be is Malleus' future queen consort, and the least that you'll be is his mistress. If you were to choose the former, she would be overjoyed and along with all your royal fae teachers, teach you all that you need to know to be a member of the royal Draconia family as well as the future queen of Briar Valley.
A like is a punch to Queen Maleficia's human ex-boyfriend!
#Twisted Wonderland#TwistedWonderland#TWST#twisted wonderland#twistedwonderland#twst#Twisted Wonderland Diasomnia#TwistedWonderlandDiasomnia#TWSTDiasomnia#twisted wonderland diasomnia#twistedwonderlanddiasomnia#twst diasomnia#Diasomnia#diasomnia#Queen Maleficia Draconia#Queen Maleficia#Queen#Maleficia#Draconia#queen maleficia draconia#queen#maleficia#draconia#Malleus Draconia#Malleus#malleus draconia#malleus#Malleus Draconia x Reader#malleus draconia x reader#Dragon Fairy
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You Know You Can't Stay Mad At Me
Sirius Black x Fem!Potter!Reader
Summary: In which Y/n gets mad at Sirius after he gets the both of them kicked out from the library
Warnings: Use of Y/n but that's about it I think, it's mainly fluff
A/N: So I've decided I'm going to rewrite my HP Character x OC oneshots from Wattpad, into x reader fics just so I have something to post, as life has gotten busier and I don't really have that much time to write anymore unfortunately. I hope you all enjoy it! <3
Masterlist
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Sirius, please stop tapping your foot." Y/n said with a tight-lipped smile to her boyfriend, who was sitting directly across from her, not having even touched his book.
He gave an annoyed look in return, "Why can't we go do something else?"
Y/n sighed in frustration, looking up from her Potions essay once more, "Sirius Orion Black! If you don't want to work, fine! By all means leave, but I'm not letting my grade drop down thanks to you!" The y/h/c haired hissed, before shaking her head and scratching away at her parchment with her quill.
"You're already one of the best students like Remus and Evans! What will one bad mark do?!"
Y/n ignored the remark and continued working. Sirius only watched his girlfriend with a smirk. He leaned back on his chair, and went just a bit far for the chair lost balance and toppled back, gaining a yelp from the grey eyed boy. Y/n immediately stood up and went across the table to find Sirius sprawled on the floor, a mischievous smile on his lips. The concern on Y/n's face faded away.
"What are you doing in here?!" Madam Pince, the librarian came around the corner with an angered expression visible upon her face. "BLACK, POTTER OUT!"
Y/n stuttered, "B-But I didn't even do anything!"
"OUT THE BOTH OF YOU!"
Grumbling, Y/n gathered her belongings while Sirius grabbed his book. Y/n knew he did that on purpose, his smirk gave it all away. Mad at the Black heir, she walked out of the library without a glance back, her bag slung onto her shoulder. Footsteps caught up to her, and before she knew it her bag was pulled off her shoulder, dropped onto the ground, while she was pressed up against the wall.
Y/n merely crossed her arms, glaring daggers at Sirius, who had one hand pinned onto the wall, while the other was around the young Potter's waist.
"Oh come on, y/n/n, we both know you aren't really mad." He said, his breath fanning on the girl's face. She tore away her gaze and attempted to wiggle herself out of his grip, but Sirius only pulled her closer, their bodies touching.
He slightly chuckled, "You know you can't resist me." He whispered into her ear, and Y/n found herself giving in but she wouldn't. Sirius looked back into her y/e/c eyes, knowing he was winning.
"I have work to do so let me go, and you can't always get out of trouble by giving me those puppy eyes." She huffed. Sirius' eyes lit up even more mischievously and he moved forward to brush his lips against hers, and Y/n felt weak in the knees.
"Come on, love, you know you can't stay mad at me. " He said, whispering into her ear once again, sending shivers down her spine. His hand moved ever so gently up and down her waist, only causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.
That did it.
"I hate you." She said before yanking him by the collar and locking their lips. Sirius smiled into the kiss.
"Says they should be here- AAH! MY EYES!"
The pair broke apart, only to find James and Remus standing not too far away. Remus, pink in the face and his gaze on his shoes as if they were the most interesting sight he'd ever seen. James, on the other hand, had his hands placed overtop his eyes, his glasses overtop, making him look bizarre. A parchment laid on the ground in front of the pair.
Sirius groaned, "Prongs, you idiot."
Y/n slightly laughed at the expressions of her twin and brother in everything but blood. "You can look now, Jamie."
Remus moved his head up, while James peeked from between his fingers before removing his hands.
"I've been scarred for life! My baby sister and my best mate, snogging!" He pretended to throw up, earning eye rolls from the other three.
"As if you haven't seen us before." Y/n commented, picking up her bag and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's.
"Prongs, be a deer and leave before I beat you up."
James gave Sirius a non-amusing look and bent down to pick up the Marauder's Map he'd dropped earlier in his haste. The group began walking towards the Great Hall seeing it was almost dinnertime.
"So, Y/n, done that essay?" Remus asked.
Y/n's brows furrowed together, a slight frown on her lips. "I would have if someone hadn't gotten us both kicked out." She said, looking at her boyfriend with narrowed eyes.
He grinned, "You know you love me!"
A smile made its way onto Y/n's lips, "How I ever fell in love with an idiot like you is still astonishing." Her eyes moved towards her brother, leading the group, "But then again, maybe it isn't so surprising since I've been living with an idiot known as my brother my entire life."
"Hey!"
The other three burst out laughing while James stood there looking at the three with a pout.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
#harry potter#sirius black#marauders era#marauders#wizarding world#dreamingofmarauders#james potter#remus lupin#fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#Sirius black x Potter! reader#sirius black is dreamy#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black fluff#sirius x you#sirius black x reader#sirius x reader#read on wattpad#read on tumblr#sirius fanfic#sirius orion black#hp marauders#i hope you are well#hope you enjoyed it#its me serina
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Selfish Waltz ═ chapter two
[ J. YH + S. MG ]
chapter two: sweet lies
╚═════════
summary: yunho had been love with y/n since he was sixteen, not mustering up the courage to tell her until seven years later, seven years too late because his best friend just beat him to the punch.
note:reader and the boys are not kpop idols in this
warning:smut, threesome, double penetration, big dick yungi, size kink, just lots of smut
pairings: yunho x female reader, mingi x female reader
genre:smut, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, romance, polyamory
chapter one
chapter three
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The small window in the far side of his room was the cause of Yunho blinking awake. His fan had caused the dark blue curtains to move out of the way, rays of sunlight peaking through and hitting him right in the face. A groggy groan left him as he untangled himself from his blanket and sheets almost tripping over the soiled ones on the floor he had left after changing them the night before after staining them to y/n moans.
Yunho felt dirty staring at the sheets on the floor. He really masturbated and came to his best friend fucking his other best friend. There is something so wrong there, had to be. He kicked the cursed sheets out of his way, grabbing a clean pair of grey sweatpants and tossing his cum stained underwear off as well. He really came so hard by just y/n moans and his own hand he couldn’t function properly to change underwear.
The grey sweatpants were a little big, hanging loosely on his hips, vline on display as he ran a hand through his messy bed hair before leaving his room. Mingi’s bedroom door was opened, room empty and voices echoing down the hall from the front of the apartment. He stopped into the bathroom first, relieving himself and staring at the sheer bra that still lay on the tiled floor only now the matching panties he had gotten a glimpse of the night before lay with them. He shook his head as to cleanse them from his mind as he washed his hands.
Yunho found Mingi sitting on the old couch in the living room that was opened and connected to the kitchen where y/n was stood fully dressed for Yunho’s sake in black jeans, a red beanie atop her head and an oversized hoodie and a black coat.
Mingi noticed him first, watching the way Yunho’s gaze lingered on y/n as she mixed together her coffee before he met Mingi’s stare. His best friend eyed him, gaze taking in his disheveled state before noticing how Yunho was completely commando in his grey sweatpants about the same time y/n noticed him. Y/N couldn’t hide herself from checking out her best friend if her life depended on it. Yunho’s chest was toned, stomach as well, he had abs now something he didn’t have before he left, replacing his once soft toned tummy.
Yunho squirmed a little under the gaze of his two best friends…. checking him out? Mingi had diverted his gaze to his girlfriend who was staring directly at the outline of his best friend’s dick print in the dangerous grey sweatpants. There was a tension in the room like static electricity between the three of them. “You wanna hit this?” Mingi broke the silence but not the tension by holding up the blunt he had been rolling causing Yunho’s gaze to land on him as a knock came loudly from their apartment door.
“I’ll get it.” Y/N removed her lingering gaze from Yunho as he walked over sitting at the opposite end of the couch from Mingi as another knock came loudly. “Finally!” Wooyoung huffed, walking past his sister causing y/n to roll her eyes. “Oh,” Her stepbrother snatched the blunt out of Mingi’s hand, plopping down between him and Yunho. “for me? You shouldn’t have.”
“Get your own weed.” Mingi snatched the blunt back from him, placing it between his lips and lighting it with his favorite pink bic. Wooyoung pouted before turning to Yunho. “Yunho…” he trailed off not even hiding the fact he was ogling his friend’s body. “ahhh” he placed his hand on Yunho’s abdomen, rubbing the muscles and abs under his palm. “ that’s nice.”
Yunho removed Wooyoung’s wondering hand, reaching and grabbing the blunt from Mingi, the scent of weed taking over the apartment. “Woo, we need to go.” Y/N urged him as they had to be at work in an hour at their dad’s law firm and it took them at least thirty five minutes to walk there, longer if they stop for anything. Wooyoung had stayed at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s after passing out after the party. “Ugh,” Wooyoung stood back to his feet grabbing y/n mug of coffee out of her hand and helping himself.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Y/N gently grabbed Mingi’s chin, turning his face towards her and kissing him as Yunho watched, smoke slowly leaving between his lips and through his nose. He should feel jealous, jealous at the way y/n smiled into the kiss, jealous the way Mingi lightly smacked her ass as she walked away giggling as Wooyoung jokingly gagged at them. But he didn’t. He felt something else. Some emotion he couldn’t decipher.
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The morning weather was freezing, the mid December cold causing puffs of smoke to steadily leave y/n and Wooyoung’s lips as they walked alongside dozens of others trying to make their way to work or school. “I have to ask,” Wooyoung looped his arm with y/n as she sipped the hot coffee in her pochacco mug, she had bought it because it had reminded her of Yunho. “it has to be awkward, right?”
“What does?” Y/N arched a brow at her brother, using her free hand to fix her beanie atop her head. “Oh come on, it wasn’t a year ago you drunkenly told me how you were head over heels in love with Yunho now here you are dating the other twin tower, Yunho comes back hotter then when he left,” Wooyoung moaned. “did you see his body? Man if only he weren’t hopelessly in love with you and preferred dick.”
Y/N ignored the hopelessly in love with her bit, heart suddenly beating sporadically in her chest. “Aren’t you still seeing Vernon?” She changed the subject. Vernon Chwe was Wooyoung’s kind of sort of boyfriend he had met through San’s boyfriend, Lee Chan. “Seeing him tonight actually!” Her brother beamed, grabbing her mug of coffee. “Ever since you started staying with Mingi, he practically doesn’t leave our apartment.”
“So you’re getting serious?” Y/N teased him, Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Almost as serious as you and Mingi. At this point you should move in already.” She had been staying at Mingi and Yunho’s place for the last two months, only showing up at her and Wooyoung’s apartment once in that time to grab a bunch of clothes and a few other necessities. “He did ask me a few days ago.” Y/N bit her bottom lip remembering how Mingi had asked her while his hands massaged shampoo in her hair in the shower.
“You say yes?” Wooyoung bumped her playfully but y/n shook her head. “It’s not just Mingi…..It’s Yunho’s place too.” Her brother scoffed, rolling his eyes once again. “Like Yunho would ever tell you no.”
“I think he’s pissed at us, Mingi and I.” She knows he didn’t necessarily tell her he wasn’t last night but she could feel the tension, the way he avoided her gaze but then throwing her off when she felt his foot rub right on her inner thigh. And she certainly hadn’t missed the smirk on his perfectly shaped cupids bow lips. It’s what caused her to be a little petty and leave Mingi’s bedroom door open for Yunho’s wondering eyes.
“About what?” Wooyoung feigned shock. “The fact that his two best friends decided to fuck and fall in love while he was gone?” He shrugged, shaking his head, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Neither taking time in the last six months to even mention it. Couldn’t imagine why.” Y/N went to argue that her and Mingi had just wanted to tell him in person but Wooyoung didn’t give her time. “He’s better then me because if I came back home and saw one best friend making out with my other best friend that I was completely in love with, I’d kick Mingi’s ass.” He smirked at the guilty expression on his sister’s face masked with something else Wooyoung couldn’t put a finger on at the moment.
“But that’s just me.”
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“I’m fucking starving.” Yunho licked his lips as himself and Mingi walked into the Chinese restaurant down the street from their apartment building. It had been his favorite spot for years and he missed it oh so much while being gone. Mingi had brought it up when Yunho said he had the munchies after the two blunts they had smoked.
They sat at their favorite table in the back corner, Mr. Liu, the owner of the restaurant, smiled when he saw Yunho. “Ah, Yunho” the older man stopped at his and Mingi’s table, clapping the two of them on the back. “we missed you here. My favorite customer!” Mingi faked a pout at Mr.Liu. “And what does that make me?”
“This one here and y/n have kept this table occupied in your absence.” Mr. Liu squeezed lightly on Mingi’s shoulder suddenly excited as he beamed at Yunho. “You know my daughter is getting back from Bangkok, you should do a double date, huh?!” He turned to Mingi smiling.
“I’d like that Mr. Liu.” Yunho took Mingi off guard as Mr. Liu nodded his head with excitement, the man had been trying to make Yunho his son in law for the longest time now. “It will be fun, right Mingi?” There was a challenge in Yunho’s tone that Mingi found himself fidgeting under, false smile on his face as he nodded in agreement. “Can’t wait.”
Mr. Liu left after confirming that the boys wanted their usual meals leaving the two best friends in an awkward silence. “Are you really going to try and date his daughter?” There was a bite to Mingi’s voice. “She’s not even your type.”
“And what is my type?” Yunho arched a brow at his best friend wanting to hear Mingi say it. Say that it was his girlfriend but Mingi clenched his jaw instead, thanking the waiter that brought them their drinks. “I didn’t plan it. It’s not like I waited for you to leave to make a move or something.”
“I’m over her.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. Yunho grabbed his drink, straw between his lips, avoiding his best friend’s gaze so Mingi couldn’t call him out on his bullshit. “Oh really?” Mingi didn’t believe him for a second. “It’s not like I went to California celibate.” Yunho rolled his eyes as he sat his drink down, their waiter bringing them their food. That wasn’t a lie, he had hooked up with a few different people while in the States. “Being gone that long just made me realize it was nothing more than a little crush.” Now that was most certainly a lie.
Mingi narrowed his eyes at Yunho as he shoved some orange chicken into his mouth. They ate in silence for a while before Yunho broke it, he was after all rather curious as to how his two best friends became something more. It was driving him crazy actually. “How did you two… you know?”
Mingi moved his rice around with his chopsticks, he knew this conversation was eventually going to happen, trying to figure out how to tell Yunho without going into full detail. “It was a few days after you left…”
A few days? Yunho gripped his chopsticks, the wood splintering a little as he listened to Mingi start the story.
“We went to that G Dragon concert….”
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6 months earlier
“Hey!” Mingi wrapped an arm around y/n waist, pulling her back flush against him before she was hit by the speeding car leaving the stadium parking garage. The concert had ended about thirty minutes ago and they were struggling to leave in the mass of fans that had come out that night. “You almost got ran over!” Wooyoung was drunk, giggling and stumbling over his own feet as San struggled to hold his best friend and his drunk boyfriend up. Chan was also giggling and stumbling on his feet.
