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purpleammonitestasis · 8 months ago

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Adora Random Headcannons (University/College Alt Universe)

-You both met at University/College, she was your dorm mate.

- However you two barely saw each other, she has multiple sports she attends, and you’re usually studying, with friends or asleep by the time she gets back.

- She was part of the campus’ basketball team, and basically the golden child along with the rest of the team.

-You weren’t really anything, you did your studies, you got average marks and just wanted your parents to be proud of you for doing something, Uni/College was mainly their idea.

- Sometimes her stuff would get in the way though, causing you to interact through that.

-You two didn't have your first full interaction until after a few weeks and everything was finding its flow, people found friends and that cliche social “hierarchy” was made.

-It was at a party, your friends were invited and they completely peer pressured you into going, they dressed you in a dress that was SO NOT your style, too tight and short, and did your makeup way fancier than you were comfortable with. You only went for them and that was it.

-You kept to your little corner with a drink and didn’t interact much past the occasional “Oh what do you study?” and small introductions from your friends, after which they completely left you alone.

-That was when she spotted you, you didn’t even think she would be there lest she hurts her reputation with the teachers, but now it actually makes more sense, jocks always go to parties.

-She walked over dodging people on the floor dancing drunkenly with each other. You took in her casual outfit, black jeans paired with classic Converse, white shirt, and her jersey jacket.

-------------------------------------------------------

”Hey” she said softly when she reached you.

“Oh hey” it was silent between you two for a moment until you spoke up, “I didn’t expect you to be here”

She chuckled, “I could say the same for you” she looked down at you, “You don’t strike me as the party type”

“Yeahhh I kinda got roped into this by my friends..” You nod sheepishly looking around.

“Me too honestly” She laughs again, “Why are you over here in the corner though and not with your friends?” She asked.

“This dress is wayyyy too short and I feel so uncomfortable in it” You admit and gesture to it with your hands.

She nods and thinks for a moment, “Hey you can wear my jersey if you want, it’s long enough to cover the back of it” she offers with a smile.

“Oh no, please, you don't have to do that, it’s okay” you laugh and decline her offer.

“No no, please, I insist, you’re uncomfortable, and you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable at a party you don’t want to be at” She already has it off and drapes it over you before you can decline it again.

You sigh in defeat, “Okay, thank you, this is a really nice gesture” you shy away and look down.

“Please it’s the least I could do for my roommate”

You both stand in a comfortable silence.

“By the way, I think you look beautiful in that dress” She smiles assuredly, making you giggle and get more embarrassed.

“Let’s go back to the dorm, I can drive, I haven’t drank anything” She holds up her keys and offers her hand for you to hold which you take and you both leave that awful party together, both having gained a new friend.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷🩷

This is an original work. Do not borrow/translate/steal.

#she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #adora x reader #adora #she ra adora #netflix #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lesbian #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #gn reader

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purpleammonitestasis · 9 months ago

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Your Husband Jo

Josephine "Jo" March x Fem!Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. You and Jo are both back home for the summer after getting engaged and married, respectively, and your midnight rendezvous will end with a different kind of union. (2.9K Words)

Notes: Hello! Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies, I'm a very casual fan of Little Woman but a very serious fan of actual women.

This is my first fic, and I hope you enjoy it! This is fun writing practice for me after a long hiatus from the craft, and just a fun way to be more chill with sexuality, so please don't take it super seriously. If you did like it, let me know, I'd love to make more writing friends!

Warnings: Sex! Fingering, scissoring. Some angst (given the whole engaged/married situation, but very light and not mentioned much).

For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. She was the star you perpetually orbited around, no matter how long you’d been away or how many other dazzling women you met. There was something intoxicating about the way she held a pen, a fork, hell, even a handkerchief; she was so sure of herself. She let herself be clumsy and strong and ungraceful, and she did it all with such confidence.

Over the years, the two of you had become close friends, bonding over a shared love of theatre and long walks and hating the small town you were both stuck in. Living a few doors down didn’t hurt, either; sneaking out at night was easy in the warm summer months, and you had spent many clear nights down by the creek, laying elbow to elbow watching the night sky slowly spin past above you.

