#and STILL feel like you’re at the bottom of your grade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scribblesofagoonerr · 19 days

Text

I'm not a loser!

Pairings: lia wälti x teen reader, caitlin foord x teen reader, awfc x teen reader

Massive thinks to @alotofpockets for her help with motivating me to write and put this out. Sorry it's taken a while, but I wasn't overly keen with how I wrote it & even now, I feel like it's not my best work.

I hope you like it though, and please let me know your thoughts of what you'd like to see happen in this mini fic series!

Things really hadn’t been going in your favour today at all, in fact it had been a completely terrible day at school and you didn’t realise that it was only about to get worse.

Since the day started, it had been horrible from the very minute that you woke up, overhearing the latest argument between your two mums’ on the phone as they fought about you, but you didn’t care to listen to any of the conversation; It always seemed to land back around on the same topic that you argued about, and that subject being you.

It seemed like your mood only worsened when your latest test was handed back to you, graded with a big fat F circled in red around it and it’s not like the disappointing look you received from your teacher helped matters either.

You were quick to shove the paper in the bottom of your backpack, at least then you could try and forget about it; The last thing you wanted was to see the disappointed looks from either of your mums, after you promised them that you would try and keep your head down.

But sometimes it was easier to say that then actually do it.

It’s not like you have ever been a troublemaker in school, but it’s been tough to keep on top of everything and now you’re finding yourself both in trouble at school and at home; You were currently grounded after the latest stunt that you pulled over the weekend with Kyra, which you didn’t find completely fair, but your mama seemed to think different, so what did you know?

The rest of the morning at school hadn’t exactly been great either, you’d somehow managed to land yourself with a break time detention for the forgotten piece of English homework that you were supposed to hand in, but it wasn’t meant like you did it on purpose when there’s added pressure from football games and training, not to mention the messy home life situation that you currently faced, so it's’ safe to say that your school work has now been slacking ever so slightly.

By the time that the bell for lunch went, you were more than ready to escape the classroom. However, when you were walking out of the classroom that’s when it all changed and you came face to face with your tormentor.

“Oi, Y/L/N!” You flinched at the familiar voice of your bully shouting at you from behind, just as you thought that you had been doing so well to avoid them only for you to turn a corner and see them.

You could say that life’s never really been the easiest roller coaster for you, your past homelife hadn’t exactly been fantastic and you’d never even felt true happiness until you found your home at your childhood dream club with a new family that welcomed you with open arms.

The day you signed your first ever professional contract, your life changed completely. When the opportunity arose for you to play for the Arsenal womens’ senior team, you couldn’t help but leap at the chance to play for your dream club, even if you were still quite young.

It was all you’d ever wanted to do.

Despite the rough start in your life, you’ve necessarily not been one of those types of kids to act out, you just get on with life without a single complaint, even with the challenges that you’ve faced in life.

Just like the current situation right now, your own personal tormentor.

You weren’t bothered at first when it was tolerable, it was just harmless name calling and sure, the names’ spilled were mean but you had enough sense just to ignore them but then it got worse and eventually the names turned into physical assault.

You just didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Oi, don’t ignore me, Y/L/N. I know you can hear me, you stupid twat” Your own personal bully continued to shout aloud to get your attention.

Mustering up all the courage that you had, you bit your bottom lip and spun around to face your bully although they were tall and had that slight advantage over you, “I… I wasn’t ignoring you. I just didn’t hear you” Your quick to lie and cover your tracks.

“Whatever” The older girl muttered, rolling her eyes before she continued to push you into a nearby locker, “Listen, stupid. The chemistry homework needs to be handed in today, do you have it or not?”

Your eyes widened in a sudden panic, you’d completely forgotten about it when you were so busy with football and trying to keep up with your own school work that you pushed your bullies’ to the back of the pile, and now you knew that you were gonna pay for it.

“Well, do you?” You pulled out of your thoughts by a sharp pinch on your bicep.

“Um, no… I forgot about it” You quietly admitted, although you knew it was an instant mistake right there and then.

“You forgot? Huh, you really must’ve been born stupid then” The bully spat venomously as they tower over you with a menacing look on their face, “Well, I guess we have a problem now then, don’t we?” they sneer at you.

A single second later, you hissed out loud in pain at the instant impact of being thrown directly into the locker behind you, you can’t help but flinch as an automatic response to the violence that is being directed towards you while you peer up with wide eyes as they tower over you with a venomous look in their eyes.

“You’re not going to fight back, you wuss? What a loser!” They taunt you before they throw you directly into the locker again, “Huh, no response, no defence. You really are a sad little lost orphan aren’t you” they continue to taunt.

You don’t know what it was inside of you but it was like something snapped. You couldn’t take it any longer of the harsh comments spewed or the violence, you didn’t have to put up with it either.

“I’m not… I’m not an orphan” Your usual calm approach to your bully has gone as you can’t help but growl at the older girl while clenching your fists tightly, “I’m not a loser either, I’m not— I’m not!”

“Oh, yeah? Prove it then, loser” They smirk, almost challenging you.

You couldn’t even explain the next few minutes even if you tried.

It was like you blacked out in a state of absolute rage, your fists flying at them as you remembered the self-defence that your mum had so helpfully taught you in case you ever needed it in a situation like this, and now it finally came in handy against them.

“I’m not… I’m not a loser!” You exclaimed loudly as you lifted your own fist up and swung it in the direction of their face, “I am not… I am not a loser!” You’d lost control of your anger like a flick of the switch, lashing out and throwing punches at your bully whos’ been endlessly taunting you for the better part of the last several months.

Even though you know you were bound to be in trouble for it, you couldn’t care less right now because punching your bully and sticking up for yourself was definitely worth it in the end.

And maybe this way, you’d be able to get the attention of both your mums’ in the same room, so that was another positive reason to punch the girl square in the face.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Bye” Lia exhales a sigh as she ends the most recent phone call with your head teacher this week, having asked her to come down to the school after you’d landed yourself in trouble.

“What’s going on?” Leah looks at the older women confused as the trains alongside her in the gym.

Lia exhales a sigh and slips her phone into her pocket, “That was the school again. Y/N is in trouble” she explains to the blonde.

“Again?” Leah's eyebrows furrow, confused, “What happened this time?” she wonders.

“I don’t know, but I guess I’ll find out when I get down there” Lia mumbles, standing up from the bench that she was previously sitting on, “I seriously don’t know what’s been going on with her lately. It’s just one thing after another” she adds.

“I guess Y/N/N is having a rough time, maybe?” Leah comments that sounds more like a question, not used to your recent streak of wild behaviour compared to the calm girl you are usually.

“What’s going on with Y/N?” Caitlin overhears the conversation and the mention of your name, before she makes her way over to join the two women, “Is she okay? Has something happened?” she asks, confused.

Lia exhales a sigh as she has to face her ex-girlfriend and speak to her, “The school just called, Y/N is in trouble” she explains once more as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“What? What happened?” The Australian woman frowns and digs into her own pockets, pulling her phone out to check for any missed calls from the school, “The school hasn’t phoned me about it” she mumbles, furrowing her eyebrow.

“Well there’s no point in phoning both of us when we’re at the same place most of the time, is there?” Lia remarks, not having the time nor energy to explain anything further.

Caitlin continues to frown and shake her head in disagreement, “I should still be kept in the loop with what’s going on. I hardly hear what’s happening with her at the minute” she states.

“You are told what’s going on Caitlin, I don’t keep things from you” Lia exhales a sigh as she tries to keep calm while talking to her ex-girlfriend, “What more do you want me to do?” she asks.

“Aye, that kid. What’d she do this time?” Katie joins in on the conversation, not sensing the seriousness of it all, “Bad mouth the teacher or get caught cheating on a test?” she jokes.

Lia purses her lips in annoyance with the Irish woman, “It’s not funny, Katie” she states, bluntly.

“Oh come on, so the kid gets into a bit of trouble every now and then. It’s not a big deal” Katie insists, rolling her eyes.

“You’re clearly not seeing the point of how serious this is then, Katie” Leah steps in as she can see Lia getting herself annoyed with Katie’s mock teasing, “This isn’t funny, you know Y/N/N and you know that she’s never usually like this at all!” she remarks.

Katie holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Relax, eh, Williamson, will ya? I’m only joking here, there’s no need to take the high ground about this now, is there?” she says and she can’t help but rile the blonde up.

Leah scoffs in disagreement with the brunette, “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if her behaviour as off lately was down to your antics when she’s around your house on the weekend, cos’ she certainly doesn’t act like this when she’s at Lia’s house” she remarks.

“My antics?” Katie fires back in disbelief.

“Y/N/N acting up isn’t anything to do with how she is at ours” Caitlin chips in and defends the pair of them, “I don’t know what is going on with Y/N/N but this isn’t something that’s neither mine or Katies’ fault” she tells them.

“Oh, really?” Leah scoffs and raises her eyebrows before she looks at the Swiss woman, “Do you want me to come down to the school with you?” she offers.

“Would you?” Lia glances at the blonde in appreciation.

“Of course, I would–” Leahs’ agreement is cut off.

“No way, absolutely not!” Caitlin interjects, very much in disagreement with that decision, “If anyones’ going down to the school with you then it should be me!” she states.

“Caitlin–” Lia begins to speak.

“No, I’m Y/N’s mum just as much as you are, Lia” The Aussie woman insists, not liking the idea of being pushed out of the picture, “We should go down to the school and deal with this together, as a family” she mumbles.

“We broke up Caitlin, we’re not a family anymore” Lia quietly tells her, shaking her head in disagreement, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go down to the school together, Caitlin. I will go with Leah and then I’ll just tell you what happens” she tells her.

“Why not? No offence, Leah but this hasn’t got anything to do with you!” Caitlin objects to the idea as she looks at the blonde.

“I’m going there to support Lia and that’s important right now” Leah explains to the Aussie woman.

Caitlin shakes her head completely in disagreement with the idea, “No, no– I should be there, Y/N is my daughter, not yours!” she points the finger at the blonde firmly before she looks at Lia, “Fine, if you don’t think we should both go down there then why don’t I just go down there? In fact I’ll take Katie, we’ll take her back to ours afterwards instead” she declares.

“Oh yeah, Y/N/N loves Coopurr!” Katie exclaims, in agreement with the suggestion.

“There we have it then. I’ll find out what’s been going on with Y/N/N and then we’ll go back to ours” Caitlin insists with the idea.

Lia shakes her head in disagreement, “Oh, and make it seem like I’m the bad cop when you bring her home?” she questions.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do here, Lia! I’m just trying to help you out here and be the parent that Y/N/N needs– She’s my kid too, you know?” Caitlin shouts back in response, earning the attention of a few girls in the gym, including their captain Kim.

“I’m not saying that she isn’t. I know she is but it’s easier to do it this way” Lia explains, avoiding the looks from the rest of the girls in the gym who look concerned.

“Is it? It just seems like you’re pushing me out of the picture!” Caitlin makes her feelings evidently clear.

“Caitlin has got a point, Lia. You can’t stop her from seeing Y/N/N like you’re trying to do that” Katie chips in, looking at the Swiss woman.

Lia turns to look at Katie in disbelief, “Stay out of this, Katie. This isn’t your argument to get involved in” she says as she begins to collect her stuff.

“Okay, alright, that’s enough. You’re all causing a scene in here” Kim speaks up loudly as she walks over to them as she overhears the conversation between the 4 adults in the gym, “What is going on?” she asks, glancing between them all.

“Y/N got into trouble at school” Lia begins to explain.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have known that unless I didn’t overhear Lia and Leah talking about it” Caitlin huffs and rolls her eyes.

“I told you, I was getting round to it” Lia fires back as she scowls at her ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, right” Caitlin mutters in disagreement, “ “And now she won’t even let me come down to the school with her, when I have every right to do that!” she adds.

“It’s just better this way, Caitlin” Lia explains to her ex-girlfriend, exhaling a sigh.

“Caitlin has every right to be there for Y/N” Katie chips in defending her girlfriend.

“Why are you getting involved in this, Katie?” Leah questions the Irish women.

“Why are you getting so involved, Leah?” Katie fires back at the blonde.

“Seriously, Katie? You just seem to find this whole thing hilarious like it’s one big joke!” Leah mutters, shaking her head, “I’m right to want to be there for Lia in this” she adds.

Kim shakes her head in disbelief at the 4 of them acting like they are, “Alright, that’s enough. Okay?” Kim interjects in an authoritative tone of voice as she looks between the 2 exes, “Regardless of you all blaming each other, it’s not going to help you figure out what is going on with Y/N/N unless you work together” she tells them.

Lia’s facial expression softens in realisation, “You’re right, Kim. I didn’t think about it that way” she admits as she looks at her ex, “Look Caitlin, I’m not trying to push you away like you think I am. I just think it’ll be difficult for us to both be there, right now. I’m sorry and I know Y/N is your daughter and you do have every right to see her, just as I do but I would prefer to do this with Leah by my side instead, okay? I’ll text you and let you know what is said, but please understand I find it better to do this way” she tells the woman quietly, finding it hard enough to be in the room with her ex-girlfriend without dealing with anything else.

Without saying anything more, Lia and Leah left the gym as they quickly notified Jonas about the recent events, before they head out to the car to make the way down to your school to find out what trouble you’ve landed yourself in this time.

You knew the single minute that you raised your fist at the girl it would end up in dire consequences, however now finding yourself sitting outside the head teachers’ office with bruised and bloody knuckles, you remain hopeful that this latest stunt was something that both of your mums would be coming down to talk to the head teacher.

Although you still can’t help but wonder how it got so bad?

It wasn’t like you could talk to either of your mums though, because most of the time when you spent time with either of them, you didn’t really want to mention the other in case it brought up any sort of hurt feelings, but you needed them both together.

You didn’t really mean to get yourself in that much trouble today, in fact you’ve never really been one to cause many problems at school if you’re being honest, but you were just so sick of them pushing you around and calling you endless names that you finally had enough and lashed out.

As soon as you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you, you remain hopeful as you look up with eager eyes, hopeful to see your two mums together.

However, you’re severely disappointed when its’ your mama and Leah instead.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, you didn’t want Leah to be here with your mama; You wanted your mama and mum together, but why did that seem so impossible to do?

“Hi mama” You mumble, biting your bottom lip as you avoid the disapproving look on both of their faces, “Hi Leah” you acknowledge the presence of the blonde, whos’ stood there obnoxiously chewing gum.

“Hey kid” Leah greets you with a worried smile.

Lia exhales a sigh and shakes her head, “What have you done this time, Y/N/N?” she questions.

“It wasn't my fault” You try to defend yourself, picking at the skin around your nails.

“I find that one hard to believe Y/N. This is the third call I have had from your school this week” Lia reminds you, moving to sit beside you on the uncomfortable plastic chair, “Do you want to tell me what happened before I go in and speak to your head teacher?” she asks.

“Nope” You shake your head in disagreement.

Leah furrows her eyebrows and sits on the other empty chair, “What happened, kid? It’s not like you to be in this much trouble, or acting out in general” she tries to get answers out of you.

You shrug your shoulders carelessly and bite your bottom lip, “Dunno, is mum coming down as well?” you wonder, curiously as you look at Lia.

“No, Y/N/N. It’s just us– Is this why you’ve gotten yourself into trouble at school, so your mum and I would come down together?” Lia asks in realisation, putting the pieces together about it all.