“Shit.” Y/N gasped, heart pounding as she caught her breath, Mingi letting her go though keeping a close step behind her now. If something was to happen to her Yunho would kill him. “Thanks.” She looped her arm with Mingi’s, opting to stay close to him as they tried to find San’s car.
“Sannie,” Chan hiccuped as he looped his arms around his boyfriend, lips attaching themselves to his neck as San struggled to get his keys from his pocket. “Take him, please.” Mingi begrudgingly took his friend’s drunken boyfriend as y/n let her brother cling to her. Chan pouted as San found his keys, unlocking his car.
“Guys!” Yeosang and Jongho had caught up with them, running and panting. “This one’s car got towed.” Jongho huffed, shoving his roommate before making his way towards San’s car. “ I didn’t know it was a towing zone.” Yeosang argued, now he’d have to get his mom to help him get it out of the towing lot and he dreaded that conversation. She was still mad at him after he totaled the last car she had helped him get.
“I’m not sure we can all fit.” San stated, grabbing Chan back from Mingi and helping his drunk clingy boyfriend in the passenger seat. “Lap it up.” Jongho shrugged as he disappeared into the backseat before anyone else. “I call Yeosang!” Wooyoung slung himself towards his other best friend, Yeosang sighing at him as he followed behind Jongho who had already situated himself behind the drivers seat against the door. No one was sitting in his lap he made sure of it.
Mingi groaned waiting for Yeosang to get in beside Jongho, Wooyoung crawling in behind him and much to Jongho’s annoyance, curling himself up on both Yeosang and him. “Hold on,” Mingi squeezed himself in beside the three other men, shoving Wooyoung over just a bit more so he could fit, long legs having no room to get comfortable, knees bent and already achy from the tight squeeze. “come on.” He patted his thigh, gesturing for y/n to fit herself in his lap.
She hesitated a moment, hands fidgeting with the ends of the short black dress she was wearing, the material ending mid thigh and she knew it would ride up more once she sat. It was just Mingi though. One of her best friends. “Ok…” She stepped one of her legs in, slotting it between Mingi’s own, her converse clad foot stepping on Yeosang’s. “Ouch!” He exclaimed causing y/n to apologize as she pulled up the black strap of her dress back up her shoulder where it had fallen loosely.
Mingi grunted, clenching his jaw as y/n wiggled into his lap, his hands ghosting her exposed thighs and her scent invading his senses. Jasmine and vanilla. “Ugh” She slammed the door shut, San starting the car up and falling into line behind the many other cars trying to leave the parking garage. Y/N wiggled a little more, trying her hardest to get comfortable but gave up once she heard another groan escape Mingi. They were stuck like this for the foreseeable future.
Mingi hesitated at first before wrapping his arms around y/n, there’s no way he could keep his hands to his sides when his fingertips kept brushing the exposed skin of her thighs. And he felt the goosebumps on her skin, her arms. This was dangerous, forbidden territory. He could feel her breath hitch as his arms held her, wiggling a bit again causing Mingi to ghost his lips against her ear. “Please stop moving.” Her ass was practically grinding his dick and he knew that if she moved one more time he’d be hard within his ripped, bleached washed jeans.
Y/N froze at the tone of his voice, deeper, rougher and much more huskier than Mingi’s normal deep voice. “Move!” San exclaimed from behind the wheel, the traffic of the vehicles moving barely an inch a minute. Mingi prayed they’d move too and he wasn’t even religious but y/n in his lap, perfectly fit even in the crowded backseat, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without moaning with her against him.
“Fuck, man!” Jongho yelled when San had to hit the breaks due to the car in front of them stopping, catching him off guard. “Does know one know how to drive?” He exclaimed once again due to the abrupt foot on the breaks had caused Jongho to hit his head against the window and for y/n to bounce up and roughly back down atop Mingi. “Fuck.” Mingi hissed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he felt himself growing hard in his jeans. He needed to get out of here.
“Sorry.” Y/N apologized quietly when she heard him thinking perhaps she had hurt him when she was slammed against him but it was the exact opposite and she felt it, eyes widening at the hardened bulge pressed against her ass. Oh! She needed to get out of there. Her heart rate picked up, nervous to move, refusing to acknowledge her best friend’s predicament as finally the traffic moved and everyone sober sighed as San finally pulled the car out onto the road and away from the still packed stadium.
It took no longer than twenty minutes to get to Mingi and Yunho’s apartment, “Come on, Woo.” Y/N shook him, waking him up before she crawled off of Mingi who got a glimpse of the black cotton panties she wore as her dress had risen up, y/n quickly fixing it as Mingi stepped out the car, sighing and stretching and towering over y/n, something she never paid much attention to as she had always been fully aware of how tall her two best friends were. Their friend group had given them the nickname Twin Towers for a reason. She blushed when she saw Mingi turn from her, adjusting his problem in his pants, him hoping she hadn’t seen it.
Wooyoung groaned as he stumbled out to his feet, him and y/n were gonna stay with Mingi for the night as their apartment was on the other side of the city and way out of the way to continue driving after the long day and the late hours of the night. “I’m thirsty.” He clung to his sister, a headache starting to pound his head. “See yall later.” Mingi shut the backseat door as Yeosang stretched and scooted over off of a cramped Jongho.
“Goodnight!” San waved at him before pulling away from the curb and driving the few blocks to the apartment building where himself and the other three stayed. “Come on, let’s get you some water and to bed.” Y/N slung her brother’s arm around her shoulders helping him walk in his drunken state behind Mingi who led them into the building.
The elevator ride was quiet, Mingi sure to stay in front of the two so no one would see the bulge in his jeans though he’s sure there was no way y/n hadn’t noticed it settled under her the car ride over. As soon as they were in the apartment y/n let Wooyoung lean against the counter in the kitchen as she filled a glass of water for him before leading him to Yunho’s room where he could sleep off his drunkenness that he will surely regret in the morning.
Mingi collapsed on the couch, the only light bleeding out from the joint kitchen. “He’s out.” Y/N walked back into the living room, nervous feeling washing over her at the sight of her best friend manspreading on the couch, head leaned back looking up at the ceiling. “Tonight was fun.” She sat opposite him on the other end of the small couch, Mingi’s legs spread so far apart his knee brushed up against her.
An awkward silence washed over them and y/n began to fidget. Something between them had shifted, something that had y/n nervous, anxious and…..”why are you fidgeting so much?” Mingi was looking at her, eyebrow raised and eyes darker than usual. “I’m not.” Y/N lied meeting his heated gaze that made her freeze all movements, eyes trailing down to the still very obvious bulge in his jeans. A blush stained y/n cheeks once again as she could remember the feel of him against her.
Her thighs clenched not going unnoticed by Mingi, neither did her obvious ogling at his hard dick still hidden in his pants and it was starting to become unbearable. “I should go…” Y/N stood, avoiding his gaze as she feared that if she didn’t leave the room she would do something that she would possibly regret. She was halted by Mingi’s hand grasping her wrist gently. She looked down at his hand before meeting his eyes.
“Tell me to stop.” Please. He’d get on his knees and plead with her to just tell him, No. They can’t do this. Let her go and sleep next to her brother in Yunho’s room and forget about the changing shift between them.
“I don’t want to stop.” The words left her before y/n could think straight, Mingi’s dark gaze pulling it out of her. Her words changing everything. A gasp escaped her as Mingi pulled her down on his lap once again however this time y/n was straddling him with her dress riding up over her ass, her core pressing down atop his bulge the contact resulting in a wet patch to stain her panties from the sudden arrousel becoming her.
Mingi trailed his ringed fingers down her back to her ass, hands gripping her and a moan finally escaping him. Fuck. What was he doing? She was so fucking perfect, how had he never noticed? “You sure you want this?” He had to make sure, to know she was completely in. She answered him by gripping her hands into his shirt, leaning down, her lips brushing his. “Do you want me?” Her voice all low and husky with desire, desire for him, sent Mingi teetering over the edge.
He grounded her against him, her soaked panties dampening his jeans where it covered his bulge eliciting an intoxicating moan to spill from her lips. “You feel how much I want you?” He started a rhythm, grinding her against him wanting to pull as many beautiful moans from her as he could. “Mingi…” the sound of his name dripping from her lips was pure sin. “please… I…”
“Tell me what you need, baby.” The name slipped from him causing y/n to moan more liking the way he said it, loving the way his hands gripped her so tightly as he practically let her dry hump him.
“Can I have you in my mouth?”
Mingi paused his rhythm of grinding her against him, a literal growl escaping him. “It’s all yours.” He declared it like he was her favorite meal and she was insatiable. Y/N slowly moved herself from his lap, a wet patch left behind on his bulge from her causing Mingi to grow even more harder if that were possible. She sank to her knees in front of him between his legs.
Neither moved for a moment before y/n reached up, smaller hands gliding up Mingi’s thick thighs, fingers unzipping him and unbuttoning his jeans. The second his erection was finally free Mingi let out a satisfied sigh, hooded eyes watching as y/n took in his size and the absolute hunger in her eyes had his dick twitching.
Y/N wrapped her hands around him, stroking him as she watched the precum leak from his tip. He was so much bigger than she was used to. She had always had a suspicion that her two best friends were well endowed after seeing the imprint of them in swim shorts, boxers and sweatpants plus that time she had caught Mingi in only a towel around his waist.
“Fuck” Mingi darted his hand out, tangling his fingers into her hair as she brought his tip into her mouth, tongue cleaning the precum away before swallowing him whole. Mingi felt like he’d died and went to heaven or something because fuck she took his entire length in one go, his tip gagging her as it hit the back of her throat. He was heavy on her tongue, eyes watering a little at the stretch and gag, a little dribble of spit escaping the corner of her mouth.
She moaned around him and Mingi had to refrain himself from fucking her face especially when she was such a beautiful mess for him at the moment. He knew that if she kept going he’d lose what little self control he had. Gently he pulled her back, dick popping from her, string of spit keeping them connected.
“Come here.” Mingi pulled her back into his lap, her clothed core pressing right into his dick and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without being inside of her. He finally kissed her now swollen lips, tasting himself on her and moaning into the kiss, pulling back to trail kisses down her neck.
“Mingi!” Y/N gasped when he suddenly stood up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he held her with one arm and walking towards the small hall to his bedroom. He paused right outside his door. “You want this?” He had to be sure one last time because the moment he had her in his room it was gonna be over. She would be his and everything would change. Y/N met his eyes, hand resting at the nape of his neck as she kissed him. “I want you.”
There was only one last thought lingering in the back of Mingi’s mind as he pushed his bedroom door open, kicking it closed behind them with y/n still in his arms wrapped perfectly around him.
He just stabbed Yunho in the back.
#jeong yunho#yunho x reader#yunho#ateez yunho#yunho smut#mingi#song mingi#mingi x reader#mingi smut#yungi x reader#yungi#ateez fic#ateez
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House-Sitting - JJ Maybank One Shot
+18 Minor DNI
JJ x Girlfriend!Reader
⭐️ republished ⭐️ <- my first ever JJ post 🥹
+18 Minor DNI
🪄 warnings: SMUT, shower stuff, lots of pet names, lovey JJ, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, practically plotless
📖 You’re house sitting and smut ensues
✨ You bite your lip and shake your head ‘no’. Your focus shifts, drifting lower, watching as he brings the stream of water to your pussy, hitting your clit, making your knees buckle. You let out a moan, echoing through the bathroom. ✨
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Reader’s POV:
Your feet pound against the sand, as the sun rises high in the east. My lungs are on fire. Silent screams of pain flood your mind. You glance over at JJ, totally unfazed. His eyes meet yours; a devilish smirk follows. No, JJ. He moves a little faster, just a smidge, a few inches in front of you. You pick up your pace, running next to him.
He chuckles, breathlessly. You return a scoff in annoyance; picking up your speed, and moving ahead of him. JJ breaks out in a sprint, tearing down the beach.
“Jayj!” You scream.
Fuck. He’s fast.
You’re streaming after him; your feet unstable in the sand, birds scuttling out of the way, screeching and swirling overhead. There’s no way you can keep up. His feet kick up sand, peppering you as you take up the rear. “Stop. You little shit,” you hiss. He throws on the brakes. You run past him at full speed. Oh my god, JJ. Turning around your eyes meet his; your hands on your hips, reaching for air.
“Y/N… when did you get so damn slow,” he smiles, voice barely audible. His abs flex tightly with his breathing, sweat drips down his stomach.
Agh… He’s in trouble. But damn… does he look fucking good… His tanned skin glistens in the sun. Two chiseled v’s on his tight waist; his grey shorts clinging tightly to his thighs. His smile widens. “Did you hear me? Or are you too busy gawking, sweetheart? I can repeat myself if you’d like?”
“Mmm…”
“What?”
“To think… I was going to suck you off in the shower this morning.” You pant He looks at you wide-eyed, regretting every single word. Turning pace you trudge back through the sand, making your way to your house sitting house. “That would have been fun. Right, Jayj?” You yell loudly, giving him the finger. You hear him jogging up behind you—you wipe the shit-eating grin off your face.
“No… No. No. No!” JJ barks. “Don’t be a sore loser, baby.” He paws for your ass, giving it a squeeze.
“Knock it off,” you say flatly, pushing him away.
“Mmm… come here, beautiful. Don’t be like that,” he croons, reaching for your arm, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you close. He pinches the rim of his hat, flipping it backward.
Ugh… he knows that drives me crazy.
He lifts you up, walking you towards the house. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms draped lazily on his shoulders. “You’re glowing, baby.”
“Fuck off.”
“No! I’m serious,” he burns, licking his lip, his head tilted slightly.
“Yeah… yeah… serious about getting your dick wet…” You roll your eyes. “Please.”
“What? Me? Never,” he smiles, leaning in closer, you do as well.
“I’m not kissing you, JJ,” you whisper onto his lips. “And I’m sure as shit not showering with you either.”
“Can I change your mind?“
”No…“ You clip.
“Y/N…”
“JJ…”
“Baby…”
“Maybank…”
“Please…”
“Not a fucking chance.”
“But you need me…” he smiles. “You obviously wanted something from me.”
“My fingers will do the trick but thank you for your concern.”
He smiles wickedly. “Nah… Those things are too small. Look at these,” he chuckles as he wiggles his finger high, showing off his come hither motion.
“Can you set me down?” You scoff.
He steps into the grass, moving towards the house. “Not a fucking chance,” he mocks with a sly smile. His eyes drift to your chest, your breasts pressed together in your black sports bra. He hops, adjusting you in his arms, watching as your chest bounces.
“Ugh…You’re a fucking dog.”
“Yeah… But I’m your good boy. Right?” He barks a few times, giving you a wink.
You scoff, your smile trying hard to push its way through. JJ grabs the door handle, pulling it open; the chill of your air conditioner hitting your glazed skin. You shiver; goosebumps fall over your body.
“Wow… you look chilly, baby. We should probably warm you up.” He presses the door shut. “With like… a shower or something.”
“Enough.”
“Please…”
“Let’s just wait until we get back to The Château. The Williams trust me. If they find out they’d kill me for sure or, at least not let me house-sit. The money’s too good Jayj.”
“They won’t find out,” he pouts. “And, the little note said ‘make yourself at home’. What do you do in a home, doll-”
“Jayj,” you cut him off.
“You fuck,” he finishes his sentence, drawing out the word in an overly seductive tone trying his best to get you to laugh.
“You’re trouble.”
“No shit, baby,” he smiles. JJ jumps again, watching your cleavage recoil on impact, his blue eyes roll back, meeting your gaze with a stare that makes you throb.
“Fine.” You wind up, smacking him roughly on the ass. He lets out a fake moan one second, charging at you the next, tickling you as you fight him off, the two of you scampering down the hall.
