vix

Warnings: 18+, college au, dom!ellie x sub!reader, strap-on (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral, fingering, secrecy kink, praise kink, dirty talk, praising

Making friends had never been your strong suit. You never forced yourself to be anything you weren’t and that was exactly what caught Ellie’s attention.

She’d notice you in the halls between classes, headphones on, lost in your own world, completely unbothered by the chaos around you. You were quiet. Reserved. The total opposite of her.

It was intro week at the university, the perfect time for first-years to meet people and explore campus. As a final-year student, you didn’t technically have to be there. But your professors had asked you to share your experiences with the new students, and you couldn’t say no.

When you walked into the prep room, only one other senior was already there: Ellie Williams. She looked up from her phone, confusion flickering across her face before she jumped up.

“Oh-hi,” she said, quickly wiping her hand on her hoodie and extending it. “I’m Ellie. You here to present for the freshmen too?”

You nodded.

“Great,” she grinned.

The presentations went well. Your professors seemed genuinely impressed, and you were relieved when it was finally over. As you headed out of the auditorium, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Ellie said, a little out of breath. “I was wondering… do you want to come over and watch Waves at my place?”

You blinked. “Waves? That’s literally my favorite movie.”

She smiled shyly. “Yeah… I noticed it was your laptop background. I figured you could explain all the parts I don’t get.”

You agreed before you could overthink it.

Ellie’s house was massive, easily twice the size of yours. When she opened the door, she avoided eye contact.

“Do you… want something to drink?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“Just water is fine.”

She handed you the glass without looking at you, then nodded toward the stairs. You followed her up to her room.

It was dark, cozy, and a little messy in that effortlessly cool way. Ellie noticed you looking around.

“It’s kinda messy, sorry.”

“It’s cute,” you said quietly. “I like it.”

You’d been nervous the entire time you were with her. Ellie Williams was exactly your type, confident, effortlessly attractive, and known around campus for being a bit of a player. You couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly interested in you.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the real reason you invited me over?”

She started fidgeting with the drawstrings of her hoodie, her eyes dropping to the floor. The silence stretched.

“Hello? I just asked you something,” you pressed.

She exhaled. “I invited you because… I’ve had a crush on you. Lowkey.”

“Lowkey?” you repeated in disbelief.

“Okay- not lowkey lowkey,” she laughed nervously. “I’ve just been too shy to actually talk to you.”

Ellie Williams was too shy to talk to you? The thought made your chest tighten.

You stepped closer, arms crossed. “Do you just want to fuck me? You don’t have to pretend you have a crush on me to get in my pants.”

Her eyes finally met yours, intense and honest.

“No… I mean-yes, I do want that. But I’m not pretending.”

You reached out and gently took her hands, squeezing them. Leaning in close to her ear, you whispered, “I want to fuck you too.”

That was all it took.

Player Ellie activated instantly.

She kissed your neck slowly, softly, exactly how you’d imagined her soft lips would feel. Her mouth traveled lower, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing with just the right pressure. A shy moan slipped from your lips.

She guided you to her bed, laying you down gently. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she murmured, her voice low. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Her words alone made you shiver. The sight of her hovering over you had you soaked already and she knew it.

She finally kissed your lips, slow and deep, tongues meeting in a passionate rhythm that pulled another moan from you. You felt her grin against your mouth.

“You’re this excited already, princess?” she teased. “Just wait.”

She pulled off her shirt, revealing the waistband of her Calvin Klein boxers. Then she moved lower, eyes locked on yours as she settled between your legs. She stripped you carefully, almost reverently, before rubbing you through your soaked panties.

Your head fell back, thighs twitching.

“Does that feel good, baby?” she asked.

You could only nod.

She didn’t let you close your legs. “Nuh-uh. Keep them open for me.”

She slid your panties off and kissed you again while her fingers returned to your pussy, drawing slow, perfect circles around your swollen clit. You moaned into her mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, princess…”

Her fingers and that husky voice were pushing you dangerously close. Then she stopped.

“Why-” you started, but she was already pushing your leg wider and sliding two fingers deep inside you.

“Oh my God, Ellie-fuck!”