“Maybe, sorta. I don’t know, cos’ it didn’t work anyways” You mumble, deflating your shoulders as you stand up to head into the office after the head teacher calls you all in; Leah and Lia share a look of confusion with another, finding it hard to understand why you would do that as they follow you in behind.

The result of your behaviour in school leads to you being suspended for the next 2 weeks, which your mama isn’t best pleased with at all if the silence is anything to go by as you trail behind them to the car.

Every time you have tried to talk, you're met with a stern look from the Swiss woman which makes you shut up pretty quickly.

“Mama?” You try your luck to get her a response.

Once again, you were met with complete silence on the car ride back apart from the faint sound of music playing.

“Okay, I know I messed up but how much longer am I going to receive the silent treatment for?” You huff aloud as you peer out the window as your mama drives out of the school car park.

Yet again, complete silence.

“Come on, seriously? The fight wasn’t even my fault in the first place!” You whine in protest, huffing and crossing your arms in the back of the car.

Leah clicks her tongue as she sits in the passenger seat, “You shouldn’t even be fighting in the first place, Y/N” she states sternly.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and not snap back at the blonde, who you really don’t know why she’s even here, you wanted your mum instead, not her.

“I had my reasons to do it, Leah!” You mutter as you glance out of the window in the back of the car.

“Hey! Be nice” Lia glares at you to knock it off.

“What? I’m not doing anything!” You huff in annoyance and fight the urge to kick the back of her seat, “And I did have a good enough reason!” You still continue to insist.

“I don’t want to hear any of the excuses, Y/N” Lia exhales a sigh, shaking her head.

“But if you just let me explain–” You're cut off before you even have a proper chance to speak.

“Explain what, Y/N/N– How can I be so sure about what you’re telling me when you’ve been acting out like you have been for the last several weeks, huh?” Lia scolds you as she looks in the rear-view mirror, “I don’t know what has even gotten into you anymore, Y/F/N!” she states.

You kinda know that your mama does have a point in saying that, because despite your own rough upbringing with your biological parents, you’ve never really acted out or gotten into much trouble until recently, however with how its’ been the last several weeks, you can’t deny that you haven’t been acting out in an attempt to get the attention both of your mums together in the same room.

It just didn’t work this time round.

You just didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to control the anger any longer and you would end up lashing out like in the way that you did. No matter how many people tried to talk to you to figure out what was going on, nobody really understood what was going on right now.

You can’t help but scoff in response, “You won’t even hear my side of things though, at least I know that mum would take the time to listen to me. Why can’t I go and stay at her house instead?” The words slip out of your mouth without much realisation and it’s definitely loud enough for both women to hear.

“Y/N, your mama wants you to stay with her” Leah chips in.

“Why? And why are you even here when this has nothing to do with you?” You glare at the blonde, although you know it’s not her fault for what’s happening, but despite that you’re a stubborn teenager and refuse to admit when you’re in the wrong sometimes

“Y/N” Lia gasps in shock, “Don’t be rude, you don’t speak to people like that” she scolds you.

“It’s the truth though” You mumble and technically, you’re telling the truth about that one.

The Swiss woman shook her head in disagreement, “There’s no need to be so rude, okay? I won’t stand for it, so apologise please– And you know when it comes to you, that your mum and I are both on the same page” she tells you.

“Are you? Cos’ all you ever seem to do is fight these days” You remark snidefully.

“That’s not true, Y/N/N” Lia frowns at you.

“Yes it is, you guys always argue about me– I can’t even tell you how I feel, so I was only defending myself like how mum taught me to do” You explain to the older women.

“What!?” Lia exclaims in shock.

“Mum taught me self defence in case I ever needed to use it. Definitely showed them that today cos’ now they won’t mess with me again” You grin proudly to yourself.

“Are you… Of course she bloody did” Lia mutters, clenching her hands on the steering wheel.

“Calm down, Wally” Leah rests her hand on the older womens’ thigh.

“Mama, you’re clenching your fists. You might want to just chill out a bit” You note in concern as Lia looks angry and you realise you’re going in a different direction back home, “Where are we going?” you ask.

“Change of plan, Y/N. We’re going to see your mum after all” Lia states as she grips the steering wheel tighter.

#woso x reader #arsenal x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal women x reader #lia wälti x reader #caitlin foord x reader #katie mccabe x reader #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

466 notes · View notes

xqueen-of-disasterx · 2 months

Note

Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

1K notes · View notes

thecuriousquest · 6 months

Text

My Daughter, My Little Girl

Platonic Yandere Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Platonic yandere, NSFW (spanking punishment), non-consensual spanking, spanking of a teenager, bare bottom spanking, Gojo is trying so hard to adopt you, injured reader from fighting, reader’s parents died, Gojo is a patronizing asshole

Master List

—————————————————————————

Satoru Gojo drags you all the way back to the high school and into the classroom by your upper arm. You limp awkwardly due to your injured leg and foot, trailing slightly behind him. Keeping up with his wide gait is proving to be tough for you. He’s extremely displeased with you, but what did he expect? He never allows you to go on missions, and you’ve been at this fucking school for six months now!

He lets go of you once he closes the shoji door. It slides shut, and he whirls on you with covered eyes. His mouth is set in a firm line, his usual smile replaced with one of pure condescension.

“Look at you, almost shredded to the bone.” He grabs you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks as they puff around his fingertips. “What was a little girl like you thinking you could do against a grade two curse? You went out on a mission you weren’t approved for, risked your life, got all nice and banged up. Albeit, I never intended to approve of you going on any missions. That’s not the reason why I brought you here.”

You furrow your browns, not understanding what he’s talking about. “What? Why did you bring me here if you don’t plan on letting me go on missions?”

“Well, you see, you have potential. No, not as a sorcerer. You’re far too weak for that life. You have potential for something else: a special place in my life…wait for it — as my daughter! Yay!”

A few beats of silence go by where you simply look at him with fear and anger.

“You don’t seem too excited. Don’t worry. Once we get your punishment over with, I’m sure we can find some way to bond. Get to know each other a little. What do you say?” He pokes you in the ribs.

“I’m not your daughter, and I never will be!”

“Aw, you’re breaking your old man’s heart here. Well, either way, your ass still has a date with my hand, so why don’t you go on and hobble up to the desk over there?”

Limping past him, you shudder a deep sigh as you look at the hard surface that you’re meant to bend over. He can’t seriously do this to you. It has to go against some kind of school regulation.

When you arrive, you give him an unsure look.

“You can bend over now you know?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?”

“Hmmm, not that I can recall, but keep on talking like that to your Papa, and I’ll have to stick a bar of soap in your mouth. Wouldn’t want that, right? I’d suggest keeping the curses to a minimum and just trying to behave.”

You’re so angry that you grab your hair and stomp your uninjured foot. “You’re not my Papa! Stop it!”

“Oh-ho-ho, getting a little pouty now are we? Someone’s gonna need a nap after this.”

Gojo instantly appears right behind you, pushing you down onto the desk. Your hips bump against the edges uncomfortably, and you hate how easy this was for him.

You try to take it stoically, biting the inside of your cheek as his heavy hand mercilessly scorches your backside. You feel like you might burst into tiny pieces if you don’t scream, but you hold that feeling in, shoving it down to the very bottom of your being.

“Hm, must not be doing it hard enough,” he says behind you.

Your eyes grow wide, and you turn to look over your shoulder at him. Not hard enough? No, no, he’s spanking you so hard to begin with!

Lifting your skirt to reveal your black, sheer tights, his palm cracks down like lightning, and this time, oh, this time you can’t help but howl.

“Are you even allowed to do this, Sensei?!”

“Uh, obviously, I can do whatever I want.”

Still cracking jokes.

You clench your fists with fury. “Oh, you’re just the worst!”

“You know-“ he lands a particularly hefty blow to your right thigh, “you never were that great with insults.”

“Fuck you, damnit!”

He stops spanking you and simply cages you with his hands on both sides of your waist. He leans in against the shell of your ear, scolding you. “Hey now, this is a high school to learn about how to defeat curses, not a place to throw them around in.”

You scream into your folded arms when he takes the final steps in lowering your tights and panties. You try to reach back to block him from doing so, but all he does is swat your hand away.

“Settle down, we still have a while to go.”

Shaking your head, you sob at him. “No! I don’t want anymore!”

“How about this: if you say ‘I’m sorry, Daddy’, then I’ll stop. Deal?”

No. Absolutely not. No way in fucking hell!

“Get bent, old man…”

You’re not sure why THAT came out of your mouth, but you’re pretty sure it was the wrong thing to say because Gojo immediately starts targeting the most sensitive part of your bottom and thighs.

“Why do you even want me to be your daughter?!”

Satoru’s hand never pauses as he answers, “Because you’re just such a little bat shit crazy cutie, and it’s obvious that you need a dad in your life. I wouldn’t want anyone else taking that role.”

It’s getting to a rough point where you don’t think you can take this much longer. The words to end this punishment are tempting to say, right on the tip of your tongue as tears cascade down your scarlet cheeks. Should you just relent and say them? You might not even have to mean them. You could just say it to end this fucking stupid spanking.

Fuck, Sensei is such a damn asshole!

But you can’t. You can’t do it. You feel it would be so disrespectful to your papa’s memory, the one who died when you were twelve. He was a great papa, and your mama was the best too. You had such great parents, but they’re gone, and now your sensei is trying to take your father’s place.

It strikes your heart, and it makes you cry even harder. Your shoulders shake as you wail and howl into the desk. No, no, no!

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to.

But the absolute burn in your hide is too much.

It would be disrespectful to your papa’s memory!

Satoru’s hand is coming down even harder against your raw skin.

And then he does something absolutely wicked. Sensei drags the tips of his nails lightly over your well-punished flesh.

Your eyes widen as you yelp from the sensation. It feels like everything, down to the last nerve, has been amplified.

One more smack, two more, three more. It’s all raw, and the burn is deeper and more lively now than it was before.

You clench your nails into your palms and wail, “I’m sorry, Daddy!”

His hand suddenly stops. “I didn’t quite catch that. Wanna repeat it?”

Oh, the smug asshole!

You gulp down breaths and sobs, you try to wait until your throat is clear. “I…I’m sorry…Daddy…”

Fuck, you didn’t know you could blush any harder than before.

“Awww, it’s okay, sweetie. Daddy forgives you.” He helps you up off the desk and holds you in his long arms. “You just cry it all out. Go on. That’s a good girl.”

As you stand there, your skirt falls back into place. However, your tights and underwear remain at mid thigh.

You hate how patronizing he’s being. Condescension drips from his tongue like venom, and you want to punch him in the dick.

But the comfort’s nice, and at least he’s not inflicting pain on you anymore.

“How about you go take that nap now, hm? How does that sound?”

You nod in response. Anything to get away from him right now.

But he doesn’t let you off that easily. No, he pats the seat of your skirt as a warning.

“Yes, Daddy. It sounds good.”

634 notes · View notes

babybluebex · 3 months

Note

i saw ur message abt angus tully requests and🙈🙈 if u feel like it i would love to read a first kiss fic, but honestly i'd read anything !!!!

as you requested... :) word count: 1k

When you first met Angus, you didn’t consider him as someone you could fall for. He was a little short-tempered, a little too sarcastic for your tastes, but he was smart— even though you didn’t go to the same school, he still came into town on Wednesday afternoons and met you at the library to tutor you in biology. Even though Angus could definitely be hard to deal with sometimes, he helped you get the grades that you needed, and you were endlessly appreciative of him.

Your biology midterm was next week, and you and Angus should have by all means been studying, but you weren’t. You were listening to him talk about his school, the prestigious Barton Academy, and how the all-boys school wasn’t exactly conducive to finding a date. “Not that I even wanna go to winter formal,” Angus said, twirling his pencil in his fingers. “But my mom and stepdad say I should.”

“Who’re you taking?” you asked. Your school also had a dance at the end of the semester, but you guys weren’t fancy enough to call it a “formal”. You were also in need of a date, and had briefly considered just going by yourself; you were better off on your own, anyway.

Angus shrugged. “Not a lot of girls for me to ask,” he said. “Not that any girl would wanna go out with me anyway.”

“Oh, whatever,” you scoffed, gently erasing your work on your paper and rewriting the answer. “You’ve gotta have girls swooning all over you.”

Angus barked out a laugh. “You flatter me,” he grumbled. “You think girls give me the time of day? That’s really funny.”

You lifted your eyes from your paper up to Angus’s face, and you scrunched your eyebrows. “I mean, why not?” you asked. “You kinda have that Bob Dylan thing going on; if you went to my school, you would be everybody’s favorite.”

“Mm, but I don’t go to your school,” Angus hummed. “The guys at Barton think I’m just a pest.”

“Well, I don’t think that,” you offered lightly. “I think you’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” Angus said softly. “I think you’re… Ahem, pretty cool too.” His cheeks went red as he cleared his throat, and his eyes flicked down to your textbook to break eye contact. Suddenly, he was quiet, his face burning; you had never seen Angus be shy before.

“Angus?” you said. He said nothing, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, and you reached out to him, letting your fingertips brush his chin, lifting his face to look at you. You tilted your head as you watched him squirm, but he made no effort to move your hand from his face or try to move you away. “You know what I mean… When I said you’re pretty cool, right?”

Angus took a breath, and he nodded quietly. “I meant the same thing,” he admitted. “Only, I… I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know how to do this.”

Your hand dropped from his face, and you took up his hand from the table, twining your fingers together with his. His skin was soft and cold, and his grip was immediate and strong. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you told him. “A real boyfriend, at least.”

“What’s a real boyfriend?” Angus asked, leaning forward in his seat to get closer to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I mean, like… I’ve never had a guy get all shy around me or anything. Act like he really likes me, and isn’t just dating me to cheat off of me in history class.”

Angus chuckled breathlessly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he said, and you smiled. “Umm… Can I… Kiss you? I’ve kinda wanted to ever since I met you…”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” you asked.

“Have you?” Angus asked quickly.

“I asked you first,” you smiled, and Angus huffed as he chuckled.

“Um, no,” Angus coughed. “I’ve always gone to all-boys schools… Last time I had a girl I talked to regularly, I was in preschool. And that doesn’t really count, I think.”

“Probably not,” you agreed. “I’ve kissed one other guy before. It was the boyfriend who would cheat off of me, and he kissed me sometimes, but… Never anything else.”

“Okay, so you’re marginally more experienced than I am,” Angus said and jokingly rolled his eyes. “You can’t get mad at me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“I would never,” you told him. You both hesitated for a moment, trying to read each other’s minds, and, before you could speak first, Angus cupped your cheek with his soft palm and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to lean into his kiss, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his thin wrist, and he sank into you, letting himself relax.

You finally broke the kiss with a big smile, and Angus chuckled, and you shifted away quickly when your teeth clacked together. “Was that good?” Angus asked, nervously pressing his lips into a thin line as his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Why’re you laughing, was it that bad?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you,” you chuckled, shaking your head. You watched his cheeks go pink again at the pet name, and you said, “I’m just… Happy.”

“Good,” Angus said. His hand reached for yours, pressing his fingers between yours, and he said, “Right... What were we talking about?”

“Well, we were talking about, like, biology and stuff, for my exam next week,” you said. “But then we started talking about your winter formal and my school dance, and how we didn’t have dates.”