“I said ‘leave me alone’,” you squeal.
“Eh. You don’t want that, darlin’,” he chuckles. JJ grabs you, easily pinning you against the wall, kissing you deeply.
“Can we make it to the bathroom at least?” You tease.
He grabs the bottom of your sports bra, tugging it over your head. You clasp your hands to your chest, letting out a gasp. “Hey! I wanna see ’em,” he groans. You give him a little swat on the arm.
“No. They probably have cameras and shit.”
“So?” You smack him again, making him clutch his arm jokingly. “Are we gonna fight fight?” He taunts, swiftly taking you into his arms.
“We are already fighting” You answer flatly, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. “I just slapped you.”
“And, you think you’d win this fight, Y/N?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re probably right,” he smiles.
“I’m always right,” you sigh as you work your finger into his hair. His eyes shut softly, leaning in for a kiss as you pass through the threshold.
“No. No way. Not their room.” JJ kicks the door shut, not letting you out of his arms
“What’s the point in havin’ a girlfriend if you can’t bone her anywhere you’d like?” He holds back his laugh as the words pass his lips, your mouth, hanging open in disgust.
“What’s the point in having a girlfriend? What? Are we twelve? You’re kinda bein’ a dick.”
“Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how awful I am?”
“Stop. Guest room now.”
“Uff… I love when you boss me around. Do it again.”
“Now. The shower’s nicer anyways.”
“Yeah? Were you thinking about doin’ this,” He taunts. “Were you dreamin’ about me all wet and sexy?” JJ whispers, fighting back a chuckle, but he’s not wrong.
“’Course I was,” you whisper. Making him smile against your kiss.
“My girl.” His tongue slips between your pout, rolling slowly as you moan softly into your kiss.
He turns the handle, water spilling from the head, still cold leaving you the perfect amount of time to play. Your lips meet his neck; a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock, rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. He moans deeply, vibrating against your lips.
You work a little lower, JJ setting you down as you kiss and trace his toned chest and abs, working to your knees. Your fingers run softly against the indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him sinfully, catching your fingers under the band of his shorts, pulling them to his feet. You watch as his aching cock springs free. JJ meets your eyes; his guide shifting as you start to touch your tits as well.
“Fuck, Y/N,” JJ groans.
You take your hands, running them gently against your breasts, circling your nipples with your fingers as he eyes your every move. Steam gathers above as the shower gets warmer, JJ’s features, a little hazier than before. You return your focus below, running your nails up his thighs.
”Fuck you’re huge, Jayj,“ you praise as you take him in your hands.
”Yeah?“ He groans, watching you near his tip, a pearl of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly down the length of his cock.
“Mmm… Mhmm.” You hum, cleaning him up with your tongue. JJ closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling.
You continue to toy with him, little licks and flicks. JJ cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly. ”Oh my god, Y/N,“ he grunts.
JJ’s eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him, the warmth of your mouth swathing him.
”Shit,“ he whines, sexual frustration painted all over his beautiful face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly. His mouth mimics yours, watching in anticipation as you squeeze the tip of his dick. “Those fuckin’ lips, Y/N. Please.”
“Please what?” You taunt. “You were being a dick to me… Why should I suck yours?”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he soughs, pitching his hips forward. You snake your tongue around his head, working in slow circular movements as you play with his balls. JJ’s eyes shut tight when you alternate directions. ”C’mon, baby. Give me what I want,“ he drawls. You open your mouth wider. JJ chuckles lustfully as you comply with his request. You take him into your maw. “Fuck,” he moans, drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. He takes your head in his hands as you increase your speed.
JJ starts to quaver on your tongue, mumbling words of praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair causing you to moan, JJ, answering with the same. He seizes control, stroking slower, taking a different grip entirely. His strong hands holding your cheeks. The head of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your lips.
“I’m sorry I teased you, darlin’… I just couldn’t help myself,” he sneers, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. He lets out a deep chuckle. “So fuckin’ good at suckin’ cock, Y/N. Jesus Christ” He thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully, a gasp for air releases from your open lips. You spit on his cock, stroking him with your hand, letting your breasts bounce with each movement.
“Do you want my mouth, JJ?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Beg.”
He shakes his head and smiles wickedly.“Yeah, angel? You want me to beg?”
“Mhmm…”
“Please, Y/N. Can I please have your mouth?”
You raise an eyebrow, waiting for more.
“Fuck, Y/N… I need that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock… I’m beggin’ ya… Please, baby.” You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him groan. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass as you start to stroke. Lewd noises fill the bathroom, JJ panting and moaning, and you slurping and squelching with each bob.
He hisses out a breath as you drag your nails along his skin. Tears run down your cheeks, eyes locked on his, watching as he starts to near his peak.
“So good, baby… I’m gonna – Fuck.”
You run him even quicker, sucking a little harder as his brows knit tight. His blue eyes soften on yours, fighting to keep them open. You feel him quake on your tongue. Releasing him from your lips you pump fast; arm, wrapped around your ribs, pressing your breasts together. Your mouth opens wide; tongue flat
“Holy shit,” he grunts, inhaling sharply, surrendering to his finish, warm, white ropes landing on your tongue and chest. You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along JJ’s tip, cleaning up the rest, making his hooded eyes roll back.
JJ takes a clasp on your wrists, pulling you up and into his arms. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, melting into him as he breathes laboriously, coming down from his high.“God damn, baby. You’re so fuckin’ good at that,” he mumbles breathlessly against your lips. “Do you know how good you make me feel?”
You smile against your kiss, sucking off his plump bottom lip slowly, taking it between your teeth. “You make me feel so fucking good, Jayj,” you respire between kisses as he steps into the large walk-in shower.
The water is warm, remnants of his release rise off your body, swirling down the drain. Steam and heat hang heavy in the air making it almost impossible to see. You hook your ankles, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool tile wall. He shuts the glass door. JJ’s large handprint streaks across the gathered vapor.
“That feel good, baby? Not too hot?”
“No. It’s perfect,” you whisper.
“Beautiful.”
JJ reaches for the shower head, taking it off the base, turning it to a steady stream. He kicks your foot out gently. A smile spreads on his kiss-swollen lips as he sees you start to put the pieces together.
“Jayj?” You giggle breathlessly.
“You ever done this before?” He questions, gripping the detachable shower head in one hand, the other pinned just over your shoulder as he looks down at you.
“I mean maybe,” you smile.
“No one’s ever done it for you?” He groans, letting the warm water spray against your thigh, working higher and higher.
You bite your lip and shake your head ‘no’. Your focus shifts, drifting lower, watching as he brings the stream of water to your pussy, hitting your clit, making your knees buckle. You let out a moan, echoing through the bathroom.
“Y/N… Fuck, baby. Too much?”
“No. It’s good, Jayj. So good,” you sigh. “Don’t stop.”
JJ moves his arm from the wall to your waist, drawing you closer, rocking slowly, increasing and decreasing the intensity, making you throw your head back in pleasure. JJ’s lips quickly lock onto your skin, kissing you harshly before biting down, making you squeal.
He watches your body carefully, your face, changing with each passing second as you drift closer and closer to your breaking point. You feel your pleasure building fast, the pressure of the water stronger than any toy you’ve used in a while.“You like that. Huh?” He grunts. You nod your head rapidly. JJ leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking, causing you to arch your back.
”JJ… Oh my god,“ you hail as your vision starts to cloud—stars in your eyes.
”I can’t wait to fuck you baby. This is just a warm-up, sweet-“
“JJ!” You cut him off, crying out in pleasure as you wrap your arms tighter, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He lets out a devilish laugh, forcing the stream a little closer. “Jay-JJ,” you stutter.
“What, princess?” Your body jolts as you fight him slightly in overstimulation, continuing to ride the waves of your orgasm, pussy clenching tight. ”Does it feel good, baby?“
“Yes. Fuck!”
“Then just take it,” he rasps in your ear; sending chills down your spine. You feel your body relax; heart, pounding in your chest as you reach for air. JJ returns the water head to the base, cranking up the heat, pressing you into the wall once more as you continue to kiss, your ears ringing slightly, feeling the after-effects of your bliss.
“Fuck me?” You whimper, desperation laced in your tone. ”Please.“
“Anywhere, baby? Where do you want it?”
“Bed… Start here.”
“The bed? You sure? I’d hate to upset the Williams.” JJ reaches down, taking a grip on your thigh, looping it in his bicep, muscles flexing as he lifts you slightly.
“Just fuck me.” You tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. “Shit,” you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. JJ moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his tip.
”JJ. Please.“
“Please what?” He teases you again.
”Fuck me.“
“Baby…” He lets out a gravelly laugh. ”Beg harder.“ JJ swipes his head across your bud again making you gasp.
”JJ, can you please fuck me? Ple-“ He thrusts his cock into you, rutting up, breasts pressing against his chest as he steals your breath. JJ grabs your ass and picks you up swiftly causing you to sink deeper on his cock making you mewl onto his lips.
”Y/N,“ he moans.
“Yeah,” you stammer.
“I fucking love you.”
“I fucking love you, JJ.”
He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His strokes are merciless, incredibly deep as you cling to his shoulders again. The hot water cascades down your body, increasing your pleasure as it flows between the two of you, the stimulation alone making you feel like you could climax.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” you mumble against his lips.
JJ draws open the door, his cock still buried deep as he brings you to the bedroom. He’s sauntering, a slow stroll as you kiss at the perfect cadence. He sits down on the large mattress, letting you straddle his lap.
JJ adjusts slightly, his cock, reaching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising up fully before spreading your thighs wide again. JJ grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. “Fuck,” you whine, bottom lip quivering, as you feel him stretch you out.
JJ looks down watching where your bodies connect. A low moan releases from the back of his throat. “You’re so fuckin wet, Y/N. Holy shit.” You hook your hand behind his neck, leaning back slightly, changing the angle for a better view. Watching JJ’s thick cock glisten with essence.
Throwing your head back, you hit the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge as you push yourself further. JJ’s thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top causing your thighs to shake. ”Takin’ me so well, baby girl,“ he drawls. ”So fucking tight.“
”JJ…“ You sigh, feeling yourself about to cum again, head, pounding with your heart.
“Yeah? That’s the spot. Huh?”
“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm.
“Let me, baby. Let me,” he groans.
JJ fucks into you, striking the perfect angle, making your muscles tense up. ”Shit… Right there, Jayj. You’re gonna make me cum.“
“Yeah? This pussy was made for me. Cum on my cock, Y/N…” Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release. Toes curling as you’re sent into ecstasy. You lock down around him, JJ taking his cue; pounding into you at an even quicker pace.
Before you can come down, he picks you up; throwing you on the mattress, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echo through the large room. You let out a cry, far louder than intended, in a house that’s not your own, even if it’s empty. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand.
JJ quickly grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth, shaking his head ‘no’ as he tacks it and the other against the plush mattress. “Never do that again,” he pants through a smile, punctuating each word with a thrust.
“Closer,” you beg. JJ leans in, pressing you against the bed, knees wide, striking deep inside, making your eyes slam shut. He loosens the grip on your wrist, fingers weaving into yours. Your mouth falls open, a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Look at me, baby.”
You do, seeing every muscle at work, water still glistening on his tan skin, his blonde fringe, wet and messy.
“JJ…”
“Me too, Y/N. Fuck. Me too,” he moans. He drops a hand, pressing two fingers between your lips. You suck them roughly as you fight to keep your eyes open. JJ slips his hand low, his skilled fingers brushing fast.
”Yes! Just – Just like that. Fuck. JJ,“ you murmur. ”Oh shit-“ Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting the sheets below. The sound of his strokes intensifies as he works you through your climax, stimulating your clit, brushing through spurts as he makes a mess of your thighs and his. ”That’s it… Good fuckin’ girl.“
His hips snap into you one last time, filling you with his warmth, toppling down on top of you. You can feel everything at this moment, his release and your own, the two of you glazed with sweat, soaked from the shower. You focus on the sound of his heartbeat, complementing your own; the way your body fits in his, JJ’s weight on top of yours.
��That was amazing,” he praises, kissing you sweetly.
“So good… So fucking good.”
#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj obx#outer banks#obx#jj outer banks#jj x reader#jj#jj maybanks#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n
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DRESSED FOR REVENGE OSAMU MIYA !
🍙 : ̗̀➛ when you find out your boyfriend of three years cheated on you for months before finally breaking up with you, payback is the only thing on your mind. what more are you to do other than get with his twin brother as a form of revenge, and maybe something a bit more.
CONTENTS // mentions of cheating / atsumu slander (still my husband don't get it twisted) / reader getting her get back / NSFW! / fingering / oral (f! receiving) / biting / praise kink / hair pulling / mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption / pussydrunk osamu / cum eating..? / vulgar language / pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, good girl (is that even a pet name??? girl idk), sweet girl) / unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it) / the d was fireeeeee ( unedited; 4.5k. )
PAIRINGS // osamu miya x fem!reader
A/N // where my fellow osamu girlies at 😓???
I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO. . . ESCAPISM. BY RAYE . . .WHILE READING.
// MASTERLIST .
OSAMU MIYA thinks his brother might be the biggest idiot he's ever met.
You and Atsumu have been dating for three years, and he's thrown it all down the drain simply because you'd been too busy to have sex. It's almost hypocritical. He's just as busy as you, and yet he broke up with you over something so simple. What ever happened to communication is key?
Atsumu has always been the friendly type, and honestly you think you're too numb to care when his brother texts you to tell you that he moved on pretty quick. Too quick, if you're being honest.
You decide that, in your horrendous post breakup state, you should go to a club. Seeing as the entire fucking world knows that you're the girl famous volleyball player Atsumu Miya fumbled horrendously, (at least according to the thousands of comments on his Instagram telling him he downgraded) you think it'll be pretty easy to find a guy to fuck and post on your own Instagram.
A halter top hugs your figure, cropped just above your bellybutton piercing. The black miniskirt you're wearing doesn't leave much to the imagination. The golden bracelets on your wrists create a satisfying jangle with each movement, and a golden necklace is paired to match. Your makeup is simple yet flattering, and it's obvious you're here for straight business as you strut inside the massive club.
Although, you don't even get the chance to find a seat at the bar when you find a familiar face. At first you think it's Atsumu, but you're quickly proved wrong.
Osamu didn't always have slightly softer features than his brother, they used to be identical. But, after highschool, you think he got tired of being the other Miya and decided to look striking in his own way.
You're met with dull and dark blue-grey eyes when your gaze locks with his. His hair is a bit more brown nowadays, but it still has that unmistakable shade of grey box dye mixed in. You don't miss the way he lights up at the sight of you before waving you over with a smile. You pause in thought for a few moments.
Is Atsumu here with him? What if him and his new girlfriend are here? If so, you're probably cooked. Although, when it comes down to it, you have no reason to be so intimidated. You're here for yourself, aren't you? So with that, you return Osamu's charming smile and walk over to him.
He gets up to greet you with a hug, and you happily accept it. "What's got you all dolled up?" He smiles playfully.
"I finally decided to get out after being cooped up for so long after the breakup. Think it's about time I get back out there, don't you?" You tilt your head as you sit down on the cushioned stool next to his.
He hums, "Ah shit, almost forgot about that." He says a bit nervously. A large hand meets the back of his neck as he sends you a closed eyed smile. Your eyes land on his bicep almost immediately, but you're quick to avert your gaze as to not get caught staring.
"It's alright. He's moved on hasn't he? I need to catch up." You sigh as you order a drink. Osamu, with a few protests from you, puts it on his tab.
"Oh yeah, how long have they been datin'? Four months now, if I recall." He says casually, watching as the bartender places the cold drink in front of you.
You thank the bartender before pausing. Four months? You and Atsumu only broke up two months ago. Osamu must notice the way you freeze because he tilts his head curiously.