“Yeah, you like that? Take it like a good girl,” she praised, watching your face intently. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

She covered your mouth when your moans grew too loud. “Shhh… people are home.”

Your pussy clenched hard around her fingers. She leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re so close, aren’t you? It’s okay, pretty girl… come for me.”

You came hard, shaking, her fingers working you through every wave while she whispered sweet encouragement in your ear.

She didn’t give you time to recover.

Ellie put on her strap, rubbing the tip against your slick folds. “I’m so wet for you, princess. Been thinking about fucking this pretty pussy for so long…”

She pushed in slowly at first, checking your face, then thrust deep when she saw you could take it. The fullness made you choke out a moan. She pinned one of your legs back and covered your mouth again, thrusting deep and steady.

“I know it feels good, baby, but you gotta stay quiet for me, okay?”

Her own soft moans mixed with yours… she was clearly holding back too. She picked up the pace, whispering right against your ear.

“You like the way I fuck you, huh? Taking me so good…”

Her hand found your clit again. The combination of her thrusts and her fingers had you seeing stars. Her own movements grew sloppy, desperate.

“Fuck-look at what your pussy’s doing to me. I’m gonna come baby”

Warnings: 18+, pitfighter au, dom!vi x sub!reader, rough sex, strap-on (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral, fingering, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking, hate fuck, praising, pet names

Vi had won…brutally. Split lip, bruised knuckles wrapped in stained tape, fresh cut above her eyebrow. She’d knocked the other girl out in the seventh round with a hook that echoed through the whole damn arena. Crowd lost their minds. You lost your voice screaming from ringside.

Now the adrenaline was crashing wrong.

She stormed into your shared apartment, gym bag hitting the floor like a body drop. Door slammed so hard the frame rattled. You were on the couch in nothing but one of her oversized tank tops and boyshorts, scrolling your phone, waiting. She didn’t say hello. Just crossed the room in three strides, blood-streaked sports bra still on, shorts low on her hips, sweat glistening on every carved inch of her.

“Vi-”

“Shut up.”

Her mouth crashed into yours before you could finish the word. Teeth, tongue, the copper taste of her split lip smearing across yours. She tasted like iron. You gasped into it. She swallowed the sound.

Hands, still taped, still raw, grabbed your thighs and yanked you down the couch until you were flat on your back. She climbed over you without breaking the kiss, knees bracketing your hips, weight pinning you.

“Needed this,” she growled against your mouth. “Needed you. Fuck.” Her voice was wrecked. Hoarse from yelling, from taking hits, from the high that hadn’t worn off yet. You reached for her face…gentle, checking the cut. She caught your wrist. Slammed it above your head.

“Don’t baby me right now,” she warned. “I’m not soft tonight.”

Your pulse jumped. “Then don’t be.”

Wrong thing to say. Or exactly the right one.

Vi ripped the tank top up and over your head in one motion, fabric tearing at the seam. Didn’t care. Her mouth went straight to your throat, biting hard enough to bruise, sucking a mark that would last days. You arched, moaning. She laughed dark, breathless. “Already whining? I haven’t even started.” One hand shoved between your legs, cupping you through the thin cotton.

You were soaked. Had been since you watched her climb out of the ring, chest heaving, eyes wild. “Fuckin’ knew it,” she muttered. “Knew you’d be dripping just thinking about me beating someone’s ass.” She didn’t pull the shorts off, just shoved them aside, two thick fingers plunging in without warning. You cried out. Back bowing. She pumped hard. Fast. No warmup. Just raw need. “Look at you,” she rasped, forehead pressed to yours, watching your face twist. “Taking it like you were made for this. My good little slut after I win.”

You clenched around her fingers. “Yeah?” She curled them viciously. “You like when I come home like this? All fucked up and mean?”

“Yes-fuck-Vi-” She pulled her fingers out. You whined at the emptiness.

“On your knees. Now.”

You scrambled. Couch cushions slid. She stood, shucking her shorts and sports bra in seconds. Naked except for the wraps still on her hands and the fresh bruises blooming purple across her ribs. She fisted your hair. Spun you. Bent you over the arm of the couch.