“Oh, right,” Angus said. “Umm… I-I guess, maybe, if you want, I could go with you to your dance.”

“As my date?” you asked, and Angus nodded. “I think I’d like that a lot. And maybe I can be your date to the winter formal?”

“As long as you can deal with the stuck-up pricks at my school,” Angus grumbled, and you grinned, leaning in and kissing Angus’s cheek.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

#bex answers #anon ask #angus tully x reader #angus tully

460 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 11 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Summary: Eddie's past in Chicago is revealed after he reaches his breaking point, but he's not the only one facing a crisis.

Warnings: mentions of drug use/addiction, neonatal medical trauma, panic attack, mentions of learning disability, brief allusion to Kurt Cobain's death, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 7.2k

Chapter 7/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie was no stranger to bad report cards, failing grades, and dissatisfied teachers. You don’t fail twelfth grade twice without dealing with all three of those. He’d learned to shrug it off and move along with his day, mostly unfazed.

Those same things directed towards his son was a different story.

Ms. Marion’s words rattle around in his brain, wrapping around his lungs and choking him from the inside out.

Constantly interrupting

His heartbeat pulses in his ears, drowning out the background noise of other parents chatting as they wait their turn to meet with the teachers.

Incapable of paying attention and following directions

A bead of sweat trickles down the back of his neck to his spine, then another, until he feels his t-shirt sticking to his skin. Despite the stifling heat building up in his body, his teeth chatter together noisily as a deep shiver rips through him.

Socially and academically behind his peers

He knew this day might come; he should’ve been prepared for it to happen. Has he only been fooling himself, pretending like everything was going to be fine?

At this rate, he won’t be ready for kindergarten

Eddie swears he’s walking to the parking lot, one foot in front of the other, keys clenched in his right hand until he feels their serrated edges digging into the calloused skin of his palm. Yet he finds himself at your classroom door jamb, leaning up against it with a soft thud.

You’re struggling to stay awake after the long day you’ve had. You roll your shoulders, wincing as you hear the small pop. You’ve just finished the last conference with Frankie’s mom, Carol, and she was a bitch and a half. She’d insisted that her son was gifted and demanded that you recommend he start kindergarten early.

A noise draws your attention to the door, and you’re suddenly wide awake when you see who’s there.

“What’re you doing–hey, what’s going on?” Your curiosity morphs into concern when you clock Eddie’s ragged breathing and tear-streaked face. He’s repeating something, but his voice is so low that the words resemble a hum, and you can’t catch them until you get closer to him.

“Harris–falling behind–all my fault.” Eddie speaks as though he’s in a trance. His brown eyes are saucers, and more tears fall with each blink of his eyelids. “Falling behind–all my fault.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but you do know that you need to get him inside the classroom before anyone else sees him breaking down. You reach for his wrist, and he instinctively flinches and pulls away before seemingly snapping back to reality and resting his hand in yours. One calloused palm trembles in your smooth one as you lead him to the table where you’d just been speaking with Carol Perkins, only letting go to steady himself into the chair.

“Falling behind–all my fault.”

You take both of his hands this time, and he doesn’t draw back when you do. “Eyes on me, okay? We’re gonna breathe together.” It’s the same technique that you’d used with Harris on Halloween. In for three, out for three. Eddie watches you a few times before joining in, breath hitching slightly before evening out. “There ya go…here, let me get you something to eat.” You offer him a small, kind smile that he doesn’t reciprocate before rummaging through the bottom drawer of your desk and pulling out a little bag of mini pretzels and a half-pint of water. “These good?”

He manages a nod, eyes locked onto you even as he twists open the snack and absentmindedly pops one in his mouth. He’s still in a daze, but no longer at risk of hyperventilating. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” you cautiously ask, not wanting to trigger another panic attack.

A solid ten seconds passes before he answers. When he finally does, the hoarseness in his voice startles you. “Could you, um, close the door?”

“Of course.” The wheels of your swivel chair skid against the tile floor, but Eddie’s too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice. When you return to your seat, he doesn’t even register your presence until you say, “whenever you’re ready.”

“I, um,” he clears his throat. “I just had the parent-teacher conference thing with Ms. Marion. And, apparently, Harris is destined for failure, just like his old man.”

He relays everything the old woman told him; the racing thoughts all spill out like bees fleeing their hive.

“She starts off by saying that he’s already behind the other kids, which may not seem like a big deal now, but, apparently, it means he’ll fall farther behind as he grows up.” He gnaws on his lower lip and continues. “And then she said that him interrupting and not paying attention is because he ‘lacks structure at home,’” he adds with a grimace.

“But y’know what really fuckin’ got me?” he asks, rubbing his hands over his jean-clad knees until his palms are tinged red. “She said to me, ‘Some kids aren’t cut out for school, and if Harris is struggling with preschool, it’ll be a long road ahead of him.” Eddie’s eyes are shiny with the prospect of a fresh batch of tears. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

You try to quell your temper for the sake of professionalism, but your boiling blood makes it almost impossible. “None of that is true. Harris having trouble doesn’t make him impossible to teach. And it doesn’t make you a bad parent.”

Eddie can’t manage eye contact when he says, “But what if I’m the reason why he’s having trouble?” His voice is so small that you can barely hear it.

“I’ve taught a lot of kids with a lot of different needs, and none of them–”

“You’re not listening!” Eddie slams his fist on the desk, rattling your jar of pencils, and you reach out to steady it. His eyes blaze with fury, but this time, it’s not towards you. “It is my fault, because I am a bad parent! I let this happen!”

You crease your brows. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” What, exactly, is his fault? What could he possibly have done?

Eddie shakes his head despondently. “I-I didn’t know…Harris’s mom, she…Christ, it’s a long story.” But you can practically see the words on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for permission to be spoken.

So you give it to him.

“You can talk to me,” you murmur, resisting the urge to grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. Just to comfort him, you tell yourself. “You can trust me.”

Eddie lets out a slow, low breath and looks up at the ceiling. There’s a long silence; for a moment, you worry that you’ve said something wrong. Overstepped your bounds. Harris technically isn’t your student anymore, and God only knows where you and Eddie stand.

Finally, Eddie begins to speak. “I met her out in Chicago when I was twenty-four? Twenty-five? She was a groupie, I guess. We never said we were seeing each other exclusively, but after a while, I realized that she was the only person I was sleeping with, so…” He shrugs. “A couple nights before my band and I left for tour, she told me she was pregnant. Too far along to, um, do anything about it. She apparently didn’t even think to test until she complained about gaining some weight and her friend brought it up.” His gaze shifts to the window over his right shoulder, and all you hear is the sound of his sneakered feet nervously tapping a fast rhythm against the tiled floor. “Look, I’m not proud of this, but I used to party. A lot. And at these parties, there were, um…”

“Drugs?” you supply before you can bite back the comment, clenching your fists at your side where he can’t see you chastising yourself.

Eddie just laughs, a throaty chuckle that escapes despite the seriousness of the conversation. “A shit-ton of ‘em. I was partial to coke; helped me stay awake when I wanted to crash. But I swear, I only used when I was partying. And when I found out I had a kid on the way, I stopped using completely. Cleanest tour of my life.” His lips turn up in a semblance of a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Figured she’d do the same…she said she would, but…”

Your heart sinks; you know exactly where this is going, but you don’t dare interrupt him this time.

“I was at some dive bar in Cincinnati when I got the call that she was in labor; ran right off the stage and caught the first flight back home. I got there in time to watch him be born; and it was the best goddamn moment of my stupid life, until…” His voice breaks on the last word, and he can’t stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes. Or maybe he doesn’t want to. “He was six weeks early. Fuck, I shoulda known, but I was just so excited to be a dad. He was shaking so hard that his tiny little body was practically blurry, and, like a total moron, I’m going, ‘Is he cold? Does he need a blanket?’ No one would answer me; they just fuckin’ whisked him away before I could even hold him. And when they brought him back, they told me that he tested positive for cocaine and had something called Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome because of it. Said it can affect his learning, his attention span, everything. Kid wasn’t even two hours old and I’d already fucked him up.”

Your response seems meek; far too pathetic for the intensity of what he’s just admitted. “But it was his mom…”

He tucks his lips into his mouth, pressing them together until the outer edges turn white.

“Yeah, she was the one using,” he relents, but his tone is so thick with self-loathing that you couldn’t claw through it if you tried. “But where the fuck was I? On the road, thinking I could be a rockstar and take care of a family. If I had stayed back, I could’ve stopped her. I would’ve seen that she wasn’t just doing it at parties or shows; she was an addict. I could’ve gotten her help; I could’ve saved my son from being born a goddamn coke addict!”

“You can’t make someone stop doing drugs,” you say feebly, though you’re certain he already knows this.

“But I could’ve done something! Fucking anything! And it would’ve been better than not being there.”

You have to choose your next words wisely, mulling them on your tongue before talking. “Is she still involved in Harris’s life?”

He shakes his head forlornly. “I invited her to his first birthday party, and she came, surprisingly. All the way from Chicago. I thought maybe she was getting her life together. Then, right before we were gonna cut the cake, she came out of the bathroom with white residue under her nose. I told her to leave and not to come back until she got clean.” He barks out a gruff laugh, as though he still can’t believe it. “Haven’t heard from her since.”

You don’t know how to respond to this. It’s going to be okay seems too patronizing, because nothing about this is okay. I’m sorry? What are you sorry for? Harris’s mom is an atrocious excuse for a human being, and so is Ms. Marion? Kind of tips the balance towards the unprofessionalism you’re striving to avoid.

Eddie continues, not noticing your failure to respond. “The doctors would tell me that he was developing slower than he should be–walking and talking and stuff–but he always got there eventually. But hearing his teacher say that he wouldn’t…fuck, if that’s true, I’ll never forgive myself.” He puffs out his cheeks as he exhales; tendrils of hair flow upwards and flutter back down with the exaggerated breath, and you realize that he’s trying to ward off another crying spell.

You can’t remove the guilt that eats him alive, but maybe he’s not asking you to. “I’ve never met a more determined little kid than Harris Munson,” you say truthfully. “Name one time that boy gave up.”

“For better or for worse, I can’t think of any.” His eyes still don’t meet yours, but you see a flicker of happiness at the mention of Harris’s perseverance before his expression darkens again. “Call me stupid; that’s fine. But my son is gonna be better than I ever was.”

Your heart pangs with sympathy when he puts himself down. “You’re not stupid.” He bristles at your reassurance, puzzling you even more. “What?”

Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth. “That’s not what you said before.” The comment isn’t accusatory, just a simple fact, as though he’s talking about the weather. “On the first day of school, you told me to leave before I said anything else ‘ridiculously stupid.’”

“I just–”

“Look, I’m not saying the Cat-and-Mouse is the nicest thing to do,” he interrupts, cheeks aflame at the mere mention of it, “but I guess it really fucked with me for someone I…someone I just met…to call me stupid.” The phrasing is clunky and awkward, and he sinks his teeth into the tip of his tongue in a paltry attempt to stop the word flow.

You take in his shameful expression, mulling over a response. Knowing what you know now–that his little game was a poorly-designed coping mechanism after being put through the wringer–your comment was harsher than he deserved. “I was hurt, and I…I should’ve just said so. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Just an asshole?” He tilts his head, finally looking at you. The corners of his mouth turn up to form his first smile of the evening.

“Just an asshole,” you confirm playfully. Another silence fills the room, only interrupted by Eddie crunching on the pretzels you gave him. He’s nibbling on them from the outside, as though savoring each bite. “Mr. Munson?”

“Eddie,” he says, crinkling the empty pretzel bag in his fist and tossing it into the nearby waste bin. “Please, just call me Eddie.” Mr. Munson awakens memories of his father; specifically, the way the cops addressed him each time he got arrested for various offenses.

“Eddie.” Though you’d called him that on the night that you two had fooled around, the name feels foreign in your mouth. Too casual for what you’re about to propose. “Eddie, um, back to the stuff with Harris…” You swallow your nerves and push through, knowing that you need to do what’s best for Harris, even if you have to face his dad’s wrath. “If I suggest something, promise you won’t get mad.”

Eddie flinches, but not for the reason you think. No, it’s because he hates that you’re fearful of his reaction. He hates that he’s made you afraid of him. “Fuck. I mean, yeah. I promise.”

“What…what if we talked to the school psychologist about getting him evaluated for a learning disability?” The words tumble out, and you worry that whatever semblance of acquaintanceship will shatter, leaving you unable to pick up all of the pieces. And even if you can, even the best adhesive can leave visible fractures.

His jaw clenches; his shoulders draw up and biceps flex with a twitch, fight or flight instinct kicking in. This was a horrible idea; he’s already emotional from the conference with Ms. Marion, and now you’ve crossed a line. You’re so caught up in deciphering his body language that you don’t catch his softening eyes as he silently reminds himself that you’re on his side. On Harris’s side, at the very least.

“What does that involve?” he asks. It’s inquisitive, not judgmental, and you permit yourself a small sigh of relief at the narrowly-averted crisis.

You explain the process as Eddie intently listens, nodding to acknowledge that he’s following along. “Nothing invasive; just asking him questions and giving him some tests, and then if he does have a learning disability, we’d figure out what modifications we can make so he can learn alongside the other kids.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, considering your recommendation. “Will they know? The other kids, I mean. Will they know that he needs, like, extra help to learn?”

“Nope.” You shake your head. “I don’t know how Ms. Marion runs her classroom, but I always emphasize that everyone learns differently anyway.”

He nods, drumming his fingertips on the desk in a rhythm you can’t decipher. “Do you think…if we do the evaluation, would he go to kindergarten on time?”

“Well, as a teacher, I’m not supposed to say. But as a friend,” you shrug, “I think it’s worth a shot.”

As a friend. A friend. Friend. The word reverberates around Eddie’s brain, replaying like a melody he can’t pause. But he doesn’t want to stop it. He wants you to call him your friend over and over again, enveloping him in your kindness, never letting him go. He wants to wrap his arms around you in a hug and bury his face in the crook of your neck, while he laughs or sobs or a combination of both.

Do friends do that? Or is that something more complex than he can allow himself to imagine?

Your voice brings his perseverations to a grinding halt. “And you can be there while they evaluate him. So he won’t have to be alone.”

Another nod, another pregnant pause. He twists his curls around his pointer finger, brushing them over his lips. “Could you come, too?” he murmurs, quickly clarifying, “for Harris?”

“Of course.” You agree without a second thought, watching as his body unstiffens when he leans back in the chair with a sigh. “And if you want, I could tutor him after school once a week. Catch him up and stuff.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “You’d do that?”

“Mhm,” you beam. It’s like cracking a complex code after aimlessly spinning the dial, hoping to land on the right combination of numbers. “Just…it would have to be at my place, so I can stay home with Grandma. Medicare only pays for her aide to be there for a certain number of hours. I’m actually paying out of pocket so I could be here tonight.” While you’d initially been annoyed at having to spend your hard-earned money just to talk to ungrateful parents, this time with Eddie has made it worth every penny.

“Yeah, no problem,” he easily agrees, starting to stand and brushing some rogue pretzel crumbs from his jeans. “Oh, um, how much do you charge? For the tutoring?”