She would lay her head on your stomach sometimes when her neck hurt from being bent over her desk too long, and it took everything in you to keep your breathing normal when her cheek rested on the soft, thin cotton of your nightgown. Every once in a while, she would fall asleep there, her head drifting to the side, breath blowing gently up into the curve of your breasts, and your heart would flip in your chest.

Those girlhood summers came and went, and now you found yourself home for a new kind of summer. You had met your fiance while traveling to New York for a visit to your uncle, and he was a kind and gentle man, and soft-spoken, and he adored you. But you’d scarcely gotten to know him before your family deemed it a suitable match and sent you home to prepare, brushing up on all of your wifely duties.

It was on a trip to the post office to send a letter to your betrothed that you see her again. Stepping down from a carriage, blinking into the blinding Massachusetts sun, hand shielding her eyes. The woman’s skirt catches on the step of the carriage, and she has to turn and bend down to free it, revealing a flash of bare skin. You stop in your tracks; Jo never wears stockings, no matter how much her mother harps on her to be proper. She rights herself quickly and turns towards where you stand transfixed. She gasps a little and her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Y/N!” she shouts, dropping the small bag she has been clutching and running towards you at full speed. You drop your envelopes and meet her in a crashing hug. She lifts you easily and spins you around, laughing. When she sets you down, she leans back to meet your gaze.

“It’s been so long, I didn’t expect to see you home this summer. What are you doing here?”

You were just as surprised. Last you’d heard, Jo had married some German professor after moving to the city, and that was three years ago.

“I’m to brush up on house-wife duties before I…” you trail off. You don’t want to tell her you are engaged, it feels wrong for some reason.

Her smile falters a bit. “You are engaged to be married?” You nod.

“That’s marvelous, Y/N!” she grins again, but this time a little too wide, her voice going up a bit too high. “You must let me walk with you later so you can tell me all about it!”

You nod in agreement, then see a man approaching from behind where Jo stands. Tall and lanky, he reaches her silently and simply places a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, Y/N, my deepest apologies, this is Friedrich Bhaer, my, uh, husband.”

He lifts up a hand to remove his hat, but his gaze never leaves Jo’s shoulder. He swiftly returns his hand to his jacket pocket and looks at Jo expectantly.

“We really must be off, but may I see you later? We can go to our old spot.” Jo meets your gaze again, something wild in her eyes, and you nod.

“Of course, Jo, that sounds wonderful.”

She clasps your hand tightly with her own, and then she is gone.

…

For reasons you can’t fully explain, you find yourself sneaking out when night falls, and your feet lead you to your and Jo’s old spot. Three quarters of a mile into the forest, there is an old, hollow fallen tree that lays beside a quieter stretch of the creek. It is here that you would abscond with old rags and candle stubs as girls, creating a little house in the shelter of the old fir. You would read poems and tidy the fallen branches that fell around the base of the tree, pretending to prepare for company, cook meals, and lounge by an imaginary fire. Now, you sit inside the empty shell and sigh. It’s a clear, warm night, and everything feels hazy and stretched to infinity. You had tried to sleep earlier, but an hour, then two had passed and your eyes still did not grow tired.

You had tried to imagine what being married to your future husband would be like, but it frightened you. You were afraid of exposing yourself to him, having him make love to you. You had heard it was painful from cousins and friends, in hushed conversations overheard around clothing lines and kitchens after dark. You had kissed a boy when you were small and remember it being underwhelming. You thought back to the summers here at the tree, how Jo would gaze up at you from where she lay on your stomach, fingertips dancing over your legs, how your hands would tremble, mouth becoming dry.

You remembered the summer before she left for New York, the last night you shared here at your spot. How she bent her head to your forehead, placing a kiss there. How her hands found the hem of your skirt, gently lifting it up, exposing your legs to the late autumn air.

“I will be your husband tonight,” she had whispered, slipping two fingers into your waiting mouth. You had sucked gently, and those same fingers had guided you to gasping.

Lost in the memory, your hand wanders to your breast, squeezing gently, hoping to replicate the feeling of that night. You had tried so many times since, but couldn't make yourself gasp the way she had that night. You close your eyes and try to remember what she had smelled like, the way the ends of her hair had felt just barely touching your arms.