“Ass up.” You obeyed. She kicked your legs wider. You were dripping enough for both of you. The head nudged your entrance. Teased once. Then she slammed in- full depth-one brutal thrust. You screamed. She didn’t stop. Fucked you hard. Fast. Skin slapping skin. The couch creaked under the force.

“Take it,” she snarled. “Take every fucking inch. This is what I need after I win-your tight little cunt choking my cock.” One hand wrapped around your throat from behind, firm, possessive. Not cutting air, just holding. The other cracked across your ass, sharp, stinging. You sobbed. “Vi-please”

“Please what?” Another smack. Harder. “Use your words, baby.”

“Harder-fuck me harder-”

She growled. Gave you what you begged for. Pounded so deep you saw stars. Her dick dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. You were gushing, dripping down your thighs, soaking the couch. “Look at the mess you’re making,” she mocked. “Such a filthy girl for me. Coming home covered in blood and sweat and all you want is to get railed like a whore.” You clenched hard at the words. She felt it.

“Gonna come already? Already?”

You nodded frantically. Couldn’t speak. “Do it,” she ordered. “Come on my cock. Show me how bad you needed this.” You shattered. Screamed her name. Walls pulsing, thighs shaking, tears streaking down your face from how intense it was. She didn’t stop. Kept fucking you through it, harder, chasing her own second high. When she came she buried deep, grinding against you, groaning brokenly into your shoulder. Bit down on the crook of your neck as she pulsed.

You both collapsed, her on top of you, still strapped in, still inside, both panting like you’d run a marathon. Long minutes passed. Breathing slowing. She finally pulled out,  slow, careful now. Groaned at the sight of your swollen, wrecked pussy.

“Fuck… look at you.”

Gentler hands now. She flipped you over. Kissed you soft, slow, tasting herself on your tongue. “You okay?” Voice rough. Quiet. You nodded. “Better than okay.” She brushed damp hair off your forehead. Thumb tracing the bite mark she’d left. “Needed to let it out,” she murmured. “Couldn’t… couldn’t come down without you.”

Warnings: 18+, college au, dom!ellie x sub!reader, rough sex, strap-on (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral, fingering, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking, hate fuck, praising, pet names

Word count: 4k

You hated how she took up space.

Not just physically…though fuck, Ellie Williams seemed genetically engineered to occupy every inch of your tiny double room like she owned both halves of it…but the way she existed. Loud music through shitty earbuds that still leaked, weed lingering on her hoodies, that permanent half-smirk like she already knew every embarrassing thing you’d ever done and was just waiting for the right moment to weaponize it.

You’d been assigned to her. 

She’d been assigned to you. 

Neither of you had requested the other. 

And yet here you were, month four, still snarling at each other.

Tonight the air felt thicker than usual.

You’d come back from the library at 10:17 p.m. soaked from sudden rain, hoodie clinging uncomfortably, nipples hard under wet fabric from the cold. Ellie was sprawled on her bed in only boxer briefs and an oversized flannel that wasn’t even buttoned, one arm behind her head, phone in the other, scrolling with that bored, predatory laziness she did so well.

She didn’t look up when you slammed the door.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” she lied, voice low and rough.

“Clearly,” you muttered, peeling the drenched hoodie over your head. Your thin tank top underneath was basically transparent now. You felt her eyes snap to you even though her phone stayed tilted toward her face.

You turned your back to her, rummaging for dry clothes in the shared dresser. That was mistake number one.

“Nice show,” she drawled. “You auditioning for the wet-T-shirt contest downstairs or just fishing for attention?”

You whipped around. “Fuck off, Williams.”

She finally put the phone down. Slowly. Deliberately. Sat up. Legs spread. The outline of the harness she sometimes wore under her clothes was visible through the thin black boxer briefs.

Your stomach clenched.

She noticed.

“Problem?” Ellie asked, tilting her head. The smirk was gone now. Replaced with something darker. Hungrier.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re dripping on my floor.”

You glanced down. Rainwater was pooling around your sneakers. You hadn’t even noticed.

“Clean it up then,” you snapped, turning away again.

Big mistake number two.