"You alright?" He asks, blinking. The first thought that comes to his mind was that maybe it was a little too soon to mention how long they've been dating.
You don't answer the question, but quickly ask another. "When did Atsumu tell you we broke up?" You ask, your perfect brows creasing together slightly. Osamu narrows his eyes in thought.
"Uh.. around the time him and the new girl started dating." He answers. You pause again.
"We broke up two months ago." You say, rubbing your brow. Osamu stares at you in shock for a few moments. He's no longer leaning into his hand, now staring at you as if you'll break down at any second.
Honestly, if it were up to Osamu you would've never gotten with his brother in the first place.
You met Osamu during your first year of highschool and only when you became the manager for their volleyball team did you meet Atsumu. You hit it off instantly and started dating a few months before your second year.
Osamu was bummed because he obviously wanted you first and his brother knew that yet still got with you because the majority of the time Atsumu only cares about himself. You were basically the only person who liked him in highschool aside from girls who'd never met him and only chased after his looks.
He watched from afar as his brother treated you like shit and talked about other girls behind your back. Atsumu never acted on them (at least as far as Osamu knows), so there was never really any reason to tell you unless he wanted to sabotage your entire relationship for his own gain. Back then? He would've never done that because as long as you're happy, right? But now.. Osamu has waited too long to be this close to you without his brother at your side.
And right now, Osamu thinks that he could still have a chance. You're obviously still upset about Atsumu, but you wouldn't have come to this specific club if you didn't think you'd find a one night stand.
"You good?" He asks. Osamu has never been good at reading feelings (he's much better at expressing them, you know because you've watched him and Atsumu go at it multiple times over the smallest things. Maybe it's just a twin thing, but they always fought more than most siblings), so he isn't exactly sure what to say as you disassociate for a few moments.
Your nose scrunches slightly, "I'm alright. I guess I just didn't expect him to cheat after all we went through together." You respond belatedly.
Osamu let's out a small oh as he continues gazing at you.
Atsumu didn't just fumble you, he had the bag and watched as every single item fell out of it. How he could ever cheat on you, Osamu will never know. His brother has always been the more idiotic of the two.
"Anyways," You speak up a bit hesitantly, obviously still stuck on the unbearably recent new that your boyfriend of three years cheated on you, "What're you doing here, 'samu?" You ask, blinking away your thoughts as you tilt your head.
You take another sip of your drink, swirling the ice for a moment before you down the alcohol. Your eyes are still locked with his as you do so, awaiting a response to your question.
He stutters for a few moments, averting his gaze before answering. "I jus' needed to get out. Onigiri Miya has been pretty busy lately 'nd I think I deserve a break." Osamu responds, quickly chugging the rest of his drink.
You have to hold back a gasp as you watch some of the liquid drip from his plump lips and down his neck. The bead trails down his adams apple and he quickly wipes the liquid before it can disappear under the white button down shirt he's wearing.
The top few buttons are undone, giving you a peek of his chest. There's a necklace around his neck that you don't recognize, but the way the tiny chain falls on his tanned chest catches your eye.
He's always been attractive, but he just looks so painfully good under the strobing lights inside this crowded club. The multicolored lights ignite his features in ways you've never exactly paid attention to, and you can't help but trace each and every detail of his face with your eyes.
Osamu eyes you for a moment before they trail over to your empty drink. "D'ya want another?" He asks, snatching you away from your lewd thoughts about what you might do with his mouth.
"I don't think you want to know what I want." The words fly out of your mouth before you can think, and you quickly regret them as his wide eyes lock with yours.
You're stammering to find an excuse, but when a cheeky smirk appears on his face, you pause.
"I think I do." He tilts his head playfully, and you can't conceal the intake of breath those words cause.
A sudden confidence spikes through you, "I want you to take me back to yours." Your lips twitch up, and his smile grows.
"Careful. I might take you seriously if you keep lookin' at me like that." He clicks his tongue in response.
You trace the brim of your glass with your fresh set of nails, a low clink sounding out when you tap it a few times. "And who said I wasn't serious?" You flirt shamelessly, not shying away from his strong gaze.
And that's how you got to his house, your lips smashed against his as he guides the two of you through the front door. He uses his foot to kick the door shut before pinning you to the nearest thing possible.
He can taste your flavored lipgloss as your lips move in perfect synchrony, a sweet mix of strawberry and the slightest bit of bourbon. Your tongues are intertwined and you're basically eating each other's faces.
Osamu's strong hands are on the exposed skin of your waist, tightly gripping your sides as he pulls away from the sloppy kiss. A curse leaves your lips as his lips meet your jaw, then begin moving down your neck. He nips and sucks at your supple skin as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly.
Gasps leave your swollen lips as he carries you to his bedroom. If not for you, he would've hit the wall on his way. As soon as he reaches his room, he closes the door with his foot once again and lays you down on his King bed.
He skillfully pulls off your strapped heels, softly putting them on the floor near his bed as he climbs on top of you. "Take off your shirt, 'samu." You order breathlessly, and he hazily smirks.
"Of course." He says playfully as he tugs the black shirt off his body. Your eyes are met with thick muscle, something you should've expected but didn't. Your nails run down his abs, tickling his skin. Your fingers trace every indention of his toned chest his his lips meet with your neck again.
The softest moans leave your mouth as he suckles on your skin, focused solely on leaving marks. He only pulls away to take your top off before he gets straight back to work. Crisp air hits your once covered skin, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. His thumbs run over your hardened nipples, a shaky gasp leaving your lips when he pinches them.
You don't think you've been this wet in your life. Your arousal is painfully obvious as your legs squeeze together, a lousy attempt at taming the waterfall between your thighs.
Osamu suddenly swirls his tongue around one of your sensitive nipples, making you moan out loud. You bite your lip to conceal anymore noises.
"Don't get all shy now, pretty." He hoaresly mutters into your breast, his voice sending vibrations through your body. Your lips part at the statement, and you can feel him smirk into your skin as he licks and sucks and nips at your sensitive nipple.
Your hands make their way to his toned back, trailing over taut muscle as you reach into his hair. Your tight grip and occasional pulls have Osamu going crazy.
Honestly, he could care less if he's just a rebound. You're the most beautiful woman alive and he gets to feel you. You might consider yourself his brother's leftovers, but he considers you as a full course meal.
Your entire being is encased in warmth, and every time his lips touch your body you only get hotter. Every single touch and lick and bite only grows everlasting fire in the depths of your weak soul.
You're so fucking pretty under him, making the sweetest noises he's waited years to hear. It's not long until he's finally pulling your skirt and lacy panties down to your ankles, basking in the mess between your legs.
"All this for me?" He says playfully, glancing up at you. You tug his hair out of annoyance and he groans. You must've liked that sound because he doesn't miss the way your pussy clenches around nothing.
"What do you want me to do?" He asks, gazing up at you with sincere eyes. The deepness in his look ignites things that you've never experienced before. He's driving you mad.
You gasp, "Just fuck me, Osamu." He smirks at your bluntness.
The whimper of his name has him tugging his pants off in mere seconds. He licks his lips as he swipes two fingers along your wetness, eliciting a moan from you.
You look so good from this angle.
He inserts two fingers without any trouble, your pretty cunt sucking his fingers in as they graze your gummy walls. He pumps thick fingers in and out of you for a moment before pulling them out and placing them in his mouth. You taste like heaven, and he hopes you miss the way his eyes roll back.
"Holy shit," He groans as he licks his fingers clean, "'m sorry, I gotta taste you first." He apologizes for no reason in particular. It's not like you don't enjoy the way his mouth latches on your cunt.
He's taking his sweet time, and it seems to you like he's afraid of what might happen if he goes all out.
You grab his hair and pull him from between your legs, leaning forward to cup his jaw a bit roughly. "If you're scared to do it right, Osamu, you don't have to eat me out at all." You say breathlessly and demandingly. You could probably cum just by the look on his face right now. His mouth and chin is dribbling with a mix of your slick and his own saliva, and his dark eyes are half lidded in a haze of pleasure. He's staring up at you like he's never seen anything greater (he hasn't).
He nods, but you're not quite satisfied with the curt movement. "Use your words, baby." You order as you angle his head up a bit more. A small gasp leaves your lips when his grip on your thighs tightens.
"Yes ma'am." He responds, a slight attitude in his hoarse voice. You're so hot when you order him around.
He smirks and when you let go of his face he gets straight to work. He's slurping up your juices and shoving his tongue inside your sopping pussy like a man starved. Osamu has never been one for messes, but he can't help but be sloppy as he eats you.
Osamu has never been anything less than diligent when it comes to things that he deems important, so he's making sure to put his full focus into devouring you whole.
A chainlink of moans exit your mouth as he rubs your clit in circles while practically drinking your insides. With every buck of your hips and mewl from your plump lips, Osamu groans ever so slightly into your tight hole. They send shockwaves through your body, that familiar knot slowly tying itself in your stomach with every grunt.
The chants of his name rolling off your tongue are like music to his deprived ears. You sound like an angel to him, and all he wants to do is keep eliciting lewd sounds from you. Your tight grip on his hair is making him even more aroused.
Salty tears are starting to run down your face, staining your face with your mascara. Osamu feels like an asshole for enjoying your cries and pleas for more.
"F-f-uhh-ck, 'samu!" You manage, loud moans leaving your throat. You don't remember the last time you felt this good. The knot in your abdomen grows tighter by the second and your moans grow louder with each particular flick of his tongue. You're seeing actual stars at this point.
"Ah, shit- G'na cum, Osamu!" You moan just as your high hits. The earth seems to stutter on its axis as you release on his face, your vision fading into a blinding white and your legs shaking profusely. He laps it up like a dog in heat, aiming to drink your cum like water. He doesn't even pull away once your plethora of moans is over, his tongue still licking stripes down your folds.
It's only when you reach into his hair and pull him away from your sensitive hole that he realizes you came. A string of saliva goes with him as he detaches from you. He almost looks intoxicated as he gazes up at you, licking his lips and wiping his cum covered face with the of back his hand. Osamu rests his head on your thigh, looking up at you hazily.
It's near silent as you calm down from your high, the only sound being your uneven pants and his deep breaths.
Osamu sucks on your skin as he kisses up your torso. His grip on your hips is tight and he whispers words of praise as his lips attach to supple skin.
"Y're so fuckin' beautiful." He sighs into your neck. All he wants to do right now is give you backshots into oblivion, but he has a bit of self control.
You hum, "Keep talking like that and I might fall in love." You murmur sarcastically in response. He hopes you miss the way he tenses up.
"Can I fuck you?" He asks bluntly. His dick is almost painfully hard right now and he doesn't think jerking off will do much knowing that he just ate you out.
You smirk, "Be my guest, 'samu." You lick your lips and tilt your head at him. He exhales shakily before leaning forward to kiss you sloppily. You can still subtly taste yourself on his lips as his tongue re-explores your mouth.
Osamu's hands trail from your hips and towards your legs, tightly gripping the fat and muscle of your thighs. You sigh slowly, your eyelids fluttering closed as you anticipate the actions to come.
He positions himself above you, dark greyish-brown hair falling towards your face along with the small chain. His hands reach towards his boxers, pulling them down. You try not to watch as he pulls his thick cock out but it's honestly hard not to.
A few protruding veins catch your eye, pre cum glistens over his slightly red tip, and you can't help but feel like he might just have the prettiest dick you've ever seen.. For an identical twin, Osamu seems to be bigger than his blond counterpart.
He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance, dragging his dick between your folds. You let out a shaky breath as he smears around your wetness, an airy laugh leaving his swollen lips.
You have absolutely no idea how long he's been wishing for this exact moment. How many times he dreamed of having you in positions much more explicit than this.
He doesn't think you ever will know. He'll save himself the embarrassment.
"You asked to fuck me, now you won't put it in?" Your hips jut forward with your words. Osamu smiles at the action. He hooks an arm around one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, your calf resting on his muscular shoulder.
He locks eyes with you as he finally begins slipping himself inside you. Your gummy walls hug his shaft tightly. A chainlink of his grunts and your moans bounce off the walls.
"Why're you so tight.." Osamu mutters. It's mostly to himself, but you can't help but hum at his words.
He curses lowly before pushing the rest of his length into you with a strong thrust. You moan loudly, whether in pain or pleasure neither of you can tell.
A deep breath leaves his lips, "R'ya alright, sweetheart?" Osamu asks, his tone concerning.
"Fuck, y-yes." You breathe, eyelids fluttering shut in ecstasy. You're inadvertently clenching around him, attempting to get used to his length.
He's placing gentle kisses along your collarbone, awaiting your permission to move. You take a good twenty seconds, basking in the silence as he leaves small marks along your neck and chest.
"Please, 'samu." You mutter, and he hums into your chest as his hips begin moving and the quiet noise of skin against skin sounds in his room.
You're whimpering, and little do you know he hasn't even begun yet. His strokes are soft and slow and he's barely moving, but the way your gummy walls clench around him have him itching to fuck the soul out of you.
Shaky breaths leave his plump lips, and your gasps match his. "Fuck, baby, 've gotta move." He grunts as his pace quickens and his thrusts harden.
It doesn't take long for the skin to skin action to get louder, plap plap plaps bouncing off the walls as he thrusts his cock in and out of you.
"Y're fuckin' made for me, aren't ya?" Osamu moans, and your noises grow louder by the second.
You've had sex, made love, been fucked, and everything in-between. But the way Osamu thrusts inside of you with such precision and bottled need has you going fucking crazy.
Your bodies are intertwined so tightly that you can barely tell where you begin and he ends. It's hot and sticky and disgusting but it's so fucking good the way he doesn't hold back.
That tight knot in your abdomen is coming back and the gasps you let out grow louder as he fucks into you, raw and unadulterated.
"Fuuuck- 'samu 'm gonna come soon—" You stammer, your hips grinding helplessly into him. When he pulls out you buck forward and it's like he never even leaves.
(You aren't sure how long he's been rutting into you, but you're sure you'll be sore in places you didn't even know you could be sore by the time he's done.)
Osamu's lips latch onto yours and it contrasts the way he's fucking into you at first. His kiss is sloppy and open mouthed yet just as slow and calculated as always, but he's growing hungry as he reaches his own high.
He's desperate, more desperate for you than he's ever been for anything else in his entire life. It's pathetic, he thinks, but you taste so fucking good and the way you clench around his cock makes him think you want him to cum inside.
"Keep fuckin' grippin' me like that 'nd I'll have no choice but to cum inside, princess." Osamu groans into your lips, and you swear to god if he keeps hitting that extra raw and gummy spot inside you you'll have his fucking kids.
Your nails are digging into his shoulders, but he doesn't seem to care. "Never been fucked like this, have ya?" He smugly questions. You decide not to answer because no, you haven't been fucked like this but you don't think you'll ever want it any other way after you're done.
And then, in one swift motion, he pulls out and flips you on your stomach before pounding into from the back. With your face squished uncomfortably into the pillow and drool pooling from your swollen lips, his hand practically gripping your scalp as he pulls on your tussled hair, you don't think you'd have this night any other way.
Osamu's other calloused hand latches to your hip with a bruising grip, and suddenly his pace quickens and hardens and you're everywhere and nowhere all at once. He leans forward, a breath trailing up the deep arch of your back as he thrusts into you with no remorse. He's waited too long to hold back, and now that he's got you he doesn't think he's ready to let you go quite yet.
"Such a good fuckin' girl f'me," Osamu moans. If it weren't for him being so close to you, you might've missed it in such a fucked state.
A gasp leaves your lips, "All yours, 'samu!"
"Yeah, all mine," A vibration trails down your back, and you're hit with the realization that he is just as much yours as you are his in this painfully blissful moment when your moans sync up.
The room is stuffy and reeks of sex and neither of you would have it either way. "C'mon sweet girl, come with me?" Osamu asks deeply in your ear, and you bite your lip so hard you think you might taste metallic.