At this, you giggle. “Eddie, you’re not paying me to work with my,” you lower your voice mid-protest, even though the door is closed and no one else is around, “favorite student.”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, denim jacket creasing at the elbows. “Well, I’m not gonna let you work for free, so name your price.”

“Fine,” you huff, feigning annoyance. “It’ll cost one…pizza.”

“Seriously?” Eddie asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” you confirm, walking to the supply closet and grabbing your coat. The inside of the sleeves are chilly, having not been exposed to the heat churning through the classroom, and the temperature shift makes you shiver. “Saves me from having to worry about making dinner. And Grandma loves pizza, so it’s one less thing for her to argue about.”

The arguments in question were still happening frequently, though her verbiage was decreasing with each subsequent spat. Last night, you’d told her that she had to turn her TV down so you could sleep. Grandma had repeatedly yelled “no” and “hate you” until you gave up and smushed one half of your pillow over your exposed ear in a pathetic attempt to muffle the sounds of the infomercials blasting from her room.

“I can do that,” he agrees, following you towards the door and stepping out of the way so you can flick off the light, plunging the classroom into total darkness. “Any toppings?”

You think for a moment, tapping your forefinger to your chin as your other hand rotates the key in the door until you hear the soft click of the lock. You twist the knob just to make sure, only turning from the door once you’ve confirmed that it doesn’t open. “Ooh, we both love olives. Get those.”

Eddie scrunches his nose in disgust. “I’ll do half olives, half plain, so Harris and I won’t have to suffer.”

You stop in your tracks. Eddie’s chest bumps against your back. “Oh, I…”

“Shit, that wasn’t an invitation, was it?” He’s blushing, cheeks turning a deep crimson at his gaffe. “Sorry, totally misread–”

“No, no, I’d like the company.” You’ve come to appreciate how much easier it is to navigate Grandma’s moods when there are other people around, but you can’t ask someone to endure that just for your comfort. “‘S just that my grandma…well, you saw her at the hospital that night. She says things that are mean, or inappropriate, or don’t make sense…I don’t want Harris to hear that.”

Eddie just laughs, waving off your concern of Harris. “He grew up around me and Wayne. He’ll probably be teaching her some bad words.”

“Oh, God,” you shudder at the thought of Harris and Grandma swapping swear words. “Then, yeah, I’d love to have you over for dinner. Are Wednesdays at four okay? We can start tomorrow, if that works.”

“Perfect!” Eddie chirps, tossing his car keys upwards and dramatically snatching them mid-air. “I teach guitar lessons, so Wayne’ll drop him off. I’ll swing by around five with the olive pizza.” His pronunciation of the topping is obnoxiously whiny and snide, and you roll your eyes, pushing open the main doors to the school while he trails behind you.

You’re normally not at work this late, and it feels almost unnatural to walk out to a night sky. Clouds obscure the stars, and the dim streetlights do little to pave a discernible path. Eddie seems to be walking in the same direction, and there’s a sense of comfort knowing that you don’t have to navigate the parking lot alone.

The volume of Eddie’s voice lowers considerably as he says, “You’re…you’re kinda the best, y’know that?”

“About time you realized.” You smile as the two of you approach your car. You slide into the driver’s seat, tugging the seatbelt over your shoulder. “Where did you park?”

“Um…” Eddie squints, pointing to a spot clear across the lot. “Right there.”

Your jaw drops. “Eddie!”

“What?”

“Why’d you walk all this way, then?” Your keys sit in the ignition, waiting to be turned over.

“And leave you to trek across this vast terrain all by your lonesome?” He presses his hand to his heart, staggering backwards until he bumps into another parked car. “Ow, shit. So, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yup.” And as he closes your car door with a small wave, it occurs to you that you’re actually looking forward to seeing Eddie Munson.

Elise wasn’t exaggerating when she’d warned you that Grandma was in a mood today. In addition to the usual song and dance to the tune of “those pills aren’t mine,” she’s insisted on changing her clothes no less than four times in the hour since you’ve been home, grumbling that every outfit doesn’t look right. As you wipe down the kitchen counter, sweeping crumbs from your after-work snack into the garbage bin, you hear banging against the living room wall. Never a good sign.

“Grandma?” you call out as you abandon your chore and start towards her. She’s struggling to hold onto the large painting of a sailboat that should be mounted on the wall. You get to her side just before she can topple over, grabbing the artwork from her grasp. “What are you doing? Why did you take this down?”

She looks at it–and you–with utter disgust. “S’ugly,” she mumbles.

There’s no sense in telling her that it was her favorite or that she picked it out herself years ago. Instead, you heave a frustrated sigh. “Okay, well, we’ll just leave it here,” you say, carefully leaning the cherry-lacquered frame against the wall.

“No!” She shakes her head, tousled gray hair brushing against the wrinkles etched into her cheeks. “No, no!” Anger creeps into her voice, and tears appear along her lash line. Truth be told, your tears are not too far behind.

“Look, I’ll just…turn it around. See?” You swivel the painting so it faces the wall; all that’s visible now is the sad beige frame backing. It’s hard to believe that she finds this view more appealing than the soft watercolor brushstrokes of blues and greens, but you leave it as is, until she inevitably demands to know why it’s no longer hanging up.

The harsh buzz of the intercom brings your quasi-argument to an abrupt end. You can hear some shuffling, and then an older man’s raspy voice instructs, “say who you are so she knows you’re here.”

“HARRIS!” The little boy exclaims loudly. “Oh, and my Grampa Wayne!”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to bring a smile to your face. You press the button that lets them into the building, quickly ushering Grandma into her room and putting on the Animal Planet. A rerun of Wildlife SOS blares through the TV, and you can only hope that Harris won’t be too distracted by the noise. It certainly beats being the recipient of one of her incoherent rants.

The frantic knock on the door ushers away your anxious thoughts. “Ms. Sweetheart, I’m here!”

“Relax, buddy,” the older man–Wayne–gently reminds him.

You open the door, grinning as Harris barrels into the apartment. His little arms wrap around your waist as he envelops you in a tight hug. “Ms. Sweetheart! I’m at your house!”

“You are,” you agree with a laugh, patting his back with your palm before offering your hand to his grandfather. “And you must be Grampa Wayne.”

The older man chuckles as he shakes your hand in his own calloused one. The whiskers above his lips and on his chin are white, flecks of gray stubble peppered along his jawline. “‘S nice to put a face to the name. All I hear about lately is how wonderful Ms. Sweetheart is.” He bashfully scratches at the wisps of hair that lay flat along the crown of his head.

Taking compliments is not your strongest suit, but you manage. “Trust me, I’ve heard some great things about Grampa Wayne, too. I’m just glad Harris loves being my student as much as I love teaching him.”

“Huh?” Wayne’s forehead crinkles in confusion before he catches himself. “Oh, yeah, Harris. Right.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, Ed’ll be here at five.”

“He’s bringing PIZZA!” Harris shouts, unable to contain his excitement as he pumps a tiny fist in the air.

Wayne shakes his head, as if to say, this kid. “C’mere, Har. Give me a hug goodbye.” Harris all but leaps into his grandpa’s arms, spider-monkeying his legs around his waist. Emotion wells within you as the gesture reminds you of the easy way love used to flow between you and Grandma. No questions or doubts about who you were or how she would perceive you in that moment.

As soon as Wayne leaves, Harris tugs on the hem of your shirt, peering up at you with a gigantic grin. “Daddy telled me that you’re gonna teach me again! But not at school.”

“Mhm!” you say, guiding him over to the kitchen table. You’ve cleared a spot for the two of you to work. There’s a stack of flashcards in front of your chair, and Harris eyes them curiously. “Those are gonna help you learn letter names and sounds. You’ll be reading like a pro in no time.”

He eagerly nods, flinging one little leg onto the chair and climbing onto it haphazardly. He’s facing the back of the chair with his knees tucked underneath him, and he shifts until he’s sitting on his bottom, eye-level with the tabletop. “I can’t see anything!” he harrumphs grumpily.

“Here, you can face me,” you tell him, holding the chair steady as he swivels around again. “There ya go. This works out better anyway.” You tap the deck of cards on the table, watching as Harris kicks his feet in anticipation. “We’re gonna play a game with these,” you say, keeping your tone full of excitement. “I’ll hold up a letter, and you tell me what the letter’s name is and the sound it makes. And if it’s a little tricky, there’s a picture on the back that might help you out. Sounds good?”

Harris considers this, tongue poking out between his lips, and you can’t help but notice the way he mimics Eddie’s actions. “Can I see the picture even if it isn’t tricky?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” You shuffle the deck, making a dramatic show of closing your eyes and folding the cards into a bridge. “Let me give you an example.” You grab the card off of the top, the letter R printed in bold, black lettering. “This is the letter R. It makes the rrrr sound.”

“What’s the picture?” Harris squeals, clapping his hands together, the sound muffled by the cast on his wrist. When you flip the card around to reveal a cartoon robot, he cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “He has triangles for eyes! That is so silly!”

“That is silly,” you agree with a laugh, putting the card at the back of the deck and holding up the next one for him. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Remember, just do your best. This is just so I can see what we need to work on.”

He nods, sitting up straight as he reads the letter F.

“Nice job, Har! And what sound does F make?” This is more difficult for him, and he squints as though it will help him remember.

“Umm, eh?” He knows it’s not correct, and you watch as his shoulders begin to slump dejectedly. “I…I don’t know.” His lower lip juts out, quivering as he admits it.

You keep your tone light and breezy. “No worries! We can always look at the picture, and if it’s still tricky, we can figure it out together.” You show him the french fries on the back of the card.

“French fries!” Harris exclaims giddily.

“And what sound does french fries start with?” You enunciate the start of the words, but he still can’t seem to get the pronunciation. His breath hitches with frustration, chubby fingers digging into his tousled curls to pull at them. “You can ask me for help if you need to. That’s what I’m here for!”

His tiny “need help” is almost inaudible, head drooping towards his chest in defeat. “Everyone needs help sometimes,” you say kindly, pointing to the flashcard to draw his attention back to it. “F makes the ffff sound. Go ahead, try it.”

Harris emulates you, bits of spittle flying as he makes the noise over and over again. “This is fun!” he cheers, eyes widening when he comes to a realization. “Hey, fun starts with the fffff sound, too!”

“Sure does!” You raise your hand for a high-five, shaking it in mock-agony when he slaps it. “Wow, Har, you’re super strong! Okay, let’s try the next one.”

With a few breaks to release some energy, Harris continues stumbling through the rest of the alphabet unceremoniously. He’s definitely behind, you realize, but not so badly that he’s unable to catch up with some extra help.

“Only a couple more to go,” you assure him, presenting the card with the letter P.

“P!” he yells, a grin spreading from ear to ear across his sweet face. “An’ it makes the puh sound!” He reaches out and plucks the flashcard from between your fingers, turning it to see the picture on the back. “It’s a princess.” His eyes flit between you and the pink poofy dress-clad cartoon. “Me an’ Daddy think you’re pretty like a princess.”

There’s no time to ask for further clarification before a loud bang erupts from Grandma’s bedroom. You swear silently, somehow still aware of the four-year-old beside you as you dash to her door. Instinctually, you grab the knob and twist, only to be met with resistance.

“Grandma!” you call out, pounding your fist as loudly as you can. “Grandma, open the door!” You hear the soft, slow pad of her footsteps, watching as the door knob turns slightly before it stops.

“‘S broke,” Grandma says from her side, and relief temporarily floods your senses with the knowledge that she’s unscathed enough to get to the door.

“No, it’s just locked. I need you to unlock it.” Another brief twitch, then nothing. “You…you have to turn the little dial on it. See how it’s horizontal—um, left to right? It needs to go up and down. Can you switch it?” Jiggle jiggle, silence. No attempt to toggle the dial.

“Ms. Sweetheart? ‘S everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, honey,” you lie through your teeth. “Why don’t you go look at the pictures on the—”

BZZZT!

“Pizza delivery!” Eddie croons through the intercom. “One half plain, half gross—sorry, half olive—”

“Eddie!” you press your finger to the button, cutting him off more sharply than you mean to. “Eddie, my grandma locked herself in her room, and she can’t remember how to open it.” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow the lump in a determined attempt not to break down in front of your guests.

There’s a pause before his voice floats through the box again. “Gimme a sec.” That’s all he says before he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, and you turn to face the inquisitive little boy who remains glued to your side.

“Har, why don’t you go sit at the table until Daddy comes.” Thankfully, he doesn’t put up a fight, and you’re able to turn your attention back to the crisis. “Grandma, can you please turn the dial?” But when you’re met with another disheartening turn of the doorknob, you have to accept defeat.

BZZZT!

“It’s me; let me up,” Eddie’s words are straightforward but not brusque or curt, and you buzz him in without wasting any time. He’s at your door in a hurry, and you open it before he can knock twice. He’s got the pizza box balancing in his right hand and a small rectangular container tucked under his arm. “Is she hurt?” he asks, handing you the box as you lead him towards Grandma’s room.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. She’s been twisting the doorknob, but she doesn’t understand what I mean when I asked her to unlock it.”

He nods, examining the knob for a second before unfastening the box’s latch and pulling out a tool that resembles a miniature hook. Splitting his stance, he squints and pokes his tongue from his mouth, just as his son had done earlier. Within seconds, you hear the telltale click of the door unlocking, and you exhale audibly. Relief floods your body as your shoulders untense; you hadn’t even realized you’d pinched them together. Behind Grandma, the TV has toppled to the floor, screen now resting on top of the beige carpet, but that’s the least of your concerns.

“Are you all right?” you ask her, checking for scrapes and scratches, but she luckily appears to have escaped unscathed. “How did this even fall?” You pick up the TV, wincing as you get a glimpse of the spider web of cracked glass right in the center.

“Dunno,” Grandma shrugs, moving past you to get to the piping hot pizza that you’ve placed on the kitchen table. She slides into the chair you’d just been sitting on, pushing the pile of flashcards away clumsily. “‘M hungry.”

You look at Eddie and Harris and muster up a smile. “Guess it’s dinner time! Oh, Grandma, wait for a plate.” You grab four of the plastic pale blue plates from the cabinet to set the table, giving one to Grandma first. You place one at the spot Harris had just occupied, and one in front of the third and final chair–

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath before addressing the boys again. “Um, we only have three chairs. ‘S normally just me and Grandma, and sometimes her aide–”

“No worries,” Eddie waves off your concern, scooping Harris up and resting him against his hip. “Harris can sit on my lap.”

“Or I can sit on Ms. Sweetheart’s lap!” Harris squeals, wriggling out of his dad’s grasp. “Or Ms. Sweetheart can sit on your lap!”

You cough as Eddie turns bright red, cheeks the same shade as the marinara sauce buried under a thick layer of cheese. He sweeps Harris on top of his thighs and snags a slice of pizza for each of them. “Uh, yeah, no,” he mumbles, taking a gigantic cheesy bite in an attempt to end the conversation.

Dinner goes as well as it possibly can. Harris asks to try an olive, promptly spitting it onto his plate as soon as the taste hits his tongue. Grandma tells Eddie no less than five times that she likes his shirt, thoroughly embarrassing you, but he just politely says “thank you,” each time as though it’s the first. At one point, Harris gives him a bewildered glance, but before he can say anything, Eddie whispers, “I’ll explain later, bud.”

