New work from a newbie
I’m a little new at this so I hope it works correctly.
I’m working on 50 ficlets based on the fanfiction by Tatsumaki-sama called “Rightfully Wrong”. (Please note that I DID ask permission to use her writings as prompts, but if she ever gets back to me in a negative way I will certainly remove my stories. For now I will simply credit her, hope that’s okay.)
So here’s the first one: Enjoy and please feel free to comment.
TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS!
1. Privileges:
No other man should ogle and stare at her since he was the one to lay eyes on her first.
“Mmmmmnnnnnn!”
Mamori clasped her hands together, jutting her shoulders foreword as she reached out to the air before her. She rolled her hips and raised her arms skyward, biting her lip as she felt the sweet tension in her muscles.
“NnnnnNnnngh!”
A line of soft white skin was slowly coming into view below the untucked hem of her uniform, and she gave a small sigh as the cool air hit her skin. Her muscles began to tense even before she drew her feet in, wiggling her hips a little as she leaned from one tiptoe to the other. With her already prominent chest protruding into the air before her, her hair cascading off the back of her head, her face a picture of sweet torture, she was certainly a sight.
Arms reaching their pinnacle just behind her head, she gasped, and like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsed into a lifeless pile of post back-stretching goo in her chair.
The normal din of clubroom activities came to a grinding halt.
Hiruma’s eyes scanned the room, watching the train wreck of emotions on his teammate’s faces. Monta was about to die of severe blood loss, Sena wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed for her or at himself, Yukimitsu and the Ha-Brothers couldn’t hide their tomato blushes no matter how hard they tried. Even Musashi turned away before trying to casually pick his ears.
An AK-47 hit the table; the quarterback’s right foot following it. He leered at his damn teammates. “Need a break, damn manager?” he drawled, giving the other boys a pointed look. The manager in question stifled a yawn before glaring at he spikey-haired boy.
“That’s not my name, Hiruma-kun.” She stood to face him, but rolled a shoulder instead, “I just need to stretch my legs for a minute and I’ll be fine.” Upon hearing this, Monta swooned again. Hiruma scowled at him over her shoulder.
“Everyone outside; practice time! Damned Ha-Brothers, grab the monkey. I want 100 laps; don’t come back until you’re almost dead!”
“We’re NOT BRO-…” Cut off by heavy gunfire, the team made a hasty retreat for the field. A second volley of bullets followed them from the doorway, but the captain did not join his team immediately. He glanced back to find Mamori making a standing reach for her right ankle, too wrapped up in stretching her tired muscles to notice how high her skirt was riding up the back of her thighs. He chuckled to himself; for this he could be late to practice.
~*~
Omake:
He sighed and leaned against the doorframe, taking his sweet time to enjoy the view. “You know the Damned kiddies can’t take it when you do that,” he quietly told her backside. Still leaning, she peeked crookedly around her leg and smile sweetly.
“I know; but neither can you.”