A loud moan, "Fuck- yes, Osamu, please!" You practically scream, pleas leaving your wet lips. He can't quite see the way your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues grinding so deeply into you, but he knows you look so fucking good from this angle.
"Inside, f-fuck, do it inside Osamu!" You gasp, and he doesn't sense even a tinge of regret in your demeanor once the words leave your pretty mouth, so that's exactly what he does.
Just as a deep groan leaves his mouth and his hot seed plants itself inside you, you're seeing galaxies as your reach your peak. That tightly knitted rope snaps in half and you're cumming all over his cock at the same time he coats your insides with his own white juices.
He pulls out and nearly collapses on you. Thankfully he doesn't rest his full weight on you, shifting slightly to the side so he can, not only rest his head on the pillow next to yours, but lean in to give you a gentle kiss.
You kiss him back, half-lidded and tired eyes slowly falling closed as you rest next to one another. A strong arm pulls you into him, and you wrap a leg around his own. Neither of you can ignore the way a lewd mix of each other's cum thickly drips down your thigh.
"Quick power nap, then another round. How 'bout it, sweetheart?" He asks, voice raspy and deep in your ear.
"You just fucked the life out of me, 'samu. Give it a minute," Your throat is raw, but your words come out clearly. He chuckles softly, lightly muttering a 'yes ma'am' into your ear.
You'll have to remind him to thank his dear brother for keeping it tight.
© AAJXS !
#( 📝 aajxs — written works . )#osamu miya x reader#miya osamu#osamu miya#miya osamu x reader#osamu miya x you#miya osamu x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#female reader#x reader#hq x reader#hq x you#hq osamu#atsumu miya#haikyuu#the smut was lazy but i cant find it in me to care i had to write something 😒#hope i fed yall osamu girlies okay
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jealous girl — basketball!abby anderson au
synopsis: when the other girls on your cheer squad relentlessly show interest in your girlfriend, the captain of the basketball team — you feel the undying urge to claim her as yours and yours only.
♪ jealous girl — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪
cw: reader is a cheerleader / athletic, girl drama, alcohol, reader gets very possessive, jealousy and insecurity for no reason tbh, angst??? reader cries a bunch what’s new, smut, use of strap on, housewife kink, dom top abby, sub bottom reader, a little bit of overstim if you squint? fem reader, lmk if i missed anything!
an: omg hi! i’m so nervous to post this omg. i hope you like the route i took this down! reader can be kind of annoying but stick with it. minors you are not welcome here so don’t interact and ageless blogs you will be blocked. also please don’t ask for a part two! there will not be one! anyways hope you enjoy it bbs ! likes and reblogs welcome ♡
Winner. Scholar. First place.
And that was just the first shelf of Abby’s trophy cabinet. She’d been given the premier student accommodation. You know, the apartments they reserve for their most promising students. Sleek grey cabinets and polished floors, a kitchen to die for — it was no wonder you were barely ever at your own shitty little dorm. Every tri coloured ribbon that hung proudly beside her winnings wore a gleaming gold pendant on the end — just another display of her success. Walking around her sleek scholar apartment was so familiar to you that the glimmering display cabinet barely caught your eye anymore, but each time it did it welcomed a blossom of pride in your chest for your girlfriend, Abby Anderson.
Abby — casual rugby player, frequent at the boxing society, known for wooing her professors into raising her grades by showing up with her own engraved golf club to their country club and wowing them with her swing. But she was known for one thing and one thing only around campus, and that was being the captain of the basketball team.
She was ruthless, six feet and two inches of pure muscle and willpower on the court. The blonde braid, her trademark, swishing against her toned back — and if you’re seeing it, it’s because she’s already passed you with the ball that you had just bounced. You were no stranger to the sound of the orange ball thudding against laminate floors, and the squeaking of sneakers. Infact, it’s what brought the two of you together. No, you were not on the basketball team. You, were a cheerleader.
Not the captain, although that would have been beautifully cliche; the basketball ball team captain dating the captain of the cheerleading squad — take a shot every time you read the word captain, no seriously, quickest way to get wasted. You were happy that way, however. When you weren’t dancing, you were shy by nature. The change in your demeanour was a shock to the system every time — countless frat douches and friendly party goers stepping away wide eyed when they’d approach you, hoping for cheerleader charm and instead being met with a flustered squeak. It took a while for Abby to get through to you infact, as you can imagine — being a campus celebrity and all — approaching the shy girl was a mission she was willing to try again and again at, warming you up until you were eating right out of her big coarse palm.
The memory of your first meeting was still something that made her chuckle. She’d been crushing on you for a while before even saying a word — stealing heated glances at you whilst you were dancing or being tossed in the air — whilst you of course were convinced you had hallucinated The Abby Anderson acknowledging your existence. She was tired of stiffening up at your demure glances and flustered smiles directed at her, so all but marched over to you after winning a huge game. Pumped full of adrenaline, chest heaving as she chased her breath — you in her laser vision. You noticed the hair stuck to her forehead before she even spoke, the shape of an S.
“Hi—”
“I’m Abby.” She breathed out, like a total loser — she’d add.
“I… I know. I’m—”
“I know. Let me take you out. Please?” Don’t beg, Abby. “I asked your roommate if you liked girls.” You did not have to tell her that, jheez. Creep much?
“Oh…?” You couldn’t seem to close your mouth, trying to process what was happening and happening fast. For a moment you questioned whether you’d taken a tumble on that last cartwheel, currently blacked out on the floor in a concussion-hazed dream. Ooh, maybe Abby is carrying you to the infirmary.
“You can say no.” She rambled. She looked nervous for a moment and when you started to smile, so did she. “But… don’t.”
So you didn’t.
Abby was a dream. After you’d said yes, her confidence was slammed back into her and she was busying herself with planning ways to make you hers. She was confident and naturally dominant (Opening regular doors for you, opening car doors for you, hand on your lower back when you walked together…) without being arrogant. Humble, whilst holding herself with a presence that commanded nothing short of respect. She’d taken you for milkshakes for your first date, and you’d clicked instantly. Abby did everything right, which made your face hot and stomach clench up in nerves at the idea of doing something wrong infront of her. But that feeling melted away, the only two people in the small but admirable diner — Abby carrying the conversation for long enough until your shyness melted away, catching yourself in giggle fuelled rambles and debates.
You’d kissed her on the cheek at the end of the first date. So innocent, so sweet — she remembers thinking. She let you have that, didn’t try and go in for a kiss on the lips, stood outside your building. She was happy with her decision when you pulled back and just looked so fucking proud of yourself for taking such a leap. You exchanged some kind words, some gratitude with the small and humble bouquet Abby had showed up at your door with tucked under your arm — before you were flouncing away in your little sundress. Abby touched her hot cheek when she walked away, smiling ear to ear. Her fingertips grazed over a slightly sticky outline, and she picked up her pace to get home so that she could look in the mirror and catch the sight of your lipstick print on her face.
Current day, and you’re puffing out your cheeks — stepping into the sweaty auditorium. The humidity is a little stifling and you frown in disapproval, wondering when they’re going to be getting the fans fixed like they said they would. This time, tucked beneath your arm is Abby’s white water bottle, college logo printed along the side, that she’d left in your dorm when she’d dropped by the night before. Your eyes searched the room to spot her, and it didn’t take long as she pretty much towered over everyone — you stopped for a moment at the edge of the sports floor, chest inflamed by the sight of your squad members surrounding her, giggling.
You hate to say it, but whatever stereotype or rumour you’d heard about cheerleaders is true. Especially at your college, there was something so criminally But, I’m a Cheerleader (1999) about your squad in particular. You didn’t like to get involved in the drama, but sapphic drama was not unfamiliar to you. It was bizarre, everyone was friends — but their sporty girlfriends from outside of the team were getting passed around like peas. Abby had always been an object of their affection, but before you had started dating her she seemed out of reach — due to the fact the blonde quite literally never even glanced their way, too focused on the game, and whispers of ‘Abby doesn’t date sports team girls’ around campus. Since the two of you had been together, what — 10 months now? It seems to have refilled their confidence in being able to win her over, regardless of how you felt about it.
It was never direct. To anyone else, the group of you seemed like great friends — and you were the number one flyer, needing you as the centre piece for every dance. You were happy to get chucked in the air so long as they caught you, so as you can imagine; that element mixed with your shyness forced you into not confronting them all for flirting with Abby.
"No but if I had arms like this? Whew, no one would be safe. I'd be a slut... I mean I already am..." The cheer captain, Liv spoke, the other dancers squealing in agreement. Abby looked uncomfortable to say the least, forcing a polite smile and trying to wedge herself out the small hyena circle they had formed around her. A blossom of pride filled your chest when you saw the sheer relief in her eyes, her gaze landing on you. You surged forward into the light, smiling awkwardly at your peers as you approached your girlfriend. She bounced the orange ball on the ground once before tucking it under her arm, other bulging arm bringing you in for a quick hug. "Hi, baby." She chirped, happy to see you.
You wanted to enjoy the moment, but couldn't ignore the disapproving gazes from behind Abby's back, their faux-friendly smiles turning to not so subtle glances and snickers toward each other. Just ignore them. Abby didn't pay them any mind so why should you?
"Hi Abs." You lowered your voice, like you were hoping they'd get the hint and give you two privacy. They stuck around like flies, much to your disappointment. "You left your bottle at my dorm. Didn't want you to get dehydrated agai—"
"Awwww, you guys are so cute!" The bleach blonde base leader appeared beside your girlfriend, obnoxiously butting in and making a point to rest her hand on Abby's bicep. "I want what you have." She pout, but you couldn't help but feel that comment was directed more toward you.
"Oh—thanks." You chuckle, not quite meeting her eye. Abby took the bottle from you, shooting you a subtle ‘wtf?’ look which made you wanna giggle.
"Oh you refilled it, nice. Was so fuckin' thirsty." She smoothed a hand over your head gratefully as she brought the bottle to her lips and chugged, stepping away to address her team, their practice ending for the day, giving the cheerleaders the space to rehearse for tomorrow. "Alright team, circle up I got a few pointers." You heard her command, smiling as you watched her team members gather around her obediently. You snapped your eyes away toward the girl still stood by you, eyes slightly narrowed as she observed you. She looked away when you noticed her intense gaze.
As much as you hated to see Abby leave without you, it always brought you some kind of relief — knowing that your squad could actually focus on what you were there for, cheerleading — instead of fawning over your girlfriend, giggling, bending over in her direction to 'tie their laces'. You knew dating Abby would bring a lot of attention, and you knew that there must have been plenty of girls that were after her — but this whole thing with your own squad was getting pretty old. Sometimes you wished you weren't so shy, so you could give them a real stern talking to. You didn't wanna put it all on Abby, it wasn't fair, she didn't ask for this and plus it was your problem. You didn't wanna be that jealous and possessive girlfriend, did you?
The next day, Friday rolled around fast.
It took a lot to shake Abby’s confidence. She knew she was good at what she did, otherwise she wouldn’t be on such a prestigious scholarship, or have acquired the team captain title so fast — but she was nervous. The impending game was a big one, there was no room for fuck up’s. There had been talk of scouters for top women’s basketball leagues joining the audience, and Abby knew that if things went well it could really put her on the map, no — it was guaranteed.
Your eyes were fluttering closed, heavy after the long day you’d had perfecting your routine with the team. You were in your shabby little dorm, practically a hole in comparison to Abby’s sleek apartment. More times than not you’d stay with your girlfriend, calm eachothers nerves before a big game — but you had mutually decided that you’d both needed to ensure a perfect night’s sleep. Your phone laid beside your head on your pillow, the glow of Abby’s contact picture lighting up the small space around it. She was breathing slow and calm on the other line, clearly tired herself.
“And then you can come and stay at mine tomorrow after the game, and stuff.” She hummed, the sound of her shifting positions, her bedsheets rustling taking over the audio for just a moment.
“Mhm. ‘Can celebrate your win.” You smile, eyes now closed as you picture it all, nervous butterflies batting their wings against your stomach.
“Or mourn my loss.” She chides. “You can still come over either way.” Abby chuckles but it’s dry and humourless. She always got this way before a game, just a little pessimistic — doubting herself subtly through sly jokes and quiet comments. To anyone else, she’d still appear just as confident and carefree — but you knew Abby.
“Abs, don’t say that. Y’gonna win. Simple as.” You exhale, feeling your body sink further and further into the pillow. She was silent for a moment, considering it — probably doubting everything that had just come out your mouth, this time in her head.
“Hm.” You listened to her breathing, and it made you sleepier. “You’re tired baby. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” You wanted to protest, be there for her and soothe her nerves for a little longer until she felt ready to sleep but her voice was lulling you into a dozed state.
“You sure? I can… stay…” You could barely finish your sentence, making her chuckle tiredly.
“Yes, pretty girl. Gotta get your rest for tomorrow. Need you cheering me on up there, helps me play better.” She was smiling, you could hear it. Your heart swelled and you made a happy humming sound to after.
“Night Abby, seeyoutomorrowloveyou.” You sigh out in one breath.
“Night baby. Get some rest. I love you.”
The opening intro to Fergie’s — Fergalicious blared through the auditorium, your squad occupying half the court as you danced for the screaming crowd. Hips, hips, split jump, cartwheel — behind your bright smile you were counting steps, keeping your arms tight and straight, flickering your eyes towards the scoreboard. You looked properly as you stood on top of the pyramid, ankle by your head — burst of adrenaline and relief when your eyes landed on the numbers in glowing red, signifying that Abby’s team was still in the lead. You gracefully flipped, and were caught back on the ground, heart thundering in your chest as you continued on with the dance.
As rehearsed, the college mascot had run on, joining in on the dance. A ridiculous looking wolf with a brightly coloured t-shirt and cap on its furry head. He danced beside you, comedically shaking it’s hips in time with you. You glanced over at Abby, happy to see her looking eased, a slight smile on her face as she jogged away from the net, watching you dance. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face from sweating and it reminded you of the day she asked you out.
63-63 with three minutes to spare.
Your squad tried not to show that they were itching from the sidelines, eyes glued to the players as you were lined up by the benches, waving pom poms now and shouting your usual chants, trying not to get drowned out by the passionate yelling of the audience.
Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! I said be aggressive B-E aggressive! B-E A G G - R E S S I V E! Whooping the house down show ‘em who’s the leader — bring ya’ baby down down, go cheerleader!
You tried to keep your grin as you chant, moving your hips in time with your claps and arm movements as you watched Abby’s team mate miss the net, ball rebounding off the backboard. You caught a glimpse of the frustrated expression on Abby’s face, jogging around players and yelling directions over the crowd that seemed deafening at this point. You watched her eyes rake through the audience, looking for a talent scout shaking her head and drawing a big red cross on her clipboard or something. Her eyes then found you, a inkling of panic that was calmed by the tide that was your face staring right back at her, smile still plastered as you repeat your chants with your group. The sight of you surged something through her, she had to do it for you.
63-63 with two minutes to spare.
“Don’t worry guys, Abby’s got this.” Liv twinkled proudly, like the blonde captain even knew her name and you felt sick. Sick with nerves, sick with possessiveness, sick with irritation. You stomped your feet that little bit louder whilst you cheered, wanting to dash your pompoms at her head. You felt sweat trickling down your spine, head starting to pound from all the tension and noise. Was the crowd getting even louder? Where did you put your water bottle?
63-63 with one minute to spare, and there was no time to drink.
Even the chants stopped, the squad trailing off just to watch in awe. The sound barrier practically broke when the ball came to a thudding halt, caught mid pass by none other than Abby Anderson, basketball hero. This other team were good, frighteningly so — but they were no match for her. She dribbled with precision in and out of players until she met a wall of her opposition, closing in on her fast to snatch the ball. She turned left, turned right, looking for someone on her team she could rely on to get the ball in the net. The coach yelled from the side, the cheerleaders gripped eachother, the audience stood on their feet. Abby’s knees bent, arms extending. Everything went slow motion, like it always did as you watched with wide eyes. The ball didn’t circle round the hoop, it didn’t slide down from the backboard, it slammed straight through the net so hard you thought when it landed it might leave a dent in the ground.