The rest of the meal is filled with conversations about work and school. Eddie tells a story about how a customer came into the store completely frazzled after listening to a Nirvana album. “She thought it was about Buddhism, and was very distraught when she got Kurt Cobain instead. Guess she missed the whole…” He mimics holding a gun to his head, and you laugh at the crude gesture, slapping his hand out of the way before Harris can see. Luckily, the boy is too engrossed in dissecting his slice to notice.

Grandma retreats to her room as soon as she finishes her dinner, and Harris gets bored soon after, squirming to the floor and dashing to the living room TV set–now the only working one in the house. That leaves you and Eddie at the table alone.

“I can take your plate if you’re done,” you say as you lean over, scoffing when Eddie starts to get up and bring his empty dish to the sink. “Hey, let me clean up. You brought the pizza.”

“Yeah, because you tutored Harris,” he reminds you, swooping in to grab your plate as well. “So we’re even.”

“Even?” you ask incredulously. “After you rescued my grandma and kept us company during dinner? Do you know how long it’s been since I had an actual conversation during a meal?”

Eddie chuckles at this. “I think ‘rescued’ is a bit dramatic. All I did was unlock a door; not exactly superhero stuff.” He shakes his hair back behind his shoulders.

“She could’ve been hurt,” you point out earnestly, following him to shoo him away from the pile of dirty dishes, “and without you, my only option was to take a battering ram to the door. I don’t even know where I would buy one of those.”

“Have you tried Melvald’s? They sell everything there. ‘S actually where I got Harris.” Eddie teases, hand inching towards the faucet.

“Eddie, sit down and relax. Don’t you dare turn on the water.” Your eyes widen as he locks his gaze with yours, flicking on the spout indignantly and grabbing the sponge without breaking eye contact. “Eddie, I mean it–”

He smacks the sponge against a plate and harshly brushes it up and down, still staring at you. “Oops,” he deadpans, rinsing it and haphazardly placing it in the dishrack before picking up another one. “Oops again.”

“Give me that!” you charge over to him, yanking it away before he realizes what you’re doing. You squeeze the bottle of soap over the already-saturated sponge just to emphasize your point. “Go watch TV with your son and let me clean up.”

He’s quiet for a moment, leaning back next to you. The hem of his shirt makes contact with some water that sprayed out of the sink, but he doesn’t notice; if he does, then he doesn’t care. “I don’t usually have anyone to talk to at night, either. And with Harris–I mean, I love him to fuckin’ death, but a guy can only hear so much about the latest episode of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.” He clears his throat, but the words come out even softer somehow. “I like talking to you.”

The water runs uninterrupted by any movement as you look into his warm eyes. Flecks of gold punctuate the deep chocolate orbs that are drinking you in. They're the same eyes that you looked into on the night that he’d brought you back to his place. The eyes that shot daggers at you while he spewed venom at you in the music store. The eyes that could barely look at you when he’d somberly confessed his past, more motivated by anxiety than trust. The eyes that could flip your world upside down if you let them.

He lets his thumb graze yours as he grabs the newly clean plate from your hand, wiping it with a towel until it’s impossibly dry. You can’t look away from his lips, the way they practically scream kiss me. And you want to. Fuck, you want to so badly.

But you’re not stupid. Possibly naive, hooking up with him nearly three months ago and thinking it would have no emotional impact on you, but not stupid. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

“Same time next week?” you blurt out, taking you both by surprise. It’s too abrupt to be natural, but you don’t care. You need to stop this before it starts. Again.

Eddie recovers quickly, though his nod is a bit delayed. “It’s a date. Uh, a tutoring date. For Harris.”

“For Harris.”

Harris is at your classroom door the next morning, knocking excitedly. “Ms. Sweetheart, I got something for you!” Digging into his backpack, he produces a plastic bag tied in a knot. Bradley’s Big Buy is stamped on the side, but the contents aren’t anything you’d find in the supermarket.

It’s a lockout kit; the same kind that he’d used last night to unlock Grandma’s door. There’s a note Scotch-taped to it, and you read it silently:

I hope it doesn’t happen again, but I wanted you to be prepared in case it does.

-Eddie

P.S. Don’t try to pay me back. It was much cheaper than a battering ram.

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @theactualf0ck @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights @eggo-segual @rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @luceneraium @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @imaginexred @haylaansmi @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @stevesmunson @hiscrimsonangel @ffrvtvt @mrsjellymunson @idkatee @quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @comboboo @ashlynnkennedy @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

2K notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Text

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.

#abby anderson x reader #basketball!abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #modern!abby #jock!abby

3K notes · View notes

pinkacademiaprincess · 7 months

Note

Any guide on Elle woods / hermione / rory coz I had no study motivation 😮‍💨

“she’s like a real life rory gilmore…”

fictional study icons guide, part 1: rory gilmore

ty for the ask! i’m gonna make this multiple parts, next will be elle woods, i never read/ watched harry potter tho so idk about hermione 🫣 but if y’all want me to do other characters, feel free to send ideas!

know your goals

rory had a clear idea of what she wanted for herself: to go to harvard & to become a journalist. when school & studying starts to feel tedious or difficult, having a strong “why” will keep you going. maybe you want to get into a certain school, you have a dream career path, or you want to become extra knowledgeable. never lose sight of your goal - surround yourself with reminders of it. rory had harvard memorabilia hanging in her room as a constant reminder of what she was working towards. you can create a vision board online, print pictures & hang them in your room, put notes up on your mirrors & walls. remember that classes, tests, & assignments are all leading you to a greater goal. studying is a means to an end and you deserve the best ending!

study a lot

rory prioritized her studies and spent a lot of her free time on schoolwork. the easiest way to succeed is to put in the time. don’t cut corners when it comes to your education - do your homework and assignments diligently, go through assigned readings & videos carefully, & if the teacher gives you optional/additional work, do it. remember tho, it’s important to study smarter, not harder. the most beneficial thing you can do is spend as much time as possible utilizing study methods that work for you. don’t waste time on study methods that aren’t effective for you. you can search my older posts for info about study styles or google learning styles & use that to help determine your best approach to schoolwork.

conquer challenges asap

when rory first started going to chilton, she unexpectedly got a bad grade on one of her first essays. she could have sat there and made excuses, felt sorry for herself and blamed the school/ teachers, but instead she worked extra hard to improve and overcome that poor grade. in the end she was valedictorian, showing that she was able to rise to the challenge and ultimately succeed. if you find yourself struggling with schoolwork, please take initiative asap and get whatever help you need. utilize all your resources - teachers, classmates, youtube video explanations, khan academy, tutors (if possible) - do not allow a dip in performance to be your norm. try to get to the bottom of why you’re struggling and then take care of whatever’s causing it. if you let yourself succumb to the struggle - telling yourself it’s because of bad teachers, the content is too hard, etc. - the only person who is gonna suffer in the long run is you. be proactive and take charge of your education.

take breaks

while rory did spend a lot of her time studying, it didn’t rule her whole life. she still made time for friends, family, and fun activities. life is about balance, and you don’t want to burn yourself out by spending every waking moment on school. take breaks for fun, to spend time with loved ones, to get fresh air & be active. give your mind breaks so that you can stay in top shape. that being said, make sure you strike a balance. don’t let your social life get in the way of your academics, but don’t let studying stop you from living life.

read a lot!

when i think of rory, i think of reading. she always has her nose in a book! she not only reads, but she reads books that are thought-provoking and intellectual - classics, non-fiction, and so on. reading is a wonderful hobby and it can also be a way to expand your mind. challenge yourself by reading books that are somewhat difficult to challenge yourself to read closely & dissect the content. find classics that genuinely interest you or non fiction on topics you enjoy. combine the fun of reading with the desire for intellectual growth. by reading more difficult books you can improve your vocabulary, build you reading comprehension skills, become better at analyzing literary devices, and overall become a more interesting person.

that’s all! have a great school year & best of luck with your studies! 🩷

542 notes · View notes

static-radio-ao3 · 3 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic // january 22 // prompt: cry // words: 1184 // cw: explicit sexual content

James Potter is loud. Unbearably so. He’s also talkative, which makes for a particularly frustrating combination. He’s always blabbering on about one thing or the other. His professors or the reading materials or the RA of his dorm, whose name is Frank Longbottom, by the way. This is something Regulus knows because James is —say it with me— loud.

James is either louder than usual today, or Regulus’ fuse is shorter than usual, but it is bordering on unbearable. Regulus is trying his best to focus on the economics of inequality, really, he is. But James Potter’s aggravating voice is cutting through his concentration at an alarming rate.

With a sharp exhale he slams the palms of his hands against the table and shoves his chair backward, causing Evan and Barty to look up. At the sight of Regulus fuming, they simply raise an eyebrow at each other and turn back to their assignments.

Regulus rolls his shoulders and steels himself for what is undoubtedly going to be a frustrating interaction.

He weaves his way through the library, surprised that no one else seems as bothered as he is about the noise, because it is fairly packed. Exam week is coming up and Hogwarts University is known for its rigorous program and harsh grading. This may or may not be the cause for Regulus’ short fuse today — he really needs to pass the econ exam if he wants to take an elective next semester.

Before he knows it, he is standing in front of James Potter’s table. Regulus clears his throat once to get James’ attention, but he seems so captivated by his own story that he doesn’t notice Regulus, standing there with a frown on his face.

It isn’t until James’ friend, Peter? Preston? Patrick? No, Peter sounds right, nudges him under the table that James looks up.

Regulus is met with a blinding smile. “Hi, Reg! What can I do for you?”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” James asks, affronted. “You came and talked to me.”

“No, I mean what you can do for me is shutting up. You’re being loud and I can’t focus.”

The confused expression on James’ face morphs into a smug one almost instantaneously. “So what I’m hearing is that you find me distracting?” He asks with a wag of his eyebrows. Peter snorts out a laugh, but Regulus ignores him.

He rolls his eyes. God, this man is infuriating. “That’s absolutely not what I said. I simply can’t hear myself think over the sound of your voice.”

“Shame,” James tells him. “Although, I must admit I’m rather interested to hear what you’re thinking. Maybe you could tell me on Friday? Over dinner?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dinner. Friday,” James repeats. Then he gestures between the two of them. “You and me.”

Regulus feels like a fish out of water, gaping stupidly at James Potter in the middle of the library.

Regulus is about to say something cutting and devastating like In your wildest dreams or Is this a prank or Absolutely the fuck not, but what comes out of his mouth is a hesitant, “Sure.”

James’ beaming smile is back. “Alright. I best get back to studying, then. Apparently I have plans on Friday, so I gotta clear my schedule.”

Regulus makes his way back to his table in a daze. Barty and Evan are waiting, gazes expectant.

“Well?” Evan prompts when Regulus doesn’t say anything. “How’d you get him to shut up?”

“By agreeing to go on a date with him,” Regulus says, still somewhat confused. He isn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a prank and he also isn’t entirely convinced he’s awake right now. The interaction was so absurd, he's sure he dreamed it.

“What the fuck?” Barty asks. Yeah, that’s what Regulus is also thinking.

————————————————————————

“C’mon, James,” Regulus murmurs, “let me hear you.” He reaches up to tug James’ bottom lip out from between his teeth. With a particularly harsh thrust, he pushes James up the mattress a couple of inches, slamming the headboard against the wall.

James moans —loudly— and Regulus relishes in the sound. He chases it, covering James’ mouth with his own and licking into it as if he could taste the sound, somehow. He pulls back and attaches his lips to James’ neck, sucking a bruise into the flushed skin.

James moans again, and again, and again. The sound bursts out of him in breathy gasps every time Regulus pushes in.

“Love it when you get loud for me,” Regulus tells him.

“Used to—” James starts, but he is interrupted by yet another moan, “used to hate it.”

“That was before I knew better,” Regulus acquiesces, slightly breathless. “Now it’s my favorite thing in the world.”

The sound of the headboard hitting the wall fills the room, interspersed with the sound of James moaning. It doesn’t take long for James’ moans to rise in pitch, signaling that he’s close.

“Reg, Reg, I’m—” James tries to warn, but he cuts himself off with a cry of pleasure.

“I know, James,” Regulus replies. He furrows his brow in concentration, his fist tight around James' cock as he pushes him toward his release. “It’s okay, come for me.”

James spills all over Regulus’ hand and his own stomach with a particularly loud moan and Regulus follows close behind, tumbling into pleasure headfirst until he comes back down to earth.

He pulls out of James gently, discards the condom, and moves to grab a cloth. He wipes down James’ stomach and reaches between his legs to get rid of the excess lube. Regulus is just about to get comfortable again when there is a sharp knock on the door. With a sigh, he tosses James a pair of underwear and tugs on his own.

“What,” Regulus says sharply when he yanks the door open. James pads up to him and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Hi, Frank,” James says somewhat sheepishly.

“Hi, James. Regulus,” Frank says. His eyes get stuck on the blooming hickey Regulus left on James’ neck a few minutes ago. Regulus coughs pointedly, snapping Frank out of his daze. “Got another noise complaint. Would it kill you guys to be quiet?”

Frank definitely looks like he doesn’t want to be here. Regulus agrees. He would much rather be back in bed with James.

“Sorry, we’ll try to keep it down,” James says. The hand that is not resting on Regulus’ shoulder goes to his hair, running through it self-consciously. Even if they hadn’t gotten a noise complaint it would have been obvious what they were doing. The hickeys, the hair, the distinct lack of clothes.

“Anything else?” Regulus asks when no one speaks.

“Uh, no, that’s all. Thank—” but Regulus has already closed the door before Frank can even finish his sentence.

“Regulus,” James says, exasperated, “this is the third time we’ve gotten a noise complaint. They’re gonna kick me out, I swear.”

“Don’t worry,” Regulus tells him. “You can get up to five complaints before they consider eviction.”

With a loud laugh, James tackles him to the bed.

#yeah i have no excuse guys #idk how i got to over 1k #reg going from “james is so loud 😒” to “james is so loud 😏”#bottom james enjoyers come get your food #anyways uhh enjoy #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #my writing

273 notes · View notes

yutaleks · 1 month

Text

Don’t look @ me for this I’m sorry. Blame Twitter user kenkaru86 for putting yuuta & piss kink on my brain for the last week. Tagging @zorosdimples my fellow piss enjoyer

CW: piss, oral m!receving, forward!gn!reader. Length 1.3K. Banner @/cafekitsune

“Here?”

Yuuta’s voice is shaky as he watches you sink to your knees amongst guts and grime. You’re both covered in ooze, the gorey aftermath of a rather tricky semi-special grade curse lurking in this abandoned building, once a factory of some sort. Though Yuuta was more than capable of exterminating this curse on his own, he was never opposed to your company. And watching you fight was… well, he’d be the first to admit you’re an incredible force of nature, at the very least.

Despite the difficulty, the two of you made it out of the fight mostly unscathed, except for a few cuts and scrapes that Yuuta will heal for you on the way back. But where Yuuta comes out of it feeling tired, you’re always the opposite; invigorated by the fight, incensed by bloodlust, adrenaline. Muscles itching for something more, something to help mute the buzzing of cursed energy that leaves your body feeling haywire.

Maybe that’s why he insists on being your partner for missions, actually. Because right when the fight is over, you’re begging for an outlet… and he’s always willing to be that for you.

It’s seconds after the curse explodes into a violet, sticky puddle of gore that you drag him into the nearest bathroom, its surfaces grimy and tinted with dirt and mold, that you tug at his waistline and look up at him with pupils so wide he can’t even make out the color of your irises.