She was across the room in three steps. Palm slamming beside your head against the dresser, caging you. You could smell pine body wash and the faint skunk of weed and the heat coming off her bare chest. “Say that again,” she murmured against your ear. You swallowed. “You’re. Disgusting.” Ellie’s laugh was low. Dangerous. “Yeah? Then why’re your nipples trying to cut through that shirt, huh?”

You tried to shove her back. She didn’t budge. Instead her hand shot to your throat, not hard, just firm enough to make your pulse jump against her fingers. “Careful,” she warned. “Keep pushing me and I’ll push back harder.” Your mouth was dry. “Try me.”

Wrong answer.

She kissed you hard and deep. Teeth clacking, tongue shoving past your lips without asking, free hand grabbing a fistful of your wet tank top and yanking it up. Cold air hit your tits and then her mouth was there, biting more than sucking, sucking more than kissing, leaving marks you’d have to cover tomorrow.

You moaned despite yourself.

She pulled off with a wet pop. “Knew it. Fucking liar.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You grabbed her by the jaw and kissed her back just as viciously. She groaned into your mouth, hips rolling forward so you could feel the thick silicone pressing against your soaked leggings. She broke away only to spin you around and shove you face-first against the dresser mirror. Your palms slapped the wood. You watched in the reflection as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your leggings and yanked them down along with your underwear in one brutal tug.

“Fuck-Ellie-”

“Too late to play shy now, baby.”

The pet name hit like a slap. You hated how much you liked it.

She kicked your legs wider. One hand stayed on the back of your neck, keeping you bent over. The other slid between your thighs, fingers gliding through how embarrassingly wet you already were. “Jesus Christ,” she laughed darkly. “You’re fucking soaked. All that bitching and your cunt’s crying for me.”

“Shut-up-”

Two fingers plunged inside without warning. You cried out, knees buckling. She caught you around the waist with her arm, holding you upright while she pumped roughly, curling on every outstroke, hitting that spot that made your vision white out.

“Look at yourself,” she growled, forcing your chin up so you had to watch in the mirror, mouth open, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. “Look how fucking desperate you are.” You tried to turn your head. She squeezed your throat harder. “No. You watch.”

Her thumb found your clit and circled once…hard.

You bucked. “Ellie-fuck-

“That’s it. Say my name like that again.”

She added a third finger. The stretch burned in the best way. You were dripping down her wrist. “You hate me so much, huh?” she mocked, voice wrecked. “That why you’re clenching like you’re trying to keep me inside forever?” You couldn’t answer. Only broken little whimpers.

She pulled her fingers out abruptly. You whined at the loss.

“Pathetic,” she muttered, wiping her soaked hand across your ass cheek like you were a mess she’d made. “Get on the bed.”

You stumbled backward. She followed, shedding the flannel, stepping out of the boxers. The strap was black, thick, ridged. She’d clearly been wearing it for a while, the base was shiny with her own arousal.

“On your knees first,” she ordered. You dropped without thinking. She stepped closer, fisting the silicone. “Open.” You glared up at her even as your lips parted. She fed the tip past your lips. Slow at first. Then deeper. Until your nose brushed the harness and you gagged.

“Good girl,” she breathed. “Take it like you mean it.”

You hollowed your cheeks. Sucked hard. Let spit drip down your chin. She groaned above you, hips twitching. “Fuck-yeah, just like that. Show me how sorry you are for being such a brat all semester.” You pulled off with a gasp. “I’m not sorry.” Ellie’s eyes flashed. “Oh we’re gonna fix that.”

She hauled you up by the hair and threw you onto her bed…your bed was too neatly made, hers was a mess of dark sheets and hoodies. Perfect. “Face down. Ass up.” You obeyed too fast. She climbed behind you. One palm cracked across your ass…hard.

You yelped.

“Count.”

“One-

Another smack. Sharper.

“Two-

By ten your skin was burning, thighs shaking, cunt throbbing so badly you were humping the sheets without meaning to. She smoothed a hand down your spine. Almost gentle. “Look at you. All red and dripping. Bet you’d come just from this if I let you.”

“Please-

“Please what, baby?”

You buried your face in the pillow. Muffled. “Fuck me.”