63-64— and the crowd fucking exploded.
You were immediately jostled to the side by your squad jumping up and down, grabbing eachother with screams. You stumbled, jaw agape trying to catch sight of her. Where are you Abby? Let me see you.
She was suddenly there, expression mirroring yours. The world still moved slow, spotting eachother now. She took off toward you, dodging the grasp of a celebratory cheerleader, skidding past a team member that tried to pull her in, straight toward you. You met her half way, feet in control now and leapt, Abby getting the same idea and thrusting her arms around your waist, swinging you round in a circle. Then, you could both smile, and it didn’t stop growing, not even when you smashed your lips together. There was no sound anymore, no screaming crowd or cheering squad members — just your own delighted giggle against her, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, the back of her hot, sweaty neck in your palm, your teeth clashing together at the force of the kiss.
You pulled away to breathe and the sound returned like you’d just come back up from underwater, the yells, the cheers, the chanting of her name. “I did it I fucking— do you know what this— baby, i did it.” She was panting, forehead pressed to yours and hell, you couldn’t care less that it seemed the world was watching such an intimate moment.
“Your life’s gonna change Abby, i’m so proud of you.” You breathed, and before she could reply — expression of awe, and utter love struck, she was setting you down and her team was tearing her away, lifting her above their head, passing her another big golden trophy to add to her shelf. She held it in the air, and then came the flashing of cameras, the barrage of students running to celebrate with her. A cheerleader from the other team roughly brushed your shoulder as she passed you with a glare and you didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, just watching on with pride — hands clasped beneath your chin. Your Abby had won, and nothing else in that moment mattered.
8:04PM
“Is it braggy if I wear the jersey on top?” She was smirking a little, stood in front of you in all her glory in her apartment. You spun around at the vanity, eyes taking her in as you pulled your little pink dress further down your thighs.
Your girlfriend was showered, and dressed — donning her bright blue jersey over her grey hoodie and jeans. You grinned, standing up. She looked good, but she always looked good. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around her neck. “Don’t you think you deserve to brag, a little?” You flutter your eyelashes, tilting your head with a grin.
After every game that was won, a party was thrown at the house of one of the sports captains. It was tradition, and almost always it was in Abby’s honour, because she was almost always the star of every game. The one to think of a genius formation that would throw off the other team, the one to make changes last minute that would be the saving grace, the one to make the winning shot. Today was like no other, and you knew everyone was willing to go extra hard this time — after that win, Abby was like a fucking celebrity.
You felt like you were hit with a shockwave of noise as soon as you walked in. The bass from the speaker was all but vibrating the floorboards, the sticky…wet (?) floorboards. You blinked, accustoming yourself to the low lights, clinging onto Abby’s thick bicep as a swarm of people coming to greet her approached. Sometimes parties felt like survival, Abby being that buoy in a storm that you’d cling to until the tide had cleared. The music was loud as usual, familiar, what was the song playing? You recognised the familiar tune to Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain and nodded your head with a false confidence. Drink, I need a drink — you thought, detaching yourself from Abby to beeline to the makeshift bar once you’d spotted it. Not the punch, you weren’t stupid — you had no clue what people had put in there. Vodka… vodka where are you? You grabbed the clear bottle with the red lid and poured yourself a generous amount into your cup before filling the rest up with… what were your options— cranberry juice. Nice. This will get you by. You needed social skills tonight, Abby had won a huge game and you didn’t wanna drag her down with your shyness. You sipped, no — downed some of your drink with a wince, some liquid spilling down your chin. Alter ego activate, shyness be gone.
You found Abby again, and when she spotted you awkwardly trying to wedge yourself through a gap to get to her she slotted her arm through, parting the sea of people like Moses himself to pull you right up beside her, torso to her ribs. You could stay like this, right up on her— you wanted to stay like this, but you’ll be damned if your girlfriend wasn’t social.
It’s an hour later, you’re drunk, laughing at something dumb Manny had come up with, social for once — and you hear them before you see them. The gaggle. The malicious giggles, pitched just a little higher than their real laugh in an attempt to turn heads. It works, you turn, there stand your cheerleader friends. ‘Friends’.
You can tell they went hard with the pregaming because they’re clinging onto eachother, forcing their way through the party crowd like a cluster of germs. That’s mean, you think to yourself, shaking off that feeling — the ugly feeling rising in your stomach like scalding bile. Insecurity, the feeling immovable even when you’re drunk and joyous, lodged into you seemingly forever, an arrow with spikes. You push it down, push it down, push it down as they squeal and come towards you. It flares up with immense force when you catch their outfits. They’re all wearing ‘Anderson’ jerseys. Did they fucking buy personalised jerseys?
It’s like you step out of yourself for a moment because you reach out and take a hold of the jersey across the cheer captains chest, turning her around and pulling the material taut as you see ‘Anderson’ in crisp white font across her back, mocking you. Your mouth is agape, unfocused and she steadies herself, turning back around and grabbing you.
“You like ‘em?” She whoops and all the girls join her, fondling their jerseys proudly and looking around for more eyes.
“Personalised jerseys?” Is all you manage to let out, just a simple observation. Liv falters for a second, something mischievous twinkling in her eye, lip curling up ever so slightly.
“Baaabe, the manufacturer f’ed up our order, and we fell one short. But we figured you’d have your own one right?” She eyes you obviously. Her malice is hardly hidden anymore. “Abby didn’t give you her jersey?” She tilts her head, as if it were an innocent question. You bitc—
“Abby!” The copper haired girl behind her squeals and you don’t have to turn around to know your girlfriend has unknowingly made her presence clear and accessible. The troupe practically rush you, shoving past to circle Abby once more. The uncomfortable look the blonde had yesterday in the court was gone, the one drink she’d been harbouring all night loosening her up a little — which made that insecure, jealous feeling nestle itself back beneath your ribcage.
“Heeeey— ohhh, awesome!” She smiles in a friendly way when she notices their jerseys. The same friendly expression she’d give to anyone, not flirty or lusty in the slightest — but they’re grabbing at her and batting their lashes up at her like they want to jump on her there and then and you feel yourself trying to crush the red solo cup in your palm. You’re broken out of your enraged trance because your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend is pulling you through the crowd they made, grinning without a care in the world. “You see this babe? Ah, should have given you my one to wear huh?” She laughs, and they laugh, but for different reasons.
The girls leave her alone for a while, but God they’re always fucking watching. Finding ways to subtly interact with your girlfriend. Accidentally bumping into her, which she barely notices until they start profusely apologising. Dance moves becoming inherently more sexy when she turns in their direction — not even looking at them but oh do they try. You finish your drink, because you need to finish your drink— and succumb to the urge to be that girlfriend. Who gives a fuck? Maybe you are that girlfriend.
It didn’t feel like you when you impatiently tugged her away from Nora, another basketball player, mid conversation, hands clasped in Abby’s silky jersey, pulling yourself to her chest, your own tits squishing against her.
“Aaabs.” You whine, and it’s giddy, lustful because she just looks so good. She smirks down at you, letting you tug at her, letting you move her. She looks so into you in that moment and it just… somethings not enough. You’re glancing for your cheer team, and that hideous feeling of shame briefly twinges inside you. Are they watching this? Seeing me touch you? Do they know you’re mine?
“Baby.” She’s returning your giddy smile, and you have to pull away from a moment so that you could back up a little… a little more into the clearing… give them a perfect view.
“Y’look so good.” Is all you can say because it’s true, and you’re pretty sure your eyes completely glazed over— pupils shooting out wide when she grabs a handful of your ass, a little rough but in a loving way, just like the Abby you’re used to — using her grip to pull you back into her hard, a small ‘hmph!’ whimper forced out of you when you all but slam into her strong chest. You love it when she got like this. Grabby. Forgetting her own strength and manhandling you. You’d usually be giggling and shoving her away in public, but you craved the eyes now. You wanted viewers, jealous gazes, realisations — Abby is locked in.
“Oh it’s like that huh?” She’s chuckling at your expression. Forever her needy girl.
You sucked in your lower lip, eyes melting into that doe eyed expression that made her want to fuck it off your face, and she squeezes your ass a little harder. Your knees practically buckle, face burning hot because you feel your pussy spread open under your dress — as if she’s opening the floodgates by hand, wetness pouring out into your underwear. You hoped and prayed they were watching. Screw your little Anderson jerseys, she’s gonna be knuckle deep inside me in five minutes if the two of you kept this up.
“Cant wait to— mm—” You turn your head. Liv is snickering, whispering, but her expression says it all. Jealousy. You feel victorious. Abby curls a finger around your chin and your distracted gaze is back on her.
“Cant wait to what?” She glances in the direction of what you were staring at and your heart skips a beat.
“Can’t wait for you to remind me what a winner feels like.” You breathe out quickly and she’s back, smirking hard like she can’t control it. If she was packing, she’d be tilting her hips forward by now, digging her strap into the mound of your cunt through your thin dress where you stood — and it makes her wish she did pull the harness up her thick thighs beneath her jeans before the two of you left for the party.
“Yeah?” Her voice is breathy, low. “Forgotten already?” She chuckles, and she’s kind of right to— she was always winning, it wasn’t easy to forget.
“Mhm. Oops.” You shrug and you both giggle this time, her hands sliding around your waist. Each time her hands find a new spot on her you can’t help yourself from glancing over at the eyes. At Liv. At the whispers. Get a good fucking look.
Abby leans in, hot breath on your cheek and you turn back to her nearly knocking noses. Her brows are frowned a little and her cheeks rosy, lips parted in a way that made you wanna shove your tongue between them. “Give me… a little while longer to bask in this.” She chuckles, humble like she always was. She steals a kiss from your parted lips. “Can’t leave a party thrown for me so soon… just a little longer and I’ll take you home and give you a reminder, pretty girl.” her blunt finger nails rake behind your ear, scraping whatever hair was there backwards, pecking you again. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, hot and lethargic. You wanted to be obedient but something still negged at you, buzzed in your ear like a fly to ‘stay focused’.
You gripped her strong arms. An attempt at control.
“Don’t have to leave. Can just go upstairs. Right here right now.” You whined in an impatient way this time, fingers curling around her hoodie peeking from beneath her jersey. She blinked a few times and you knew she wasn’t a huge fan— Abby never liked quickies, especially not on a celebration. She wanted each time she fucked you to be memorable, like a performance — she was a love maker, and to her public quickies were usually just a little… euck.
Her soft smile remained, because the request only told her that you were desperate to have her. All the more reason to make you wait, she thought. Get you real worked up. Yeah, she could have fun with this.
“Not happening, babe. Wanna take my time on you, don’t you wanna have it out with me all night?” She tilted her head, persuading, blowing hot air over your mouth and God — yes, on one hand you wanted that badly but there you go again… eyes trailing off to the right… over to your cheer group. Show them. Drag me up the stairs Abby. Make me walk out the bathroom limping. Show them what they can’t have.
So you said “No!” and you were one quick movement from actually stomping your foot like a child. Abby looked taken aback, but she still chuckled. Not in a mean way, but was it ever? She leant back from you, trying to gauge just what was going on.
“No?”
“I need you here. You… stop denying me they’ll — they’ll see— it’s embarrassing—” The shovels in your hand and you’re digging that hole, deeper, deeper…
“Who will see? See what? Babe what’s with you?” The smile melts off and she’s frowning now. Ohhh, boy. You’ve fucked it up. You blink, like you’re trying to wake up from your petty possession. You look once more and they’re intrigued now, gossiping. Are they fighting? Will Abby be single by the end of the night? This enrages you more, but you don’t have time to react because Abby sees it now. See’s that envious look in your eye, but it’s not really envy — because Abby has never in her life given you a reason to be jealous. It’s uncharacteristic and Abby’s stomach twists a little. “Oh.” She steps back, no no no.
“Sorry.” You splutter out. “Sorry, sorry— I’m sorry Abby I don’t know what that was. I just freaked. I want you to bask in this, people are here to celebrate and you deserve that. Sorry. I don’t… know what I was thinking there.” You try and force out a chuckle at the end to lighten things but it doesn’t come out quite right. Abby watches you for a moment, a little tense and worried. Eventually she gives you a small smile, coming close to you again, a hand on your shoulder.
“S’okay. No more drinks yeah?” She’s gentle and you’re embarrassed, of everything really. This is meant to be the greatest night of Abby’s college career and you’re… doing this. Making it about you. Your shoulders slump a little before you shake yourself off physically.
“Yeah, no. Good call. Whew.” You smile and she smiles back. It’s all okay. You’re okay.
Except it’s not, and she knows that. Things are a little weird now, you’re distracted and trying too hard to please her. Eyes snapping towards her guiltily every time she catches your gaze wandering off, as if scared she’ll see you looking at those girls again fearfully. You stay right by her side, shyness creeping back in. You’re smiling in a polite, forced way, and she can tell you’re not really enjoying yourself anymore. Not after that weird moment. It gets a little later, and the party isn’t in as full of swing as it was before but still pretty lively. She can’t enjoy herself if you’re not, so why bother?
You watch her watch you, her shoulders dropping slightly when she sees how tense you look. Truthfully you were worried, you’d tried to show off — let your possessive urges control you — and now, insecurities at the surface you’d seem to make things worse. You didn’t know why you’d let this pick at you, get under your skin the way it has but the fact they’d all seen you have that weird moment? It was eating you alive. They were probably so smug, probably thought they stood a chance with Abby now. Your Abby.
“Babe let’s just go.” Your attention snaps back towards her, suddenly stood in front of you— her braid resting on her shoulder.
“What?”
“Yeah, no it’s— I can’t enjoy myself if you’re not. I’m not mad, baby I just don’t wanna force you to be here.” You feel so fucking bad.
“Abby, it’s not — I am enjoying myself. This is your party.” You express, coming close to her. Most of the alcohol had worn off by now, and you just felt sick from embarrassment— and this conversation was even more sobering. She shrugs, and looks around. It no longer seems to interest her.
“I know but… I’d rather you just be… not in this mood.” She speaks quietly but you hear her and your face falls. Did you really show yourself up that badly?
“Alright.” You match her pitch, and her back is to you again — saying goodbyes. You can’t look up, can’t look and see their disappointed faces. You wish you could close your ears, to not hear the choruses of ‘Already?’s and ‘Cmon Abby this is your party!’s. But you couldn’t keep your forlorn gaze glued to the ground for long, because you knew people would look at you, see your expression and know it’s your fault she’s leaving prematurely. You cursed yourself for caring too much about what people thought that night, and smiled politely in departure.
Abby took your hand, fingers locked into yours as she walked you toward the door, saying bye to people as she continued moving. You made the mistake of sparing your cheer team a departing look, and they were watching once more — glancing at each other curiously. Liv wiggled her eyebrows playfully as you passed her. “Ooo, someone’s in trouble.” She snickered, and your breath caught in your throat.
You didn’t start crying until the car was half way down the street. You’d tried to keep it silent at first. But the car was already silent, the radio not turned on and Abby not saying anything. You didn’t know what the silence meant, you just knew you didn’t like it. Maybe she was reconsidering things. You’d ruined her night, the night that was supposed to be all hers and you took it from her — all because of your petty, jealous, insecurities. That wasn’t the kind of girlfriend she deserved, you were supposed to put all your focus into supporting her. Exist for her. She’d never given you a reason to worry about other girls but for fucks sake — those girls. You let them walk all over you every single day and now they were all talking. All coming up with schemes to take Abby from you, thinking your relationship was on the rocks and maybe it would work. After how you acted tonight, maybe it would fucking work.