You jolt out of your reverie when you hear a twig snap a few feet away. You shrink back into the tree with a start, your hands flying away from yourself. Who could have seen you leave? The whole house was fast asleep when you padded out the door. And no one knows where this spot is, it’s off the path and well-hidden by branches.

Suddenly, Jo’s face appears in the opening of the tree. “I thought I might find you here!”

You gasp a little, nervously. “How did you know I would be here?”

She crawls into the tree, her knees scraping along the forest floor to fit inside. “Just a hunch.”

Her hair has fallen out of its braid and flows down her back. She wears a thin chemise and long, flowing skirt, thinning at the hem from wear and tear. You notice with a start that you can see her nipples poking up gently beneath her shirt, and swallow to see their pert attention. You had seen her like this before, but not in years. You bring your gaze back up to her face and she is gazing at you, that same wild look in her eyes as before.

“You’re engaged,” she repeats her earlier question again, softly, sadly. You just nod. “Do you love him?”

You realize you’re holding your breath and let it go shakily. Jo reaches out to grasp your arms, gently but firmly, with all the strength of her lean frame. You jolt a little under her touch, and realize that despite the warm summer evening, you’re shivering a bit.

“I…I do not know,” you concede, eyes flashing down to study the leaf strewn floor. Her grip tightens, nose flaring as she breathes in hard. You have scarcely seen her like this before, she seems nervous and on edge.

“Y/N…” she begins, biting her lip. She rocks forward a bit, seeming to become unbalanced, and you grasp her biceps to help hold her up. She sucks in a breath and you meet her gaze again.

Before you know what is happening, she is leaning in and crashing the soft pink of her mouth against your lips. You gasp a little and fall back into the wall of the tree, and she follows you, pinning you there by your elbows. It takes you a moment to process that Jo March, the woman you have been in love with since you knew what love was, is kissing you. And you are kissing her back, your body seeming to move of its own accord. She lifts her hands from your arms to your face, cradling your jaw in one hand and pulling you deeper into the kiss with the other, tangling it in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands fall to her waist and you feel her suck in her stomach at your touch. One of your hands sits just below the hem of her shirt, and you feel the skin of her lower back there, beneath your fingertips. It’s warm and soft and feels electric. Everywhere your skin touches hers is on fire.

She deepens the kiss, pushing her tongue into your mouth, and you grip her tighter, your other hand coming up from her skirted hip to her back, pushing her shirt up an inch higher. She sighs and eases one hand down your neck to the small of your back, and you arch into her at the sensation. She holds you fast and pivots the two of you sloppily to lay you down on the soft leaves below, notching one knee in between your legs and one to the left of your hip. You grunt as you hit the ground and she pulls her face away for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, her eyebrow knit in concern. She is breathing hard, her face flushed. You smile a bit, dazed.

“No,” you answer, ‘I’m fine.”

“Good.” she sighs. You glance down at her chest again and see her nipples, now straining a bit at the fabric. You realize you’ve bunched it in your hand behind her. You start to loosen your grip, but get a better idea and let your hands wander from her back around to her breasts under the shirt. She realizes what you’re doing and her mouth falls open a bit. She fumbles to remove her shirt but soon her torso is set free, and you watch as her breasts become exposed to the moonlight.

They look so soft, like fallen snow still untouched after drifting into smooth heaps across the fields. Her nipples are starkly darker, and look like small hardened pebbles in this light. She shivers a little at your initial touch, but seems to melt a little into your hands as you work at her breasts, rolling her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. This elicits a small whimper from her, and you raise your eyes to meet her. She is panting a little now, her mouth still hanging open a little. You look back to her breasts and roll her nipple again with your left hand, more slowly this time. She lets out a low moan and dips her head a bit towards you, eyes closed. You remove your hand and she whimpers, only to gasp when your teeth close around the spot your fingers had occupied. You suck on her and she leans into you, chest heaving beneath your mouth.