“Louder.”

You lifted your head. Voice cracking. “Fuck me, Ellie. Please.”

She lined the strap up. Teased the head through your folds. Coating it.

“You sure?” she murmured, suddenly softer. Checking.

You nodded frantically. “Yes-yes-

She sank in one long, relentless stroke. Your mouth opened on a silent scream. Full. Too full. Perfect. She didn’t give you time to adjust. Pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Hard. “Fuck!” you sobbed.

“That’s it,” she panted, setting a brutal rhythm. “Take it. Take every fucking inch like the slut you pretend you’re not.” One hand wrapped around your throat from behind, light pressure, just enough to make your head spin. The other gripped your hip so hard you’d bruise.

“Say it,” she growled.

“Say-say what-

“Say you’re my little whore.”

You clenched around the strap. Hard.

“I’m-fuck-I’m your little whore-

“Louder.”

“I’m your fucking whore, Ellie!”

She rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust that made stars burst behind your eyes. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl when you’re getting railed, huh?” You were crying now. Not sad. Just overwhelmed. Too much sensation. Too much Ellie. She flipped you suddenly, onto your back. Pushed your knees to your chest. Folded you in half. The new angle let her grind against your clit with every stroke.

“Look at me.”

You did. Couldn’t not.

Her pupils were blown. Sweat on her throat. Lips swollen from earlier.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you fall apart,” she whispered. Almost reverent. “My pretty little fucktoy.”

The praise hit harder than the degradation ever could.

“Ellie-gonna-gonna come”

“Not yet.”

You sobbed. “Please-”

She pulled out completely. You wailed. She dropped down and buried her face between your legs. No teasing. Just tongue and lips and teeth. Sucking your clit hard. Two fingers curling inside. Then three. Fucking you open while her mouth worked you relentlessly. You screamed her name. She didn’t stop.

When you came it was violent, back arching, thighs clamping around her head, gushing over her chin. She drank it down like she was starving. Only when you were twitching with aftershocks did she crawl back up. Kissed you deep. Let you taste yourself.

Then she collapsed beside you. Silence stretched. After a long minute she reached over. Thumb brushing your cheek where tears had dried.

synopsis: three years of rivalry, gym stares, and filthy teasing finally break during a brutal snowstorm when abby and you are locked overnight in the old university library.

word count: 3.2k

content warning: 18+, mdni, wlfsoldier! top! abby x sub! reader, rough sex, strap-on sex(r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), degradation, dirty talk, aftercare

the first time you saw abby in the gym you forgot how to breathe.

it was 0400, the base still asleep, and the overhead lights hadn’t even finished flickering on. she was alone at the squat rack, 405 on the bar like it was nothing. the plates clanked softly as she unracked, back flaring so wide it eclipsed the mirror behind her.

every rep was slow, controlled, brutal. her shoulders bunched and spread like wings, traps swallowing the base of her thick neck, lats so developed they cast shadows down her ribs. when she stood up the bar bent slightly across those boulder shoulders and you just stood there.

she caught your stare in the mirror and smirked. didn’t say a word. just racked the bar with a clang that echoed through the empty room and walked out. you didn’t sleep that night. that was three years ago.

three years of watching her get bigger, stronger, meaner. three years of her watching you get faster, sharper, more precise. three years of the entire wlf treating you like rival apex predators who happened to wear the same uniform. you’re good. top one percent. you can outshoot almost anyone, run ten miles with a full pack and still hit a moving target at 300 yards. but abby?

abby is something else. she’s the one they send when a building needs to come down or a bloater needs its head ripped off with bare hands. she’s the one who carried owen out of the marina on her back after he took three rounds to the vest. she’s the one who deadlifts trucks for fun.

and you hate how much it turns you on.

you hate how you started timing your gym sessions to overlap hers just to watch her biceps flex when she curls 100-pound dumbbells like they’re empty. hate how you started wearing the shortest shorts you owned because you noticed her eyes track the way your ass moved when you hip thrust. hate how you started leaving your water bottle on the bench she always used so she’d have to move it, so her fingers would brush yours for half a second.