You covered your face when the tears started really coming down hard, a quiet sob shuddering out of you. Abby glanced at you, jaw tensing a little. Not because she was angry, just because she was so confused about how you’d gotten here. She’d never seen you like this before and just… what had she done to get you so fucked up like this? She spoke your name, calmly — full of authority and a little detached, not cooing it gently like she would when she’s seen you cry in the past. Her tone made another sob hiccup out, and she spoke it again. “Look at me.”
You did, and you had to wipe the snot from beneath your nose so that it didn’t stick to your hands when you pulled them away. Your makeup was ruined, eyes sore and red and she glanced over you, her main focus on the road.
“Just… breathe and calm down. We are gonna talk about this when we get home.” She shakes her head a little, eyes on the road. Your heart aches and soothes a little at her calling her student apartment ‘home’ like it belonged to the both of you. You don’t have time to indulge the fantasy. “I don’t… understand this… tantrum babe.” She mutters like she’s too mature for it all and she is, which makes you all the more embarrassed. She doesn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, tear drops on her expensive leather seats. Well — she doesn’t speak if you don’t include the occasional “Breathe.” and such when she’d hear your breathing start to pick up, upsetting yourself all over again.
She walked you up to her apartment and you hugged yourself as you stood behind her, watching her unlock her door. She held the door open for you, but didn’t look at you when you walked through — unsurely looking around like you’d never been there before. You wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Did she want to talk now?
You stood in the hallway and her warm hands gently came down onto your shoulders.
“Go sit down on the couch.”
When Abby tells you what to do, you do it. And not because she’s scary, or intimidating or aggressive. She just carries this… air to her. One that makes you want to respect her, no matter how worked up or pissed off or upset you are. It would be the same way every single time, she’ll calmly make a demand and you fucking do it. Of course, minus the mini ‘tantrum’, as she so kindly put it, you had.
She didn’t follow you, infact — she walked the other way to her bedroom, hearing the door click shut when you made your way into her living room area. The leather couch that was usually home to so much love and affection now cold against your skin when you sit down on it, the sleek material frigid from not being touched for hours on end. You bring your knees together shivering a little, and a few minutes later Abby returns. She wields a makeup wipe, and presses it into your palm silently when she lowers herself into the arm chair opposite you. You want to cry out like a baby and reach for her, ask her why she’s sitting so far away but you have to be good. You have to fix everything.
Abby’s thighs spread as she leans forward, staring you down analytically with her elbows on her knees, long fingers wringing her wrists before she looks down at them, puffing out her cheeks with a long exhale. You wait for her to speak, wiping the gooey eye makeup up from your cheeks and eyes.
“Tell me… what this is all about.” Her voice holds a quiet kindness this time, despite the line that appears between her brows as her expression becomes a little exasperated.
You suck in a quick breath, eager to explain yourself and beg for forgiveness — “Nothing I was just being —”
“The truth.” She raised her hand to speak which silenced you instantly. You press your lips together, letting two fat residual tears race down your cheeks either side, the left tear winning victoriously when it surpassed your jaw and streamed lazily along your neck. Abby watched it move.
You thought this time. No more covering it up. No more being immature. Be truthful. What was this all about again?
“I think…” You gulped, willing yourself to be brave. You knew Abby might not see you as a ‘chill’ girlfriend anymore— exposing your insecurities and jealousy — but she wanted the truth and being a liar was objectively worse. “The girls on my cheer team are… I think they’re picking on me.” You admit quietly and her brows jump up, intrigued. Not quite what she was expecting. She stays quiet and you carry on. “I’m not… I don’t wanna be toxic and jealous. I let it get the better of me tonight. They’re always… flirting with you, talkin’ about you, showing off to you, trying to get your attention and at first I didn’t care because, I have you, you know? And you’ve never given me any reason to believe your eyes have wandered but fuck it’s so hard when they’re just… relentless. And beautiful and confident and I’m… I know what people think Abby. I know I’m shy and people wonder how…” You trail off, and you’re not sure you wanna admit any more. Not after that explosive rant.
“People wonder how what?” She pushes, and she’s scooched so far onto the edge of her seat that her long legs are bunched up and she’s barely perched on it.
“Wonder how… I got you. Why you stay with me.”
The confusion just melts off her face.
She blinks a couple of times, feeling like someone just placed her heart in a panini press hearing your sad and small tone of voice. So small, and she can tell you really believe what you’re saying and it just kills her. She wants to reach out then and there and hold you and kiss you and cry for you but you’re talking again.
“And I know you’re not a trophy and I don’t see you that way, please don’t think I ever—”
“No, no no no.” Abby cuts you off as a correction, eyes shut as she scrubs a hand down her face. She gets it now. The jealousy. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the wandering eyes of her basketball team players, smirking over at you when your little cheer skirt that was too short for everyone’s good would flip up, shaking your hips in your adorable little routines. How if she didn’t keep you on her arm at every party, frat boys would start to circle you like crows, waiting to pounce until they realise, holy shit that’s Abby’s girl, and back off. If anyone got it, it was her. “You don’t need to explain anymore I’m… sorry. Come here, please.” Her pained expression relieves you and also devastates you because now she’s blaming herself.
You listen, again, because it’s Abby and you push off the couch to stand in front of her on the arm chair. She pulls you to sit sideways on her leg, thick arms wrapping around your waist protectively. She looks up at you, brows furrowed.
“You are beautiful. I don’t… want anyone else. Ever. I love you, baby. You know I love you? You know I don’t give a fuck about any of those other girls. They’re not you they’re not… c’mon.” That gentle cooing voice has broken through and more tears slide down your raw cheeks. She’s wiping them away this time, coarse thumb swiping the moisture until it absorbs into her skin, becoming apart of her.
You sniffle, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. This is your night and you’re comforting me. I promise I’m happy for you.” You hiccup into her neck when she pulls you in, and you feel her shake her head because her braid tickles your arm.
“I don’t care.” She chuckles honestly and cups your face to pull you back, make you look at her. She’s so beautiful you want to cry some more. “I don’t. It could be my birthday and I’d still look after you. You’re my girl, yeah? You over everything.” She exaggerates, moving her head slightly to meet your eyes when you try to shamefully drift them away.
“Kay. Love you, Abby. M’so lucky.” She feels you sigh in relief and your body relaxes just a little bit. Her hands slide around your back and press into the muscle, massaging and rubbing — trying to get you to just melt and become one with her when you cuddle her.
“I’m lucky.” She speaks into your temple, pressing kisses there. She manages to gently manoeuvre you until her lips are pressing the same quick succession of kisses onto your swollen pouty lips. She hums in satisfaction and you feel something stir in your tummy. The hum was almost primal, one that said ‘this is mine.’ You wanted to hear the noise again. Without too much thought behind it, you turn to sit on her lap fully, facing her now. You pull yourself closer with your arms around her neck and your kisses begin to dot along her jawline. Come on Abby, make the pretty noise.
She sighs, tilting her head for your access and thinks. Thinks over everything that had just happened. Maybe she hadn’t done enough, her brain had been so focused on winning the game that perhaps she’d forgotten to reassure you when you needed it, and she knew how important reassurance was in a relationship. An urge spread through her body, starting in her stomach like an icy cold lake and travelling up to her chest like molten lava. The urge to just… give you everything. Everything you wanted and needed. Everything you couldn’t ask for and everything she should have given you. Abby had always harboured a ‘spoiling’ side, and in that moment it had kicked in hard.
She pulled the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting your head tip back this time as she sucked and nipped at the soft skin there. She loved how opposite you were to her, when she was sweaty and rough around the edges after a game you were still impossibly soft everywhere, still smelled sweet and clean and like you, like she was a wild lion coming to lay her cheek in your gentle hand after slaughtering a deer.
You squirmed on her lap and Abby jumped between your lips and your skin, feeling that beautifully familiar warmth begin to spread through your underwear again. Starting with your clit starting to throb when she’d gently buck her thighs below you — all the way to your hole that started to ache and crave the feeling of her inside. Her tongue lapped up your own, sucking obscenely as her hands pushed your lower back, bringing you higher on her lap and— oh?
You were now sitting atop a bulge. One that wasn’t there at the party. You thought back to her disappearing into her room as you sat down on the couch when you’d arrived back at the apartment and smiled at the feeling against her lips. So calculated, Abby — and she smiled back because she knew. Knew she was gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you after your talk, she just didn’t expect you to fold so easily. For it to take such an emotional direction. She could just tease you for being a cry baby, but where’s the fun in that?
You start to grind like you just can’t help yourself, your shared saliva pooling beneath your pouty bottom lip as the kisses became more sloppy and intense. You swore you could never get over how good it felt to hump against her jeans in just your panties, the combination of materials and the writhing of your hips always leaving you gasping. Abby too, the way the strap was positioned would press snugly against her clit making her breath stutter against your lips. She refocused herself, fingers tugging your dress up to your waist. Enough had been about her tonight she’d decided, now she wanted to make it all about you.
You detached for a moment to pull your dress over your head, lips meeting once more as she tossed it aside. Next came the unclasping of your bra, and then she was sliding your thong down your legs. When she balled it up to chuck aside she felt the wetness in her palm.
You stood over her now, the one time you weren’t shy — stark naked. She’d made you so comfortable over the ten months you’d been together it wasn’t even something you’d take a second worrying about anymore, Abby knowing the map of your body like the back of her hand. She made you feel so safe with her gentle-ness. Abby, big scary Abigail Anderson, Abby ‘i’ll beat your fucking face in if you step up to me outside the basketball court, no seriously repeat what the fuck you just said’ Anderson. And you’ve reduced her to this gentle, loving giant. Someone who was rubbing her big hand up your tummy as her thighs caged you in where you stood. Reaching for your breast and just rolling her thumb over your nipple making your legs quiver a little. All her stoicism that everyone else knew her for had melted away, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at you, touching you.
She reached up and began tugging her jersey off over her head, leaving her in the grey hoodie. Where you expected her to toss it aside with the heap that was your pink dress and underwear, she brought her attention to it, bunching it up and opening up the head hole of the shirt. “C’mere.” She muttered, standing up over you, your neck suddenly craning to meet her eye. “Put it on. Fuck those other girls cheap ass jerseys. My girl gets the real deal.” She’s speaking so quietly that you feel like she’s talking to herself, that you shouldn’t intrude her stream of thoughts — even if the words made you literally clench your hole so tight you could crush a fucking walnut in there.
She slipped it over your head and pulled your arms through the arm holes, stepping back with her hands on your shoulders so she could look at you. Look down at you. See the way you stared up at her tall frame, her jersey swamping you and resting beneath the swell of the plump under-cup of your ass cheeks. “Looking good babe.” She smiles, holding you back to carry on looking at you even when you try and lurch forward, hands loose-fisted and grabby as you try and climb all up on her again where she stood. She subdued you by taking your hand, walking away and practically dragging you along behind her. “C’mon, this way. Not fucking you on the couch.” Though it wouldn’t be the first time.
She had you on her lap again in no time, her feet planted heavily on the floor as you press into her cloaked strap, legs stretched over her thighs making you ache in that delicious way that said nothing more than ‘my girlfriend is fucking huge, the gym fears her’. Impatient, you’re tugging her hand that was cupping your throat, pushing it down, down between your thighs. She pulls away, a little breathless with her mouth all red when she slides her fingers through your cunt, eyes on your hard nipples creating little mountain peaks against her jersey as you breathe heavy in her face. “Soaked, baby. Have you been needing me like this all night?” She’s whispering before her lips are on yours again, stroking your little bundle of nerves head on, making your legs flatten out and tense in the air with a quiet yelp. “I know.” She hums, and that’s all it takes to soothe you. Yes, she knows. She always knows. It was Abby for gods sake, if anyone knew exactly what you needed… well.
After torturous stroking, Abby’s middle finger curls down right to where your hole is, pressing and massaging and teasing. She knows you want her inside, you want more than her fingers, fuck — if you could you’d just consume her whole but this will definitely do the trick. “I want you,” she starts, slurred by the open mouth kiss she’s pressing to your shoulder now. “To ask me nicely. Not like you did earlier. Show me my good girl.” She whispered, like it was one last attempt at being strict before she just gave in and spoiled you. It fooled you, anyways— your mouth falling open with a whine as her thumb pressed up against your clit.
“Please Abby— ‘ll be a good girl now okay? Wanna be your good girl.” You’re blabbering against her cheek and she doesn’t fight you on it, pushing inside you and basking in the way you give her a welcoming squeeze upon entry.
“How are you still so tight? After I’ve abused that pretty pussy so many times?” She sighs, tone suggesting that she’s actually pondering it at a moment like this. You don’t have the strength to respond, fucking against her fingers. You loved foreplay with Abby, don’t ever doubt that for a second — but tonight there was something different, it just felt like preparation. The two of you knew that tonight of all nights you needed to get fucked with her cock, and that would be the main event. She could barely wait, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t loosen you up around her callous digits first so she can slip right inside of you easily.
She slips another finger inside you and you black out a little bit, like you always do. Maybe it was all the emotions finally catching up with you, but you just go limp in her lap, letting her finger fuck you the way you need. “Prettiest girl ever. Don’t know what the fuck you were worried about. Gonna fuck it out your brain tonight, yeah?” She’s cooing again and she knows that’s your sweet spot, that tone of voice doing it for you every damn time. If anything was gonna make you cum quick, it’s gonna be the sympathetic drag of her voice as she ensures you that you don’t have to think anymore.
“Yeah Abby, please! Yeah!” You sound pornagraphic and your spine flushes hot at the idea of the surrounding students in her neighbouring apartments hearing any of this — though it wouldn’t be the first time (as told by the passive aggressive post-it note left on her door reading ‘Keep it down we don’t all need to hear your girl busting a nut.’ that one time. You didn’t live down the humiliation for a week, and Abby of course only took it as a challenge to make you moan louder despite your pleas of ‘Abby! You’re going to get kicked out of your building!’ whilst her head was in your crotch. Anyway—)
She was practically vibrating her hand at this point, fingers squelching in and out of you with sounds so mortifying that if you weren’t experiencing such euphoria perhaps you’d bury your face into her cuss her out for embarrassing you. You, were slurring a made up language made of her name, curse words and just down-right vulgarity as you felt your stomach lock up in that scaldingly familiarly way. Abby chuckled, smug at your babbling, responding with “Yeah?” and “Uh-huh?” until you were clenching hard around her fingers halting their movement slightly, which gave her the green light to move onto “Thats it baby, cum for me. Just getting started with you tonight. Give it to me, pretty girl.”
You went numb, pretty much everywhere but your cunt — something high pitched and feral deafening you through the impending white noise of your orgasm — wait, was that you? You could hardly breathe, and when some feeling returned to you, you felt stickiness all along the inner sides of your thighs and seeping into the rough denim of Abby’s lap below you. Jesus… did she make you—?
“Shit babe, fucking… baptised me there.” She pants, like she was the one that just received an earth shattering orgasm and you collapse against the strong muscle of her shoulder, trying to self soothe— trying to ground yourself. You twitched, her fingers stilling within you at the tell-tale sign of overstimulation. She pulled them out, rubbing her thumb on your bare hip as she pressed her chin to her chest looking down between your bodies, admiring the gooey mess you’d left on her. “Already got a little fountain going on down there baby, we haven’t even been going at it for that long.” She teases with a grin in a way you know is meant to be praise because as soon as you lift your head she’s attacking your hot cheeks with kisses.
“S’embarrassing.” You whimper, despite your small giddy smile and she tsks a little, hand creeping up to your throat, holding your sturdily there.
“If you’re still finding things embarrassing, it’s because I haven’t fucked all those bad thoughts from today out that pretty little head yet. You still want it?” She’s speaking against your lips now, effortlessly pushing her hips up beneath you and rolling her strap into your sensitive cunt again. Is that even a question?