“Yes, here,” you reply, a giggle on your lips as you tug in the strings of his white cotton belt. You can feel him through his dark jeans, how despite his floundering he’s already half hard for you. “Cmon Yuuta.”

“B-but,” he looks around the tiled room, rather concerned with the state of the grime on the floor. “What if,”

“We cased the whole building. You know no one’s here.”

He backs up against the wall as the sound of you pulling down his zipper echoes in the small bathroom. You rub the palm of your hand against the bulge in his briefs and he shudders, sighing loudly.

“But Ijichi-san’s outside, the veil’s probably down by now, and—”

“Yuuta.”

You muster up the most watery eyes you can as you blink up at him. It’s almost laughable how quickly his tense shoulders sag, how the breath held so tightly in his chest dissipates.

“Please Yuuta? I want you so bad—don’t you want me too?”

He brushes the ichor away from your pretty face. He’d kiss you if you weren’t so far from his lips.

“I can never say no to you,”

“I know,” you smile. That devilish grin still paints your lips when you finish pushing down his pants and his briefs, fiendish and hungry stare on what you desire most.

Your hand wraps around his length, guiding it to your lips. As you suck on the tip, Yuuta’s head falls back against the tiled wall. It’s hard to look at you when you’re the one on your knees; he knows if he looks down at you he’ll cum before you’re even satisfied. You like the challenge: him trying not to cum, while you’re trying to make him cum.

You always win but, that’s beside the point.

Your tongue teases the bottom of his tip as you suck on it, and Yuuta doesn’t know what to do with his hands—for a while, as you begin to bob your head, he struggles with opening and closing his fists. You hear him moan, the sound amplified by the echoing off the walls.

“God—wait—” he huffs when you pull off, planting sloppy, wet kisses to his cock. “Wait—”

“What is it?” You flatten your tongue, rubbing it against the base, tracing the vein underneath with a look in your eyes that could give a succubus a run for her money.

“I, um,” he starts blushing, red to the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry, if you keep going I’ll—”

“Cum? Baby that’s the point,” you press his tip to your lips and blow on it. Truly horrible for his resolve.

“No—fuck, no,” he shudders again when you dip your tongue into hip tip, tasting the salty taste of his precum. “I—I have to pee.”

“So pee.”

There’s something very gratifying about the look of horror on his face when you suggest such a thing. What’s so bad about piss anyway? Bear Grylls did it, and he’s surely never battled a curse. You can drink a little piss.

“I can’t possibly—”

“Just let go, don’t think about it.”

“I can’t do that to you,”

“I want it,” you hum, every word vibrating against his cock. “You’d give me anything I wanted wouldn’t you, Yuuta? Cause you love me soooo much? Please?”

He covers his reddening face with his hands, flustered. But he doesn’t stop you when you take his cock past your lips, sucking on it, this time no longer teasing but with full intent to make him cum. Though he hides his eyes behind a forearm, you feel a hand on your head, guiding you. You take him deeper, cheered on by the lovely sounds of his broken moans.

You feel his thighs start to tense up and he exhales desperately, “I can’t hold it I’m sorry—”

He doesn’t think he’s felt more embarrassed in his life than he does right now, knowing that he can’t control the feeling. Despite his hand on your head trying to push at you, you hold onto his thighs, cementing your body in place. With shame swimming in his gut, he can’t hold back—he still feels the warmth of your mouth around him when he starts to feel himself pee.

And he can’t bear to look down. He doesn’t want to find out if you swallow or spit it out, so he keeps his eyes shut until it’s over, until the pressure in his bladder is gone and the tightness in his shoulders fades away.

You’re relentless though—when he finally opens his eyes he looks down and sees you, taking him deeper in your throat. You hollow your cheeks and relax your jaw. Yuuta’s already so close that when he looks down at you, it only takes a few thrusts into your hot, wet throat to finish him off. He groans as he spills into your throat, and you swallow gleefully when he pulls out, spit webbing between your mouth and his tip in a lewd display of affection.

Despite your shaky breaths your smiling, victorious.

“Did you… did you swallow that?” He asks between breaths, incredulous.

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Yuuta would never turn down an invitation to kiss you—so he joins you in kneeling on the ground, and shoves his tongue so far down your throat it can barely be called kissing.

“What do you think?” You ask him when he pulls away, amusement in your voice.

“You—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re broken out of the moment with the loud sound of his cellphone ringing. He hesitates to answer, looking you over with a thousand words in his gaze. before sighing and reaching into his pocket.

“Ijichi-san,” he answers, looking at you. You’re laughing, barely containing it behind a hand over your lips. “Sorry we got lost. We’ll be out right away.”

Yuuta quickly hangs up the call. And you expect him to lead you out, find Ijichi, and spend the next hour apologizing for making him wait. He’s polite to a fault, after all.

But after you stand, Yuuta instead lifts you up onto the nearby sink, pressing your back to the broken mirror above it.

“Yuuta?”

“It’s only fair,” he pouts, placing your ankles on his shoulders. “I’ll be quick.”

“No you won’t,”

He kisses you again, folding you in half atop the sink, your kiss still bitter and salty.

“I’ll try.”

#cw.piss #writing tag #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader

370 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 7 months

Text

Little Miss Nobody Part 1 - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a weak, lowly sorcerer who barely qualifies as an assistant, but you get the opportunity to work on a mission that includes THE Gojo Satoru. Unbeknownst to you, he finds you incredibly attractive despite privately looking down on you as a nobody. On the last night of the mission, he invites you to his hotel room.

I don’t know yet how many parts this will have! Probably three. Any feedback or comments whatsoever is greatly appreciated!

Smut. 18+. Gojo x short/thick/curvy fem Reader. Loss of virginity, rough sex, oral sex, etc. Gojo is unintentionally an asshole.

You couldn’t contain your excitement when you were chosen, along with five others, to be assistants on a two week long mission that involved THE Gojo Satoru. You never thought you’d get to work with him. After all, you were a weak, low grade sorcerer who came from a non-sorcerer family. But someone needed to run errands, take notes, and basically act as a gopher. You were eager to take on that role if it meant you got to be near Gojo, if only to watch him work.

Three years ago, when you were still a third year at your tiny local Jujutsu school, you had technically met him. You and a few other third years had been sent on what was supposed to be a very easy mission. Things went south quickly when a special grade curse appeared, and all you and your classmates could do was flee and hide. Gojo had apparently been in the area at the time on unrelated business and was called over to bail your group out.

You still remembered how cool he looked as he destroyed the curse with seemingly no effort whatsoever. Then he called the lot of you out from hiding and told you it was safe. He’d been friendly enough, but he didn’t stay to chat. Someone like him was probably busy.

You couldn’t be sure because of his blindfold, but you thought he never even looked your direction.

Of course he didn’t.

Now, you worked mostly as an assistant to other, more powerful sorcerers. But you didn’t mind. You were happy that you could contribute, even in small ways.

When you arrived at the meeting place to get acquainted with the sorcerers you’d be working with and go over the plan of action over the next two weeks, you tried not to stare at Gojo. He was so much taller than you remembered, and up close, his presence was imposing. He joked around with everyone and acted casual, but you could feel it: his intimidating aura.

It was your first time seeing him without his blindfold, but his sunglasses prevented you from seeing his eyes. What a shame, you’d heard they were breathtaking.

You introduced yourself and said the expected pleasantries, and you giggled at his jokes, but that was as far as your courage could take you. For the rest of the meeting, you tried to stay quiet and stay out of the way.

************

Gojo Satoru noticed her the moment she showed up for the meeting. How could he not? Even under fairly modest clothing, her incredibly erotic body shape was evident. Large, shapely breasts straining against her sweater, thick, plush hips and thighs that looked like they’d been poured into her jeans, plump lips that he couldn’t help imagining wrapped around his cock, all wrapped up in a short frame that could so easily be thrown around in bed.

She was his type. So much so that it seemed like she’d been designed top to bottom by the gods to drive him wild. But he never let on. He talked to her the same way he talked to everyone else, and his dark sunglasses kept her from noticing how he stared at her curves.

As the mission commenced, Gojo found himself going to talk to her often, even though she was a weak, practically useless nobody. She was a sweet little thing though, always trying to be helpful in whatever ways her extremely limited abilities would allow. She even made homemade sweets in the kitchen of the condo they’d rented to be their base of operations. Her confections were delicious, and Gojo definitely noticed how much she blushed when he told her so.

He noticed a lot of things, like the way her eyes seemed to seek him out whenever the group was gathered in one place, the way she stared at him with rosy cheeks when she thought he wasn’t looking, the way she seemed to talk with a bubbly smile with the others but became quiet and shy when he was near.

Gojo knew he was a very attractive man. He’d seen these signs before, many times. This sweet girl with the lewd body that had him jacking off in the shower while thinking about her… she had a crush on him.

He had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, it meant getting her into his bed would be no challenge at all. Hell, he probably could have fucked her on the first night if he’d tried. But on the other hand, it was a nuisance when someone lowly like her developed feelings for him. He always tried to let them down gently, to avoid breaking their hearts, but that was much harder to do after he’d fucked their brains out.

Gojo wasn’t a cruel man. He never made promises, and he never intentionally led anyone on. In fact he tried to be very clear about what he wanted and sometimes avoided sleeping with people who had obvious crushes on him altogether, just to avoid drama. But sometimes the person in question was hot, and he couldn’t resist. And often, even though he felt he was being upfront about only wanting a one night stand, people who had developed feelings for him had a hard time accepting that truth.

He watched the young woman, whom he’d mentally dubbed “Little Miss Nobody”, as she bent over to get some clean dishes from the condo’s dishwasher. She was wearing a skirt that fell to a modest length when she was standing, but bent over, her soft thighs were exposed. Her perfectly round, thick ass was in the air. Oh, the things he wanted to do to her.

She stood back up and began placing the dishes in the cabinets. She stood on her tip toes and reached up to try to place something in the top shelf, and both her skirt and T-shirt rode up her body. She was clearly struggling, her short height making the task difficult. Gojo enjoyed the view for a moment from the living room, then walked into the kitchen and stood behind her. “Need some help?”

The poor girl almost jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice so close to her. She blushed and pulled her shirt back down. “Uh, yeah, I’m having trouble reaching the top cabinet.”

He moved in closer, his body brushing against hers as he reached around her and placed the cups in their cabinet. Fuck, he wanted to lift her up and shove her face down on the counter, letting her short legs dangle in the air as he pounded into her from behind. She’d probably let him right now, even with the others in the living room, able to see the whole thing. Her face was red, she was so flustered it was adorable.

That’s when he decided, after the mission was over, on their last night in town, he would invite her to his hotel room and fuck her as much as he wanted.

When the last night arrived, everyone had gathered at a sushi joint to celebrate the successful end to the mission. Gojo made a point of sitting next to Little Miss Nobody, making sure his arm brushed against hers whenever he reached for something on the table, making funny remarks to hear her tinkling little laugh, and enjoying the shy, nervous energy she had.

As everyone stood up from the table, Gojo placed one hand on her shoulder to get her attention, then leaned in to whisper, “Wanna come to my hotel room?”

She looked shocked, her face turning instantly crimson. Her eyes darted about frantically, and she reminded him of a frightened rabbit. “Um… I guess so…”

He laughed, slipping an arm around her casually. “Don’t be so nervous. Let’s have a night of fun before we leave town.”

She nodded, wearing a small, sweet smile. “Okay,” she said, and she walked out the door with him and up the street to his hotel.

Having her body pressed against his as they walked was getting him amped up. He was already hard by the time they stepped into his room and shut the door behind them.

Gojo wasted no time turning her around and pushing her against the inside of the door, covering her hot little mouth with his own, kissing her deeply, his hands on the hem of her shirt, pulling it up.

He was so wrapped up in trying to get her shirt off, he almost didn’t notice the weak hands pressing against his chest, trying to push him back. She might as well have been trying to push a boulder.

But he stopped and looked down at her. “Is something wrong?”

She looked like she might cry, and for a moment the terrible thought that he’d been entirely wrong about her struck his mind. But she was still blushing furiously, and her eyes were full of desire.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she said, and he felt immense relief, “but… I think I should tell you… I’ve never done this before.”

He cocked his head and grinned. “Never fucked a guy in a hotel room?”

She shook her head. “Never… been with a guy at all.”

His grin vanished. “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

She nodded, averting her eyes.

Fuck. She was a virgin. He hadn’t expected that. Sure she was a little shy but with a body like hers, she had to have been turning men down left and right. And while he couldn’t deny that being the guy to pop such a sexy girl’s cherry was hot to think about, there were other things to consider. Deflowering someone usually came with emotional baggage he just didn’t want to deal with.

He knew he should just call the whole thing off. Tell her it was a mistake, make up a lie, anything. But she was here, inside his hotel room, ready and willing to let him fuck her. She was looking at him with glassy eyes, her lips slightly parted, her shirt pulled up to just under her tits.

He wanted her. He’d imagined doing countless filthy things to her these past two weeks, and now he had her all to himself. How could he possibly resist?

************

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to go to Gojo’s hotel room. Even as naive as you were, you could figure out that much. You’d been so shocked and flattered that you hadn’t even considered saying no. THE Gojo Satoru wanted you? A weak, useless little peon?

He’d been nice to you throughout the whole mission, talking to you, including you in strategy meetings even though you had nothing to do with strategy, giving you praise for completing even simple tasks. But he was friendly with everyone. He laughed and talked with everyone.

Now you were in his hotel room. He’d kissed you, touched you, and you knew where this was going. The thought of losing your virginity to Gojo was thrilling, but also a little scary. Would your inexperience be a turn off? He’d seemed a little hesitant when you told him this was your first time.

But soon he was kissing you again, his hands pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside. He stepped back slightly to look at your lacy bra, but before he could reach around to unhook it, you stopped him again.

“Can I see your eyes?” you asked, looking up into his sunglasses. “Please?”

He smiled, then reached up one hand and pulled the sunglasses off, letting them drop to the floor. You couldn’t suppress a gasp when you saw his eyes for the first time. They were so unbelievably gorgeous, like pure blue crystals. You wanted to look at them all night.

“You like them?” he asked with a grin.

“I do,” you answered. “They’re so beautiful…”

He shrugged. “Some people say they’re creepy.”

If you were being honest, they were a little creepy, but in a “so beautiful they’re inhuman” way.

Gojo started kissing you again, leaning over to kiss your neck as he unhooked your bra and pulled the straps down your shoulders, finally discarding it on the floor. Then his hands were groping both breasts, lightly squeezing the pillowy flesh. He bent further down, trailing kisses down your collar bone until his mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue running over it.

“Ahh!” You couldn’t help letting out a small moan as he licked one nipple while his fingers pinched the other.

He slid down to a crouching position in front of you. The metal door felt cold against your bare back as you reflexively backed into it. You watched with bated breath as he unzipped your skirt. Then he looked up at you with those eyes as he slowly pulled your skirt down your hips, your thighs, your calves, and then let it pool at your feet. He only took a moment to look at your pale pink panties before he pulled those down too, then he leaned back to get a good view.

You closed your eyes. You’d always been a little self conscious about your body, but having this incredibly good looking man stare at your naked body made you feel like shrinking into a ball and hiding.