hate how you started filming yourself in the showers when you knew she walked past that hallway at 2230 every night. hate the way you angled the camera so she’d see everything, tits heavy and wet, fingers sliding through your pussy while you moaned her name loud enough for the echo to carry. you hate that she never once took the bait. until tonight.

the storm hits like the end of the world. wind screaming, snow so thick it looks solid. isaac calls everyone in. you’re already in the library, old university building on the edge of the qz, because you pulled the short straw for overnight inventory. the place is huge, drafty, shelves twenty feet high, emergency lights buzzing. you’re halfway through counting crates of 5.56 when the double doors explode open. abby steps through like a blizzard made flesh.

snow clings to her lashes and the thick blonde braid hanging over one shoulder. she’s in a black sports bra that’s fighting for its life against her chest and arms, grey sweatpants slung so low you can see every cut of her obliques disappearing into the waistband. her delts are round and hard as cannonballs, veins tracing down biceps that look carved from marble. her abs flex with every breath, eight perfect ridges glistening with melted snow.

and she’s staring at you like she’s deciding whether to fuck you or kill you.

“you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, voice rough from the cold.

you lean back against the long oak table, arms crossed under your chest so your jacket pulls tight across your tits. “isaac’s schedule. i’m here until 0600.”

she slams the doors shut. the lock clicks like a gunshot. for a long moment the only sound is the wind and both of you breathing. then she starts walking.

slow. deliberate. boots leaving wet prints on the marble.

every step makes her shoulders roll, traps rising like mountains. she stops two feet away, close enough you can smell cold air and gun oil and her. “you’ve been doing this on purpose,” she says, low and dangerous. “shorts in the gym when i’m spotting. bending over crates right in front of me. that fucking video last week.”

your mouth curves. you know exactly which video. twenty seconds in the empty shower block, water running down your heavy tits, fingers buried deep while you moaned her name loud enough the echo carried. caption just said: thinking of you, rival ♡

you shrug one shoulder. “prove it.”

that’s all it takes.

she closes the distance in a heartbeat. one hand fists your hair, the other slams your back into the nearest bookshelf. books rain down around you like hail. her mouth crashes into yours, angry, messy, teeth clacking, tongues fighting for dominance you both know she’s going to win.

you bite her bottom lip hard. she groans, tastes blood, and kisses you harder, thigh shoving between yours, forcing your legs apart. you’re already soaked; have been since the second she walked in. she feels it through your pants and laughs dark against your mouth.

“fucking dripping. little princess is drenched.”

she rips your belt open with one hand, shoves pants and panties down to your knees in a single rough motion. cold air hits bare skin and you gasp. abby drops to her knees without hesitation.

her shoulders are so broad they block the light. her arms flex as she grips your hips, veins standing out on her forearms, biceps bunching thick and hard. she looks up at you once, eyes feral, then buries her face between your thighs like she’s starving.

no teasing licks. just her tongue plunging deep, nose grinding your clit, sucking like she wants to swallow you whole.

you cry out, hands flying to her hair. she snarls, grabs both your wrists, pins them to the shelf above your head with one hand like it’s nothing.

her bicep flexes huge against your side, bigger than your thigh.

“don’t touch,” she rasps. “you’ve teased me for three fucking years. you stay still and take what you begged for.”

she eats you like it’s war. tongue fucking you open, teeth scraping your clit, three thick fingers sliding in beside her tongue and curling hard. your legs shake. you come fast and hard, gushing over her chin, but she doesn’t stop. just moans into you and keeps going until your knees buckle and you’re sobbing from overstimulation.

“abby, fuck, too much”

“shut up,” she growls, voice muffled against your cunt. “you wanted my attention. now you’ve got it.” she forces two more orgasms out of you with her mouth alone, until your thighs are slick and trembling and you can’t stand without her holding you up.

when she finally rises, her face is drenched, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. her arms flex as she wipes her mouth with the back of one hand, veins tracing down forearms thick as your calves. she licks her lips clean slow, eyes locked on yours. “turn around.”

you can barely move, but you do. palms braced on the shelf, ass out. she kicks your legs wider, yanks your hips back. you hear the soft thud of sweatpants hitting the floor, the clink of a harness. of course she came ready.

the fat head of her cock nudges your entrance, thick, ridged, the biggest one she owns. she doesn’t ease in. just grips your hips hard enough to bruise and slams home in one brutal thrust.

your scream echoes through the empty library. she clamps a hand over your mouth instantly.