“Still— still want it—”
You weren’t finished speaking, and Abby is moving at the speed of light. She cups your beneath your ass with one hand, still using your delicate neck as her main grabbing point— she twists the two of you, so suddenly you’re on your back and she’s hovering over you, all in one quick succession that makes your head spin. Your back bounces against the bed, bounces you into her and her thumb soothes over your throat. “Hands still working baby?” She kisses the corner of your mouth. You flex your fingers out of her vision, testing.
“Yes.”
“Undo my belt then, pretty.” It’s clear she still needs both of her hands to caress you, so you get to work, shakily reaching for the leather tucked within the denim waistband of her jeans. It’s smooth and feels expensive beneath your fingers, and the sound of the buckle clinking makes you squeeze out more of the residual arousal you’d spewed out only minutes prior. It’s like she can tell it does something for you, because her tough pads of her fingers come and rest on your sensitive clit again, just rubbing slow lethargic circles making it harder to pull the belt out of the loops. “Thats my girl.” She helps you, taking the belt and placing it aside.
She does the rest, because you just weren’t moving efficiently enough for her liking, one hand sliding up your soft arm until she’s pinning your wrist gently to the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, and the other hand deftly unpopping the button of her jeans and sliding the zipper down. She pulls the familiar plastic cock out, adjusting her hips and resting the shaft along your tummy, tip grazing just below your belly button. “Think you’re ready for me now?” She leans forward, nudging your chin with her own to get your lips where she needed to capture them, sucking on your bottom lip barely allowing you to sigh out a pleasured “Uh-huh.” against her.
She sits up, pulling her hoodie off leaving her in just a fitted black wifebeater and the pace of everything changes all of a sudden. It’s less desperate and more purposeful, coming into her dominance and remaining control like she always did. She leant over you, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer and leant back, drizzling it over the shaft. You reached forward without thinking and massaged it around for her, looking up at her with those big needy puppy dog eyes. She groaned, like you were actually jerking her off — greedily yanking her jersey up to sit above your plush tits for her viewing pleasure.
“Fuck… so pretty… Alright baby, deep breath in for me.”
She looked so good like this, hair stuck to her face and neck, jeans pulled just below her peachy ass being cupped by the ropey black harness. The royal blue plastic glistening as she slides it up and down your willing cunt. Her biceps bulging from holding herself up above you, making you just want to sink your teeth into her. Abby was a work of fucking art.
You follow her instructions, Abby kissing away your strained whimpers at the stretch. It only made sense that Abby Anderson, home to all BDE — was weighed down by a fucking monster of a strap, 7 and a half inches, thick and dark blue with added detail of veins and a fat tip. When you first slept together, after one very successful date, sitting on her lap in that little innocent floral dress that rode up your doughy thighs just right — she thought about calling the whole thing off until she could get her hands on a strap a little smaller and less threatening. Until, of course — your wide and blameless eyes were staring up at her, hand barely wrapping around it as you thickly muttered out a ‘I can take it Abby. Let me take you’, and the rest is obviously history.
She sighed out once she was fully seated in you, like it was a relief, like one day you might not be able to take her fully and she’d have to practise even more self restraint by thrusting in halfsies. You tensed up, suddenly aware of the situation again. A spike of sickly anxiety washed through your stomach. Did you deserve this? After the havoc you caused today? “Pretty girl. Let me in that head.” She whispers and it hypnotises you as she thrusts slowly, just grinding her hips against yours.
“Don’t — mmphm— don’t deserve this.” Your voice is high and a little panicked, and Abby’s eyes open to pin you down with her grounding gaze. She knocks your chin up gently toward her as if to say ‘look at me.’ and she rests her hand over your chest, feeling the hammering of your heart as you very suddenly become overwhelmed.
“Hey.” She drags calmly, raising her eyebrows. You try and relax, copying her breathing because you knew she was about to tell you to do that anyway. “Sweet girl.” She thumbs your cheek. “You deserve every last inch of this fucking cock.” She’s whispering again and you cry, hard. She picks up on what you need, and she presses up deeper into you, making your legs flail before wrapping tightly around her ass, your tits bouncing obscenely to the rhythm of her thrusts. “My perfect girl. Don’t have to worry about anything ever again. Yeah? Gonna fucking… go pro ball, make you my pretty little courtside wife. How’s that sound?” She starts to thrust a bit harder and you’re stunned out of your freak out session, distracted by her words and overcome by pleasure as you just listen. Interested to see where this fantasy will go.
“Yes.” Is all you manage and it’s barely audible but she hears it, and carries on.
“Gonna make it to WNBA for you baby. Not for me. So I can spoil you for the rest of my fucking life.” She grits her teeth, her big rough hands sliding around your back so she can cradle you, use your body to fuck you on and off her cock. You whine, barely aware of the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “You wanna give me that baby? Let me buy you every pair of shoes and stupidly priced handbags so you can look pretty for me at every game? Yeah?” Her voice is higher pitched and you think she might cum at some point, but she’s too determined to fuck your lights out completely for any of that.
“W—want that Abs, want you— I want —”
She’s interrupting, not finished with stuffing this fantasy into your brain until there’s nothing there but the manifestation of those thoughts. “You won’t even remember those girls on your cheer squad. They’ll be nobodies. You think I’d ever fucking look at anyone else but you, hm? My pretty little wife?”
Just when you think things can’t get more intense, she’s decided that she’s not physically deep enough — and pushes your thighs up to your chest, knees squishing against your tits as she stretched you, grunting out a “Fuck”, a sign of her losing control for a second. “N’then after every game. Can take you.. fuck, can take you shopping, fly you out wherever you want. Slut you out, just like this. You want that life baby don’t you? You wanna give me that life?” Your brain is muddled, and you can’t tell if you’re begging her or she’s begging you. Your mouth is open, but the air is punched from you and you’re just squeaking like a dog toy and she pounds your little cunt.
She reaches for what seems to be your on button, shoving her thumb between your lifted legs and grinding your abused clit again. “Wanna— wanna be your wife Abby. Want — I wanna—” You’re rambling, and then you’re cumming, harder than you’ve cum in your life. Your throat is raw, nails clawing for something, some kind of life support as she fucks you through your orgasm, breathless and determined. You vaguely feel yourself marking up her skin with your nails, but you’re never fully aware of yourself doing it — always just as shocked and guilty when you see the red streaks across her freckled skin the next morning whilst she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom with a towel around her waist.
“Good girl. My good fucking girl you take it all. Take what I’m giving you.”
And you do, because when she goes to slow down you’re whining and bucking against her strap— fuck drunk and obsessive, finally getting to that dumb place she needs you to be able to rid of all those negative ideas you had about yourself earlier. She lets you breathe as she thinks about it, thinks about the way you misbehaved and the way you wouldn’t use your words. Maybe there was still more in you, more room for some reinforcement.
That’s why approximately five minutes later you had your cheek to the pillow having been pressed there by the basketball captain herself, Abby’s foot up on the bed and your ass in the hair as she drilled into your weeping pussy.
She pushes your back down, against the protests and your cries and your “Can’t Abs, so deep!” muttering for you to “Just fucking take it, sweet girl. I’m not asking.”
You give in and let her, already feeling yourself close to another animalistic style orgasm which only leaves your heart aching for your peeved neighbours that were probably just trying to sleep.
“You gonna listen next time, huh?” You don’t know how she has the endurance to keep slamming into you like this, wife beater pulled up above her sweat-gleaming abs now to not obstruct her vision of her creamy strap pounding in and out your soft flushed pussy. “You tell me when you fucking need me, yeah? You tell me when you’re feeling a type of way and you need me to reassure you from now on.” She waits a beat, and you wail. “Say yes.” She adds in command.
“Yeees!” You cry.
“Say yes Abby.”
“Yes Abby!”
You’re pretty much on autopilot at this point, brain so empty that all it knows is to do exactly what Abby says at all times, chasing that lingering tight coil in your stomach that whispered ‘cum one more time for her’ in your ear in a saccharine sweet voice that just about convinced you. Adding onto the persuasion, Abby’s weight dropped a little more onto you, hot torso against your back and hips grinding feverishly into you still. “Give me one more then. One more and that’s it baby. Keep being good for me.”
So you do, again, and this one is different from the rest — it’s your last drop, your last spot of energy. You’re weeping and grabbing and you feel it ooze out of you around the punishing blue plastic, and when you’ve done it Abby gets softer, kissing your spine and pulling out, so much praise your brain can’t even register it through your submissive fog.
“Did so good baby. So perfect, angel. Love you so much, my girl.”
She was cleaning you up before you could blink with a cold wet wipe from her bed side draw, practically scooping out endless amounts of your creamy arousal as you whimper at the sensitivity.
“Cold” You whisper, and you’re not sure if it was by choice seeing as you didn’t think you had a voice at that point.
“I know.” She chuckled, voice low and hands gentle— stroking the backs of your thighs as you stay on your front, legs trembling now as the adrenaline dwindles in your body. “Did so good for me. Let’s roll you over.”
She’s kicked off her jeans and her harness, now just in her boxers and wife beater— eyes flickering to your hands tugging at the jersey.
“Want it off. Wanna feel you.” You mumble sleepily once you’re on your back, desperately craving your skin on hers. She cradles your neck as she obliges, slipping the material up and over your head and pulling you into her.
You knew she carried on doting on you after you’d fallen asleep, and truthfully you don’t remember when you fell asleep — somewhere between her wiping you down and peppering kisses across your whole body — but like usual, her strap had knocked you the fuck out, and before you knew it you were waking up, disorientated by the morning sun flooding in through the blinds. Your senses start to arrive back to your body and you note them off like a checklist in your foggy brain. Touch, Abby’s arms locked around your waist. Sight, the blinding laser beam of sun attacking your eyeballs. Smell, Abby. Hearing, Abby. And the birds tweeting.
You roll, twisting in her arms so that your head was tucking beneath her chin against her chest, breathing her in and relishing in the way her skin stayed warm through the night like an electric blanket, unlike your own — cold to the touch from kicking off your side of the duvet.
She’s still fast asleep, always the heavy sleeper and after the game and the party you decide that big girl needs her rest, even if you’re now wide awake and staring at her. She looked like a painting, pouty lips swollen from a night of kissing, honeyed hair still in its braid but totally messed up now, pale blonde baby hairs sticking up and around her face. Her dark lashes kissed beneath her eyes and her chest moved up and down like the slow rocking of a small boat on a calm tide. You smiled when the sun slid further into the sky and created a beam across her eyes, making her scrunch them in her sleep and bury her face into the pillow.
You remember peeing last night now, before you’d fallen asleep — Abby carrying your warm, dazed body to the bathroom and sitting you on the toilet, letting you lean your cheek against her tummy to hold you up as you pee’d, gently shushing your complaints about removing you from the bed.
“S’not good for you to hold your pee after sex, babe.”
“M’sleepy. ‘Don’t care if I get a UFO.”
“UTI. And I care.”
You slowly slide out the bed careful not to wake your girlfriend, on a hunt for your phone. You pull Abby’s jersey back over your head for coverage and tiptoe out the room. Where did you put your bag again? You find it tossed on the couch haphazardly where you left it and fished through it, leaning on the back of her leather couch as you scrolled through. Your thumb tapped the Instagram logo and loaded it up, automatically gravitating towards Abby’s story, displayed at the top of the screen. You pressed it, expecting to see some kind of victory shot of her holding the trophy or a picture with her team, but instead were met with a photo of you that she’d taken when you’d fallen asleep last night— your head turned the other way on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Bare back glowing in the dim light of the room, bed covers resting at your waist. The caption reads: ‘Future WNBA wife.’ followed by your @.
Any other day you might gasp, due to the nature of the picture being that — well — it’s clear even to the untrained eye that you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. But you grin, glowing from the inside out. She was showing you off, indirectly reassuring you even more because she knows you need it. You press a heart on the story, stepping in the direction of the bedroom to attack her sleepy face with kisses— but your eyes catch on the kitchen instead.
The perks of dating someone with such a buff body, was that they always would be stocked up on plenty of food. Not like your dorm, thinking back to the microwave meals and tins of soup stocked up in your kitchen made you grimace. You swung open her refrigerator door, gathering ingredients to whip her up a winners breakfast.
Having made everything from scratch, by the time the breakfast was nearly ready you’d heard Abby stir and climb out of bed, disturbed by the accidental clattering of pots and pans. The water ran for a while, and as you turned off the stove — removing her frying pan of eggs, you’d heard her heavy feet plodding into the room.
You nearly burnt yourself at the sight of her, sweatpants pulled up low on her waist, no shirt, red scratches from your overexcited claws the night before wrapping around her bicep and over her left shoulder, assumably trailing down onto her back, and her hair down — a little damp, falling messily across her small chest. You offered her a small smile as she took in the scene, looking very serious about it too you might add. Turning around back to the chopping board to prepare some turkey bacon for her you felt her crowd you. A shadow casted over you. You were suddenly smaller.
“Makin’ me breakfast? Was I that good?” She rasped, huge hands sliding around your waist — instantly dwarfing you some more.
“Mhm. Breakfast for a winner.” You chirped quietly, too early to be excitable.
“Really leaning into this whole housewife thing aren’t you baby?” She chuckles and your face heats up. Is it that obvious? She presses kisses to the side of your neck, hands grabbing you all over. Involuntarily, you arch your back— pressing your ass into her crotch and she winces.
You freeze up, knife clattering out of your hand onto the wooden chopping board and brows furrowing at the way her fingers tighten around your waist, lips by your temple now. You’re practically pinned to the counter, hands flexed wide on the smooth surface when you grind back against her again experimentally.
She’d never admit it, but last night had left her wanting, which she expected was selfishness considering she vowed to make it all about you. She pulled you back against her, your plush ass beneath just her jersey thumping against her clit again — nothing but that and the material of her sweatpants brushing up against her swollen button. You whimpered a little, not making it better for anyone and found your rhythm, rubbing and humping back on her, feeling her exposed tits against your back. “Like this?” You whine, and tug up the jersey so your bare ass is on display now, just a vessel for Abby to get off on.
“Just like that, pretty.”
The sight makes her push into you a little harder, bending you over the counter when there’s nowhere else to go. She continues humping you, leaning over you and kissing you, curling her toes against the tiles until she explodes into quiet, low gasps and groans— leaking into the grey material as you help her along with encouraging noises.
“Fuck babe, fuckprettygirl— my god.” She pants, leaning over you and pressing a kiss onto your back before tugging your jersey back down with a chuckle after a minute of panting and coming down. “Gonna put me back to sleep.” She gives your ass a loving slap, grabbing the flesh of it in her meaty hand before walking around you to lean against the counter top tiredly. You giggle, shaky hands getting back to food prep as she watches you with fond eyes. “How you feeling? All good?” She analyses, mind still on your series of mini freak out’s the night before.
Your eyes are on the turkey as you continue slicing shyly. “Sore. But all good.”
“Sorry baby.” Her thumb rubs your arm sympathetically.
“No I— I like it. Like feeling you the next day.” You don’t look at her, you can’t, but you know she’s grinning.
“Good.”
She disappears for a minute and reappears with her phone, scrolling, checking notifications. You begin to plate up her breakfast, feeling her hands wrap around your waist again, her phone held by your chest as her chin rests on your shoulder, leaning over you. “Your little friends saw my story of you. Think by now they get the message.” She smirks and you giggle, turning your head to kiss her on the cheek.
“I think so too.”
“If not, I’ll just have to make it clearer, yeah? ‘ll fuck you infront of ‘em if that’s what it takes.”
Your eyes widen as she backs off, going to help you plate up the big breakfast you’d made. You didn’t think that would be necessary anymore, feeling much more secure now but your achey, abused core twitched at the idea anyway— not totally against it.
You’ll pocket that for later.
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