But then you heard his voice.

“Fuck, you’re even hotter than I imagined.”

You opened your eyes. “Really?”

He was wearing a sultry expression, leaned back on his heels with his thighs apart. That’s when you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants. He tilted his head toward your face and said, “Do you not realize how sexy you are? You had me wound up for two weeks. I spent half the time imagining…” His voice cut off. Perhaps he thought it best not to continue, but now you were curious.

“What were you imagining?”

He rose to his feet, and his tall frame towered over yours as he stepped closer. “All kinds of things. Fucking you on the couch at the condo. Bending you over the kitchen table. My cock in your mouth…”

Your breaths were coming quicker as you listened. You had no idea he’d been thinking such things about you, but knowing it now made your whole body tingle.

“Think you can do that for me?” he murmured against your neck as he began kissing you again. “Suck my dick with that cute mouth of yours?”

Your heart was pounding. You wanted nothing more than to please him, to be with him as long as you could. “I can try,” you said with a shaky voice.

He pulled away then and took you by the hand, leading you over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, and gently pushed you to your knees in front of him, between his spread legs. You looked from his crotch to his face, waiting for him to open his pants. Instead he yawned dramatically and said, “I’m just so tired from the mission. Can’t even get my own dick out. You can do that for me, right?” Then he grinned at you.

You couldn’t help smiling. He was clearly trying to lighten the mood so you wouldn’t be so nervous. You reached out and unbuckled his belt, then carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You hesitated for a moment, then you slipped the waistband of his boxers down until his cock bounced free.

You’d never seen one in person before, but even you knew it was an impressive organ. It was much bigger than you expected, tall and pale, standing straight up. It was perfect, just like the rest of him.

With one hand, you lightly gripped him and leaned forward, giving it a quick, feathery lick. You’d seen porn before, so you had an idea of what to do, but you still felt a little awkward.

“Take it in your mouth,” Gojo said in a soft voice. And you did as told. You wrapped your lips around his cock and took it as far into your mouth as it would fit, gagging slightly as it hit the back of your throat.

“That’s good,” he said, his hand resting on your head, his fingers entwining with your hair, “now slide your lips up and down it. Use your tongue, that’s it.”

With Gojo’s coaching, you seemed to be doing a decent job of performing your first blowjob. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it, as his cock was twitching and leaking in your mouth as your tongue circled it and your lips closed tightly around it. You kept this up for several minutes, following any instructions he gave, and finally you felt him grow suddenly tense.

Without any other warning, he came in your mouth, shooting it down your throat and coating your tongue. You didn’t know if you should pull away, so you remained still until he emptied himself out. When he was finished, you backed up, and realized you had a mouth full of his cum. Guys liked it when girls swallowed it, right? So you gulped it down and looked up at Gojo to see his reaction.

He was staring at your face, smiling. “Now that’s something I’ve been waiting to see,” he said, then patted your head. “Good girl.”

You blushed bright red upon hearing his praise. You made Gojo Satoru feel good! A nobody like you!

He took your hand again and pulled you up, then pushed you onto the bed, on your back. He climbed onto the bed and pushed your legs apart.

“Wait,” you said, and he froze, meeting your eyes. You worked up your courage and said, “Are you going to take your shirt off?”

He laughed, raising up to his knees. “You want me to?”

“Yes, please!” Your voice came out more desperate than you intended, and you felt embarrassed until he pulled his shirt up his torso and then over his head. At that moment, all thoughts in your head froze. All you could focus on was his toned body. It looked like it’d been carved from stone, like the statues of angels you’d seen pictures of from museums in Europe.

Maybe he really was a god.

He bent back down between your spread open legs and used his thumb to stroke your slit, smearing your wetness around. Then his long fingers parted your folds and he leaned his face forward, running his tongue across your clit. You nearly jumped from the bed. The pleasure that shot through you left you gasping, but he didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He dove back in, using both his fingers and his mouth to stimulate your clit, switching between different motions, keeping you from getting too used to a specific sensation.

Your body quivered, your hands gripping the sheets, little mewling moans escaping your lips. Unlike you with your clumsy blowjob, Gojo knew exactly what he was doing. You tried not to think about what that meant.

The pleasure built up, over and over, making you feel like you might burst. Finally, like a dam breaking, you felt delicious release, your legs trembling on either side of him as you rode out the high.

He looked up at you, his lips glistening with your juices and his eyes shining. “Feel good?” he asked.

You could only nod, words failing you.

He rose up again, this time pushing your knees up to your chest and placing your legs on his shoulders, nearly folding you in half. You could feel his tip poking at you. He leaned down close and said, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you said in a small, unsteady voice, “I think so.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and then he was pressing himself inside you. It hurt more than you thought it would, a stinging sensation shooting through you, as if you were ripping. You whimpered, closing your eyes again.

You heard his voice saying, “Fuck, you’re tight.” Then he pressed further in. You clutched at his arms, and he paused. “Hey, look at me.”

You opened your eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No, I don’t.”

He grinned. “Good. I’m only halfway in. You can take more of me, right?”

You nodded. You weren’t sure how more was going to fit, but you didn’t want this to end. You wanted to please him.

He kissed your neck, mumbling against your skin, “I bet you can take all of me.”

“Y-yeah,” you said, still clutching his arms.

“Good girl,” he whispered, then thrusted into you. You winced, feeling like he was splitting you in two, but there were so many other things that felt good. His perfectly sculpted body against yours, the tips of his soft white hair grazing your face and neck when he kissed you, and those angelic eyes looking down at you.

You thought you would have agreed to letting him cut off your arm.

He plunged in so deep, you imagined he was reaching your womb, his thrusts becoming faster, rougher. “Fuck,” he muttered, “you feel fucking incredible!”

Suddenly his hands were on your waist, gripping you hard, his hips banging into yours, his thrusting becoming painful. You looked up at him in alarm, only to find a wild look in those beautiful eyes, as if he were possessed, as if he’d lost himself in the pleasure of fucking you as hard as he could.

You didn’t ask him to stop. You couldn’t bring yourself to, not when he seemed to be enjoying it so much. You simply let him do whatever he wanted with you, even if it hurt. When tears stung your eyes, you tried to wipe them away quickly.

Deep down, a small part of you liked it, liked the pain, liked the way your body was making Gojo lose control. And that part of you wanted him to fuck you forever.

************

Gojo knew he should have been gentle with her. It was her first time and he was fucking her like a whore. But something about being inside her turned him into an animal. Even seeing her crying couldn’t make him slow down. The only thing that could have stopped him was her literally telling him to stop, and he didn’t think that was going to happen.

Because despite her tears and whimpers, her pussy was soaked, clenching him tightly, and her eyes were lusty as they peered up at him.

He hadn’t bothered with a condom, figuring he would just pull out. But now he was overcome with the desire to fill her with his cum. So when he felt his own orgasm approaching, he drove himself as deeply within her as possible and shot his load.

Panting, he slowly pulled out of her. His cock was sticky with cum and blood. When he looked down at her face, he realized her eyes were closed and she was breathing quietly. Had she passed out? Shit. Maybe he had been too rough with her.

He decided to let her sleep while he took a shower and dressed. When finished, he nudged her awake. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around the room as if she couldn’t remember where she was. Then her eyes met his and she sat up suddenly, pulling the sheets up to cover herself.

“It’s late,” Gojo told her, “you better let me walk you to your hotel.”

The assistants were staying at a different hotel down the street, closer to the condo. She blinked a few times, then slid out of bed, pulling a sheet with her. He took the hint and turned around while she dressed, thinking it a bit silly after what had just happened.

He turned back to face her after he heard her pulling her shoes on. She was looking down shyly, avoiding his gaze. “Um, I had a good time tonight,” she said.

“Good,” he said with his usual smile, “I’m glad you did.”

She lingered beside the bed, not moving toward the door. “Would you… like to have my phone number? In case you ever want to chat sometime…”

Ah, shit. She was getting attached. He’d hoped this wouldn’t happen. She was a nice enough girl and hot as fuck, but she wasn’t the kind of person he could start a relationship with. She was a mere assistant. They were important and he appreciated their work, but as head of the Gojo clan, there were certain expectations about who he should be with. And a girl with so little cursed energy she barely qualified as a an assistant at all was never going to be that person.

He sighed. Best to just go ahead and rip the bandaid off than to let her get her hopes up.

“Look, this was just a one time thing,” he said, keeping his voice even and flat. “A night of fun, remember? Nothing more.” He could see the hurt forming in her eyes, but he had to go on. It was for her own good. “You’re real sweet and all, but you and I… we’re just not compatible. Do you understand?”

She looked at him with her bright eyes turning wet. “I get it,” she said, her voice breaking slightly on the words. “I knew this was just a one night stand. Really, I did. But I just thought… maybe we could be friends.” She wiped her eyes as the first tears began to fall. “I’m sorry, that was really stupid of me. Someone like me could never be around someone like you.”

Before he could say anything in response, she ran out the door, not even closing it behind her.

“Fuck,” he muttered, feeling every bit the asshole so many people accused him of being. He walked over and shut the door, then glanced at the floor, where something shimmery caught his eye. It was one of her earrings. He picked it up and shoved it into his pocket. He moved over to the bed, trying to avoid looking at the red stain in the middle, and picked up the sheet she’d wrapped herself in. It smelled like her, a sweet and bright fragrance.

He flung the sheet down, shaking his head as if that would somehow shake her presence from his mind. He’d done the right thing, even if it hurt her. She’d get over it. Before long, he would just be a bad memory to her. Hopefully, she would eventually be reduced to a sweet memory for him.

Tag List:

@snowprincesa1 @pandoraium @hitori979 @famousdestinyland @gloomysel @noodlejitsu @postmancat @lanecass @aquamarine001 @officialholyagua @lil-bexie

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment to let me know! You must be an adult! Either have your age in your bio or tell me specifically that you’re an adult please!

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you

406 notes · View notes

feyhunter78 · 10 months

Text

Pink Pastels Pt 7

Description: You catch up with Gabi and Emma, Todd is an ass over text and the O'Haras give you a gift.

Pt 8

You were kneeling down on the wooden walkway, a fake bridge designed to imitate what the builder of the zoo thought the jungle villages of Africa looked like, talking quietly to Gabi and Emma.

“Girls I know you’re excited to see the hippos, but you can’t run away like that, what if either of you had gotten hurt? I was so worried about you two, and I’m sure your friends, and Mr. O’Hara, were as well.” You explain softly, holding one of their hands in one of yours, and keeping your expression calm to keep them calm.

“We’re sorry.” Gabi says, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

“We’re sorry, Ms. Y/N.” Emma begins to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

You coo at them and pull them into a hug. “It’s okay, you just have to be more careful next time.”

The sound of footsteps, four sets of small feet, and one larger set, the sound of which you’ve strangely come to recognize.

“Are they okay?” Miguel asks, his voice is rich with concern, and you feel him kneel beside you, his large hand resting on Gabi’s shoulder.

“Everyone is just fine, we just got a little overwhelmed, huh?” You direct the second half of your answer towards Gabi and Emma, who pull away and nod, sniffling a little.

“¿Estás bien, Mija? ¿Estás herida?” Miguel’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs smoothing over her tearstained cheeks. Trsl: Are you okay, are you hurt?

Gabi nodded her head. “Estoy bien, Papá.” Trsl: I'm okay/good, dad

He breathes a sigh of relief and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Never run off like that again, you know the hippos aren’t going anywhere.”

She nods again, but is still pouting, and the two of them together is an adorable sight.

You feel a pang of longing right as your phone buzzes in your back pocket. You release Emma and begin to guide the group towards the hippos, fighting the urge to throw your phone into the nearest exhibit.

Todd has been texting you all day. First to bitch at you for leaving him wasted in his apartment, three weeks ago, then for ignoring his calls the next day, then he was mad because you wouldn’t let him chaperone, even though, he didn’t actually want to go, and it wasn’t your fault, the school has rules.

He’s sent you a photo, the one the whole first grade took at the zoo’s entrance. The one you’d very quickly—offhandedly, uploaded to your social medias to mark the occasion.

Todd: I thought you said men weren’t allowed to chaperone? Was that just an excuse, so you could fuck somebody else without me knowing?

He had circled Miguel in the photo, like a crazy person.

Y/N: I said male non-family members are not allowed to chaperone, that’s a parent of one of my students. We are not having an affair, and I would never abandon my students to do something so inappropriate.

He always did this, always got so jealous of any guy who was around you for even a minute. It was exhausting.

He left you on read, and you bite your tongue, trying to keep calm as you slide your phone back in your pocket.

“Gabi told me it was your birthday a few weeks ago.” Miguel says casually.

Your stomach drops. “Oh yeah?”

“I feel bad, usually Gabi and I get her teachers flowers on their birthday, but I was out of town for work, so I guess we missed it.” He towers over you, but you don’t feel unsafe, in fact you feel strangely protected.

Miguel looks so good in that cheesy field trip T-shirt, it stretches across his chest, and clings to his arms in a mouthwatering way. He looks down at you, a sheepish smile on his face.

“We hoped maybe this would make up for it?” He hands you a daisy shaped pendant, it’s beautiful, and well-made.

“I—I can’t accept this; it looks way too expensive.” You try to give it back to him, but he shakes his head and closes your fingers around the pendant, his hand dwarfing yours.

“It wasn’t expensive at all. Gabi found the necklace when we visited one of the farmer’s markets in the city. Daisies are her favorite flower, and she wanted to get you a birthday gift…and I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for her. I mean, it’s still the first half of the school year, and I’ve never seen her be so fond of a teacher…” His hand is still covering yours, and you’re frozen in place but basking in the praise.

“Well, it is beautiful, and if it’s not expensive then I can’t turn down a gift from one of my best students now, can I?” You joke lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.

Miguel releases your hand and motions for you to turn, sweeping your hair up with one large hand, the other clasping the necklace around your neck. “It would break her heart.” He breathes, his warm breath on your neck making you shiver.

You want him. Fuck, you want him bad.

“Can’t have that.” You whisper, breathless and resisting the urge to lean into his strong chest.

“Ms. Y/N, you’re wearing my gift!” Gabi notices so quickly, weirdly quickly, for a moment you wonder if they planned this.

“I am, it’s very pretty, thank you.” You finger the pendant, it is absolutely beautiful, maybe the nicest gift anyone’s ever given you, definitely better than anything Todd’s given you.

“Now you gotta promise me you’ll never take it off.” Gabi pleads, giving you those puppy dog eyes she does so well.

You pretend to think it over, then nod your head. “Alright, deal.”

She lets out a squeal of happiness and runs back to her friends.

“She’s so good at that.” You remark, turning back to Miguel.

“Good at what?” He asks, his eyes keep drifting back to the pendant, where it sits between your fingers as you absentmindedly toy with it.

“Those puppy dog eyes, it’s so hard to say no to her.” You feel a rush of boldness and drop the pendant. “Did she learn that from you?”

Miguel’s eyes shot up to yours. “Beg pardon?”

“The puppy dog eyes.” You smile at him, a carefully crafted carefree smile meant to make the receiver feel comfortable, to get them to let their guard down.

“Oh, no, no, she learned that all on her own.” He laughs, and the sound is like syrup, muddling your thoughts with a thick sugary sweetness.

You remember his words when you admire the necklace in the mirror, the day is done, you’ve showered, and now you’re getting ready for bed.