“quiet,” she hisses against your ear, already pulling back and snapping forward again. “you want the whole base to hear their perfect little soldier getting railed like a cheap whore?”

every thrust punches the air from your lungs. the shelf rattles, books toppling around you. your tits bounce painfully with the force. she reaches around, grabs one, twists your nipple until tears spring to your eyes. “this what you wanted?” she snarls, angling deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out. “wanted your rival to snap and fuck you stupid on watch?”

you nod frantically into her palm, tears streaming.

she pulled out suddenly, spun you, lifted you like you weighed nothing and slammed you down on the long reading table. books scattered. she hooked your legs over her shoulders, folded you nearly in half, and drove back in. the angle was devastating. you felt her in your throat. “look at me.”

you forced your eyes open. abby above you, braid completely undone now, blonde hair wild, sweat dripping down her neck between her perfect tits. her arms flexed on either side of you, triceps horseshoe-thick, shoulders so broad they eclipsed the light. she looked ruined and furious and so beautiful it hurt. “tell me,” she panted, never slowing. “tell me you’re better than every fantasy i’ve jerked off to for three years.”

words spilled out of you like water. “i’m better, fuck, i’m tighter, wetter, i’d let you do anything, abby, anything”

she groaned like you’d stabbed her. “again.”

“i’m your perfect slut,” you sobbed.

her rhythm stuttered. she leaned down, bit your neck hard enough to mark.

“mine,” she snarled. “this cunt is mine now. not your pride, not your reputation, mine.”

she rubbed your clit in brutal circles. you came instantly, clenching so hard she had to fight to keep moving. she fucked you through it, drawing it out until you were crying and shaking and babbling her name.

then she pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach again, yanked your hips up. you were limp, boneless, drool pooling under your cheek. she didn’t care. she mounted you from behind and started over, deeper, meaner, the table creaking like it might collapse.

her arms flexed huge as she held you in place, biceps peaking, veins standing out sharp under the skin. she fisted your hair, pulled until your back arched painfully.

“tell me you’re sorry for making me wait three fucking years.”

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed. “i’m so sorry, i just wanted you to take me”

“damn right.”

she spanked your clit with every thrust, sharp, shocking. you came again without warning, so hard. she moaned like it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

“disgusting,” she muttered, voice thick with awe. “perfect little mess. all mine.”

she kept going until you lost count. until your voice was gone, until your legs wouldn’t hold you and she had to hold you up by the hips alone. until the only thing you knew was her name and the stretch of her cock and the way she growled filth in your ear.

finally she pulled out, turned you over gentle for the first time. you were trembling, covered in sweat and her spit and your own slick, tears drying on your cheeks.

she crawled up your body and kissed you soft, slow, deep. nothing like the violence from before. “i hated wanting you this much,” she whispered against your lips. “hated how every time you looked at me i had to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest empty room and shutting you up with my cock.”

you laughed, watery and wrecked. “i hated wanting you more. hated pretending i didn’t touch myself every night to the thought of you pinning me down and making me yours.”

she rested her forehead against yours. “truce?”

“only if the truce includes you fucking me like that every time we fight.”

she smiled, real, soft, the one no one else ever got to see. “deal.”

she scooped you up, carried you to the old leather couch in the corner that smelled like dust and old books. wrapped you both in the emergency blanket she pulled from her pack. you were still shaking with aftershocks. she kissed your temple, your eyelids, the bite marks blooming on your neck, the bruises already forming on your hips.

“stay,” she murmured. “storm won’t lift ‘til morning. you’re not walking anywhere on those legs anyway.”

you curled into her chest, boneless and sated, breathing in the scent of her skin and sex and snow.

“wasn’t planning on it, anderson.”

she huffed a quiet laugh, arms tightening around you. “good.”

outside, the storm kept raging, wind screaming against the windows, snow piling feet deep. inside, the rivalry was finally, gloriously dead.