“Y/N,” she gasps, a hand shooting up to grasp the nape of your neck and pull you closer. You lavish your tongue on her nipple and use your other hand to massage her other breast, and you can feel her shaking a bit. You pull your face away and look into her eyes again, now just a few inches from your own.

“Be my husband,” you gasp.

In answer, she starts peppering kisses down your neck, slipping the buttons of your nightgown open to reveal your own breasts, already heaving from before she had arrived. She sucks a harsh kiss into the space just below the curve of one, and you suck in a hot breath. She pulls you up to remove the nightgown from your arms and keeps kissing you, warming your skin with her mouth. Your stomach is upside down, and there is a heat in the pit of your core that you know well. You are sure there is a spot on your nightgown where your arousal is pooling beneath you.

“Jo,” you moan, winding your fingers into her hair. “Please, I am begging you.”

She stops and leans back, breasts heaving, hair wild. She reaches a hand up to your lips and you open your mouth to her fingers, two sliding in easily. You loll your tongue around them, sucking gently, and she moans again. She pulls out her fingers with a soft pop and lowers her hand to your stomach, pulling up your nightgown with the other hand to reveal your thighs and now dripping pussy. She grins wickedly.

“My, my, dear wife,” she coos. “What is this?”

You groan at the title. “Please husband,” you pant. “Please, I need you.”

She teases your folds a little. Her spit-soaked fingertips have grown cold in the air, and you shudder and gasp as they meet your hot center. She slips one finger in, then another, up to the second knuckle easily before curling them a bit inside you. You cry out and she smiles again.

“Yes, dear wife, let your husband take care of you,” she whispers huskily. She is thrusting into you now, gently but with a quick rhythm, and you can hear the wet sound of her hand going in and out. It sounds like heaven. You close your eyes and let the feeling wash over you. Jo March is making love to you. Jo March called you her wife. Jo March-

She stops for a moment and you groan in frustration, but the feeling is quickly replaced with fresh arousal as you feel her breath on your clit. She licks you a little, gently, experimentally, and the sound that comes out of you is embarrassingly needy. You slap a hand over your mouth and she looks up at you, a small smile on her face.

“My darling, do not worry,” she says, gently, licking you again. You groan once more, and she meets your gaze. “No one can hear you when you are safe in my bed, dear wife. Let yourself feel my love for you.”

She kisses your clit and begins moving her fingers within you again. You suck in air, but it is never enough, as the fire within you consumes it instantly. You find yourself arching into her touch, words leaving your mouth in an endless stream you have no awareness of as she hurries her hand inside you.

“Oh god, Jo, I love you, Jo, Jo, please, I need-”

“Call me your husband,” Jo hoarsely utters as she sucks in a breath.

“Husband, please, I am going to-oh god.”

She pulls her fingers nearly out of you and adds a third, stretching you. You whine and a sob comes out, the sensation of it overtaking you. Her hand within you is going so quickly you feel you might faint, your heart is pounding in your head. A great light explodes inside of you and you hear yourself cry out, even louder.

She never stops her motion, locking her lips around your clit and sucking while her hands work at you from the inside out. You feel yourself clenching around her and she hums contentedly, making sparks dance behind your eyes. Warmth spills out of you around her hand and you whimper, head swimming. She whispers into your clit in between licks, coaxing your cum out of you as you grasp at her hair, her shoulders, anything to keep you grounded.

As your orgasm subsides, she smiles and leans back, slowing her hand but not removing it. You take a shaky breath and open your eyes, blinking up into the starlight.

She leans up to kiss you gently and removes her hand, relishing the small whine that escapes your lips.

“Jo-” you start, then break off into a small sob. “I cannot marry that man.”

“Don’t worry, my dear wife,” she whispers, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “I will take care of everything.” She leans in and kisses your forehead, then pulls up and cradles you into her. You nestle into her chest, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with your arousal, floating on the humid air. Your breathing slows as you listen to her heartbeat, the sound of the creek bubbling past, and the soft owl hoots in the distance. You feel safe here in her arms.

She strokes your head gently, whispering how much she has missed you in your ear, how every night she dreamed of coming back to this place and reuniting with you. You sigh contentedly and wish you could stay in this moment forever, soothed to restful sleep by the voice of your husband Jo March.

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