You’re not a vain person by any means, but you can’t help but admire how it shines against your skin, as you stand bare, fresh from the shower. It hangs a bit between your breasts, the metal is sturdy, and no matter what Miguel says it’s not cheap. There’s no fake metal smell, or green staining your skin.

You spend a little longer staring at it, running your fingers along the edge, feeling each petal’s edge. It wouldn’t hurt to keep it on, at least for a little while, until Gabi forgets all about it.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard

#meg's writing #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #Miguel and Gabi sercret manipulators #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader

644 notes · View notes

inlovewithgreta · 9 months

Text

Work Shenanigans — Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: Melissa comes up with a clever idea to tease you during a school meeting.

Warnings: Praise, slight degradation, toys (remote controlled vibrator), cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm delay, mommy kink, semi-public sex, etc...

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: apologies if the ending is a bit rushed, I won’t have power for the next two days and don’t know if I’ll be able to charge my phone so I tried to be quick with getting this out! I’m also wanting to make these posts more aesthetically pleasing so don’t mind if there’s a million changes to my posts lol

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were just finishing grading your final papers for the day, eyes darting to the clock that hung on the wall above the door to your classroom, forcing you to hurry your last few corrections before the teacher’s meeting that awaited you in just a few minutes.

Just as you moved the finished stack to the side, the heavy door opening, closing, and locking, turned your attention away from the pile and over to the redhead who just entered your empty classroom with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“Mel, what’s that look for? You’re up to something. . .”

“What do you mean?” The not-so-innocent look on her face only aided your accusation more.

Your eyes squinted suspiciously, noticing the way her hips swayed more prominently as she slowly stepped towards you with her hands hidden behind her back.

Melissa swiftly swiveled your chair towards her, a single hand resting against the armrest, the other still behind her back as she lowered herself down, coming face to face with you. You could feel the heat radiating off her body as her lips hovered just in front of yours.

Her cleavage came into full view over the low neckline of her shirt, and it took everything in you not to tear your eyes from her face to admire the fullness of her chest.

“Spread your legs for me, hon.”

“I– why?” Your face immediately flushed, her words and lustful tone catching you off guard.

“I brought something special to get you through today’s meeting that won’t leave you bored, but will leave you all hot and bothered instead.”

A small whimper left your throat when you felt the smallest of vibrations against your inner thigh that only caused Melissa’s smirk to deepen.

“Is that a yes?” She raised a small brow.

“Yes–”

“Then spread those legs for me like the good girl I know you are.”

You complied with her words, legs opening for her as she fell to her knees before you. You couldn’t help but gaze anxiously at the small window on your door that’s the only thing separating you from anyone walking by and seeing Melissa kneeling between your legs.

“Nobody is around. I already made sure of it.”

Melissa was proud of herself, not only ensuring nobody would be walking by, but convincing Ava to switch rooms for the meeting that was now being held on the other side of the school.

You nodded your head hesitantly, but the wetness coating your panties said another story. Melissa could tell how eager you were at the sight of your hips slightly bucking towards her when she revealed the toy held in her manicured hand.

“That’s my girl,” she cooed.

You knew exactly what she had in mind. She was holding a remote control and a small vibrator that was soon going to be inside you. Your fingers shook with anticipation as you hiked your skirt up to slip your panties down your legs. Melissa had to hold back a whimper at the sight of you. She could take you in her mouth right here, right now, but she had much more enticing plans before she did.

“Look at you, so wet for this already.”

“Please,” you let out a shaky breath when Melissa slowly drags the tip of the vibrating toy up your leg.

Your body tensed when the toy reached your inner thigh, hips begging to surge forward when the vibrations finally reached your wet core. You failed to hold back a moan, hands gripping at the armrests of your chair as she drew the vibrator down your slit, lubricating the tip with your arousal.

“Please, Mel– I need it.”

The redhead chuckled at your impatience. You were always so needy. So desperate for her to touch you.

“I know you do, hon. But, before I stick this vibrator between your legs, I need you to promise me something first.”

“Anything,” You responded without any hesitation.

“Promise me you won’t come until I say so.”

She teased your entrance, sliding the toy up and down your center before quickly removing it away from you, leaving you with a pout as you arched your back, begging for her to please you.

“I promise I won’t come. Just please fill me already!”

Melissa licked her lips, before wasting no time in plunging the toy deeply into your body, firmly holding your hips to keep you still.

“Fuck. . .” You lowly moaned out at the toy inside you, its slow vibrations filling you with desire.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Melissa picked up your panties, and helped slide them back up your legs and fix your skirt. She held a hand out for you to stand up, which you took without thinking, as Melissa’s eyes immediately fell to your skirt. From the outside, nobody could tell you had a toy between your legs, perfectly helping to execute her plans.

“How does it feel?” Her eyes softened as she examined your face.

“. . .Good.” You admitted sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“And it’s just going to get even better,” Melissa pulled you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Now let’s put this bad boy to the test, shall we?” She let out a devilish chuckle, not waiting for you to respond before she turned the vibration setting up a notch. She was happy nobody would be able to hear the vibrations as it buzzed between your legs, the only sounds that would emit would be your moans of pleasure that you would have to stifle during the entirety of the meeting.

“Oh my god. . .” You let out a muffled whimper, your hand clutching to Melissa’s shoulder to keep you upright when the vibrations got turned up to the highest setting.

“You’re going to have to keep those pretty little moans quiet if you don’t want anybody finding out how much of a little slut you are for mommy and her toys.” She reminded you, kissing the side of your cheek before turning the vibrations completely off. You sighed with relief at the small break, but she was only just getting started with you.

Melissa places a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at her, a sudden serious expression clouding her face.

“If you ever get uncomfortable, or it’s too much, just whisper ‘pineapple’ to me, and I’ll stop, okay?”

You shake your head, with a determined look. “That won’t be necessary.”

Melissa hovers for a moment before pressing her lips tightly against yours, knowing you were too stubborn to change your mind on the matter.

“Just for that, I’m not going easy on you.”

“Give me all you’ve got,’ Your confidence faded just as fast as it came, when the toy suddenly turned back on at its highest setting, eliciting a louder cry from you that had your knees nearly buckle beneath you.

“You have no idea what you just started, sweetheart.”

Melissa slid the small controller into her pocket when she noticed your gaze flicker to the small remote.

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting your hands on this. Now come on, we’re already late and I don’t want to be asked a million questions on why we were late.”

You nodded your head, fixing your posture before heading out the door, both you and Melissa walking side by side down the empty hallway towards the meeting that was about to leave you breathless and horny, but Melissa would be the only one to know, and do her darndest to see if you would break under the pressure or keep your promise.

The walk was painfully long, the toy between your legs pressing heavily against your most sensitive spot, leaving an ache with every step. Melissa’s smirk never faltered as the two of you arrived at the meeting, all eyes turning in your direction at your tardiness thanks to Melissa’s dirty mind.

“It’s about time!” Ava called out, “It was a yawnfest in here. Now sit so we can get this done and over with, I have a nail appointment and we’re already cutting it close.”

You mouthed an apology to your boss before taking a seat without thinking, the toy eliciting a small gasp from you as you sat with Melissa at your side, hand in her pocket with her finger itching to press the ‘on’ button.

You were quick to drown out the words that flew from Ava’s mouth, as most of it had nothing to do with the real reason why you were all here. She was the kind of person who had not a single thought, but fifty all at once, and she just had to share every single one of them. Melissa kept you in her peripheral vision, waiting for the right moment to strike. Her free hand slid to your thigh, her thumb gently rubbing your skin in soothing strokes that nearly had you nodding off until you heard your name.

Your head snapped up, turning towards Ava who was looking at you expectantly.

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

And that’s when it happened, the toy was turned on to its lowest setting. You didn’t notice it at first until the vibrations quickly turned up, causing you to press your thighs together tightly.

“I said, you’re in co-charge with Melissa at the zoo field trip on Friday. Everyone is assigned a partner, and Melissa seemed like the obvious choice, is that okay?”

Your mouth went to open, but a gasp was nearly forcing its way out, causing you to not speak, but instead nodding your head in approval at her question, giving Melissa a side eye for putting you on the spot like that.

Melissa could already feel the irritation radiating from you, as she pleasured you on and off, each time leaving you just at the brink of an orgasm before turning the toy off and leaving you unsatisfied as the minutes rolled by.

The redhead herself was shocked at how well you were keeping it together, surprised that you were doing so good. But that all changed when out of nowhere, you had to cover a moan with a cough when the highest setting sent a wave of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

Barb looked over at you with a worried expression, lowering her voice to ask if you were feeling okay. Before you had a chance to respond, Melissa butts in, refusing to let you get a word in.

“Are you okay, hon?” She lifted a hand to your forehead, “You’re looking a little flushed.” You could see the bright gleam in her eye as she pretended to not know why you were a flushed mess in the first place.

“I’m fine,” You return your gaze back to the brunette to your right, “Thank you, Barb.”

She gives you a small smile before returning her focus back to Ava.

You noticed your leg start to shake, Melissa instantly noticed with you and lowered her voice to ensure only you could hear her.

“I told you I wasn’t going to take it easy on you, Princess.”

“Mel–” You warned, your breathing picking up as your finger anxiously tapped against the wooden table.

Melissa was carrying a stoic expression, her body calm and relaxed while you were on the brink of letting out the loudest cry you could imagine. You didn’t know how much longer you could take her teasing you, pulling you right to the edge, just to stop everything and make you start over.

Minutes felt like hours as Melissa continued teasing you, but the second Ava dismissed everyone to go home, you were the first to rise from your seat, making a beeline towards your classroom with Melissa slowly taking her time behind you. She couldn’t help but chuckle at your quick pace, legs barely separating as you resisted to spread them.

You were practically panting by the time you reached your room, closing the door behind you as you let out the whimper you had been holding in the entirety of the meeting. You kicked your heels off as you made your way to your desk, stripping from the formal blazer you had worn, feeling too hot under its heavy fabric.

Melissa opened the door, smirking at the sight before her. You were a horny irritable mess, needing to be released of the pressure that was constantly building inside of you. Her gaze fell upon the unbuttoned blouse that clung to your chest, the upper swell of your breasts prominently sticking out from the tightness of your bra.

The door subtly locking behind her was your break, small pleas flying past your lips as Melissa took steady strides to meet you at your desk. Melissa’s eyes were twinkling with desire, the purr and neediness of your voice only causing her to want you more. She was done teasing you, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted you. No, she needed you.

She closed the distance between you, smashing her lips against yours in a hard kiss, her tongue eagerly sliding against yours. She could practically feel you between the heat of her legs, her core throbbing and aching for your touch. The buck of her hips brought your attention to her, your hand sliding down her front, and into her pants.

Melissa let out a relieved sigh at the touch of your hand against her wet center. “I need more,” She nearly begged, “Make mommy feel good and you’ll get your reward.”

You broke from the kiss to place your wet lips along her jawline, giving her little pecks down her neck, before sucking on her sweet spot. She took the remote out of her pocket to hold in her hand, her other fingers fumbling with the button on her pants, and helping with her struggle, you slid them down her legs, freeing her of her restraints. You stood between her legs as she sat herself up on your desk, and slid her shirt off her body, leaving herself in her undergarments, and allowing you more access to her body.

Your lips left her neck to trail down her body, first starting at her collarbone, then kissing along her full chest, back arching to push her breasts farther into you. Her gaze never left yours as she watched you kiss down her stomach.

“Get on your knees.”

Your body listened to her short command instantly, knees falling to the floor as you came face to face with her wet core. Melissa leaned herself back on her hands, the remote controlling your toy still within her reach. As you settled into your position, you took a peek up at the redhead, who was eagerly looking back down at you. Just the sight of you kneeling between her legs was almost too much for her.

Your fingertips trailed the lace of her panties. Melissa could already feel the slight tremble of your fingers. Your light, panting breath on her bare thigh left a shiver up her spine. Your fingers hooked beneath the hem of her panties, the soft tips of your fingers leaving a fiery trail across her soft skin as you slowly exposed her gleaming core.

You let out a whimper when Melissa turned the setting up just as your finger grazed her slit. Two fingers dipping past her entrance was more than enough for Melissa to let out a low moan.

“Just like that, you’re doing so good,” she cooed, playing with the vibrations of your toy that had you trembling.

“M-more, please.” You begged, fingers delicately aiding to Melissa’s pleasure.

“Please, what?” She teased, voice low and seductive as her head pulled back.

“Please. . . mommy. I need more.”

“That’s my good girl,” she immediately increased the vibrations, your fingers curled delicately inside her that elicited a low hum from the redhead.

The remote flicked to the next level, your increasing moans mixing like a melody with Melissa’s low hums.

You could feel the ache between your thighs growing at the fast tempo sending you pleasure that was almost too much for you to handle.

You inserted a third finger, completely filling Melissa’s tight core, that had her back arching and hips riding against your hand. The setting was turned to the next level, hurtling you towards the end that you’ve been chasing for what felt like hours.

“Oh, fuck—“ Her eyes shined hungrily into yours as the pit in her stomach deepened.

“Let me taste you.”

Melissa’s eyes darkened with desire at your words, her fingers slid through your hair, pushing the strays back and guiding your head close. The moment your mouth came into contact with her cunt, Melissa let out a pleasurable groan.

You nestle closer, slowly drawing your tongue over her clit, Melissa’s hips slowly rolling against you. At the feel of Melissa turning the vibrator up to the highest setting, you let out a strangled cry, your eyes glazing over with desire.

“Oh god. . .”

Melissa tightens the grip in your hair, and you respond with a quicker pace, feeling her tighten around your fingers that let you know she was close.

“Just like that, babe. Fuck— Come with me!”

Your head nodded ferociously, expletives spilling from your parted lips as Melissa came around your fingers, completely falling apart at your touch. You came just as soon as she did, both of you riding your highs out together. Breaths were shaky and you were both panting, your tongue lapping up her juices after removing your fingers.

“Mmm, come here,” Melissa beckoned you up, your legs shaking and knees nearly giving out beneath you as you stood to your feet. Your lips were plump and swollen, only accentuating Melissa’s need to kiss you.

It was the kind of kiss that was fiery and passionate, her tongue swirling against your own that had your mind hazy. She couldn’t resist the taste of her along your tongue.

Her hands ran down your sides, sliding over your waist and down to cup the generous curve of your ass, pulling you flush against her body and giving herself room to remove the vibrator, eliciting a drawn out moan from you against her lips.

“God, I’m the luckiest woman in the world,” Melissa chuckled, after breaking the kiss for air, her forehead leaning gently against yours.

“I could say the same thing.” You smiled, brushing your fingers along her warm cheek. A feeling of comfort washed over you as her hands slipped up from your ass to wrap protectively around your waist.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, hon.”

Melissa smirked, giving your ass a firm smack and hovering her mouth just over your ear. “Now be a good girl and take me out to dinner. I’m hungry for actual food. And if you keep it up, mommy will give you some dessert when we get home.” She nipped at your ear, smirking to herself as she moved you to the side, allowing her to stand and get herself redressed, leaving you momentarily stunned by her words before quickly fixing yourself up and practically pushing her out the door to spend the rest of the night together in perfect bliss.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #fanfic #smut #lesbiansmut #wlw smut #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #oneshot #praise

471 notes · View notes